#which unfortunately is like 6 blocks away

[jeezypetes]

Black sesame ice cream. Fresh berries and dragonfruit. Reddi whip. Foco roasted coconut drink. Mint tea. Buckwheat honey.

[darkstaria]

Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul Animal Au.

Chapter 5:

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 6.

Sorry for the long weight everyone! I had to binge allll of Stranger Things for a friend's future birthday event and ohhh wow I thought the episodes were gonna be 20 minutes not 40-1hr

Also I suffered a bit of writers block, it happens

But regardless, I hope you all enjoy! ^ ^

(also the taglist has migrated to the bottom of the fic because it's a bit too long now)

----

The office was large, sprawling walls contained by an even bigger ceiling. The faint humming of Tim’s computer provided no reassurance, nor did the soft leather of your seat. It felt as if you could sink right into it, and try to fade away. There was a faint aroma of coffee that lingered around the office, but it gave you no solace. It just reminded you of the mistakes you made, to end up here. The elephant in the room.

Tim’s smile was bright, a warm sun. You were burning.

“It’s.. nice to see you again.” You attempted, words stumbling about on your tongue. You couldn't help it, the mere presence of your soulmate sending anxiety skyrocketing down your spine. Why couldn't he just get to the point?

“I didn't really expect my company and Wayne Enterprises to be working together.” You continued, a fake smile plastered onto your face. “What a nice coincidence!”

“I hope for us to have a successful collaboration.” Tim replies, still smiling. “But enough about the companies, it's been so long since I've seen you, and I didn't have your number to text.”

You laugh in response, a pale imitation of a real laugh. You had hoped to focus on discussing the work you both had to do first, and then escape before any catch up talks were attempted. Unfortunately, it appears that Tim won't let you do any actual work before engaging with him.

Your nails dug into your knees, an attempt to stay calm. Your reply was measured.

“Oh are you sure? Surely it would be better to get work on the collaboration done first, then we’ll have all the time left to chat freely.”

“I wouldn't worry about that, really. We’ve got plenty of time together, and I wouldn't be able to work without knowing how you're doing lately. Since you didn't have the time to text, I presume you've been busy?”

“Ah, right! Yes! Yes I have been, busy that is, you know how it is with work. Endless and all that.” You were frustrated at being pushed into a lie already. Tim was in charge here and he knew it.

“Why don't you give me your number then?” His smile was perfect, as flawless as his manipulation. “That way, when you're too busy to remember to message, I can remind you.”

You frowned. Like he didn't know your number already.

Quickly remembering you had to smile, you gave him your number, watching as he slowly typed it in, then texted. Only when you showed you received his text did he relent.

The ‘meeting’ continued on from there, Tim asking about all your hobbies and passions. Time ticked on, daylight turning to evening. Any attempt from you to redirect the conversation to either himself or work was swiftly dismissed. A small part of you admired his skill, he was playing you like a doll. You knew it, but you had no option but to play along. It was like an older sibling playing pretend with the young sibling. You hated the comparison.

The attention was unnerving. Your only solace was that neither of you had soul animals present currently, which was an absolute miracle.

Actually… what if that isn't a coincidence at all? Could this too have been engineered? Was that even possible?

“So then what’s your opinion on..” The sound of Tim’s voice slammed you back to reality. You quickly focused back in, fearing losing any advantage due to a lack of attention.

Abruptly, an alarm sounded, the noise blazing a path through your eardrums. You jolted in surprise. Tim however, was barely rattled. A frown appeared on his face as he glanced at his phone.

“That was the Arkham Asylum breakout alarm. It's no longer safe to go outside.” With these words Tim got up, walking over to the door and opening it.

“What…?” You mumbled, horrified.

“Stay here.” He commanded, a firm tone in his voice. This was Red Robin. “I’m going to check on the building, don't leave, it isn't safe.”

“Wait! But.. the collaboration.. we didn't..” The words rushed out of your mouth, leaving you feeling like a fool as Tim paused for a moment, to look at you.

“Don't worry.” He smiled, the weight of it bearing down upon you. You felt small. “You can just come in tomorrow, I'm sure your company won't mind.” With the final word said, Tim closed the door, presumably rushing off to become Red Robin. The click of the door felt like a dismissal, a scolding. A reminder to stay in your place.

Once again, you were trapped.

You clenched your fists. He wanted you to stay here, in his territory. You didn't doubt that Wayne Enterprises had amazing security, probably some of the best considering the identities of the owners. This was likely the third most safe place in Gotham, with the first and second places going to Batman’s base and Wayne Manor.

But… you haven't learned anything yet. All that time spent with him and somehow he hadn't brought up that singular, obvious fact. There was no way he didn't know, not with the way he was acting. And yet, he hadn't brought it up. Why?

What was he getting out of this?

Was he hoping that if you assumed he didn't know then you could easily be monitored? Was he just gathering information before acting? Where was the rest of the vigilantes in this?

Your head was spinning, going in circles. You couldn't understand him, you couldn't understand any of them. Why choose to be vigilantes, knowing the costs that life endures? Why were you tied to them, when you were so against a fundamental part of their existence?

You couldn't understand this at all. How could this be the basis of a soulmate bond?

You were… opposites.

You felt the telltale beat of an oncoming headache. For your own sanity, you decided to fold the incoming soulmate crisis into a small cavity of your brain to panic about later.

Fact One: There was an ongoing Arkham Asylum breakout, everyone is either being attacked, hiding away or escaping the city.

Fact Two: Batman and all his partners are going to be occupied for at least several hours if not a day.

Fact Three: You were going to take advantage of this.

It was the perfect time. All your soulmates were occupied, so none of them would be able to pay any attention to you. Red Robin might know your identity, and so the other vigilantes may know as well.

That didn't need to matter. They may have the information, but information itself is useless, if they are unable to act.

Right now, any Gothamite that isn't involved with rogues is either hiding or escaping. You could join the escapes, and get out of Gotham in the rush.

You didn't have to stay here, to play the role of a caged bird. You could escape, before they even got a chance.

You had to try.

You suppressed a shaky sigh, getting up and walking to the door. You tried the door handle.

Locked.

Uh oh. You tried it again, and then a few more times after that, shaking the door eventually in your desperation. Oh come on! You desperately thought to yourself. The one time you finally got the perfect chance and it's being ruined by a locked door.

Wait. You glanced at the small window in the door, the beginnings of an idea sprouting in your head. You glance over at Tim’s desk, noticing a small paper weight. You smile.

Lifting the paperweight, you judge the weight to be enough. Holding it up, you get into position to throw.

Wait.. the door has a keyhole, not a sliding chain, you realize, almost too late.

Ah.

Well that would have been embarrassing.

Sadly, you place the paperweight back down. There goes that idea.

But that wasn't the only door in the office, there was another one, the one that the shouting voice left out of. You approach the door, trying the doorknob.

Click!

It opens! Giving a small laugh, you advance through the door and out into the halls of Wayne Enterprises, a jubilant smile on your face. Whoever was shouting at Tim earlier, you almost wanted to thank them.

You avoid the elevators, instead picking stairs, as you presumed they may also be in lockdown. It didn't take you too long to get down to the ground floor, since the main walking areas were now barren of people.

The ground floor had some unfortunate news to offer you though. The once wildly open doors had now been locked down and barred, an iron wall between you and freedom.

Although, maybe there was some other way, you thought, eyeing the anxious security guards patrolling the front entrance.

Pulling out of your hiding spot, you approach the guards, making to time your steps, making noise to not scare them. You really didn't want to get shot before you had even left the safety of the building.

“P-please help me!” You stuttered, trembling with tears in your eyes. The guards jolted in surprise, turning to face you. They were expecting threats from the outside, not the inside.

“I need to get home, I can't stay here.” You sobbed, the guards pausing in confusion. They didn't know what to do with you.

“What’s wrong?” A sympathetic guard asked, patting you gently on the back. You almost felt bad.

“I need to go home!” You repeated, tone frantic.

A disgruntled guard stepped up to you. “Look, no one can leave right now. Company policy. It isn't safe, there's been an Arkham breakout. Just sit tight, and whatever’s waiting for you at home will be there when you get back.”

“N-no…” You mumbled. “You don't understand.. I have.. I have a cat, waiting for me.” You glance up, watching the expressions on their faces. They seem unmoved. “A-and my child!” You cry out, realizing you needed a better lie.

“A child?” The disgruntled guard repeated, sounding a little more sympathetic, but clearly not convinced. He eyed you up and down, evidentially thinking you looked a little too young.

“They're so little, but my cat likes to take care of them and I needed the money so, so I left them at home alone today. But recently they're been figuring out how to open doors and if anything happened to them I don't know what I’d d-” Your frantic lie is cut off, the disgruntled guard laying a hand on your shoulder.

“Alright listen. None of us can escort you, we're here on the job.”

You nodded, feeling exuberation rush through you.

“But if anything happened, run right back here, alright?”

You nodded again, fighting a smile on your face. The guards unlocked the doors, watching you dash out with frowns on their tired faces.

They were obvious to the beaming smirk on yours.

Nights in Gotham are by nature a little terrifying, but they're nothing compared to an Arkham breakout night. Shadows crawled up alleyways, the smell of booze and smoke lingering in a way it never could on normal nights. The terror was so pungent in the air, you could almost taste it. It was on the tip of your tongue.

Every so often you'd hear a scream, and you'd walk a little faster. Ideally you would have committed to the stealth route, but you had wasted enough time already.

Your house was on the way to the bus station, so you could easily pop in, grab essentials, and get out. You wouldn't lie, you were nervous. Every so often you’d feel your knees lose strength, and you'd have to fight with your body to regain the strength to stand.

But at this point it was either the horror of whatever your soulmates had in store for you, or the horrors of Arkham night. You'd already picked your poison, now it was time to swallow.

You took a breath in, then out, and continued walking. You were almost there.

The streets of Gotham stretched on endlessly, a cacophony of fear.

Just a bit longer.

A gunshot sounded nearby, the noise blasting through your eardrum.

Almost there.

The hum of a van's engine rushed through the night, haunting laughter echoing through the road.

You could see your house!

You beamed, a smile lighting up your face, as you practically skipped up to the entrance. You reached into your bag to withdraw your keys.

You had just retrieved them when a crowbar smashed into your head.

----

Wow umh, please pray for reader guys, this is NOT going well for them. Who do you think that was?

Me writing shenanigans for this chapter:

I just really feel like reader should smash open this window, let's do it. Wait. They wouldn't have doors that work like that. so reader sadly puts the heavy object down :(

Also me: yeah so reader lies here and it's an absolute mess

Also also me: rip reader that's a lotta head trauma omg

Sorry for the lack of soul animals this chapter :(( there's a reason I swear

The next chapter is definitely gonna be a bit insane, for sure! The soul animals return then anddd in droves!

Taglist: @moonchild-artemisdaughter @jjsmeowthie @madine11-blog @xxrougefangxx @hadesnewpersephone @neerathebrightstar @mel-star636 @jaythes1mp @rosecentury @lov3vivian @gaozorous-rex-blog @victoria1676 @vrsin @silverklaus @ryukyuin @kurai-hono-blog @thisisafish123 @isawyourbrowserhistory @ain-t-no-way-bsfr @realifezompire @lunaluz432 @nickey-diano @sukiiluvs @sara0055 @alleakimlala @kdidgg @paperhermits @lavender-moony @alishii @emmbny @sirenetheblogger @fantasy-angelo @andrasia @vinnvinnvintage @nyra-42 @armystaysatnct @beyond-your-stars @starsdotalk @adeptusxia0 @jailbimbo @yandereheros @sxftiebee @i-have-three-feelings @toast-on-dandelioms @lyl-3 @sitepathos @pato-spoiler-27 @ghostdoodlen @phoenixgurl030 @problematicreblogger @sociallyakwardpanda

@imaginarydreams @zanzie @yuyuzi-ling @soriansick @f1lover4ever @kiikkey @elizzsush @raincxtter @luoyi85 @yune1337 @erikasurfer @thekingofsimps @chaosbeanuwu

If I missed anyone out im super sorry! I generally check the replies for the current chapter and messages for people that want to be tagged, so it's possible for people to slip by

Just remind me again and I'll be sure to add you! (This also goes for if I misspell you accidentally, which also happens cuz I type them all manually)

For some reason I couldnt tag anymore people until I put a random space in-between the tags, so that's apparently a thing. If anyone has any ideas why, I'm listening

[idontcaboose]

Haunted car au part 9

Previous Masterpost

“O, please tell me someone is close by?” Red Robin hissed into his comm.

“Batman and Signal are on the way, 6 blocks out.”

“Neat, see if they can use the 109th st entrance, I will try to lead my goons that way.”

“Rerouting their gps, stay safe RR.”

Tim wasn't sure how to stay safe with a bullet wound in his leg, and a few grazes across his body. Part of the job he supposes. He wasn't sure which god or entity was enjoying his struggle, but he would not hesitate to smack them in the face with his bō. Tim took a small breather after losing his followers for a moment. His leg has a hole, his arms couldn't keep a strong grip on his grapple, not that it really mattered. A goon got an extremely lucky shot and destroyed the thing. So, grounded, with a barely functioning leg, and about 15 goons, and if the leaders of the group didn't flee already, then them too, looking for him. Not great odds. Oracle said Batman and Signal were on their way, and hopefully heading to the street closest to him that would work for some form of ambush.

“I'll go out a bit early, they won't be expecting it. Nah, they only set up to catch Signal, you know, the meta. The meta that can all but shadow step like a freaking d&d character. Such a great plan Tim.” Tim had started to mutter to himself as he attempted to tie on a better bandage to his leg than the slap dash one he did while on the move. He was just done securing it when a goon appeared.

“I found some blood over here!”

Tim almost screamed expletives on par with Jason or Duke, but he had some self preservation.

“ETA, hopefully it's NOW?!” Tim growled onto the comms.

“We are set up Red Robin, bring them through.” Tim could have cried in relief at Batman's voice, but he had some goons to lead.

Tim ran, not bothering to hide as he did. Luckily the goons did not think about surrounding the alley he was in, and they followed blindly into the bat's trap. He trusted that Bruce and Duke could handle the group, and limped to the Batmobile. It wasn't until Tim got to the driver's side passenger door did the universe have one last laugh at him.

“Well, well, we'll. Let's make a deal, little red bird.” Out of all the people to corner Tim, it had to have been the wannabe leader of the small time gang.

“Depends, is the deal you turn yourself in?” Tim automatically snarked.

“Nah, open the Batmobile, or I shoot you here.” The man sneered.

“Fine, fine.” Tim opened the driver's door and scooted away, his hands away from his sides.

“Good, keep backing up Red.”

Once Red Robin was far enough for the man, he turned and went to get into the car, only for the door to close on the man repeatedly. Tim could not help but just watch as the car kept smacking the guy until he managed to get into the seat. Unfortunately for the gang leader his hand was not fast enough and got slammed between the door and frame. Based on the crack and responding scream, the hand was very much broken. With a last open and close, the engine started, and the Batmobile drove straight into the group of goons and vigilantes.

Tim watched in morbid curiosity as Batman and Signal heard the car roaring towards them. Watched as they grappled upwards with just a small moment from them getting run over. Watched as 3 goons did not have time to move out of the way and got tossed onto the hood, only to slide off at the jerky stop of the car. It wasn't until Batman barked “Report.” over the comms did Tim snap out of his daze.

“The leader of the gang got into the Batmobile, and proceeded to try to run you guys over.” Tim slowly responded. “He held me at gunpoint and I couldn't move fast enough to do anything but let him. How did the failsafes fail at keeping him from driving?” Tim's voice petered out with the question.

The car door then slammed open and the leader fell out of the seat, and tried to scramble as far from the car as he could. It didn't take long for Batman to grab the man for questioning.

“Hey man, you good to move?” Tim startled when Duke appeared in front of him.

“Ya, ya. I have a GSW to my right calf, got grazed a few times in different places, possibly going into shock.” Tim dutifully reported.

“Got it, up and at ‘em.”

Duke carefully walked Tim to the Batmobile and settled him into the back seats, tightened the bandage on his leg, and put bandages on his other wounds. It wasn't until Duke went to go help Batman clean up and triage the remaining goons did he say something strange.

“Stay put, Red Robin. Keep him safe ok?” With the second request, Duke patted the driver's seat and left him alone in the car.

“What?”

Next

@kizzer55555 @sebas-nights @candeartist422 @trappednyourheart @fandom-life-corrupted-me @tkiesai @2lbballpeenhammer @admiralwidow @rewrittenwrongs @whotfevenknowsanymore @symmetricalastigmatism

@thespacedragons

@atinygracie @okami-love

@lesbian-spider-drone @1n0sss @forgetmenot-bluepurple

[earphonejackx]

AN: I’m back!! I decided to make more makima fics cuz I’m crazy for soft makima :p this is a part 2 to part 1

⊂⊃ Soft! Makima x f!reader

⊂⊃ WARNING- slight manipulation, possessiveness

⊂⊃ Makima is an absolute baby when it comes down to you treating her as her lover more often, she likes to be babied by you! but somewhat likes to keep control

⊂⊃ When Makima finally starts warming up to you more she tells you more about her past. This is a completely new vulnerability she has showed you and she would like it if you’d do the same

⊂⊃ Makima has picked up a new hobby for watching movies every Friday night with you. After work she’d be right at your door ready to spend the rest of her night with you. “[name] what movie shall we watch tonight? I have so many recommendations.”

⊂⊃ Makima loves going grocery shopping with you! She loves helping you pick foods for you and her to cook. She likes having organized foods in her kitchen so it’s very interesting to see her picks of food

⊂⊃ Makima hates TV dinners. I’ve fucking said it, she refuses to eat anything that even looks close to sloppy food. When she first saw you eating a TV dinner for lunch she was upset “[name] you have very interesting picks of food for lunch, not very pleasing.” She definitely stopped letting you eat those T.T

⊂⊃ NOW obviously I like to make my girl Makima have some flaws so here we go.

⊂⊃ Makima still at times tries to control you or the people around you, unfortunately this is something you’ll have to get used to. She is a control devil, her main purpose is to control so she doesn’t really care if you like it or not that’s just how she’ll always be. You’ve learned to accept it overtime but obviously you occasionally need to have talks with her about it

⊂⊃ Makima doesn’t get social ques sometimes so she’ll be a little off put to some people or even you at times but that’s just how she is

⊂⊃ Makima has a very hard time expressing her feelings outloud so at times it feels like she doesn’t even love you

⊂⊃ This lady has definitely tried treating you like a dog once☠️ but she sometimes does it to fuck around with you or toy with you. It does calm down overtime tho

⊂⊃ Please expect Makima to go days without texting you sometimes, sometimes she’ll forget she even has a phone and leaves you worried sick!

(You) Maki are you okay I wanted to check up on you? | Today 6:40

(Maki) yes. | Today 12:00

Next day—

(You) good morning makima! Hru?? | Today 8:30

(You) Maki you wanna go to the store with me today?? | Today 4:00

(You) Maki wanna do movie night?? I have your favorite movie~~ :3 | Today 7:01

3 days later ���-

(Maki) ah sorry [name] I just forgot I had a phone. I’m sorry I didn’t text you back. | Today 5:00

(You) seen…

(Maki) [Name?] | Today 5:07

(You) BLOCKED

⊂⊃ After you blocked Makima she tried to make it up with you with a movie night. She tried apologizing (which she’s very bad at.) and she said sorry once. maybe you could forgive her?

⊂⊃ Makima definitely starts to get possessive with you overtime. She wants you. She needs you. So please let her have you. You definitely have to stop her sometimes but it’s fun seeing her get greedy for something that’s hers “What? What do you mean possessive? Me what? No.” She still denies it.

⊂⊃ There are times where Makima wants to prove that she isn’t just some control freak. She wants you to trust her and love her. She wants you

⊂⊃ Makima definitely likes to keep you away from her work life. But if you work with her I’d be no secret if she immediately switched your division or lowered you down to safer missions with easy pay

[hellfirenacht]

Wing Man 12

Fic Summary: Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you’ll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

Chapter Summary: You go to your audition, but things never go as planned.

CW: Unwanted flirting, Chris Morrison

5.4 Words

(1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11)

When you weren’t busy with work, talking to Eddie, spending time with Steve, or sleeping, you were working on your audition. You’d called Chris one time in the week that led up to the audition time, and in that thirty second phone call you had learned absolutely nothing about what to actually prepare for the audition. 

You’d been on stage before, but you didn’t exactly have to audition for the middle school talent show in 8th grade. Everyone was forced into it, so you were put into the show by default, not that you minded. But, that wasn’t exactly a good example as your act had gone disastrously and you pushed down that memory every time it reared its ugly head. 

When you thought of being on stage, you preferred to think of your first time as the Virgin Sacrifice, or the time that you had been in the school’s production of Our Town two years ago. You’d signed up for auditions as a way for extra credit, and had been cast as part of the ensemble and had even been given three full lines. 

That had been the first time you had noticed Robin Buckley, actually. You didn’t talk to her at all during the audition, but you remembered her reading off the script so passionately it actually took your breath away. It had also taken Robin’s breath away as well, unfortunately, as she had finished her speech and promptly passed out cold. 

The next time you remembered really noticing her was at prom a few months later when she had burst in, her dress cut up and looking damn near manic. She’d danced once with Sheena Rollands and then had been chased out of prom. You remembered this distinctly because she looked, well, way cooler than anyone there. Her hair was choppy and messy, and her dress looked like it had been hacked at as well, with stars sewn onto the new hemline. She looked like a rebel, like someone who mattered. You could never actually be cool like that, as much as you wished you could. 

You had heard rumors that she was on the run from Hopper for being a runaway that night, but that seemed stupid because what runaway would run away to her high school prom?

You’d asked her about it a few weeks into working with her at Family Video, and she just shrugged and said that Paris had been the goal, but Prom was more feasible that night. You didn’t press further. 

With that small shared connection though, Robin had helped you put together something that resembled an audition. Chris had said that all you needed to do was show up bu it didn’t feel right to show up to a real audition like it was your school play, so you roped Robin into helping you find some sort of speech to give as well as re-watching your video copy of the movie, doing your best to mimic the choreography on screen, both in dancing and in general blocking. 

The VHS tape got a work out with the constant pausing and rewinding. You and Robin had spent a good afternoon with her directing you on your lip syncing and movements. By the end of the afternoon, the two of you had worked out something that you hoped showed that you belonged in the show. 

You zipped up your jacket as you stepped out of your car, and made your way to the theater. There weren’t any cars in the parking lot other than yours, which should have been your first red flag. You had double and triple checked the time, and yes, you were set to meet up for auditions in the next seven minutes. 

The sun was setting over the old theater, bathing the world in gold and red. It was late in the afternoon and as you approached the old marquis, you wondered briefly how Eddie’s lunch went. You pushed that down, not wanting to think about your crush and guy you were kind-of-sort-of seeing spending time with an old flame. 

This wasn’t about him, this afternoon was about you and you alone. 

Your stomach flipped as you approached the heavy wooden doors. You went to push and realized they were locked and the ‘closed’ sign hung there as if to say don’t you know what time it is? Why are you here?

You knew what time it was, you’d been checking your watch every two minutes since you parked. 

Was this some sort of prank by Chris? Another false hope that you could be part of something? To feel like someone? To matter? 

It was five minutes after your alleged call time, and you were about to turn around and go home and give up. Maybe you’d shake down Steve and Robin for a pity party where you could gripe and watch a shitty movie. No wait, they worked tonight. Eddie? You didn’t know if you were ready to know how his lunch went. Maybe you needed more friends. 

Long shadows started to cast across the parking lot from the theater that loomed over you. Without the bright welcoming lights of the marquis, the building felt more foreboding, towering over you as if judging your worth to even be here when casual moviegoers weren’t around. You felt small, the lack of lights telling you that you didn’t belong anywhere, let alone in a spotlight. What were you really doing here?

You started walking away, and had made it five steps before you heard the slow creek of the front door opening, and the sound of someone calling out your name. You turned, and Chris was there opening the door and giving you a smile. He was fully clothed and, thankfully, not wearing those metallic gold shorts you had seen him in last. 

“Sorry about the wait, I lost track of time.” Chis beckoned you in and you hesitated for a moment before following you inside. 

“I thought more people would be here.” You said, trying to ignore the way Chris’s hand lightly pressed on your lower back as he ushered you into the empty lobby. The air smelled like stale popcorn and felt stagnant, like no one had turned on the air since Halloween. Your voice felt too loud in the empty room, as if your presence was a disturbance when the theater wasn’t bustling with people.

“I’m keeping the auditions private. I’ve had people come in and out all day.” Chris explained, leading you towards an ‘Employees Only’ door. “I have a form for you to fill out and then we can start.”

“You’ve been having people...?” Wait, was Chris in charge of the audition?

“Oh, did I not mention?” Chris looked at you. “My dad owns the theater now.”

No, he had not mentioned that. He had failed to mention a lot of things, actually. He didn’t mention that his dad owned the theater now, he didn’t mention it would be a private audition, and he certainly hadn’t mentioned that he was in charge of whether you’d be in or out. Again. 

There have been some recent changes to management. That’s what Chris had said that night. The Halloween show had sucked because Chris’s dad took over the theater-

A clipboard appeared in front of you, snapping you out of it. You took it, looking over the form. 

“It’s just to keep track of who’s been auditioning.” He said. “Basic things, name, number, any experience you’ve had.”

You took a seat in the office, while Chris leaned against the desk, watching you. You really wished he’d look anywhere else while you filled out the basic information needed. When it came to “on stage” experiences you put down your ensemble experience for Our Town and stopped. 

“Feel free to put down the talent show.” Chris laughed. “I think it fits in with the show perfectly, Miss Pussy Lover.”

You winced at the nickname, and there was a voice in the back of your head that told you to crack the clipboard over his head and storm out. Stubbornness made you stay and give an awkward laugh. He wasn’t... completely wrong. Your talent show act had caused a commotion among your peers in a way that had followed you into high school. It was too much to hope that everyone would have forgotten about that almost seven fucking years later, you guessed. 

“Yeah, it wasn’t supposed to be taken that way, but at least it means I’m not afraid to say dirty things on stage.” Your words felt forced, and you didn’t like how it made you feel. Making dirty jokes with Steve and Robin was a daily activity, you trusted them and had fun doing that. Making dirty jokes with Eddie was especially fun, and the attraction you felt towards him helped with that.

“Good, because that’s what this show is about.” Chris’s face looked smug.

“So, your dad owns the theater now?” You asked, trying to keep conversation focused and relevant. 

“Yeah, he took over a few months ago. He bought it off the old owners, and we’ve been working with the Rocky Horror troupe since.” Chris said. “Since management is now owned by my dad, he put me in charge of it.” 

Things were starting to make sense, and you didn’t like it. That voice in your head was getting louder now, saying that this wasn’t a good idea. 

“So you’re in charge of the shadow cast and production?” You couldn’t keep the skepticism out of your voice. 

“I enjoyed running tech for the school play, I figured I could run this.” He smirked. 

Straight into the ground. You thought, remembering how Columbia and Riffraff had been talking to each other in the corner that night. 

“So, did you have anyone in mind that you were wanting to audition for?” Chris asked, ignoring whatever face you were making. 

“Uh, I always really liked Janet and Columbia.” you offered, trying to focus. “I actually got really bored one winter and glued pennies onto an old pair of shoes to make some fake tap shoes. I tried to learn Columbia’s choreography but I ended up slipping and spraining an ankle instead.” 

That little stunt had you spending the holidays with your foot propped up on a pillow while you binged holiday movies and ate junk food. There had been worse ways to spend that week, especially since all of your friends at the time had been busy with their own families. 

Chris’s laugh echoed through the small office and you would have bet that it could be heard in the empty lobby. You had meant for the story to be a little humorous, but he was acting like you’d told the funniest joke in the world. 

“Didn’t realize you were such a clutz, Miss Pussy Lover.” He said as he calmed down. 

“Please don’t call me that.” you said. “And I didn’t realize how slippery pennies would be on the wood floor.”

Chris’s hand clapped down on your shoulder as he retrieved the form from you. “It’s fine, it’ll be the perfect name for you while you’re with the troupe.” 

“I’m not in yet, so just my name is fine for now.” you said a bit more firmly, standing up and sliding out of his grasp. 

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I think you’re already going to fit in.” he continued, standing way too close for your comfort. “I already like you more than anyone else who’s auditioned today. And you’re in luck, our Columbia just quit.” Chis’s eyes looked you up and down. “But, I think you’d be a better Janet. You’d look good in her outfits.”

Janet had two main outfits outside of the end of the movie. The first outfit was a simple sweater and blouse with a long skirt, sweet and modest. In the second half of the movie, she was running around in a bra and slip. It was clear what outfit he was talking about. 

“Actually, let’s start with having you read for Janet.” He continued and went to the desk and pulled out a piece of paper. “How about we start with the scene where Janet takes care of Rocky when he’s scared and injured?”

Oh. You hadn’t thought about that. You took a small step back and he took a step forward. Chris wanted you to act out the part of the movie where Janet decides to seduce Rocky and sleep with him, turning her officially into a “slut”. 

“I’d actually really rather audition for Columbia.” you said, handing the paper back over. Chris pushed it back into your hands and stepped forward again, and you bumped against the chair that you’d been sitting on before. 

“We can have you read for Columbia, but I think we should start with Janet.” He insisted. “Janet is cuter anyway, and you’ve gotten a lot cuter since school.” 

The voice in your head was now ringing every alarm bell, and before you could say anything, Chris kept talking. 

“I can make you Janet easily.” he said. “She’s basically the lead. I’ve seen your energy at the shows, so I know you can handle it.”

“I... listen, I really don’t think-”

“You don’t need to think. Just listen to me and follow my direction.” Chris said, smirking down at you. He had a good six inches on you, but thankfully he didn’t move any closer. “Hey, you’ve heard of a casting couch right?” 

Time froze for a second and your blood ran cold. “Wh.... what?”

“It’s fine. If you’re worried about protection, this is Rocky Horror. I have plenty of condoms-”

Chris was on the floor, grabbing his crotch before you realized what you had done. 

As you burst through the lobby doors, the sound of your shoes echoed through the empty lobby. Your eyes blurred and stung, unable to allow yourself to take in the sight of the place that had been your safe haven for the past two years. In just ten minutes it was tarnished, ruined by the idea that you could ever really belong where you wanted to. You didn’t fit in here, you didn’t fit in anywhere. Rocky Horror, Hellfire, school, work, it was all the same. Who were you trying to fool? You were a background character, an npc, an extra. And that’s all you would be. 

The shadow of the theater stretched and followed you to your car, not quite touching it as you hopped inside and slammed on the gas. You didn’t even care that Chris was being sleazy, you’d dealt with creeps before. This was the first time that you had kneed one in the crotch though. 

It was the humiliation that every time you tried to fit in or stand out you were shoved back down. Every time you reached out to be something else, reality brought you back down to earth. You had told yourself that you were different now, that you weren’t the same person you were in high school, but was that really true? The talent show, Halloween, Rocky Horror, all desperate attempts to stand out, only to be dragged down. 

You were a fish out of water, and you had been holding your breath for so long that it was catching up to you. You couldn’t breathe. 

You were drowning. 

Getting back home was a blur. You were probably speeding, but it didn’t matter. You just needed to get as far away from that theater as possible. Tears spilled over. 

You didn’t even get to say goodbye. 

Now here you were, in your room, in the dark. Night had fallen quickly after you’d left and it looked black as midnight outside, despite being early in the evening still. 

The plastic gray phone in your hand droned on as you held it off its hanger. That one low note, continuous and echoing in your lonely apartment. That voice in your head that you had tried to ignore earlier was telling you something new, and this time you intended to listen to it. 

The numbers you pressed were a ten note song that sung in your head every time you had dialed it over the past week. 

The phone rang for an eternity, you counted. Each ring sounded like a hundred years, and as you heard that final ring start its long note, it cut off. There was a click, and for a moment you resurfaced and felt oxygen returning to your lungs for just the briefest moment. 

“Hello?”

“Hey.... Eddie?” your voice squeaked over the first syllable of his name. “Sorry I... Can you come pick me up? I’m at home.” 

“I’ll be right there.” There wasn’t a question in his voice, not hesitation. Just a simple statement. The last thing you heard was a distant jingle of keys and then a click as Eddie hung up, leaving you to wait for that next breath.  

“So... what happened?” 

It was the first time that Eddie had said anything since you had jumped in his van four seconds after he parked. You had immediately shaken your head and turned up the volume on the tape that he had been playing, needing to hear something as hurt and furious as you felt. 

That had been ten minutes ago, and now you were in a place where you felt like you were finally able to talk. You turned down the volume and took a deep breath. 

“Chris’s dad owns the theater now.” you said, your voice sounded so distant to you. 

“He- wait, Chris Morrison’s dad owns the theater now?” Eddie repeated and you could only nod your head. 

“Yeah. He owns the theater. Chris was put in charge of the show. He uh....” you took a deep breath and watched intently as the streetlights passed by in a constant flash of warm yellow. “He made a move on me.” 

Eddie’s head snapped to the side to look at you before remembering that he needed to pay attention to the road. 

“I thought that I was going there to audition.” you started telling him everything. You told Eddie how Chris had been using the audition to get laid and that you had blacked out and had probably kicked him in the dick when he made a pass at you. 

Eddie had a stone face as he stared out the windshield, a stone face of a very pissed gargoyle. 

“Did he touch you?” he asked, and you noticed he had a death grip on the steering wheel. 

“Only on my shoulder.” you said. “He didn’t like touch me, touch me.”

Touch-a touch-a touch-a touch me!

You never wanted to hear that song again. 

Eddie didn’t relax at that, and still looked pissed. “You really kicked him in the nuts?” 

“Yeah, I remember him saying something about condoms and then he was on the ground grabbing his dick.” You said, running your hands over your thighs. “I’ve never hit anyone before.”

“He deserved it.” Eddie said. 

“Yeah, but... I don’t know. I feel weird about the whole thing.” You sighed, rubbing your face in frustration. “I’m pissed. Chris hitting on me was just the cherry on top. I knew it was too easy trying to be part of this, and now I’ll never be able to go back.”

“I’ll be surprised if there are any shows after this.” Eddie said. “Everything Chris touches turns to shit. He dropped Hellfire and I had to pick up the pieces. Maybe someone will be able to pick the show back up in the future.” 

It was a nice sentiment, but it did nothing but tell you that maybe one day you’ll find a piece of driftwood to cling to. 

“I don’t know what to do now.” The paved road turned to dirt and gravel as Eddie pulled into his neighborhood. Trailers and RVs of different shapes and sizes were scattered around, and you could barely see the dirt road as Eddie pulled up next to one. You assumed this was his home. It occurred to you that you had never asked where Eddie lived before. You two had only ever hung out at The Hideout or in his can before. 

Eddie didn’t make a move to get out after he parked. It was pretty common, the two of you sitting in here for hours just talking and getting to know each other. 

“The show was the one place outside of work and home that I felt like I could actually belong.” You said, hating that you were dumping all your shitty problems on him. “Once a month I had a place where people didn’t expect anything out of me. I didn’t have to be the assistant manager, I didn’t have to struggle to fit in, and I didn’t feel out of place.”

You leaned back in your seat, rubbing your eyes to rid the tears that threatened to start up again. This was so fucking embaressing, crying in front of the guy you liked after you begged him to pick you up after a bad day. 

“I know that The Hideout isn’t exactly the most, uh, glamorous place.” Eddie said slowly, knocking his rings against the steering wheel. “We don’t exactly draw a crowd, and it’s not brimming with freaks like you’re used to, but you can come any time we’re playing.” Eddie turned and grinned at you. “If you want I can drag you on stage to dance with us, if it helps. You could heckle us, too. It’s been a while since we’ve had someone throw something at us on stage. It’d keep us humble.”

You found yourself grinning back, unable to stop the rumble in your chest as laughter escaped you. 

Eddie took that as a sign to keep going. “I think you’d do better at it than our normal drunks.” he continued. “See, you actually listen to our music. You’d get creative with your insults. I’ll write out copies of our lyrics and give you a head start. You can start throwing dice at us. I think I can handle being called a ‘satanist freak’ if it’s from you. Maybe you can start doing some satanic chants during some songs-” 

“Oh my god, Eddie.” You laughed, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a weirdo?” 

“Excuse you, I am the mean and scary freak of Hawkins.” Eddie said seriously, placing a hand over his heart. “I will not settle for anything less, sweetheart.” 

Your heart jumped at the nickname and the warmth in your cheeks from your laughter intensified. 

“My apologies, Mr. The Freak. I’ll be sure to address you properly next time.” you rolled your eyes, but your smile was sincere. 

“Please, Mr. The Freak was my father. You can just call me Eddie.” He leaned against the seat, his side pressed against it as he looked over at you with a smile. 

You offered your hand to him in greeting. “Hello, you can just call me ‘weirdo’ or ‘that one girl’ or ‘hey you.’” you said as he took your hand and shook it. 

“It’s nice to be properly introduced.” Eddie said with a snort. His hands felt warm in yours despite the chill in the air. 

You felt better, you were still pissed as hell and upset, but you at least didn’t feel like crying. 

“I hope your day went better than mine.”  With the Chris drama being put aside for a moment, you might as well pull the pin out on this conversation. You didn’t want to have it, you really didn’t, but you liked Eddie. You really really liked him, and you decided it was better to know sooner rather than later what the deal with him and his ex was. 

Eddie blinked his eyes in surprise that you were the one to start the conversation. He looked thrown off for a moment, but shook it off quickly. 

“Paige is in charge of a new-ish label that she’s trying to get set up in Hawkins.” Eddie started. “She wants Corroded Coffin to audition for a chance to be signed.”

“Holy shit, that’s amazing.” you said, and you meant it. You had only seen them play a few times, but each time you felt like they belonged to something bigger. Even on a small stage, they acted like they were playing in front of a crowd of thousands. “You’re gonna do it, right?”

“Yeah, I... I really can’t pass this up. I mean, I still need to tell the rest of the guys and get their input but I doubt they’ll turn it down.” Eddie said. 

“Even a small label is a big deal, right? That means you’d be able to record and play somewhere outside of the Hideout.” you said. 

“Paige said that she wants us to audition by the end of the year and if things go well, then she could have us in a studio by summer.” 

“Wow.” you breathed out, leaning back against the seat. “So, can I get you to autograph a few things now to get ahead of the crowd? I figure one or two for me to keep then a few more for me to sell off as you get bigger.”

“Ha ha, real funny.” Eddie said dead pan. 

“I’m not joking.” you said. “I got bills to pay, and you’re about to be signed. Help a girl out!”

“We haven’t even set up the audition.” 

“So? She flew out here, told you that she wanted you to audition and that she could have you in a recording studio next year! I really doubt that she would tell you all of that unless she already had you planned for the roster.” you pointed out. “It sounds like the audition is more of a formality.” 

“You really think so?” Eddie asked, perking up slightly. He hadn’t thought about it like that. 

“I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but it can’t have been horrible if she wants to sign you still.” You added. 

Eddie had an expression on his face that you couldn’t read.

“I guess.” He shrugged, but he didn’t seem convinced. 

“Either way, I hope your audition goes better than how mine just went.” 

Eddie took a deep breath. “Paige tried to kiss me.” he said quickly, and all that anxiety from the day shot back up. 

“Oh.” You failed to sound neutral about what Eddie had just said, disappointment clear in your voice. 

“No, I- I turned her down.” Eddie clarified. “After the meeting she started leaning in and I told her no, that it wasn’t a good idea.”

“Oh...?” you were searching for words, but nothing else came out. 

“I also...” He hesitated for a moment, messing with one of his rings. “I told her I was seeing someone.” 

“Oh!” It was your turn to be surprised, and once again you felt the warmth in your cheeks. “How’d she take it...?”

“She took it well.” Eddie said. “I don’t think she was really thinking it through when she tried. I think she just got caught up in this fantasy about me being some sort of rock hero. It’s business, that’s all it is. Paige even said that it wouldn’t ever actually work between the two of us.”

“She’s not pulling a Chris right?”

“No, she said that the audition is still on with or without any entanglement.” He promised.

“And you don’t have any romantic feelings for her?” You asked. 

Eddie shook his head. “No. I don’t.”

You believed him. You didn’t have any reason not to anyway. Eddie had been up front about his relationship with Paige every step of the way. If Eddie had been a lesser person, he wouldn’t have told you that she was his ex and he really wouldn’t have said anything about an almost kiss. 

Plus, when he said he was seeing someone your stomach felt like it was full of butterflies and glitter and that was something you were having a really hard time ignoring.

“Alright, I trust you.” you nodded. “At least one of us should have something good come out of this night. I’m happy for you, really. I want this to work for you.” 

“Thanks.” His voice was soft. “Do you uh, want to come inside?” 

When you had asked Eddie to pick you up, you hadn’t thought too far ahead of what that would mean or where you would go. You glanced at the trailer for a moment, and suddenly you were really curious about where he lived and what his room looked like. 

“Absolutely, I do.” you said. After the emotional roller coaster you had just been on today, you were fine with any kind of distraction. 

The two of you hopped out of the car, and Eddie swung the door to the trailer open for you and let you in first. It was a small trailer, with a living room, kitchen, and you could see the open door to Eddie’s bedroom from where you stood. 

“Do you have enough hats?” you asked, stepping into the living room and looking at the many hats and mugs that decorated the walls. “And mugs? I don’t think you have enough mugs. Whatever will you drink out of?”

“Those are all my uncles.” Eddie said, shrugging off his jacket. “He’s been collecting them since I could remember.” 

There were still hints of Eddie in the living room, despite his uncle's collection. A few papers were scattered on the coffee table, filled with numbers and notes next to a set of dice. On top of the tv there were a few VHS’s of old monster movies that you’d seen at your own job as well. 

“Sorry about the mess.” He had made his way to the kitchen and quickly disposed of something you couldn’t see in the trash. 

“You haven’t seen my apartment, don’t apologize.” you said, thinking back to the unwashed pile of dishes waiting for you in the sink at home. You should also really take out the trash and fold your laundry instead of tossing it all on the chair- 

“My room’s this way.” Eddie said. It occurred to you that the last time you followed a guy into a private room he tried to make a move on you. But when you thought of Eddie being the one to lean in and tell you that he had some condoms, you didn’t feel that disgust you felt earlier. You were actually finding yourself hoping that he’d make a move as you followed him to his room. 

Eddie Munson’s room looked exactly how it should. A hand made Corroded Coffin banner hung proudly over a stereo system, and the walls were more poster than paint. Every inch of the room proclaimed proudly who Eddie was and what he was about. It was loud, and cluttered, and lived in, and absolutely perfect. 

You watched as Eddie tried to subtly pick up some of the empty beer cans around the room and toss them in a small basket in the corner of the room. Your eyes were drawn to the nightstand where there was a small pile of tapes which you helped yourself to go through. 

“Eddie, what’s this?” You said with a snicker, holding up a cassette. 

“Shit, nothing!” Eddie reached out to snatch the tape from you, but you sidestepped him, looking it over.   

“ABBA!” You giggled. “Oooh, I am so telling your friends about this.”

“I’m holding it for a friend, I swear!” Eddie said defensively. “It’s not mine. I was peer-pressured. I don’t touch that shit. It’s Zacks!” 

You turned the tape over. “ABBA Arrival. I didn’t take you as a Dancing Queen fan. Are you really so young and sweet and only seventeen?” You continued to tease. 

“I’m not!’ Eddie tried to argue. “I’m old and bitter and an adult.” 

He took a step closer to you and you took a step back as he grabbed the tape out of your hand. You bumped against the nightstand, sending a book falling to the floor. 

“Oops, sorry.” you said and reached down to pick it up. It was a worn out copy of The Hobbit, and as you picked it up, the bookmark he had been using fluttered to the floor. 

You grabbed the construction paper stem and held it up, noticing that you also knew how to make this kind of flower. 

...You had made this kind of flower before. 

You stared at it for a moment, and then looked at Eddie. Your mind raced to that night at the theater under the yellowed light of the marquis, how it felt so familiar. You thought of the yearbooks you’d looked at and how every year Eddie’s hair got shorter he became more familiar. Eddie on stage. Eddie under a street light. Eddie playing guitar. 

Eddie. 

“Oh.” 

You remembered. 

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

Tag List @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n

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@vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirly93

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@sheneedsrocknroll92

[levisolace]

[6] Expendable Hearts (Levi x F!Reader)

Chapter 6: Busy Nights

WC: 6664 Chapter Warnings: just angst again Summary: Everyone in Levi's life knows he only ever dated one girl and that she left him wrecked, bitter, and heartbroken. Many years later, she's back in his life and he doesn't know what to do. Note: Levi POV in this chapter !! ^^ Oh, and unfortunately, there will probably no update until after the 17th of October. I have uni exams and my study schedule is clashing with work so I probably won't time have time to write until then. See you until then! (We're gonna get more angsty and a little steamy(?) when I come back, I promise.) check out the expandable hearts playlist here!

story masterlist | prev chapter > next chapter

Over the next few days, you found yourself checking your phone more than usual, a small flicker of anticipation stirring each time you saw a new message. On Wednesday afternoon, Kuchel finally texted you the details of the dinner, and to your surprise, it wasn’t at the restaurant.

Would dinner at my place this Thursday be good? 7PM. Just us. Don’t bring anything—just yourself. See you then. —Kuchel

You stared at the message for a moment, blinking. Kuchel’s home? You hadn’t expected something so personal, but it made sense. After all, this wasn’t just any casual dinner. It was a reunion, an intimate moment to reconnect outside the hustle and noise of her now-bustling restaurant.

A mix of emotions bubbled up as you responded with a quick response.

Sounds perfect. I’ll be there.

As the dinner date drew closer, you found yourself thinking about Kuchel more than you expected. Memories from the time you worked at her small, then unassuming restaurant resurfaced—late nights closing up, chats over coffee while you helped her organize orders, Levi’s rare moments of humor in between his sharp instructions. It all seemed so distant now, like a chapter of your life that belonged to someone else.

A couple of minutes after confirming the dinner with Kuchel, another message buzzed on your phone, pulling you from the stack of legal documents you’d been reviewing. You glanced at the screen and saw Hange’s name pop up and you remember she has been pestering you about her bachelorette party. She kept sending the same message everyday for the past week.

Heyyy! Guess what? You’re invited to my bachelorette party! 🎉🎉 It’s going to be WILD. Be there, or I’ll hunt you down!! This Saturday at 8 PM. The details are attached here. Can’t wait to see you!!

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you read the message. Hange hadn’t changed one bit. She always had this vibrant energy that could light up any room, and apparently, she was bringing that energy to her bachelorette party. The thought of attending the event tugged at something inside you—an old camaraderie, a time when things were simpler, messier, but undeniably fun.

The idea of being surrounded by familiar faces again—of slipping back into that old rhythm—both excited and unsettled you. But Hange’s invitation was impossible to refuse. She had a way of pulling people into her orbit, and you knew this wouldn’t be any ordinary night. Besides, Levi won’t be there anyway.

As the day unfolded, the prospect of Kuchel’s dinner and Hange’s bachelorette party loomed closer, each event pulling you back into the life you once had here. It felt as though the city, with all its memories and relationships, was welcoming you back in layers—one familiar face at a time. And you don’t even know if you deserved it. 

—

When the evening finally arrived, you made your way to Kuchel’s home, which was tucked into a quiet neighborhood just a few blocks away from the restaurant. The walk there felt almost surreal, the streets of Stohess now familiar yet filled with memories. When you arrived, you found the house just as warm and inviting as the woman who owned it.

Kuchel’s home was modest, but there was a charm to it—plants lining the windowsills, warm lights glowing from inside, and the faint scent of cooking wafting out the front door. You took a deep breath and knocked.

The door swung open almost immediately, and there she was, smiling as though no time had passed at all.

“You made it,” Kuchel said, her voice bright as she stepped aside to let you in. “Come on in, the food’s almost ready.”

You stepped inside, taking in the cozy, lived-in feel of the space. Photos lined the walls, some of Levi as a boy, and others of what seemed to be old family gatherings. The warmth of the place wrapped around you, instantly putting you at ease.

“I haven’t been here in so long,” you said softly, looking around.

Kuchel smiled as she led you into the kitchen, where a simple but delicious-smelling meal was simmering on the stove. “I figured it’d be nice to have dinner somewhere quiet. We can talk without the restaurant noise, and besides, I’ve been meaning to catch up with you for a long time.”

As you took a seat at her kitchen table, Kuchel poured you a glass of wine, her movements graceful and familiar. “It’s been too long. You’ve done so much since you left, and I want to hear everything.”

You smiled, settling into the moment. “There’s a lot to catch up on,” you admitted. “But I want to hear about you, too. Kuchel’s has grown so much—I couldn’t believe it when I saw how busy it was the other night.”

Kuchel laughed softly as she joined you at the table. “Levi deserves most of the credit for that. He’s been the driving force behind the expansion. I never imagined we’d get this far, honestly. But enough about work—for tonight, let’s treat each other like the old times.” 

You took a sip of your wine, feeling the warmth of the room and the comfort of Kuchel’s presence sink in. “It’s been a whirlwind,” you began, knowing that this evening would be one of reconnection, not just with Kuchel, but with the parts of yourself that you’d left behind when you moved away. You began to tell her what happened like how you tell it to everyone, how you left the city, moved your grandma, went to law school, how your grandma died, and how you began to work in Trost. 

And as the night unfolded, with laughter and stories shared over a lovingly prepared meal, you realized how much you had missed this—missed her, and the sense of home that Kuchel had always provided.

As the dinner with Kuchel neared its end, the conversation had drifted from light-hearted reminiscing to more personal territory. You both shared a bottle of wine, laughter mixing with memories, but there was a point where the ease of the evening gave way to something deeper. Kuchel, always observant, seemed to notice the way your smiles didn’t quite reach your eyes, the way you hesitated before answering certain questions.

She set her glass down, her expression softening as the last bit of warmth from the meal filled the quiet space between you. “I’m really glad you’re back,” she said, her voice gentle but with an edge of seriousness. “You were with someone else when I first saw you but it’s been plaguing my mind so I came to ask you to meet me. I’m sorry, dear��� I have to ask, how are you really doing?”

You looked down at your plate for a moment, the weight of the question settling in. Kuchel had always been able to read you, even when you didn’t want to be read. She wasn’t one for surface-level small talk—not with you.

“I’m fine,” you started, instinctively offering the answer you’d given everyone else. But Kuchel’s eyes didn’t waver, and the sincerity of her gaze made you pause. She wasn’t letting you get away with that.

She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the table, her voice a little softer now. “I know it’s been a long time, and I don’t expect you to spill everything right now… but I can see it. You’ve been through something. So, how have you really been?”

The words hung in the air, and for the first time all night, you felt exposed. You hadn’t planned on opening up—not tonight, maybe not ever—but something about Kuchel’s quiet persistence, her maternal presence, made you feel safe enough to let the guard down.

“You know—and don’t tell Levi I told you this but… when the breakup happened, Levi didn’t take it well. And I never got to talk to you about it. But if Levi experienced that… it was probably bad for you too, wasn’t it?” She reached for your hand across the table, placing a comforting hand on yours, and caressing it with care and love of a mother. 

It took all of you to control your emotions right there and then. For Kuchel to say this, the curiosity of what Levi endured during those times that you broke things off and what happened to everyone after you left only became stronger, accompanied with greater guilt that you have always been carrying. You look away and take a deep breath, setting your own glass aside. “I… it was hard for me too, I admit.”

Kuchel nodded, not interrupting, just listening in that patient way of hers. It encouraged you to continue.

“When I left, it was all I could think of doing. But it feels like I just ran. Away from here, from everything. And now that I’m back, it’s like… all of it is catching up to me, and I don’t know what to do with it.”

You hadn’t meant to be so honest, but once the words started spilling out, it was hard to stop. Kuchel listened intently, her eyes filled with understanding, but she didn’t say anything right away.

“I knew there was more under the surface,” she said softly. “You’ve always been strong, but sometimes it’s okay to stop carrying it all alone. I can see it’s hard to tell what really happened and I—we can wait. There’s still people that love you here. You can find your way back to them.”

Her words hit deeper than you expected, and for the first time in a while, you felt a small sense of relief—a release of the tension you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding. It was comforting, having someone like Kuchel, who knew you before the layers of adulthood and responsibility piled on.

“Thanks,” you whispered, your voice barely above a murmur. “I guess I just needed to hear that.”

Kuchel smiled warmly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to have it all figured out right now. But don’t keep it bottled up either. You’ve got people here who care, people who are still part of your life—whether it’s me, or Hange, or whoever else. Don’t be a stranger.”

You nodded, feeling the sincerity in her words settle over you like a warm blanket. There was something about the way she said it that made you believe it.

The evening ended on a note of quiet understanding, Kuchel walking you to the door with a promise to see each other again soon. As you stepped out into the night, the weight on your shoulders felt just a little lighter, knowing that at least here, in this corner of your past, you had someone who understood—someone who saw through the cracks and cared enough to reach out.

—

After saying your goodbyes to Kuchel and leaving her cozy home, the cool night air greeted you as you stepped out of the cab in front of your apartment. The streets were quiet, only the occasional flicker of distant headlights passing by, the buzz from your dinner still lingering in your mind. Kuchel's words played over and over in your head—her gentle insistence that you didn’t have to carry everything alone. You felt lighter, as if some invisible weight had been lifted, but also heavy with the realization that coming back to the city meant dealing with more than just the people from your past. It meant facing the reality that this is the present–your current situation, something you can no longer run away from. 

As you rounded the corner of your street, something caught your eye—a familiar silhouette, leaning casually against the building. At first, you thought you were imagining it, the streetlights casting long shadows that distorted the figure. But as you approached, the figure became clearer, the unmistakable stance of someone you hadn't expected to see, but somehow weren’t surprised by.

Levi.

He stood there, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his expression as unreadable as ever, but there was a tension in his posture that told you this wasn’t just a casual visit. His dark eyes flicked up as you approached, locking onto yours with the same intensity you remembered. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words.

“What are you doing here?” you finally asked, your voice quieter than you intended, but firm enough to mask the sudden rush of emotions swirling inside you.

Levi pushed off from the wall, standing straighter as he took a few slow steps toward you. 

"How was the dinner?" he asked, the words falling out more out of habit than genuine curiosity. He didn't need to know about the dinner, not really. He just needed to say something.

“You knew?” You blinked, surprised that he even knew about it. Then you remembered, of course—Levi was always aware of things, especially when it came to Kuchel. He probably knew you'd be seeing her tonight even if she didn’t tell him. 

"It was nice," you said, carefully, as if you were trying not to give too much away. "Kuchel’s doing well."

Levi nodded, his gaze shifting for a second, as though considering whether to say something more. But instead, he settled on something simple. "Good."

Another silence stretched between you, longer this time. It was clear he wasn’t going to explain why he’d really come. Maybe you didn’t need to ask—maybe it didn’t matter. But the tension between you felt thick, almost suffocating. The years apart hadn’t erased anything. You can still feel the immeasurable amount of love he has for his mother. In honesty, you’d expected him to be angry that you reconnected with Kuchel. But of course, this was Levi. If it’s mother’s happiness or want, he would never question or fault her for it. 

Levi nodded, staring down at the ground for a beat, shoving his hands back into his jacket pockets. There was no reason for him to stay, but he lingered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The streets were quiet, save for the distant hum of the city around you both.

"You didn’t have to come all the way out here," you said, breaking the silence, your voice soft but carrying a note of hesitation. You didn’t ask him outright why he was there, but it was implied.

Levi shrugged, his eyes meeting yours briefly before drifting off again. "Maybe I did."

You swallowed, not sure how to respond to that. For all of Levi’s usual bluntness, there was always something deeper that he never quite let show. Something that made it impossible to fully walk away from him, even when you thought you had. 

“Get some rest,” Levi said after a moment, his voice quieter now, almost softer. “You look awful.”

He gave you a curt nod and turned to walk away, leaving you standing there, feeling like something had just shifted between you. Something unspoken, unresolved, and maybe destined to remain that way.  

—

The night of Hange’s bachelorette party arrived with the kind of energy that made the air feel electric. You stood outside the venue, a trendy rooftop bar in the heart of the city, the neon lights of Stohess Street reflected in the glass walls behind you. The place had been transformed—streamers, lights, and enough champagne to fill a small pool. You took a deep breath before stepping inside, knowing that wherever Hange was, chaos was sure to follow.

As you entered, you were immediately hit by a wave of laughter, music, and the unmistakable sound of Hange’s voice ringing out over the crowd. The space was filled with friends, both familiar faces and new ones, all gathered to celebrate. You spotted her almost immediately—Hange was at the center of the room, a crown of flowers on her head and a glass of champagne in hand, already in full party mode.

“There she is!” Hange’s voice rang out as she spotted you from across the room, her face lighting up as she waved you over. She was wearing a sash that read “Bride-to-Be” in glittering letters, and her energy was contagious. “I thought you’d never make it! Come here!”

You smiled, weaving through the crowd of partygoers to reach her. Before you could say a word, Hange pulled you into a tight hug, nearly spilling her champagne in the process.

“I told you it’d be wild!” she laughed, stepping back to take you in. “Look at you! You clean up well.”

“Thanks, Hange,” you said, unable to help but smile at her infectious enthusiasm. “This is… a lot.”

“Only the best for my bachelorette!” she declared, spinning around to show off the venue. “We’ve got drinks, food, and games—oh, and don’t forget the karaoke later.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Karaoke?”

Hange grinned wickedly. “Oh yeah, it’s happening. And you will sing, my friend.”

Before you could protest, Nanaba appeared beside you, already holding a glass of champagne for you. “She’s not kidding about the karaoke. Start thinking of your song now,” she teased, handing you the glass. “Long time no see, girl.”

You took it, laughing softly. “Oh my god, Nanaba,” you greet her with a hug. She hugs you back.

Everyone began to greet you. Out of all the attendees, you only knew Nanaba who thankfully treated you kindly like it hasn’t been years since you’ve last seen each other. Tonight, it will all be about Hange, that’s what she said. 

The party was in full swing, with drinks flowing and people chatting in every corner. You settled into the crowd, reminiscing about college days with Nanaba and meeting new girls, but the chaotic energy of the evening was starting to grow on you. Every time you glanced at Hange, she was in the middle of some new adventure—whether it was a game, making an impromptu speech, or trying to rope someone into a dance-off.

As the night went on, you found yourself at the bar, taking a moment to breathe. That’s when Hange sidled up beside you, a mischievous glint in her eye. “So,” she started, leaning on the bar, “I heard you and Levi ran into each other recently.”

You froze for a second, surprised she’d brought it up. Of course, Hange would know. “Yeah… he returned something I forgot in his car,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

Hange raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying your casual tone. “Oh, just a handkerchief? Interesting.”

You gave her a look. “It was nothing. We barely talked.” While we were having dinner, that is, you thought. 

“Sure,” she said with a teasing grin. “Well, just so you know, I mixed that drink myself.”

You stared at her, caught off guard. “Of course you did.”

She laughed, clearly enjoying your reaction. “What? It’s my party! I want everyone to have fun. Besides, it’ll be fun for everyone to let loose. Don’t worry, it’s not as dangerous as the ones I made from college. I’ve practiced a lot over the years.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Hange always had a way of stirring the pot, even when she didn’t mean to. Before you could respond, she was pulled away by a group of friends, leaving you to your thoughts for a moment.

The night wore on, and as promised, karaoke eventually took over the party. You found yourself dragged into a group rendition of some 90s throwback song, with Hange leading the charge and everyone laughing so hard they could barely keep up with the lyrics. It was chaotic, messy, and exactly what you’d expected from a night like this.

As you looked around at the familiar faces, the laughter, and the whirlwind energy of the party, you felt a strange sense of belonging—a feeling you hadn’t realized you’d missed until now. It was like stepping back into a part of yourself you’d left behind, and for the first time in a while, you felt like maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to be back. Or maybe that was the alcohol in your system. You feel like you’re about to crash out soon. 

The party didn’t start winding down until the early hours of the morning, when even Hange began to show signs of exhaustion. You were one of the last to leave, standing on the rooftop as the city stretched out beneath you, barely alive with the hum of nightlife. The reason you didn’t leave yet is because your alcohol tolerance betrayed you. You fear that if you go home alone, you’d pass out on the street and wake up god knows where.

Hange caught up to you once more as you stood, leaning on the tall railings. “Hey,” she said, her tone more serious now, though still light. “Thanks for coming. It means a lot to me, you know? Having you back here.”

You smiled, feeling the sincerity in her words. “I wouldn’t have missed it.”

“Good,” she said, giving you a lopsided grin before pulling you into one last hug. “Now get home and sleep. We’ve got more partying to do at the wedding.” 

“Actually, can you grab me a cab? I don’t think I can book a ride on my phone at my state.” Your words are slurring off with a soft laugh as you talk, trying to pull out your phone out of your pocket only to find it empty. “Oh, other pocket,” you murmured incoherently as you finally had your phone in your hand.

You look up to already see Hange grinning at you, her cheeks flushed with the excitement of the night. “Oh, don’t worry about that,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “Already taken care of.”

You furrowed your brow, confused. “What do you mean?”

Hange gave you a look that was somewhere between mischievous and knowing, her eyes twinkling with that signature glint she always got when she knew she was meddling in something. “I called someone to pick you up.” 

Your stomach dropped, and a sense of foreboding crept into your drunken haze. “Who?” you asked, dreading the answer. 

“For fuck’s sake, Hange.” 

For one good second, you sobered up, chills filling your entire body when you heard his voice. You look in his direction, already walking up to the two of you. He’s wearing a black jacket and jeans, his hair a little tousled by the windy air of the rooftop. 

“I thought you’d know better than drinking Hange’s mix,” he directly spoke to you now, arms crossed in disappointment. Him standing in front of you hit you like a splash of cold water. You blinked a few times, as if you don’t believe what you’re seeing in front of you. 

“Levi? You called Levi?” is what you would’ve said if you could even make some words out of your drunken mouth. You let out a long sigh, feeling the weight of the situation settle in your already tipsy mind. The way Levi is seeing you right now—drunk, disoriented, and in this state—is too humiliating, but it was too late to argue. Hange had made her decision without consulting you, and there was no undoing it now, with him already standing in front of you.

Hange laughed, patting you on the back. “Welp, here’s your designated driver. Moblit’s on his way to fetch me so you two go on ahead.”

With that, Hange left the two of you alone by the railings. The two of you stood there in silence. The long-sleeved shirt you wore does nothing for the chilly night, you wrap your arms tightly around yourself as the cold night air sobered you up just enough to feel the awkwardness building. Your heart pounded in your chest as you leaned on the railing, trying to steady yourself.

He approached you closer, his usual unreadable expression giving nothing away. “You good to go, or do I need to carry you to the car?” he asked, his voice dry but not unkind.

You blinked, trying to pull yourself together, but you could still feel the alcohol buzzing in your system. “I can walk,” you muttered, feeling heat rise in your cheeks despite the cool air.

Levi’s lips twitched ever so slightly at your response, a ghost of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “Sure you can.”

You huff, trying to walk away from him. You swayed slightly on your feet, your mind racing with a mixture of embarrassment and dread as you head to the elevator. Levi followed closely behind you. Whenever you feel like you’re about to lose your stance, you’d feel a slight graze of a hand on your back. He never touches you. But you’re awfully aware of his presence behind you. 

The two of you waited in front of the elevator in silence. You don’t look at Levi. You feel like your face is going to be redder than it already is if you look at his handsome face. And what was he wearing? Did he go somewhere? Why does he look like that? It’s so unfair. He’s so hot. The all black fit always hits you differently, the alcohol is not helping either. 

Just as the elevator doors open, something draped on your shoulders. Levi’s jacket. “Wear it. You look like you’re gonna freeze to death.” 

As the two of you go in, due to actually feeling like you’re going to freeze to death, you don’t complain and wear his jacket. The smell of his cologne fills your nose and you bury yourself in the warmth of it. 

"You look like you’ve had a rough night," he said, his voice flat but with a hint of dry amusement.

You huffed out a breath, leaning your elbows on the railing again. “It wasn’t supposed to end with you showing up.” You paused for a moment. “Thanks for coming… but you didn’t have to. I could’ve called a cab.”

Levi shrugged, glancing over at the view of the city in front of you. “You were drunk, and she called me. Simple as that.”

You sighed, realizing there was no point in arguing with him. “Yeah, I guess.”

He glanced at you, taking in the way you leaned a little too heavily against the wall, the faint pink flush on your cheeks. As the two of you stood there, the awkward silence between you grew. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was an underlying tension—one that neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

You made it to the lobby  and then outside of the building, the cool air of the outside world hitting you like a fresh wave of another cold. Levi led the way to his car parked just outside, and you hesitated for a moment, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and reluctance.

When you reached the car, Levi opened the passenger door for you, motioning for you to get in. You do as he says, slipping into the passenger seat.  The ride was quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound between you as he drove through the city streets, which had quieted down in the late hours. You stared out the window, watching the lights of the buildings blur as you passed by. 

Levi finally broke the silence, his voice soft but steady. “Hange said you were having fun tonight.”

You let out a small laugh, still feeling the god-awful drink swirling in your veins. “Yeah, I was… surprisingly”

He glanced at you briefly. “Parties weren't really your thing.”

“Neither are late-night rescues,” you replied, shooting him a half-smile.

Levi’s lips twitched, the closest thing to a smile you’d seen from him all night. “Could’ve fooled me.”

The rest of the ride passed in comfortable silence, the weight of the night settling over you as your eyelids grew heavy. The rhythmic hum of the car and the gentle motion of the drive lulled you into a deeper state of relaxation. The alcohol in your system had finally caught up with you, and despite your best efforts to stay awake, your eyes grew heavier with each passing minute. You leaned your head against the cool window, the blur of city lights fading as your consciousness began to slip.

You barely registered Levi glancing over at you from the driver's seat. His expression, ever unreadable, softened slightly as he noticed your slow, even breathing. He kept driving for a few more minutes, but when he pulled up in front of your apartment building and turned off the engine, you didn’t stir.

—

Levi sat there for a moment, staring at you, your body curled up in the passenger seat, completely oblivious to the world around you. The faint rise and fall of your chest was the only sound in the quiet of the car. He let out a small sigh, looking around the area of your building as he considered his options. There were still some people outside in the streets. The underground never slept, filled with drunktards and no-good doers. 

After a moment of hesitation, Levi made his decision. Getting you inside your apartment, trying to find your keys, and getting you up the steep and unpaved stairs—all of it seemed like too much for someone in your condition. 

Without another word, Levi drove off your apartment and to his own home where you’ll be more comfortable. After he parked his car, Levi got out of the car and came around to your side. He opened the passenger door quietly and leaned down, carefully sliding one arm beneath your legs and the other around your back. You stirred slightly as he lifted you, your head resting against his chest as he effortlessly carried you out of the car. The smell of alcohol fills his nose but it didn’t bother him one bit.  His movements were slow and deliberate, making sure not to wake you as he adjusted your weight in his arms. 

You murmured something incoherent, your head shifting slightly as you nestled closer against him. Levi froze for a second, his gaze flickering down to you, but when you didn’t wake, he continued walking toward his building.

Once inside, Levi carried you up the stairs to his apartment. It was quiet and dark, the only light coming from the street lamps outside. He shifted you gently in his arms to open the door, then stepped inside, closing it behind him with a soft click. He made his way through the familiar space, heading toward his bedroom.

Levi laid you down carefully on his bed, pulling back the covers as he positioned you comfortably on the mattress. You stirred again, this time more aware, your eyes fluttering open briefly as you tried to figure out where you were. Your vision was blurry, your mind still fogged with sleep and alcohol, but you recognized the familiar scent of Levi’s apartment. 

"Levi?" you mumbled, your voice hoarse with sleep.

He was already adjusting the blanket over you, making sure you were covered and comfortable. “Yeah, it’s me,” he said quietly, his voice unusually soft. “Go back to sleep.”

You blinked a few times, trying to make sense of the situation, but exhaustion pulled at you like a weight. Your body relaxed into the bed, the warmth of the blankets lulling you back to the edge of unconsciousness. “This isn’t… my place…” you muttered, but even as you said it, your eyes were closing again.

“I know,” Levi replied, stepping back slightly as he watched you. “You fell asleep in the car.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue. Instead, you let out a soft sigh, sinking deeper into the mattress. “Yeah…” you mumbled, your voice barely audible as sleep finally overtook you.

As Levi carefully tucked the blanket around you, making sure you were comfortable, he turned to leave the room. But just as he was about to pull away, he felt a gentle tug on his arm.

In your half-conscious state, your fingers had wrapped around his wrist, holding him in place. He froze, staring down at you, his heartbeat quickening unexpectedly. Your eyes were still closed, your breathing slow and steady, but your grip was firm—gentle, yet desperate, as though some part of you, even in sleep, didn’t want him to leave.

“Stay… please…” you whispered, your voice barely audible but enough to make Levi’s breath catch.

He wasn’t sure if you were dreaming or fully aware of what you were saying, but the soft plea reached him. You shifted slightly, your hand sliding up his arm as you pulled him closer, nestling into the blankets. “hold me…” you murmured, the vulnerability in your voice tugging at something deep inside him.

Levi’s body went rigid, his mind torn between his instinct to distance himself and the raw emotion in your voice. He had never been good with moments like this—moments that demanded more than what he was used to offering. But the way you clung to him, even unconsciously, made it difficult to simply pull away. It reminded him of old, easier times. 

With a quiet sigh, Levi gave in. He gently sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb you too much. His movements were slow, uncertain, but deliberate. He stretched out beside you, keeping a small distance at first, though your hand never let go of him.

As you sensed his presence closer, you relaxed, instinctively shifting so that your head rested lightly against his chest. The tension in your body melted as you let out a soft, contented sigh, your hand still gripping his shirt as if afraid he might disappear.

Levi lay there, still and silent, staring up at the ceiling, his heart beating faster than usual. He didn’t know what to do with his free arm, but eventually, he let it settle around your shoulder, holding you with a gentleness that surprised even him. The scent of your hair and the warmth of your body against his was oddly calming, despite the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in his mind.

The room was quiet, save for your slow, steady breathing. Levi glanced down at you, watching the peaceful expression on your face, the way your brow had unfurled and your lips parted slightly in sleep. You looked vulnerable, and yet completely at ease.

For a brief moment, Levi allowed himself to relax, too. He wasn’t sure what this meant—this sudden closeness but as you snuggled into him, your body warm against his, he let himself be present in the moment.

Just for tonight, he told himself. Just for now.

As the minutes passed, Levi found himself unable to tear his gaze away from you. Your face was serene in sleep, the tension from the day and the alcohol completely dissolved. He hadn't seen you like this in a long time—peaceful, unguarded. There was something deeply comforting in watching you like this, something that stirred memories he had long buried. Only now was he able to stare at your face without fearing he’d crumble in front of you. The darkness under your eyes tells everyone that you’re tired but the years have painted a maturity in your face that didn’t take away your beauty. 

His eyes traced the familiar lines of your features—the way your lashes rested softly on your cheeks, the subtle rise and fall of your chest as you breathed. The room was quiet, save for the faint sound of your breathing, and Levi’s thoughts seemed to drift along with it. He wasn’t one to dwell on the past, but here, beside you, he couldn’t help but think of everything that had happened between you two—what you had been, what you could have been.

He wasn’t sure when it happened, but a deep, unspoken longing began to rise in his chest, a feeling he had been trying to ignore ever since the night he had shown up outside your apartment without a reason. The closeness of you, the way you had unconsciously reached for him, pulled at something deep inside him.

His gaze softened, lingering on your parted lips, the way your hair spilled across the pillow, framing your face. Slowly, as if drawn by some invisible force, he found himself leaning in closer. His heart began to pound louder, an unfamiliar rush of emotions building within him, making his movements feel almost inevitable.

He told himself to stop, to pull back before he crossed a line. But as his face hovered just inches above yours, he was overwhelmed by the quiet intimacy of the moment. The warmth of your breath brushed against his skin, and his pulse quickened. You were so close, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it would feel like—to close that final distance, to press his lips against yours once again. 

He hesitated, his breath hitching as his eyes traced your sleeping face. You looked so peaceful, so trusting, curled up against him. And yet, in that moment, the weight of what was unsaid between you—the unresolved tension, the memories, the regrets—hung in the air. 

Levi’s hand, which had been resting lightly on your shoulder, twitched as he fought the urge to touch you, to run his fingers through your hair, to let his guard down completely. But just as he was about to give in to the moment, he stopped himself.

A faint sigh escaped him as he pulled back, his forehead creasing with conflict. He couldn’t do it—not like this. Not while you were asleep and unaware. It wouldn’t be fair to you, and he knew better than to act on fleeting impulses, no matter how strong they felt in the moment.

With a deep breath, Levi settled back onto the pillow, keeping his arm around you but maintaining the distance between your faces. He stared up at the ceiling, his mind racing, the weight of the unspoken emotions pressing heavily on his chest.

As you shifted slightly in your sleep, your hand still clutching his shirt, Levi closed his eyes, trying to push away the longing that had nearly overtaken him.

But the truth lingered, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it: after all these years, he had never really let you go. 

He ran a hand through his hair, a mix of concern and something else flickering in his eyes before he carefully stood up from the bed, turned and quietly walked into his bathroom. He got two things, a cleanser and some cotton. 

He walked back to the bed, seeing you sleeping soundly. Gently, he sat down beside you and began to wipe the makeup off your face. He’s careful not to wake you, not applying too much pressure. He’s seen you do this back in college, telling him that makeup should always be removed before bed. If he could change your clothes he would as well. But you looked comfortable enough in his jacket. 

Levi walked back into the living room when he was done, his mind oddly restless despite the quiet of the apartment. He sat down on the couch, staring out the window at the city lights outside, knowing that tonight had been different. He didn’t know why he had brought you here instead of waking you up or why he had come to fetch you in the first place. He didn’t know why he didn’t refuse Hange’s call knowing that you were together. He didn’t know why he even dressed up and ran to your side without question. There were a lot of things he didn’t know and didn’t understand. Most of all, he doesn’t understand how you still have a hold of him like this all over the years you were gone. And to be honest, it angered him but mostly, it scared him. 

But as the minutes passed and the apartment remained still, he figured maybe it didn’t matter. And whatever questions you have, he'll figure it out tomorrow. For now, you were safe. And that was enough.

© levisolace. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. my works are cross-posted only on my ao3 account. thank you.

[pinkslaystation]

Ghost of A Connection

Ghost and Staff!Reader

In which you work at the nearest store at base, Ghost being your least favourite and unfortunately, most frequent, customer. Is there a connection there, or is it in his head? yALL - all these COD stories on tumblr got me hyped! So here I am tryna catch some clout ;) Be warned, this is possibly a very inaccurate version of military life, but then again, it's just a story. Word Count: 2.5k

Man, post-graduate life is hard.

Graduating top of your cohort of nearly 300 students in your masters degree within Psychology was impressive. Saving enough money from shadowing your senior Psychology professor and moving out to your apartment was impressive. Owing your own car was impressive.

What wasn't impressive though, was nearly hitting the 6 month mark of unemployment.

So here you are, stuck calling all your classmates for any open roles. You're so desperate at this point, you'd go for anything!

"Hey, Mahir! I know we didn't quite end of good terms...um-you know...when you asked for the mid-terms answers last year, and I- um...left you on delivered, and you had to retake the exams...but um, I hear you started working at the University as a Researcher and you're looking for a assistant? Well gee, don't forget how smart I a-"

Disconnected.

"Yooo, Josephine, it's me! From the Psychopathology group project! Yeah, I'm sorry I shouted at you for not doing your part on the project, and filing a complaint against you, haha...although, like, come on, it's your fault - you're 25, not a 5 year old bab-"

Blocked.

Wow. You were not liked.

So one evening, when you were on the phone to your childhood friend, Jordan Biggs, and had managed to slip out how desperately broke you were, he kindly offered a potential role at his workplace.

"Shop keeper? What, like a convenience store?" Remind me where you work again? Aren't you in the navy? What stores are you talking about?" You rambled, I mean a possible job - finally?!

On the line, Jordan chuckles, "Slow your roll, man. I've been been with the army for around 3 years now, I'm currently on a mission but we'll be home soon. Our base has a shop, that sells, you know, tactical gear-"

"GUNS?!" You interrupted.

Jordan laughs, then in shushed by, what you assume to be his teammate, "No, not any weapons. Just, tactical gear, MREs, bits and pieces of uniform. Sometimes you might be asked to clean the base, set up rooms for meetings. And ooh my favourite - work at the canteen. We serve the country, you serve us food." Jordan explains.

So you complied.

I mean, yeah, your degree isn't being utilised, but we're in a cost of living crisis, for Christ's sake.

And here you are, clad in a plain dark grey fleece, and straight black trousers, trying to look as professional as possible.

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

Your first day was silent. You found that you lived only 30 minutes away from the base, so you didn't struggle with the early shifts, working almost full days at the base, with a surprising decent salary.

You learnt you had replaced the previous worker, Katherine, a grumpy senior who quit, being fed up with the stench of these sweaty unkempt soldiers, and their rowdy behaviour after missions.

You also met your staff at the base, being the youngest one there gave you no surprise, with most your colleagues being double your age. You liked it. It was quiet, having met a few of the soldiers.

Your role was relatively simple. Consisting of various tasks such as ordering enough food to satisfy the recruits, more training equipment, when a recruit seemed to damage one. All in all, you were satisfied, especially when the first pay day rolled in.

You also noted that your colleagues, without fail, always seem to talk about a specific group of soldiers, such as Friday evening, when you all found yourself eating an early dinner.

"Soap is so sweet! He's always so generous when we talks to me, although I can't lie, I don't know what the fuck he says half the time." Your colleague rambles, shoving a spoon full of Friday's roast dinner into his mouth.

Another agreed, "Nothing beats the dilf of a man - Captain John Price. I may be chewing steak but that ain't the meat I want in my mouth, if you get what I mean-"

You choked, "Margaret, you're married with grand-kids, lord."

After a quiet but much needed conversation, you learnt about the most well-known team within the base, Task Force One-Four-One, lead by Captain John Price, forming of Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish, Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, and the one you were most curious about - Simon 'Ghost' Riley.

"But like, why Ghost? If he's close to this Soap dude, why not call yourself Shampoo or something?"

Your colleagues laughed at your naivety glancing at each other.

"My dear, I don't dare to call him anything other than Lieutenant. He's entered a 10 metre radius of mine, and I've already pissed myself." One stated.

"I've heard he threatened to attack Katherine, just because she overcharged him, long story short, she quit." Another replied.

It seemed you didn't understand how feared Ghost really was...

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

By the time you all had finished dinner, the staff split up, some going back to the canteen to prepare dinners for the soldiers finishing training, some going to clean up the barracks, and you found yourself going back to your designated shop.

Aah, this is peaceful. You mumbled, drinking your hot chocolate, whilst sorting out all the army boots on display.

As the clock strikes 10 p.m. though, the silence is broken and you hear a stampede of soldiers, once you assume had come back from a month long mission. The majority of them, from what you'd heard, sprinted to the canteen to rid themselves of their strictly MRE diet, and finally eat some home cooked food, whilst others ran off to their freshly cleaned barracks to get some well-deserved sleep.

Your little shop also seemed to be quite busy, a long queue waiting to buy water bottles, bandages, blankets, you name it. From nearby chatter from the tired soldiers, it seems most of the teams had arrived back from Afghanistan, a successful mission with no death and a few minor injuries.

An hour goes by and the queue dies down to around 6 people, with one at the till: Jordan.

"So a water bottle, that would be £1.50, payin- my God, Jordan?" You smiled, getting in front of the counter and pulling into a hug. He smelt like dusty and you joked that 1 bottle of water wouldn't suffice to rinse him of the smell.

"I haven't seen you in forever, it's been like 6 months? How's the job been treating you?" He enquiries, placing a kiss against your forehead. By now, the nearly empty shop turns to face the both of you, many assuming the situation to be a couple reuniting.

You and Jordan continue to catch up on everything - his mission, your job...Margaret's obsession with which positions she can take Captain Price in...

"Bro, she was going so in depth into the many ways she can contort her waist for, what she calls, the Price penis?!" You pull your most fake-disgusted face, as Jordan cackles loudly.

But his laugh falls short as a deep scruffy voice interrupts him-

"The only thing being wasted right now, is my time. Hurry the fuck up and pay for your shit. You act like we have all the time in the fucking world."

You jump slightly at the harsh words, although this is a military base, you should be used to this foul language.

"My guy, she said waist, not waste-" Jordan begins, before straightening his back and realising who he was talking to.

He turns around to face the man's voice, his back now turned to you, obstructing your view of the unknown soldier.

"Lie-Lieutenant. My apologies! Lemme grab this water and get out of your way," Jordan nervously chuckles, you can't see who he's talking to, but you can tell this was a man of higher authority, given how Jordan stutters. "Ooh, I see what you wanted to buy! Gloves, nice, socks, cool, Coc-Coco pops?!"

"My fucking God Biggs, the only thing big about you is your stupidity and your pussy attitude, grab your shit and go. Stop holding the fucking line, mate." The male's British accent is so prominent with every word enunciated, and you wish to never run into this stranger again.

"Sir!" Jordan turns to you, handing you a fiver and awkwardly side hugging you, "Have fun with this jerk wad." He whispers into your hair, before running out the shop, his water bottle still on the counter.

"Jordan your bottle-"

Holy shit.

After Jordan moves, your eyes feast before you, revealing a godly 225 lb man, standing at an impressive 1.89 metres, dressed in his dark and intimidating casual attire, his face hidden behind a skeleton mask, his piercing eyes squinted and penetrating into your shorter frame, his biceps bulging out of his sweatshirt, his shoulders broad, his trousers failing to hold his impressive bulg-

"Are you going to continue gawking at me like a fuckin' donkey or should I not pay for this shit?" He huffs out in disappointment.

Rude. Plain rude. Sexy...but rude.

Now you know why Jordan couldn't move a muscle when faced with this guy. Putting 2 to 2 together, you clocked. The way other soldiers left the shop as he entered. The way one look from him gets them to shut up so quickly. The skeleton mask-

This is Ghost.

"We- I- Um-" What the hell? Why can't you form a damn sentence?

"I- I- I don't give a damn. My shit, here." He mocks you, slamming his items on the counter. By now, the other customers have scurried off in fear. It's now you and Ghost in the shop.

You nod, humming a yes, eyebrows furrowing at his unkind words.

The next few moments are followed by near silence, the only sounds being the scanning of the items and your quickening breath. His foot begins tapping rapidly, as sign that you're taking to long.

It's uncomfortabl-

"The old hag before you's gone then."

Yes, Ghost, she is. And if you keep acting like this, I will be too. You grunt a response, unable to find the right words.

"£28.50" You say curtly, after a while. He hums in response, pulling his wallet to pay.

You watch him nervously, you did not expect to see one of the most respected soldiers in front of you so soon. Someone so handsome, someone so fucking sexy, but someone so fucking bitchy...

Oh. You said that last bit out loud.

Ghost pauses his actions, his head slowly craning upwards, his gaze drinking you in.

Your eyes meet his, quickly looking back at the counter, unable to meet his furrowed but amused glare.

"'m so bitchy, but you seem to love it, sweetheart. So red, like you're fucking in love with me or something." He scowls, slapping a £20 note on the counter.

"Maybe next time stopping droolin' over other men when you have your own cunt of a boyfriend." He mutters, before taking his shit and leaving. You don't fail to catch the smirk in his voice, as he exits your shop, loud footsteps booming behind him.

Oh my god.

You were at a loss of words. You were also at a loss of £8.50.

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

"Jordy, you don't fuckin' get it! Dickhead left the place, without paying the full fucking price, mind you." Frustration was evident in your voice.

"Bitchy and broke," Jordan snickers.

"And the audacity to call you my boyfriend? Bye." You huff in annoyance, whilst Jordan chokes on his spit. If anything, he was a like a brother to you!

A week has gone by since that first encounter and your conversations with Jordan at the shop, when he passes by, always seem to end up at the topic of Ghost. The way he glares at you as you walk past him in the corridors. The way he sees you struggling when you carry boxes upon boxes- oh he won't help you, by the way. When you ask, he simply scoffs, "You're getting paid and you don't even want to do your job?"

Since that day, you've met all of the Task Force members. Price was as Margaret mentioned, sexy. Soap, comical, Gaz, kind-hearted, Ghost...yeah, he's there.

"But you don't get it man, he's so big- like over 6 foot! And those eyes- man those eyes. So condescending...but so hot..." you continue.

"Damn Margaret wannabe, we get it." Jordan jokes, drinking his can coke - which he didn't pay for. You'll tell him later.

As you both converse, loud footsteps enter the store.

Ghost. Again.

Did I mention he's been in here every day since the first time?

8 a.m. sharp, the moment you clock in for your shift, and 10 p.m. on the dot. Fucker's so annoying, he'll stay around the shopfloor, lazily looking at the various protein bars, even after you state the shop is already 10 minutes past closing.

But you don't mind. His silently stares at you, as if trying to remember the exact location of every beauty spot on your face, the consequent reddening of your cheeks, the slight touches of his rough callous fingers brushing against your own. All this unspoken tension, leads to your every thought being consumed by Simon Riley.

And when he enters the shop, wow. Buys the most random unnecessary shit ever. You notice how he walks in and purchases his singular Coco Pops cereal bar, day after day. This man isn't sick of them?

I mean, come o-

"Your obsession with me is flattering." He states.

Oh, forgot to mention, he's still an asshole. But at least after rehearsing to yourself in the mirror, you can actually speak up for yourself.

"Guh- buh- we- u-" Fuck's sake.

But he actually laughs this time. A loud imploding chuckle exits his mouth, and you actually smile a little at this unfamiliar emotion.

You can't tell what his face is doing under the mask, but his voice suggests a small smile rests on his face, but it soon disappears before he coughs awkwardly.

"Your boyfriend's in the infirmary by the way." He looks away, emphasising boyfriend a little too roughly.

You stare in confusion. Boyfriend? He picks up on this.

"Biggs. Rolled his ankle or some shit. Dunno why he can't just man it up. I've had worse injuries." He mumbles, smiling under his mark slightly, assuming Jordan isn't in fact your boyfriend.

Your eyes widen, "Jordy? Wha-who-how?"

"He-" But before he can answer your question, you're running out the shop to the infirmary, stealing a snack from the shelf for Jordan.

You fail to notice that you'd left a dejected Ghost at the counter, who'd picked up 2 coco pops instead of 1 this time, his smile faltering, as he planned to give you the 2nd, as a token of apology for his impolite behaviour.

In the end, he realised he'd been holding onto a ghost of a connection, overshadowed by the presence of another man.

He winces, being left alone at the till, hoping to actually strike up a conversation with you, as he gathers his (unpaid) belongings and walks out the door, off to shout at any rando that dares get in his way.

yALL its 2.30 a.m. and i'm craving coco pops-

[sirwadewilsonfromimgur]

Deadpool and Wolverine: KCAU Christmas Special

(Part. 1 scene 1, the first Christmas season in the condo)

Kansas City Missouri, Earth-10005 2027

The yuletide season was busy for everyone in the Western cultural world. That's a given.

But for Wade and Logan they had added the extra hitch of having their wedding anniversary on new years eve... it wasn't necessarily intentional, in a romantic gesture to "match his lover's freak" Logan had impulsively (as he could) proposed to and married Wade all on the same day because that's when all his friends would be together in the apartment anyway.

Two hundred years of experience told Logan that the 6 months they spent living together (3 months officially dating) was all he needed. No need for a long courtship or engagement. Wade who conceivably heard wedding bells the day he abducted Logan from his home universe obviously agreed the second Logan asked.

Moving to Kansas city (an Impulse decision on Wade's part) had come with some culture shock for the whole family... Peter had adapted best to it. The guy had a whole midwest vibe about him anyways...

but that was one thing. All the people were disturbingly nice compared to the good people of New York they were used to... anyone chatting with you in the grocery store, even a complete stranger in Kansas city, is just being nice... In New York, if some start talking to you apropos of nothing, they want something, or they're unstable.

The Next biggest shock was waking up November first and the entire town has already decorated for Christmas... like they were clearly choking down Halloween candy as they put up a metric fuck ton of garland and Christmas lights...

How the fuck was i supposed to know that Kansas city is the home of the international headquarters of fucking Hallmark... and that our house is 2 blocks away from it.

It's probably one of the many things you could have found out easily had you done a second of resurch, or you know! asked me... before you bought this place on a fucking whim without consulting me about it.

I thought you said you weren't mad about that anymore.

I'm not bub, but how the fuck can I expect you to learn if I let'cha forget you're mistakes. I hope you fuck'n like christmas because we live in a neighborhood that's made it, its entire god damned personality since November 1st.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by GABE REYES (@kcescapades)

This wasn't just the first Christmas in a new city. It was one of the first in which Wade and Logans Business venture was outlandishly successful. MFM had pulled in a profit in the millions. Peter had negotiated several lucrative contracts with government entities with black budgets...

spy craft and counter terrorism isn't something governments want easily tied to, especially when one man's terrorist is another mans freedom fighter... so they typically outsource this particular dirty business to people like Wade and Logan.

Needless to say, Peter would be getting a massive christmas bonus this year. On top of that, Wade had gotten him season football tickets... Wade still had no idea what the hype was about, but it made Peter happy... Wade just enjoyed the men in tight pants, and occasionally, Taylor Swift would show up...

whome wade always respectfully admired from a distance despite being in the same box suit... pop stars rarely want to mingle with people like Wade. A few people in the room knew roughly how he'd made his money... needless to say, they were polite but distant.

---

That christmas morning went about as extravagantly as Wade had hoped... unfortunately, not everyone could make it.

It was Wade, Logan, Peter, Althea, Vanessa, Laura and Colossus.

Wade had spent entirely too much money on gifts. Logan was uncomfortable, big christmases... big houses, big parties, they reminded him of his early childhood and christmass at the X mansion.

Bitter sweet... mostly bitter when he remembers how that world ended. But he put on a happy face as he opened yet another box with an Armani dress shirt. They'd spend thousands of years together... but Logan would never tell Wade that the biggest sacrifice he made in the name of love was not holding Wade when the bad dreams hit him, not stabbing hundred of angry men to save Wade when he's cornered on the battlefield.

It was letting Wade have everything he ever wanted despite desperately wanting to grab him and run into the mountains and never be seen by society again... Logan yearned for a simple life... But he'd give all that up just to see Wade smile. He'd endure one hundred years of ostentatious christmases or more if that's what made Wade happy. Never once would he tell Wade how much he truly hated christmass. That was the gift Wade got every year without realizing it. Logans' enthusiasm wasn't holiday spirit... it was love for Wade.

The things we do for love.

More story below.

Kansas City Missouri, Earth-10005 2041

(Scen 2 Christmas with the Kids)

This year was going to be special, mostly because Ellie and James were old enough to really get into christmas. Wade had spared no expense as usual. The kids even got an allowance so they could buy gifts for each other. Laura was even going to make it this year.

Laura had taken Jean up on her offer... much to Wade's chagrin... she was the Wolverine and a full-fledged Xman, not just a trainee (that's about as far as Wade made it) he'd have to give Russell a call too.

Wish him a happy holiday and check in on him... Wade wants you to know, for the record, he didn't forget about Russell... but he wasn't a parent, and it was decided that Wade was not a healthy influence... fuck'n Jean! So he didn't get to see him too often.

He didn't like it but he understood...

He also understood why Laura joined... Who was Wade to begrudge some the wish to "be somebody" to "matter"...

Luara had said she'd be in time for dinner anyway she'd miss opening presents with the littles. Tragically missed Kodak moment.

---

Ellie had woken up early. She was up before James, and she marveled at the tree presents piled under it in bright colored wrapping paper. She turned the lights on the tree for the full effect. She stared at it for a good minute before she broke her reverie and walked towards her father's room.

She quietly opened the door into the garishly pink and Black themed bedroom that morning. she knew the rules. No opening presents until after Papa made breakfast... it was time to expedite this.

She snuck around to Wade's side of the bed. Thank god they both wore pajamas to bed last night because the shredded blankets would have left them with little dignity and a traumatized daughter.

(Replacing bedding was a regular Occurrence in the Howlett-Wilson home they just hadn't gotten around to it yet)

Daddy... get up. Santa came...

Wade slowly blinked awake as his daughter inches from his face came in to focus.

Sweetheart... you know you're supposed to knock before you come into our room.

I didn't want to wake Papa... that's your job. You know what a grump he is before coffee.

He's a grump after coffee too. he said with a wink.

I'll get him up. You skedaddle and turn on some cartoons or something we'll be out shortly.

Logan... time to get up sugar tits.

Making groggy grumpy noises... bleary-eyed, he looks at his phone...

Princess, it's not even six in the morning yet.

I know, but Ellie is already up, and we're lucky she woke us up... the look in her eye said she'd play along, but if we hung out in bed too long, she'd start opening presents without us...

She is absolutely your daughter...

It's more true than he cared to admit, she loved and idolized both of them and always wanted to know details about Jobs they'd been on... wade ever the fucking filterless yapper had no qualms telling her thrilling adventures of flying lead and bloodshed...

Ellie was the only nine year old Logan had ever heard of that actively read Soldier of Fortune magazine.

That girl is gonna be trouble when she grows up

She just wants to be like her dad's...

I wish she didn't... I don't even want to be like me.

Oh Honeybadger don't say that... I love you just the way you are. Wade leans in and gives him a kiss. Marry Christmas.

Merry Christmas bub. he said, growling lightly as he returned the kiss a little roughly.

Oh... baby, we don't got time... you gotta make breakfast... now put on your ugly sweater... we'll circle back to this subject later.

Breakfast was the full Papa Logan spread. pan cakes, waffles, home fries, eggs to order, bacon, sausage, coffee, egg nog, orange juice, and the special Escuminac Canadian maple syrup.

Art by @nuggetpool-hi

After breakfast, Ellie bolted to the tree.

Alright, kids. you can open your presents. Kitten, run along your sister is gonna beat you to all the fun.

It's just so pretty, Dad... I wanted to look at it first. Marry Christmas. He hugged both of his dad's and headed towards the tree

You're a good kid, bub. Merry Christmas.

Ellie had already selected a box with her name on it and started opening her gift.

Papa! Look! Santa got me a Remington V3 TAC-13! Just like I asked for!

Wade did you give a fucking nine year old a compact shotgun!

Wade suddenly broke into a cold Sweat and thought to himself "I may have fucked up"

She specifically asked for that model he shrugged as Logan cut eyes at him sharper than the blades hiding in his forearms.

What! Santa didn't get her any shells

I really don't like how comfortable the Midwest has made you with guns. It goes in the safe immediately and only comes out at the range. It's not a toy!

So I'm allowed to go to the range now?

Logan face in his hands... father of the fucking year... he mumbled. sure sweetheart but we gotta get you hearing protection...

Oh sweetie funny you're dad should mention that... open that little box wrapped in red polkadot paper... looking again at Logan. What, I'm not an idiot...

Yes you are but I've learned to live with it.

For your information, I was perfectly comfortable with guns before we moved here. Remember silverware drawer gun?

Nice try, trying to change the subject,Wade. you did it. You get to be the bad guy. Go put that gun in the safe. Wade crest fallen walked up to the tree and grabbed one of the unopened boxes with her name on it, and walked over to her.

Honeybee... that is your gun. It always will be, no one gets to use it but you... but I need to take it for now. We wouldn't want you or James accidentally getting hurt. It'll be safe... in the safe, and maybe it'll make friends with all of my guns.

She let out a sigh, as she hugs the shotgun to her chest as if it were a stuffed animal.

It's okay, Daddy... I know, Papa isn't exactly quiet when he thinks he's being quiet...

Don't be mad at him, he's right... when it warms up, I promise I'll take you and teach you how to do trap shooting, we'll get some discs and bird-shot and make a day of it.

Pinky promise!?

Sure thing, kiddo.

The rest of the morning was not as dramatic. The kids had received more traditional gifts of toys, gaming systems, new clothes... and a box of assorted illicit substances for Grandma Al. My favorite! And a slab of Prime Rib for Marry Puppens.

After all the gifts were opened, James walked towards his dads with two boxes in hand.

Here, Papa. I wasn't sure what else to get you. Grandma helped me buy it...

Logan took the box from the boy's hand. Wrapped in silver wrapping paper was a box of cigars. Rocky Patel Conviction...

He opened the box and each Cigar was packaged like a gold bar...

Thank you very much James... he picked the boy up and wrapped him in the tight bare hug....

I can see why you needed your grandma's help... since your not 21 last I checked... Merry Christmas, I'll have one of these later... I love you, son.

Smiling ear to ear. I love you too. Merry Christmas!

Here's yours, Dad. Handing the other box to Wade.

Wrapped in hot pink paper was a rectangular box that contained a genuine Xman licensed action figure... a Vintage hot toys Wolverine that looked just like Logan.

kitten this is perfect! Wade threw his arms. around the boy and gave him a kiss on the forehead... thank you!

You're welcome... I saw it and just knew you'd love it.

After exchanging more hugs, James walked off to play with his new toys, and Logan leaned over...

Really... a doll, of me...

Logan... don't you know? I'm not just your husband... i'm you biggest fan, and its not a doll it's an action figure.

Whatever, just don't let me catch you pressing needles into it.

Logan kissed Wade. You'll get your christmas present from me later...

Logan looked up to make sure the kids were out of earshot. Wade... these cigars are a thousand dollars a box... I thought we agreed to cap the kids allowance so they didn't turn in to spoiled monsters...

Penut, it's christmas... I may have given them a bonus to budget with for gifts...

You're going to ruin them...

You look at those two perfectly behaved children and tell me they don't deserve every cent, I'd give them the Moon if they asked for it... and not just metaphorically penut I'd build a rocket and occupy and colonize the moon and make them its sovereign rulers...

I know, bub... I I'd probably help you to. But perhaps go easy on Easter...

But I already ordered the 30-pound chocolate crucifix!

Jesus...

Exactly, yes! I got the sexy one with rock-hard abs...

This christmas was probably one of the best. The memory of it was a treasure that Wade held on to... especially on the christmases to come that weren't as pleasant. But thats a story for another time.

The End

Link to next Scene

[icarusdescending7]

Aquamarine - Chapter 5

Ao3 | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Your fiancé died seven years ago, and you joined the military in his wake to fill the void his death put on you. Now, you work with the 141 for an assignment, hunting associates of their enemies.

Their Lieutenant, however, given you an uneasy feeling. You have a vague sense of familiarity with him, but from where?

-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-

Price did throw you a mini celebration, he felt bad for missing the day. Gaz and Johnny made a crude little cake for you and everyone sat together and had a good evening. Almost everyone, anyway. Ghost seemed pretty distant the whole time, more so than usual. He would only talk when spoken to but was otherwise off in his own world. Eventually, he retired to his room for the night, leaving the rest of you to your own devices. You all ended up drinking a little bit, which was a mixed bag. Johnny was a very loud drunk, Gaz giggly, and Price the sleepy kind. Unfortunately, that left you, the sad kind, to get all sniffly with them and ramble about the things that make you sad. By the end of the night, you were crashed out on top of your bedsheets, sniffling in your sleep. 

~~~

“Alright sweetheart, I gotta go. I’ll text you in the morning and we’ll call again tomorrow, okay?” Simon said, his voice slightly muffled from the phone speakers.

“Okay, Si. Tomorrow. Sleep tight.” You said, yawning. You sniffed a little, “I love you. Stay safe, okay? I want to see you again soon.”

“You know I always am, love. I love you too. Goodnight.” He said. You both hesitated to hang up, listening to each other breathe for a moment before he hung up.

~

‘Good morning. I hope you’re okay.’

‘We still on for a call tonight?’

You texted him at 6 am this morning when you had woken up. Usually, he’d respond in a few hours, but it was almost 5 pm. It concerned you.

‘Simon? You okay?’ 

‘Si?’

‘Love?’

~

It had been a few weeks since you last spoke to Simon. This wouldn’t bother you normally, considering how busy he was with work, but this time was different. He hadn’t said anything about being unreachable the last time you called, he hadn’t sent a text alerting you to an emergency… nothing. The anxiety ate away at you, chewed at the back of your mind like a horrible migraine. You stared at your texts to him, the long string of messages from you taking up the screen. No reply. 

A few weeks turned into a few months, and you finally got a message. All it read was ‘I’m sorry.’

Wait, what? What? ‘I’m sorry’? What does that mean?

‘Simon? What does that mean?’

‘Please respond. What does that mean?’

Just as quickly as you sent those messages, they were quick to stop delivering.

~

You woke up in your clothes from the day before, your head hurting from dehydration, cheeks dried with salt. Your phone had gone dead from the countless messages you’d sent Simon, not going to bed until you passed out. You put it on the charger, getting up to shower and change clothes. By the time you got out, your phone was back on but no new notifications came in. You set it down and sighed, looking over at the wall. 

A series of pictures lined them, dating back a few years at their oldest and a few months at their newest. You and Simon were the center of each, getting stupid pictures of the two of you at the pier, in the park, at restaurants, parties, and gatherings. All of them made your brow furrow— “What did he mean by sorry?” you asked aloud, staring at the photos. Deciding to send one last text in hopes he received it, you picked up your phone.

‘Seen 3:23 am’

So he did see them. But he didn’t respond. He must have blocked you but regretted it and unblocked you when he knew you’d be asleep. 

‘Is this your way of ending things with me?’ You asked, sending the message. It went through and was immediately seen, but no reply came. You dropped your phone, grumbling to yourself.

~

A few days passed, and you were sitting on your couch staring into space. You didn’t have much energy to do anything but stare. You hadn’t eaten anything but a bag of chips, and you found yourself sipping on a warm glass of water. A knock on the door drew your attention from the nothing you were thinking of. Slowly, you got up, going to the front door and peering through the peephole. The sight beyond made your stomach drop— two soldiers stood beyond with grim looks on their faces. You hesitantly unlocked the door, opening it just enough to ask what they were there for. 

“Are you the spouse of Lieutenant Simon Riley?” One of the men asked, turning to try and peer at you through the crack in the door. You sighed, opening the door fully.

“That’s me, yes. Well, his fiancé, technically but…” You trailed off. “Sorry. Is there something I can help you boys with?” You knew the answer, even if you didn’t want to admit it to yourself yet. You knew exactly what words were going to come out of his mouth, and you were already bracing for it. Your mind blurred out all the words that he said, except a few.

“…was killed in the line of duty. We’re sorry for your loss.”

You couldn’t keep yourself upright, knees buckling underneath you as the truth hit you like a bag of bricks. One of them rushed to catch you, not letting you hit the floor as you fell. Tears flowed like a broken dam and your shoulders shook. The news wreaked havoc on your mind, sending you into a swirl of agony. 

He was gone. He was gone and you didn’t have a chance to say goodbye! He left you alone with only his memory! Didn’t people normally get the honor of getting their spouses tags? Or a uniform? Or even their personal effects? This isn’t right! This isn’t right… Memories flashed through your head, showing you the life you shared with him. The way he smiled, how bright and beautiful it was despite all the devastation he’d seen. The way he laughed, how he snorted at your jokes, how all of it made your heart warm right up even when you were low. The feeling of his hands in yours now becoming a cold memory, knowing you won’t ever get to feel that warmth ever again. You won’t ever get to hear him say “I love you” again. Or sweetheart, or love, or your name. 

Was loving him worth the pain of losing him?

~~~

You woke up with a start, shooting upright with your heart racing and your head pounding. You shook as you looked around for your phone, trying to check the time. When you found it, the time read 3:57 am. You had a new text too, from Ghost. 

‘Can you have nightmares quieter? People are trying to sleep.’

It was a fresh message, sent mere minutes before you woke up. You took a shaky breath, steading your hands as you crafted a reply.

‘Like you���re any better.’ 

‘I am. I have padding on my walls for a reason.’

‘Whatever. Means sound shouldn’t come in either, or something like that.’

‘That’s not what that means.’

‘Who cares?’

‘Not you, apparently.’

‘Correct. Anyway. Its too early to go back to bed. Coffee?’

‘Sure.’

You took another breath, a lot more stable this time. You got up to get ready for the day and clean yourself up from your hangover. Eventually, you met Ghost in the kitchen and had a short conversation before Soap came in, who took over the conversation.

[astupidweeb69]

Unrequited (Yandere! Ticci Toby x Reader) Part 9

Links to Previous Chapters: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Author’s Note: I've been rereading this chapter for about a week trying to edit it, but decided I'd just go ahead and post it. Happy holidays everybody!

Cross-posted on my Ao3 account, which I update more frequently.

Warnings: Swearing. Descriptions of Gore. Some threats of violence. (2,070 words)

____________________________________________________________

Leaves crunched underneath heavy boots, ragged and irritated breaths came out in clouds against the cold. 

Toby was not pleased.

Not pleased with how things were going with you.

And not pleased with being texted by Tim.

Apparently there was some work to do and he had to ‘get his lazy ass over there’. The young proxy didn’t even know the details of what needed to be done. A supply run? Some more random campers in the area? Either way Toby was itching for a fight. 

He could feel anger in his system bubbling and ready to boil over. Just imagining Tim’s smug face waiting for him, probably ready to spat some nonsense about how ‘he’s late’ or make a snide comment on his appearance. His face twitched furiously at the idea, and if anyone was unfortunate enough to see the way he walked through the woods now, they’d surely run in the other direction. There was murder in the man’s eyes. 

It wouldn’t take long for Toby to find his teammate. That’s how things always worked though, they had a connection to find each other when they were supposed to, all he needed to do was walk mindlessly in a direction and let the forest guide him.

“Someone’s in a pissy mood.”

The smell of smoke let him know he found who he was looking for. Tim leaned on a tree, a wry smile on his face, a lit cigarette burning away at his fingertips. It was practically an extension of his hand at this point, the fucking chainsmoker. Toby learned to hate the scent of tobacco.

“Where’s Brian?” Toby frowned, ignoring Tim’s comment.

“Had something he needed to do.”

Tim looked disinterested in the conversation. Getting him to actually tell Toby what was going on was like pulling teeth. And Toby knew first hand how hard that could be.

“Suh-so? Why’d you cuh-call me out here?” The younger proxy fidgeted with the ends of his gloves.

Tim sighed, letting the last part of his cigarette drop to the ground, putting it out with his boot. “There’s been some weird things happening out here. Brian said you should come with me to investigate.” 

Toby made note of how he said ‘Hoodie’. Tim’s way of hinting that he didn’t want him there. Typical.

“Wuh-what do you mean weird things?”

Tim motioned with his head for him to follow, walking away into some bushes, Toby raised one of his eyebrows before complying. There was a rancid stench in the air when he started following him, like something died. Not uncommon in the forest, but it was hard to stomach even for the most experienced woodsman. 

They followed the smell of rotting flesh, down a small embankment. The dead leaves on the ground made it hard not to slip and fall, and Toby snickered when Tim lost his footing a couple times, making the older proxy shoot him a dirty look. 

“There up ahead.” After walking a few paces, Tim pointed to a mangled pile of fur splayed out against a group of pine trees. 

Toby’s eyes narrowed at the bloody mess in front of him, turning to the other man in irritation. 

“You dragged me out here for a duh-dead deer?”

“Take a closer look, Rogers.”

Toby shoved past Tim, making a point to bump into his shoulder for using the nickname he hated. He pulled up the mouthguard hanging from his neck to cover his nose, but it didn’t block out the smell nearly as much as he’d hoped. It took a lot of willpower not to gag.

He scanned over the remains noting different sized bite marks and scratches that tore through the animal's belly, viscera pooling out and its black lifeless eyes staring up at the sky. A swarm of maggots had already started the process of decay. 

Toby could see the red of Tim’s flannel out the corner of his eye.

“Well?”

“Okay, it’s a luh-little strange. I’ll give you that. The bite muh-marks look like they came from a  human.”

“Anything else, detective?” Tim mused, clearly noticing something else but liked toying with the kid.

“Just fucking spit it out.”

The older man kneeled down, motioning to two different spots on the deer's hind legs. “They’re all different sizes, meaning more than one person did this.”

“Cuh-cool.” Toby deadpanned. “So what does that mean for us?” 

“It means we need to keep an eye out for groups of ravin’ lunatics.”

“Don’t we already duh-do that?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. This is the second animal we’ve found like this in a week.”

“And yuh-you only thought to tell me now?”

“I was busy.” Tim shrugged, the corner of his lip curling up slightly. The man did not give two shits about warning Toby sooner. Probably didn’t even want to tell him now. If anything, Brian most likely had to convince him to.

The younger proxy scowled at him, tempted to escalate things, to cause another one of their fights ending with the two trying to claw the others' eyes out. Not that it would hurt him, and Toby always got some sick amusement seeing Tim in pain. But it would be dark soon, and he was itching to get back home. The thought of you back there tied up on his bed was making him scratch at his scar. 

He needed to spend more time with you. The look in your eyes as he paced around the cabin…. The look of fear and hatred. It wasn’t unexpected, but it still bugged him. You were… a bit more of a firecracker than he’d hoped. And level-headed unfortunately. You were catching on a little too quickly, to just how…. Temperamental he could be. The memory of you staring at his hatchets came back to him. He needed you to see his softer side, needed you to warm up to him before the truth, the real truth, about what he was came out. Maybe if he stole an old TV and got some of those movies you liked….

“Rogers!”

A finger snapped inches from his face. Toby blinked.

“Wuh-What?” 

“I told you we need to get goin’” Tim pushed Toby forward impatiently. “It’s almost night time. Come on.”

He could hear Tim muttering “Fuckin’ useless kid.” under his breath as he led the way.

Toby’s stomach twisted. That phrase got to him. Was something he’d heard a lot, from somewhere before, something in his past. Something familiar. Tim taunted him in ways that sparked a deep resentment, like an itch he could never fully scratch. A scab that wouldn’t heal.

They walked back the way they came in, up the hill and through the thick bushes, without saying a word. One thing they could agree on was the less they talked, the better.

Luckily Toby’s cabin wasn’t too far. Fiddling with the ends of his jacket, combing his hair, absentmindedly, he was glad to be rid of the old fucker finally and get back to what was important.

But things never worked out the way he wanted.

Toby felt a hand on his arm. Tim lit up another cigarette, his eyes narrowed at Toby, before taking a long, deep, drag into his lungs. .

Smoke billowed from the man’s mouth, surrounding him in a thick cloud as he spoke.

“Before you go, I need somethin’ from your cabin.”

Fuck.

Toby stared at him for a moment. His mind went blank, before finally speaking up.

“Wuh-what do you need?” 

He’d just act normal. It wouldn’t be a big deal. He could figure something out.

“Hoods and I are running low on some supplies. We know Kate keeps some of her stuff in your basement. Figured we’d borrow some things.” 

The boy twitched and fidgeted under the pressure, trying to come up with ways to get out of it. If Tim saw you… Toby didn’t even want to think about what he’d do. He honestly didn’t know.

“What… kuh-kind of things-sss?” Shit. His stutter was getting worse.

Tim raised a brow. Likely annoyed by how standoffish the other proxy was being at something simple.

“Like food n’ ammo. We’ve been too busy to go into town.” Tim paused, and looked almost accusingly at him. “And I know you’ve been leaving the forest a lot recently.”

Toby chewed on the side of his cheek. Of course the other proxies sensed his disappearance. He’d been too preoccupied with you to even think about that being a possibility. That didn’t mean they cared when he was gone, they weren’t his babysitter. But now Tim had him over a barrel. There was no way he could deny him supplies now, without admitting the reason he went into town was for… something out of the ordinary.

“Fuh-fine.” He sighed, trying to collect his thoughts. “Just duh-don’t touch any of my stuff.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

______________________________________________________________

The cabin was just up ahead. Toby kept glancing back at Tim who seemed too preoccupied in his own thoughts to notice.

“Whuh-wait outside for a second. There’s suh-something I need to take care of first.” 

Tim eyed him carefully. They both stood on the porch, tension rising, Tim’s body stiffening and his hands balling into fists for a brief moment. Toby fully expecting him to lash out. 

Tim always thought the boy was weird. Fucked up in the head. Overly-emotional, unstable, obnoxious, and he’s seen the worst of Toby’s manic episodes. He was almost certain the kid engaged in some light cannibalism, from the way he mumbled to himself in his delusional states. He was so fucking glad they didn’t live under the same roof anymore.

Finally, after a few moments of staring the other down, Tim relaxed. “Whatever, just don’t take too long.”  The older man decided he’d do whatever it took to get the fuck outta there, even if that meant having to obey. Despite how much that bruised his ego, he just wanted to go home and sleep.

Toby quickly went inside, slamming the door behind him, and Tim sat on the steps of the porch with a reluctant grunt.

Twitching anxiously, he ran into the room where you were tied to the bed. You jumped, obviously startled, by the door aggressively being opened. Normally he’d mock you, wanting to give a fake ‘awwww’ at how freaked out you were by his presence. He was still mad about how you've been treating him. But he didn’t have the time for that right now.

He opened the drawer to his nightstand, getting out an old t-shirt.

“Wha-” You started to question, but he cut you off by shoving the cloth in your mouth painfully. He tied it around your head, a little too tight, but he needed to make sure you were properly gagged and wouldn’t be heard.

Toby leaned down to your ear, speaking in a low hiss. “You nuh-need to be fucking quiet. I have a guest. He’s dangerous, so don’t get any ideas. No one’s coming to save you.”

He gripped your jawline tightly. “Do you uh-understand?” You stared back at him. Toby narrowed his eyes, tightening his hold on your face even more, until you finally nodded your head.

He released his hand and exited the room, mentally preparing himself to interact with Tim again, and with a deep breath, opened the front door.

“Okay, you can cuh-come in now.”

Tim groaned as he got up to follow him inside. 

Toby couldn’t help letting his eyes dart to his bedroom door when they walked past. He led Tim down the hall where the basement stairs were, which he started keeping locked the day he captured you. He didn’t need you to see what was down there. Hopefully not ever.

After Toby unlocked the door and showed him the various backpacks stolen from victims, Tim rummaged through a couple before collecting the items he needed. Mostly food, a couple old boxes of ammo. Nothing special.

His heart was pounding when they climbed the stairs again, so close to getting this over with. Wanting nothing more than to have him out of the house. Away from you.

But without warning, Tim stopped in the hallway, 

It was so sudden Toby almost bumped into his back.

“Whuh-what is it?”

There was a dangerously long pause, before Tim’s head turned to look behind his shoulder. Toby's eyes widened in fear.

“Did you hear that?”

[alicerosejensen]

I love your page so much omg. I‘m literally obsessed with your work😭🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Also I have this imagination in my mind going on about how Leon would try to help his girlfriend from recovering from her mental health issues since she’s always helping him. I was recently thinking about how he would react finding her not moving on the bathroom floor and trying to bring her back! I rewatched American horror stories and the scene with tate and violet in the first season episode 6 (ig?) is always in my head. I‘m still recovering from my past and my unhealthy habits and tbh recovery never felt better.

If this is too much for you or triggering please ignore this.🫶🏼❤️

I had a terrible period in my life when I was a few steps away from doing something like this in my life and unfortunately this shit often comes out. I'm not sure that such texts help me work through my psychological traumas, which were, in fact, inflicted on me and continue to be inflicted by close people who do not consider me a person, but at least such works help me to vent my pain, which I cannot permanently bury in myself.

I have been postponing this request for a long time because I was probably waiting for the right moment to write this text.

There are mentions of suicide, psychological trauma, severe self-doubt and anxiety, so if this is not acceptable to you, then please just block it.

Perhaps there is a similarity with my previous texts, but I am writing this with strong emotions now that I am trying to cope with it again.

the text is chaotic, I repeat, written while I was under the influence of strong heavy emotions. Maybe I'll delete it later, when my brain gets back to normal a little bit.

If a songbird doesn't sing well, they wring its neck.

Maybe it was the costs of Leon's profession and the result of his constant missions, after which something human is gradually dying in him despite the constant struggle to save everyone. Raccoon City was supposed to teach, if not to survive, then make him begin to understand that some are doomed to die.

Leon Kennedy was taught not to offend, but to protect the weak, especially weak women. But it is difficult to calm the flow of disordered thoughts and put aside the fear that has seized him in order to clamp bloody wrists and apply something to them to stop the blood. Leon knew many strong women: Ada was perhaps the first among them, he did not know either her past or her real name, only the present that pushed their foreheads against each other; Claire, a fighting friend of misfortune that he met in that ill-fated city; Ashley, who turned from a baby eagle into a proud eagle; Angela Miller and others…

Your strength dissolves in the water, coloring it scarlet while your heart stubbornly still beats, let the rhythm noticeably shorten.

In truth, over the past few months it became clear that this was the only way out. When even your loved ones considered you an expired product and did not hesitate to remember this and remind you every time. In the end, their words turned into an obsessive worm that settled in your head, slowly day after day, month after month, devouring you and the circumstances seemed to be not in your favor. Instead of support, you somehow faced reproach, as if the universe was screaming that you were an wrong person, nature's mistake who had no right to live.

Escape attempts were doomed to failure. At first you tried to suppress it in yourself, helping Leon, because, in your opinion, he was the only one who had the right to complain about life, although he did not do this in front of you, because everyone said that you had no problems: you have everything limbs, there are no fatal diseases, all loved ones are healthy and there is a roof over your head, as if this is enough to not fall for nonsense and not walk around forever with a sad face.

This was the last time you shared your experiences. You didn’t even bother telling Leon, but everything inside was torn from constant pain. The feeling was as if you were being beaten by two extremes that led you to the edge of an abyss where you ultimately voluntarily jumped.

no, you really loved him, it was just other people’s words and your own speculation that convinced you, despite your strong relationship with him, that Leon would find someone better, someone more confident in himself, someone who would not be you because you had already missed the chance for a good life because it moved too slowly. Ultimately, a couple of sips of alcohol with sleeping pills and a sharp blade in his hands simply promised to correct the mistake in the form of you with your own hands.

You didn't have the courage to do it any other way.

But you really didn’t think that if you could try to open up to your loved one, you would meet support and not condemnation. Perhaps in a mad world he would be the only one who would heal your wounds as you healed him in your time. Leon clenched his teeth, feeling tears flowing down cheeks, seeing these crimson stains, when he pulled your body out of the bath, holding you close to him, repeating “I’m holding you. It's allright"

He so carefully laid you on his lap, managing to pull out a first aid kit and then bandages to tightly, albeit carelessly, wrap them around your wrist in order to somehow stop the bleeding. At least you were still breathing, thereby giving him hope that everything could still be fixed. the darkness and emptiness came to life, calling in a whisper to dissolve into eternal silence where there is no pain or condemnation. Your body will be in a grave under a gray stone, while the remains of your soul will float like a small grain of sand in infinity.

For Leon, everything happens in a fog; he tried more than once to save people, but he had no right to lose in this battle, even if you yourself surrendered to death. Shaking his head, brushing away the tears, he wrapped your body in a large terry towel, kissed your temple and picked you up, trying to somehow warm you, pressing you closer to him. the ability to provide first aid in the field and pull suicides out of the other world is not the same thing. Leon would have thanked God if he had believed in him, convinced that blood loss was the least of the evils that you had caused yourself, until he saw the remains of some substance at the bottom of the glass that stood on the table along with an almost full bottle of alcohol.

You really didn't give him a chance.

The ambulance took several minutes, which seemed like an eternity. In fact, Leon wasn't sure if it was worth trying to make you vomit when you'd already lost so much blood that it was already seeping through the bandages. Surely you would need a transfusion and Leon is ready to give you all his blood if only you would wake up. Holding his breath, he carefully looked at your chest, watching whether you were breathing and fortunately, your heart was still beating, slowly, but it was still fighting for life.

He stroked you on the head, kissed you, promised that he would take you somewhere else, quiet, where no one would dare to offend you, even if it was your family. You could have just asked him for help, just cuddled up to him and he would have protected you from other people’s attacks, but you preferred to remain silent. Kennedy was tired of waiting for the medical staff to let him in, although relatives should be allowed to see the patient first, but the position of a government agent sometimes had its advantages, and they concerned not only the high salary. When he was let in to you, it seemed to him that you had become half your size while you were lying on the bed, curled up under the blanket. It didn’t work out to pull off a beautiful suicide, which meant that soon angry relatives would come here with new sweat of bile especially for you. They won’t care about your feelings, but Leon sat down next to you, trying not to intrude too much into the space in which you imprisoned yourself, as if this blanket cocoon could be a separate world where you could hide. He spoke to you carefully, hating himself for not being able to understand in time what was wrong with your behavior; perhaps if he had been more attentive to you, the incident could have been avoided. You would see a psychotherapist, take a course of medication, and your environment would definitely be taken care of.

You cry, not letting him come to you, hating how you weren't just left to die and how much you hate this world. Hysteria after hysteria, nervous breakdown after nervous breakdown, in the hospital you repeatedly tried to commit suicide, but the attentive staff managed to prevent this before you inflicted fatal injuries on yourself, and if after some time Leon still managed to carefully break through your armor, then your loved ones This did not concern relatives in principle. You only allowed one person to visit you while you were undergoing psychological treatment and you behaved calmer and calmer, listening to the velvety words that soon all this would be behind you.

“We’ll go home soon,” Leon smiled, gently holding your hand and kissing your forehead, just glad that you’re alive, that you’re breathing and that your psycho-emotional state is slowly but improving. “You know, I have a surprise for you, I think you’ll like it when we get home.”

Soon what happened will become another nightmare in his life, a blessing with a good ending, but for the sake of this happy ending, Kennedy is ready to descend into hell at least every day.

You nod at him and smile a little, fearing that the gift is some kind of party on the occasion of your discharge. In fact, the last thing you want is to see someone’s faces, especially those who diligently hammered into your head how insignificant you are. Why do you even hope that the doctor will postpone your discharge, but the plans for your further treatment were completely different.

On the other hand, after taking antidepressants and psychological help in a special medical institution, how many men are ready to stay with their girlfriends who have been there for several months? For Leon, it seems this was not a significant problem, or he simply carefully did not show it. However, there were no parties, no calls, you simply returned now to his home where there were new interior items. it became somehow more comfortable... but something else surprised you.

Puppy. A small puppy of a couple of months old ran towards you and Leon to meet both of them, but stopped and began sniffing your shoes, while something thawed in your heart.

“Animals seem to help us well, They feel when we feel bad, it seems to me a good idea to get us a little companion,” Leon said quietly, stroking your back while you were busy with the puppy, rejoicing at the little living soul who will love you with the same pure and devoted love.

Ultimately it should have a happy ending too. Leon is ready to go to great lengths so that his beloved songbird starts smiling and singing happy songs again, even if it is necessary to remove other birds from her family who sleep and see how to pluck all her wings again.

You and he also have a chance for a happy ending.

[golden-barnes]

Operation milkshakes, hospital visits and custody of Mr Bear

Paring: Beefy and Teacher! Bucky x milf! reader Summary: Sequel to Operation get Mr Bucky and Momma together. Bucky and Reader are finally on their little coffee date, but Amaya gets hurt. Then there's a shared custody to heal a broken arm. {wc: 2.7k} Warning: a bit of bucky being insecure again and a bit of insecurity from reader . Some sexual references bit of tension but its mostly fluff. Amaya gets hurt but it's brief. if you don't like a milf reader pls don't interact I don't want to get hate like last time lmao a/n: I have been writing this for years it seems and I finally am able to finish it and I'm so happy I hope you guys enjoy it. I am gonna try and finish all of my stories this month to be able to do other stuff. I am so sorry if it's shitty as hell, I tried my best to fight the writter's block Reblogs and comments are appreciated.

Is Bucky embarrassed that he has been texting none stop with his student’s mom? Yes, but who will stop him from feeling like he is walking on cloud nine? For the past few weeks, Bucky has been texting you back and forth whenever you had a break. 

Unfortunately, you haven’t been able to get that cup of coffee because of work, but Bucky knew he had found his match. Funny, intelligent, and the sweetest person he has ever met. 

Fuck, I feel like a love-struck schoolboy. Bucky thinks, cursing at himself while passing the exam papers to his students. Amaya smiled at him, basically giving him a knowing smirk. Holy shit, he feels blackmailed by a 6-year-old. 

She has no idea that Bucky and her mom are on a talking stage, but that doesn’t stop her from smirking at her teacher, who her mom has told her auntie that her teacher was cute. And that was enough for her already planning your wedding where she gets to be a flower girl. 

 Bucky sat down at his desk when he felt his phone vibrate. The notification had your name on it, almost making Bucky jump out of his seat. 

Hey, one of my clients canceled for Friday. U wanna get that coffee? 

Bucky couldn’t seem to write yes faster. He felt so happy, but shit, what was he going to wear? His closet comprises of henleys and sweaters. The occasional tank tops are there, but they weren’t the norm. He dresses like a middle-aged librarian, and he is proud of it. But, on the other hand, maybe he was overthinking it.

“Dude, it’s a coffee date. Not a Michelin restaurant.” Steve rolls his eyes at Bucky’s rant. Bucky told his best friends about inner turmoil and why he was so stressed. Sam just laughed at him.

“We don’t know about that one Rogers; she is a fancy lawyer for a fancy firm. She’s probably making the big bucks.” Sam winked at Bucky, which made him feel even more stressed. 

What if they dated, and she felt embarrassed to show him to her lawyer friends? He is on a New York Public school salary, it’s a miracle he has enough money to live alone, but he was going to be rooming with Steve. 

“Sam, stop torturing him, please. I can see the smoke coming out of his ears.” Wanda explained, heating up her lunch and smirking at her extremely stressed friend. 

“He is just so fun to mess with.”Sam whined while Bucky couldn’t help but scoff. 

“I am glad my suffering is your enjoyment, but I am about to run away to New Jersey and live as a hermit because I haven’t been on a date since college, and I have no fucking clue what to wear. Help me.” Bucky rambles, almost out of breath. Sam bites back a chuckle while Steve just looks worried. Wanda sighs; being the only person with brain cells in the teacher’s lounge is difficult.

“Bucky, wear that brown blazer you wore at my engagement party. Maybe a blue henley underneath. You did say she thought you looked hot in those, so who cares, honestly. “ Wanda Maximoff, the voice of reason to these messy elementary school teachers once again. 

Bucky should stop asking these things to Sam and Steve and just ask go directly to Wanda. 

(Y/N) wasn't doing that great either. She really liked Bucky; he was a hot guy but caring and smart. He made her laugh with his dorky quotes and references. He was well-read and gave her excellent book recommendations. 

More importantly, Amaya loved him. Every day she would show up rambling about something he had done in class that made her very happy. Whether it was telling her a funny story using Mister Bear, Bucky’s teaching assistant that Amaya adored, or handing her a fruit roll-up when the other kids weren't looking. Bucky was her favorite teacher, but it mostly felt like he had taken a father role that she needed.

One thing that made her stress out was how she was perceived. She had been on dates before, and every time the men went home running with their tails between their legs after feeling threatened by her confidence and career. 

Being a single mother and a powerful lawyer really fucked over her chances of dating. Apparently, knowing your worth and what you want doesn’t make you that appealing to men, especially these insecure, fragile masculinity-having assholes. 

But Bucky seemed different; he knew she had a kid and an influential career and still wanted to date her? He was different. 

“You still overthinking this date?” Her coworker and close friend, Jen, asked her. Nat rolled her eyes, knowing (Y/N) like the back of her hand. 

“She has been making a pros and cons list on her computer for the past hour. Girl, he likes you. No grown man texts you romantic quotes at 3 am without sending a you up? Text.” Natasha rambles but (Y/N) sighs. She knows what Nat is saying is correct, but still… She didn’t want to make things awkward for ‘Maya. 

“She has it really bad, but he seems so sweet. It’s just a coffee date; get to know him in person.” Jen tried to comfort her. She patted her shoulder, sorta giving (Y/N) a side hug. 

“Now on to date outfits. I say a plaid skirt and a sweater. The skimpiest skirt you have.” Nat grins evilly. 

“It’s a coffee date, not a hookup.” (Y/N) laughs at her suggestion. 

“Whatever you say, but that man’s shoulders are so broad that it wouldn’t be surprising if your legs were on them after the night.” Nat shrugs, but (Y/N) and Jenn laugh at the sexual joke. 

“I am trying not to give Maya a sibling yet.” (Y/N) threw a piece of paper at Nat. 

“Yet is the keyword in that sentence.” Nat winked at her comment. 

Bucky was shifting his weight on the chair. They had decided to meet at this cute little café that opened about a month ago. It was right next to a bookstore that Bucky loved so much, and coincidently (Y/N) took Amaya a lot to get her story time books. 

“Sorry I am late; traffic was horrible.” Bucky swore his breath was stolen from his chest because the minute he saw her, he felt like his lungs didn’t have air. 

“I- uhm, I get it. You look beautiful, by the way.” (Y/N) smiled at his compliment while sitting right before him. 

“You don’t look bad yourself.” She winked at the teacher, who started sweating bullets once she began to compliment him. 

“Are you ready to order?” The waitress asks the couple. (Y/N) nods while Bucky just looks puzzled at the menu. She smiled at him.

“Give us a minute, please.” (Y/N) said kindly. 

“Do you have any idea what you are going to order? If you don’t mind me asking?” Bucky asks sheepishly, but the woman just smiles. 

“I am dying to try this plum strudel, especially since Maya isn’t here to steal my pieces. And I need a milkshake.” (Y/N) explained; Bucky couldn’t help but laugh.

“Amaya is a bit of a sugar fiend, isn’t she? I can’t even eat my fruits in peace without her looking at me as if I stole them from her.” Bucky joked, (Y/N) rolled her eyes because she knew her daughter.

“It’s not a shocker. It’s practically my fault. When I was pregnant with her, all I did was eat candy. I have a sweet tooth, but she’s like a sugar monster.” She explained, reminiscing all the pregnancy cravings she had. Bucky laughed at her comment. 

“You sure you don’t want coffee?” Bucky asks all of a sudden. Finding it weird that she is ordering a milkshake at a café. She shook her head.

“Oh god, no. It would be my 5th coffee this day. I’ve had back-to-back meetings, and every meeting has a coffee run. Then there’s the coffee between every 15-page contract I have to write.” Bucky chuckles because that seems like he is the same in a completely different way. 

“I get you. After grading my 10th paper, I’ve already drank 3 cups of coffee. My record is 7 in one day. I was planning on getting the milkshake too.” Bucky joked, (Y/N) laughed. 

“So we are two coffee addicts on a coffee date, but we aren’t gonna drink any coffee. Got it.” (Y/N) smirked at Bucky. He felt his ears getting red. Suck it up, Bucky; she hasn’t even said anything sexual. She is just being funny. Bucky said to himself. 

“It appears that we are. I hope you don’t mind, but I’mma order the same thing as you. I love plums. My ma makes the best plum pie I’ve ever eaten.” Bucky rambled, trying to stop himself from buckling under her gaze. Suddenly (Y/N)’s phone rings. 

“Hey MJ, what’s up? Oh what? I am on my way.” (Y/N) hangs up, her face turns somber, and her eyes are filled with tears. 

“I am so sorry, Bucky, but I have to go. Amaya fell, and the babysitter told me she won't stop crying. Her arm might be broken, and I must take her to the hospital.”  She says, gathering up her purse. She was shaking, trying to stand up, but her legs were shaking. Bucky stands up to help her. 

“Can you drive?” (Y/N) shook her head, worried because Amaya was always careful. She runs around like any normal kid but is ultra-cautious about getting hurt. Bucky extended his hand, and she grabbed it. 

She gave him the directions to her house so Bucky could drive her home. She hadn’t really said anything during the entire ride; Bucky didn’t know what to do, so he did what he did best. Ramble on.

“You know I broke my arm around the same age. But mine was in a fight.” Bucky said, which got (Y/N)’s attention. 

“Back when we were kids, Steve was the smallest kid in our classroom, and there was this kid named Tom; he kept pushing him and making fun of him. So one day, I stood up for him and decided I could fight Tom. I should mention that Tom was 2 grades above us, so anyway, he pushed me so hard that I fell. Broke my arm and wasn’t allowed to go to recess anymore. My teacher, Sally, knew that Tom was a bully and got me a lesser sentence.” Bucky told her. She smiled.

“So you were a troublemaker as a kid. Kinda like my ‘Maya.” She joked, smiling, talking about her little girl. 

“Oh, Amaya is a little angel in comparison to me. She is manipulative as hell, but she’s a sweet kid. Takes after her mom.” Bucky complimented. (Y/N) sighed at his compliment. 

“I tried my best. It’s not easy, you know. Being a single mom. Sometimes I think I don’t do enough and that I am never there, but-” 

“Listen, I have been a teacher for a while now. I have seen parents who don’t care and never show up for their kids. You aren’t one of them. I know for a fact that every Wednesday, you take her to a museum or an interactive place. You are her person, and I think you are a fantastic mom. “ Bucky interrupts. He grabs her hand, and she squeezes it. Bucky parks in front of her house. Her big ass house. He keeps forgetting that she is, in fact, a well-paid lawyer. 

Amaya did indeed have a broken arm. Bucky had to carry her to the car and into the hospital. He even sat with her when she was getting her X-ray while (Y/N) talked with the doctors. 

“I wish all dads were like you.  You really made this a lot easier for her.” The nurse said, looking directly at Bucky, who was holding a very tired Amaya. Bucky felt his ears getting warm. 

“I’m not her dad.” The nurse scoffed at Bucky’s correction. 

“Could’ve fooled me with how she’s so attached to you.” She noted. (Y/N) walked into the room with the doctor.

“Hey, ‘Maya.” The little girl in Bucky’s arms stirred at the sound of her mom’s soothing voice. (Y/N)’s eyes were puffy, probably from crying at seeing her baby in pain. Bucky wanted to hug her and Amaya, but he couldn’t really move with a child in his arms with a broken arm. 

“The doctor needs you to sit on the little table over there to check you out.” (Y/N) said, which caused Amaya to slightly shake her head and grip Bucky’s arm with her non-broken hand. (Y/N) looked at Bucky in the eyes, almost pleading with him to help. 

“Amaya, if you sit there, you’ll get to take Mister Bear for the entire month.” Bucky wasn’t new to bribing kids, it’s sometimes the last resort, but Bucky knew how much Amaya loved Mister Bear. The little girl smiled weakly and turned to look at her doctor. (Y/N) smiled at Bucky, she mouthed him a thank you. Bucky was sure his cheeks were glowing red.

“Please, Mister Bucky, sign my cast.” Amaya said, giving him a pen to sign her super bright pink cast. Finally, she calmed down after they put the cast on her, and she got to pick a color. Then, they returned to (Y/N)’s house, where MJ, the babysitter, was still in the place, worried for little Maya.

Bucky laughed, signing his name on her cast and adding a roughly made butterfly. Amaya giggled at the butterfly. Bucky didn’t even notice (Y/N) walking towards them. 

“How are we gonna do the custody for Mister Bear?” She asks, noticing that Amaya is walking towards MJ so she would sign her cast. 

“Well, I use it as a teaching tool, so I have to have it during the day.” Bucky explained. (Y/N) nodded.

“And I can’t pick up Maya this week because I am in court all day.” She added. 

“I can bring him over after work if you want. “ Bucky suggests. (Y/N) extends her hand for Bucky to shake it. 

“I can agree to that, Mr. Barnes.” She said, smiling at Bucky. 

Bucky could die right now, and he would be happy. But who would’ve known that a ruined date could be saved by a shared custody agreement of a teddy bear with a 6-year-old? 

For the past week, Bucky brought Mister Bear for Amaya to play with. After giving the girl the bear, he wouldn’t leave the house. Oh no, no. (Y/N) would give him food, and he would even eat dinner with them. They talked for hours about shows, movies, their childhoods, and just everything they could think of with a glass of wine. Amaya would go to bed, and they would stay up talking, even if they had to wake up early. 

Bucky and (Y/N) had told Amaya that he was staying over for dinner in exchange for Mister Bear because saying, “Hey, mama and your teacher like each other a lot, but you can’t tell anyone” is too much for a 6-year-old. 

What they didn’t count for was that Amaya was too smart for her own good. She knew it was strange that Bucky stayed for dinner and that her mom would wear her “special” perfume whenever Mister Bucky came over. So is this how she’s gonna get a dad? And all she had to do was break her arm. 

Bucky was talking to Steve when Amaya approached him with a book. Both men turned their attention to the little girl with the bright pink cast. 

“Mister Bucky, Mister Bear and I want to read this book tonight. Could you bring it over later?” Steve’s eyes widened, and he turned to his best friend, bewildered by the revelation made by the kid. 

Bucky nodded, trying not to speak because he felt like Steve would have a heart attack if he had verbal confirmation that he was going to (Y/N)’s house every day. 

“James Buchannan Barnes, are you sleeping with your student’s mom?”Steve whisper-s creamed once Amaya was out of hearing range. 

“I am not sleeping with her… We just eat dinner together, and I bring Mister Bear for Amaya. It’s our custody agreement.” Bucky tried to explain, but Steve looked like the vein on his forehead would pop. 

“Fuck Bucky, you are in deep shit now,” Steve whispered. Wait until Bucky tells him he is utterly in love with his student’s mom. Oh shit, what?

[ateez-himari]

Hi bb I hope you are doing well! I'm hoping that you are resting, cause I know it's a busy week💓

I had some questionssss and I remembered the question I forgot in my last ask

1.are there any younger female idols who have expressed their admiration towards hima?

2. Since hima is short and mingi is BIG how large is their size difference in perspective?

3. I was wondering if hima wore a swimsuit top during the water bomb festivals and did she have any iconic moments from that festival?

4.is there any other brand that hima is a solo ambassador for other than versace?

5.if you had to describe hima's personality as another idol who would this idol be?

6.Have the ateez members ever been annoyed by the completely innocent sounds mingri let out? And have they called them out for that?

Ily bb take care of yourself mwahh 💓💓

Hi sweet! 🥰 Sorry this took so long I was on a bit of a writer's block 🤧 I'm also unfortunately still sick but I actually have a lot of motivation to write now! Again don't feel bad about sending me so many asks, seeing a notification next to my inbox is one of the best parts of my day

• XG members have been quite vocal about their admiration towards their senior due to her incredible range - from heart wrenching ballads to powerful raps - and have actually met her several times during award shows (only to gush about it later)

BABYMONSTER members have met Himari while they were still trainees and were amazed at the fact that YG Entertainment brought her in as the only mentor due to her ability to take care of every aspect of their training; vocals, rap & dance. To this day they continue to develop in part by watching videos of her

IVE's Wonyoung looks up to the vocalist's strength of character, even more so now that she has begun speaking out about the unfairness of this industry, the mental health challenges, the mistreatment, etc. The vocalist has also worked extremely hard to master many aspects of performance, which serves as an inspiration to her

• Height comparison websites have her barely coming up to the crook of Mingi's neck, however something else makes their size difference so impressive because this man is WIDE while Himari doesn't have much muscle mass. If Mingi wanted to wrap around her waist completely, he would need little less than 1 hand and a half

• Hima wore the black 'Greca Border Bikini Top' from Versace, a cropped white long sleeve shirt (which quickly became soaked) and very low waisted pants with the 'Greca Border Bikini Bottoms' showing

While Jongho was being all cute and watering their little Atiny plants, this absolute menace was body rolling just a few steps away and motioning for their fans to throw more water at her (think Mingi...but female version)

This event was also one of the first times that the couple was seen being somewhat intimate with each other since she came over to her boyfriend, pressed her back to his chest and began to dance on him (more like grinding-)

After drinking from one of the plastic water bottles - which looked more like a whole kiss than a simple sip - she teased one of the fans in the front before motioning her forward and carefully dripping some water onto her head

A sensual 'The Real' dance break...that's all I can say, she even had a fake lip piercing for this performance and it was the first time Atiny got a glimpse of the spine tattoo (the tape put over it slipped slightly because it got too wet)

• There was actually a brand that recently lost any possibility of an ambassadorship (you'll find out soon dw). Calvin Klein is slowly attempting to reel her in. Surprisingly enough she's an ambassador for Porsche, Saint Laurent and Cartier

• Jimin! At first Hima was very similar to Yeosang in the sense that she was shy, wouldn't speak as much, and was somewhat naive (still is) but as she opened up more her personality grew to almost mirror Jimin's

• They deeply respect their members so when they're intimate with one another they make sure that most if not all members are out or somewhere unlikely to hear them (in part why they got the airbnb during the group's break). There's been very few instances when they were heard (usually in the changing rooms after concerts) but since it rarely happens no one has called them out on it

Ily too!! I hope your post exam break is relaxing and that you're taking care of yourself, mwahhh!! 😘❤️

[sillyromance]

Since I’m not a minor anymore, I guess I must renovate my introduction post. So, here we go!

Good day everyone! You can call me Triana, I’m 18 years old – and this is my non-sexual vore blog, although I can post non-vore content here as well.

I post different kinds of vore from safe to fatal, yet I write and draw only oral – no exceptions. Also, I hardly ever make cruel preds the main characters of my stories for personal reasons. If these criterias go along with your preferences, then you will be always welcomed here!

As for my DNI, I wouldn’t like to interact with:

- Weight gain/ food fetish community blogs.

- Exclusively gore blogs

- Exclusively sexual/kink blogs

Don’t get me wrong – I’m not against people who run such blogs. The only people I hate are those who commit crimes against love, kindness and humanity – any others are free to come!

Yet, if you're a NSFW/kink blog, remember: you can like, but please - don't reblog my works or follow me (those who had reblogged something before this rule occurred, you can keep the old reblogs, but no new ones, please)

If my personal boundaries are not respected, only then I will block.

I’d like to state that I’m not against minors in the community and they can visit my blog. However, I will always write warnings in heads of my posts if they include adult topics (explicit descriptions of physical traumas, for instance), so children and teens can stay away from it.

Also, I don't roleplay (at least, for now), and, as a shy and cautious person, I'm really suspicious about receiving messages. If you wish to chat with me, please, leave a short description of who you are and what exactly you'd like to talk about - I'll hardly answer you otherwise. ❗Forbidden topics: politics, religion, sexual preferences (everything connected with sex really)❗(they produce conflicts which I would NOT like to participate in). If I feel in danger chatting with you, I'll stop the communication and block! Sorry, but, unfortunately, it's very easy to get in a trap on the Internet nowadays...

Thank you for reading this until the end! Have a nice day and take care!

Master list:

Animations:

Optimus Prime vore animation

Non-vore animation Nyx x Dooku

Original characters’ backstories:

Sara Branton (TFP)

Alexa Branton and Sacura (TFP)

Nyx de Serenno (SW)

Sara Branton:

Ratchet and Sara (pictures)

Late at night (a comic)

Healing fueltank (a picture)

Alexa Branton:

Happy Valentine’s day (a picture)

Comfort (a comic)

To end this (a story)

Sacura

Trust (a story)

Butterflies in a stomach (a picture)

Please, hide me (a picture)

Portrait/ Sacura and Drift (pictures)

Nyx:

The best (a story)

Les miserables (a story)

Non vore animation Nyx x Dooku

I have never seen my master that angry... (a story)

The ignition of love (a picture)

Solitude (a picture)

Funny doodles

The glasses (a comic)

Vore prompts:

TFP: Optimus, Ratchet, Ultra-Magnus; TFE: Megatron, Bumblebee

TFP: Wheeljack; TFE: Starscream; TF RID: Drift

TFE Megatron (additional)

TFE Arcee

TFP Knockout

Flamewar

Aggressive affection

Stories (mostly a character x human!reader):

TFP:

You’ll be ready (TFP Shockwave)

*** (TFP Optimus)

The way to sort out problems (TFP Breakdown)

Homesickness (TFP Starscream)

TFE:

Once in the morning… (TFE Bumblebee)

Rescue Bots:

A giant space monster (Rescue Bots Blades)

The deal (Rescue Bots Heatwave)

G1:

Not alone (G1 Sunstreaker)

G1 Soundwave x female human!partner

Bayverse:

War and peace (Bayverse Ironhide)

Star Wars:

Light in the dark (SW Darth Vader)

Alice: Through the looking glass:

A deeper meaning (Alice: through the looking glass Time x OC)

Thoughts, talks, sketches:

Prey wakes up in an unknown stomach

Sympathetic Victorian-era vampire (Halloween thoughts)

Two knights

A king and a princess

A sad ghost

A “stalked” prey

A pred swallows their prey’s arm

“If you want to die, then let me be your grave”

Digestion (prey pov)

Dying prey/doctor pred

Draw 6 Predcrushes challenge

The first time (switch pov)

A pred decides not to hurt a prey, though they intended to before

Personal reason why I like willing fatal vore

Abused prey

Offering yourself to a pred

Introducing my self-sona.

Merger

Digestion (sick prey)

Aristocratic preds

Ask game answer 5

Ask game answer 4

Aske game answer 3

Ask game answer 2

Ask game answer 1

My first ask game

Transformers shows I’m familiar with

A pred and a prey who care about each other more than about themselves

Vore: a metaphor for reality

Gentleman preds (Dr Watson)

Scars on a pred’s stomach walls

The very first vore story

[millieslibrary]

lucky to love you

pairing(s): dallas winston x fem!reader:

summary: a damaged delinquent meets an adventurous, fiery young woman at a bar and they fall in love... what happens next?

wc: 7.3k

warning(s): underage drinking, smoking, gambling, fluff, and a pinch of angst

a/n: this is the first fanfic i've ever wrote. i really hope you like it.

It was a warm June night in the city of Tulsa. Cars and glowing business signs illuminated the streets and a soft breeze kept the heat from sweltering. The city was bustling, as families and people of all ages walked up and down the sidewalks, enjoying their Friday evening.

You were sitting at a sticky bar in a hot and heavy room of a place called ‘Buck’s’. A man slid you a glass with an amber liquid. You tipped your head back and let the burning taste of whiskey invade your mouth and spread through your body. This wasn’t your first drink of the night and surely wouldn’t be your last. You smiled at the man behind the counter before getting up from your seat at the bar and sliding past dozens of sweaty bodies to the billiard room.

There, two men stood at the pool table while a few lined the walls to spectate. Immediately, your eyes landed on the man at the far side of the table; 6 feet with gorgeous brown eyes and beautiful porcelain skin. He was a leather-wrapped bad decision.

His eyes came up from studying the green table and landed onto you. You watched him do a double take before his eyes took in your form, looking you up and down. His tongue prodded at the inside of his cheek. 

“You gonna come in or you just gonna keep blocking the door?”

You smiled at him before taking a step inside.

“I wanna play," you stated plainly.

"Little lady thinks she can play pool," he uttered, half a question and half a statement. The others in the room laughed lightly at that.

"I reckon I can win too," you jabbed back.

He seemed surprised by your conviction. You watched as he smiled to himself. And what a smile it was. You felt your face heat up and butterflies in your stomach at the sight.

"Alright. I'll give you a go once I beat this guy," he said, confidently.

The rest of the game was quick. Your leather-jacket-wearing mystery man was a skilled player, experience exuding from every shot he took. However, even as you watched him take a couple dollars from the palm of his opponent, you felt confident.

You grabbed a stick off the wall and approached the table.

"I hope you're a betting woman," he said.

"Of course," you replied back easily.

"Tell you what," he started, "I'll bet you one dollar that I can beat you in fifteen shots or less."

"Deal," you smirked as you extended your hand to shake.

When he took it, you suddenly became aware of the difference in your sizes. His hand completely enveloped your own.

His fingers were calloused and rough. His knuckles were bruised; you resisted the urge to run your thumb over them. He was warm. You were almost sad to pull away. 

"Does the little lady have a name?" he asked as you rounded the table.

"If you do," you replied as you took your break shot, a striped ball falling into the far left hole.

He smiled again and you felt yourself go slightly weak in the knees.

"I'm Dally. Dally Winston."

You had heard that name before. Unfortunately, word traveled fast in the city of Tulsa; and the name ‘Dally Winston’ was often attached to stories of a no-good, low-down delinquent. But something in you told you not to run away. Instead, you looked up and into his eyes. 

"Y/N Y/L/N."

Dallas didn't beat you in fifteen shots or less. He didn't beat you at all. He rolled his eyes in irritation while handing you a dollar about fifteen minutes after the game's beginning.

"Let me buy you a beer," you offered to which he eagerly accepted.

Dally led you to the bar with his hand on the small of your back, careful not to lose you in the crowd. You bit your lip at the contact.

After using your earnings to pay for your drinks, Dally led you outside. You closed your eyes and breathed in the fresh air. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and gently placed one between his lips. He held the pack out to you and you copied his actions. He scoffed with a smile and shook his head lightly.

"What?" you asked.

"You're one interesting broad," he said, lighting his cigarette.

"What do you mean by that?" you replied inquisitively, lighting your own.

"You smoke, you drink, you play pool"

"I’m sure I’m not the only girl to do those things, Dally."

"And you're feisty. I like that."

You felt yourself smile at his words. You turned to look at him only to see that he was already looking at you. You wished you could take a picture of his face. Perfectly illuminated by Buck’s neon sign and the moonlight, Dally’s hair laid gently over his forehead, his lips parted, gently grasping his cigarette between his teeth. He was dangerously good-looking. You took another long drag off your cigarette.

“I should probably be on my way home,” you said, looking at the ground.

“How far away do you live?” he questioned

“It's maybe a fifteen-minute walk,” you responded. 

“Let me walk you home, you shouldn’t be walking by yourself at this time of night.”

“Aw, does somebody care about me?” you teased, already making your way down the steps of Buck’s porch.

“Don’t go getting a big head about it,” he said, rolling his eyes.

You and Dally made conversation the whole walk home. He told you about New York, living at Buck’s, and the ragtag little friend group he made since living in Tulsa. You told him about your family and friends and all your interests and hobbies. You were having so much fun talking with him that you were a little disappointed to see that you made it to your house. It was looking upon your house that suddenly filled you with worry. You didn’t want this to be the last time you saw Dallas Winston. You quickly came up with a solution.

“Wait here,” you ordered.

You unlocked the door and jogged down the hall to your room. You turned on the light before walking over to your desk and ripping the corner off an unimportant piece of paper, writing your phone number. Then, you reached into your pocket for your lipstick. You reapplied the color and kissed the tiny paper. After looking down to admire your handiwork, you ran back outside to find Dally where you left him. 

“Call me,” you said, placing the note in the palm of his hand. When you went back inside, you watched from the windows as he looked down at the tiny paper and smiled.

That night, you dreamed about Dally. 

✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩

The next day, Dallas found himself at the Curtis house. He laid on the couch, long limbs splayed across the cushions. He tried to ignore the sound of Mickey playing through the TV speaker as he took a swig of his fifth beer.

“Take it easy Dal,” Soda commented as he moved to grab a deck of cards that sat on the coffee table.

Dally ignored him, hand fiddling with the piece of paper in his leather jacket pocket.​​ Truthfully, Dallas was trying to drink away his nervousness; he was scared to call you. What if you were just drunk and last night was just a mistake? What if you didn’t want to hear from him? 

Suddenly, Dally sat up. His eyes found Johnny, who sat on the ground with his back against the couch. Dally grabbed Johnny’s shoulder lightly and nodded toward the door. Johnny seemed to understand as the two stood up and walked toward the front door. 

“You two leavin’?” Two-Bit questioned, remnants of chocolate cake covering his face. 

“Nah man, just going for a smoke. I don’t wanna hear Darry complainin’ ‘bout me doin’ it in the house no more,'' explained Dally.

Two-Bit nodded as the boys exited. Dally immediately reached for his cigarettes, handing one to Johnny. Dally leaned up against the fence as he lit his cancer stick.

“What’s goin’ on Dal?” Johnny asked, almost concerned.

“I- uh- I met this girl last night, man,” Dally confessed.

“Yeah? What about her?”

“I like her. She’s real pretty. With a big mouth on ‘er. She beat me at pool,” Dallas smiled as he remembered the events of the previous night.

“You get some action or somethin’?” Johnny inquired, studying his friend’s face.

“Nah man, we just talked. She beat me at pool ‘nd then I walked her home. She told me to call her but I haven’t.”

“How come?”

Dally took a long drag from his cigarette.

“‘Cause- ‘Cause what if she don’t wanna hear from me, man?” 

Dallas Winston doesn’t get nervous. Dallas Winston doesn’t get scared. Dallas Winston is never vulnerable. But for you, it seems, Dallas Winston cares. Johnny smiles at the thought.

“I’ve never seen you like this Dal,” Johnny can’t help but tease.

“I ain’t happy ‘bout it neither so shut yer trap,” Dally spat, glaring at Johnny.

Johnny laughed a little before taking a drag.

“Just call her. Don’t be a wuss.”

✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩

You had been on edge all day. You eagerly awaited a call from Dally but the phone had yet to ring. Once it had reached 3pm, you were beginning to feel that he was never going to call. You were beginning to feel that the night you spent together meant nothing to him. Your mind stirred with feelings of doubt.

Then, finally, the phone rang.

You scrambled to your feet, taking a deep breath before reaching for the phone. Slowly, you pulled the phone to your ear.

“Hey dollface.”

“Dally?” you cringed at the excitement in your voice.

Dallas laughed and you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth to keep from squealing.

“You miss me?” he asked, cockily.

“What do you want, Winston?” you joked.

“Ouch. You hurt me, doll. Listen, do you- uh- do you wanna catch a movie tonight?”

“Sure! What movie?”

“Don’t know. I figure we’ll sneak in and find one of them cheesy ones that chicks like.”

“Ever the gentlemen, aren’t you?” you replied with a roll of your eyes, your smile being heard through the phone, “pick me up at 7.”

“Whatever you say, doll.”

✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩

Dallas waited for time to pass, absentmindedly rolling his St. Christopher between his fingers. He thought of you as he let a puff of smoke escape from his lips. Your smile, your lips, the way your eyes shone when you spoke or just listened to him talk. Your very being plagued Dally’s thoughts. You had an undeniable effect on him. 

As Dally checked himself in the mirror and ‘fixed’ his hair for the nth time that evening, he was disgusted with himself. He had truly never felt so out of control, like a lovestruck schoolboy. Looking in the mirror once again, he scoffed.

It wasn’t you that Dally was afraid of. It was how he felt about you that scared him. For the first time, in a long time, he cared about somebody. Dallas wanted to be close to you. He wanted to understand you. He wanted to be understood by you. He already felt understood by you. Most people didn’t make Dally feel understood. But you did. And that was special.

✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩

Hours later, Dallas arrived at your doorstep. He was excited to see you again. At least with you at his side, his mind could no longer wander and his heart would no longer yearn. When you opened the door to meet him, Dally felt the air knocked out of his lungs. Turns out, you were this beautiful all the time, and your first meeting hadn’t been a happy accident. Dally let out a low whistle as he leaned his forearm against the door frame.

“See something you like?” you questioned, teasing.

“You know I do,” Dally responded with a smirk.

You breezed right past him with a giggle and Dally swore his heart was going to beat right out of his chest.

The walk to the Nightly Double was similar to your walk home the previous night, filled with laughter and conversation. There was much to know about Dallas Winston. One of the many things you learned about him was that he was a very good listener. At least when he was with you, he would listen intently when you told a story or voiced your thoughts.

Once you arrived at the edge of the drive-in, Dally slid under the fence with ease, popping up on the other side. You followed after him, Dallas offering you his hand to help you stand up. You took it.

“You look like you’ve done that before,” Dally commented.

“That’s because I have,” you said, dusting yourself off.

Dally’s tongue prodded at the inside of his cheek, smiling. You waited for him to let go of your hand but he didn’t; instead, he led you past the dozens of parked cars to the viewing seats. He let go of your hand to swing himself over the railing, taking a seat. You rolled your eyes as you ducked under the railing, sitting down beside him. He gently laid his arm over your shoulders and you smiled. You reached for the pack of cigarettes in your pocket, offering him one. He took it from between your fingers and inspected it, placing it between his lips. You lit his and then your own. Dally took a puff.

“What are these?” he asked.

“They’re cloves,” you responded.

“They’re sweet,” he announced, eyes widening at the taste.

You nodded, making a mental note to find more things Dally hasn’t tried as you found his curiosity utterly adorable.

Your eyes fixed on the large screen ahead of you, taking another drag.

Dallas couldn’t tell you what movie you were seeing. He couldn’t even tell you what it was about. His eyes were on you the whole time. He liked the way your hair shaped your face, the way your eyebrows scrunched when you were worried or confused, and the way you nibbled on your bottom lip. The more time Dally spent with you, the more things he found to like about you. He tried to push away the thought.

“You wanna Coke?” He asked, standing up from his seat.

“Sure,” you replied, finally meeting his eyes.

With that, Dally made his way to the snack booth.

When he returned, he handed you your Coke and lit another cigarette before taking his seat again. You took a sip of your Coke and enjoyed the sweet taste. You looked at Dally.

Looking into the eyes of Dallas Winston was quickly becoming one of your favorite pastimes. His eyes seemed to tell a thousand stories. Stories of fun and troublemaking; and pain and sorrow. His eyes were ones that belonged to a person who grew up far too fast and knew the cruelty of the world all too well. Still, deep within them, you could see a childlike wonder and mischief. His eyes were cold. But looking into yours, they were soft.

You broke eye contact in favor of leaning your head on his shoulder. You couldn’t see his face from your position. He smiled.

✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩

From that day on, you and Dally were practically inseparable. The two of you frequented the Dingo and the Nightly Double. Days he used to spend with Johnny and at the Curtis house were spent playing cards or poker with you at your house or in his single room above Buck’s bar. Nights he used to spend ‘hunting action’ and going to Buck’s parties alone were spent drinking and playing pool with you. You were Dally’s girl and everybody knew it; albeit nothing much had happened between the two of you. Stolen glances, prolonged eye contact, and his hands on your waist were as far as you had gone with one another. With you, Dallas didn’t feel the need to ask for more. Your presence and good conversation were enough. But everything changed on one particular night.

You laid awake, humming to the sweet melody coming from your record player with a cigarette in hand when you heard a faint tapping on your window. You smiled, putting out your cigarette as you got up from your position in bed. You already knew who it was; there was only one person who would be knocking on your window, especially at this time of night. When you pushed your window open, you were met with, in your opinion, one of the worst sights one could see. Dallas Winston, bloody and bruised, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

“Jesus Christ, Dal! What the hell happened?”

You quickly turned off your record player. 

“Rumble,” Dallas replied simply, groaning as he pulled himself through your window.

You shook your head lightly, gazing at him with sad eyes as he sat on the edge of your bed.

“Let me clean you up. I’ll be right back,” you said, sparing him one final glance before you left the room to gather supplies.

When you returned, with a few washcloths and a tub of mildly soapy water in hand, Dallas was looking at the floor. After placing your materials on the ground next to him, you gently grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you.

“Did you win?” you asked lightly.

“I always do,” Dally responded, the ghost of a smile on his face.

You nodded, removing your hands from him and dipping a washcloth into the soapy water. Carefully, you brought the washcloth to his face, dabbing at a wound just above his eyebrow. Dally flinched a little at this which caused you to look at him sorrily. You soaked the washcloth again and started on another wound on his cheekbone. You repeated these ministrations until his face was clean of blood.

“Do you have any other open wounds?” you inquired.

“Nah, just bruises,” he answered.

“Are you in pain?”

“I’ll be alright.”

His failure to acknowledge your question did not go unnoticed by you. You placed a hand back on his face, thumb caressing his cheek.

“You make quite the nurse, doll.”

You shook your head, eyes closed.

“I hate seeing you like this Dal.”

“Hey,” he placed his hand over your own, “I’m okay.”

You nodded, looking into his eyes. You let your gaze fall to his lips. Then, you kissed him.

Dally kissed back almost immediately, pressing months of unsaid feelings to your lips with his own. He tasted like tobacco and cheap beer. 

The kiss quickly turned messy; tongues sliding against each other as you straddled him on the edge of your bed. His large hands gripped your thighs and you bit lightly on his bottom lip. Your hand was still on the side of his face, the other pulling at the hair on the back of his head, causing him to moan. When you finally pulled back for air, Dally placed his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

“Will you stay?” you asked, so quietly you weren’t sure if he heard you.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll stay.”

You crawled into bed, Dally removed his shoes and jacket, following after you. After pulling the covers up, you reached for his hand. You ran your thumb over his bruised knuckles, just like you had dreamed of doing the night you first met. You placed a kiss on each of them, smiling to yourself as you did so.

That night, as you laid comfortably on Dally’s chest, he became sure that he loved you. He decided, that night, that he would do anything for you. He would do anything to protect you.

✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩

In the following weeks, your relationship with Dally became more romantic. You often spent the night in Dally’s apartment and he often came knocking on your window at ungodly hours of the night. It became difficult to sleep without you, but he’d never tell you that. You realized that he very rarely wasn’t touching you in some way or another. His arm found home over your shoulders or around your waist. He frequently pulled you into his lap and placed his head in the crook of your neck. 

After months of knowing you, though, Dally never introduced you to his friends. Dally hadn’t realized you had never met the gang until he arrived at the Curtis house after not having been there in nearly a month.

“Where you been Dal? I feel like I never see you no more,” Johnny commented.

“I’m sorry kid, I’ve been busy with Y/N,” Dally replied, sitting next to Johnny on the couch.

“Who’s Y/N?” Ponyboy questioned from his spot on the floor.

“She’s- uh- She’s my girl,” Dally responded.

“How come we never met her then?” Two-Bit inquired, joining the boys in the living room, beer in hand.

“Never met who?” Sodapop asked, following Two-Bit to the living room, Steve in tow.

“Dally’s girlfriend,” answered Ponyboy.

“If she’s anything like Sylvia, I don’t wanna meet her,” Steve announced, getting a good laugh out of Two-Bit.

“Shut yer trap, will ya? She’s nothing like that,” Dally spat, placing a cigarette between his lips.

“What’s she like then?” Pony interrogated.

The boys looked to Dallas, eagerly awaiting his response. Dally lit his cancer stick.

“She’s- I don’t know man. She’s different. She sneaks into movies and she beats me at everything: cards, poker, pool. She’s a damn good pool player. She could drink two six-packs, she’ll still beat me, man. She’s smart. And she’s pretty. Real pretty,” Dally smiled. “She's nothing like Sylvia, man.”

A hush fell over the room.

“Sounds like somebody’s in love!” Soda said, breaking the silence.

That single comment set the room ablaze; hooting and hollering, and endless wolf calls and whistles filled the house.

“Shut up man!” Dally shouted; though, he was never able to fully wipe the smile from his face.

“When ya gonna let us meet her, Dal?” asked Johnny

“Yeah, you should bring her by,” Soda decided.

Dally thought for a moment before grabbing the phone.

✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩

When you arrived at the Curtis house an hour later, you were overcome with nerves. You knew Dally’s gang was something of a family to him and you wanted to make a good first impression. You lit a cigarette, licking your lips to taste the sweet residue left behind by the cloves. You made your way up the steps, knocking on the door. 

When it opened, you were met with a young boy. He had longer, dark hair slicked back with grease; and kind, light brown eyes. The two of you exchanged a smile.

“Come in,” he said, stepping to the side.

You entered and were immediately met with a low whistle from a man in a Mickey Mouse shirt, causing you to smile and roll your eyes. You took a puff from your cigarette while surveying the room. You could definitely tell the space was inhabited by three boys; still, it was homey and happy.

“Y/N?”

You looked up to see a familiar face.

“Sodapop?”

Soda quickly crossed the room to wrap his arms around you and you giggled, returning his hug.

“How’ve you been? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!” Soda exclaimed.

“I’ve been good, really good. Are you still working at the DX?”

Unbeknownst to you, Dally stood in the corner of the room, watching your reunion with the second-oldest Curtis boy. He clicked his tongue and took a swig of his beer. Something about watching Soda embrace you like that didn’t sit right with him but he couldn’t figure out why. Dallas trusted you. So why did seeing you giggle at something Soda said have him clenching his fist? 

Dally sauntered over to you, throwing his arm over your shoulders.

“Hey dollface,” Dally said, “you- uh- you two know each other?”

“Yeah! I used to pop in at the DX all the time for snacks and stuff. Soda and I became familiar,” you replied.

“Uh-huh,” Dally responded shortly, moving to sit on the couch next to the Mickey-Mouse-clad man.

You immediately felt something was wrong with Dallas but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. You tried to shake off the thought, turning back to Soda.

“So who is everybody?” you asked

“This here is Steve,” Soda introduced, as a man with greased hair and crooked teeth approached you from the dining table, holding his hand out for you to shake.

“Right, I remember you,” you said, taking his hand.

“That there is Two-Bit,” Soda continued, pointing to the man in the Mickey Mouse shirt. You gave Two-Bit a small wave. “Then, there’s Johnnycake,” Soda gestured to a boy sitting on the floor in a jean jacket. “And my kid brother, Ponyboy,” finally identifying the young man who opened the door for you.

“No way! This is your brother?” you moved to sit between Johnny and Ponyboy on the floor.

“Yup! I have an older brother, Darry, but he’s not home right now,” Soda answered.

You nodded, putting out your cigarette.

“You wanna beer?” Soda offered.

“That would be nice, thank you,” you replied. You turned your attention to Ponyboy, “Soda’s told me a lot about you. He says you’re into books and movies and stuff.”

“Yeah,” responded Ponyboy, sheepishly.

“I like movies too,” you said, smiling.

“Really?” Ponyboy inquired, excitement evident in his tone.

You hummed in agreement, taking a beverage from Soda’s hand with a small ‘thank you’.

“What about you?” you asked, turning to Johnny.

You noticed Johnny’s face was littered with scars and bruises. When he finally met your eyes, you saw years of pain and suffering in the chocolate orbs staring back at you. His eyes almost felt… recognizable. You realized that you saw a bit of Dally in Johnny’s eyes. Both had eyes that belonged to people who knew the cruelty of the world all too well. Your heart immediately ached for him, this young boy who’d been beaten down by the world’s brutality. It wasn’t pity that you felt for him, it was sympathy.

Johnny didn’t answer your question, only shrugging. You took a sip of your beer and reached for your cigarettes. You handed one to Johnny, lighting his and then your own.

“It’s sweet,” Johnny announced, eyes widening at the taste.

You smiled at the familiar reaction.

“They’re clove cigarettes,” you said, “they’re these little flowers that they roll in with the tobacco. It makes ‘em smell and taste good.”

Johnny nodded along as you spoke, smiling. He liked the sound of your voice; it was soft and soothing. 

Dally watched you talk to Johnny out of the corner of his eye. The only two people Dallas ever loved; he was glad that you guys seemed to be getting along. 

“You boys ever played poker?” you questioned. Johnny and Ponyboy shook their heads. “Go get a deck of cards. I’ll teach you.”

Ponyboy stood up to find a deck of cards and you got up to sit on Dally’s lap. You frowned as Dallas refused to meet your eyes. Eventually, you placed your hands on his face, forcing him to look at you.

“What’s wrong?” you all but demanded.

Dally didn’t respond to your question, instead, he leaned up and pressed his lips to yours. Two-Bit howled at the action, causing Dallas to hit him upside the head with his lips still on yours.

“Gross,” said Ponyboy, having returned with the cards.

You smiled into the kiss before parting, Dally’s lips chasing your own.

“Alright, let’s play,” you announced, walking over to the dining table.

“You mind if we join in?” Soda asked, Steve at his side.

“Not at all,” you replied, “In fact, why don’t we all play? Two-Bit? Dal? You want in?” 

The rest of the afternoon was spent in laughter, playful arguing, and competitive gameplay. You taught Johnny, Ponyboy, and some of the rest of the gang how to play Texas Hold’em. You all bet cigarettes as chips, giving the game some real stakes. Eventually, Darry arrived home; the oldest Curtis brother could not be convinced to join the game, shaking his head but ultimately enjoying the chaos occurring at his dining room table. By the time everyone called it quits, Steve and Two-Bit both won one hand, Soda and Dally both won two, Johnny won three, and you won four. 

“Ponyboy, you have the worst poker face!” you exclaimed, laughing as you gathered the cards.

“You better not have any run-ins with the fuzz,” Two-Bit cackled, “you’ll crack for sure!”

“Now I know why gambling’s illegal. I barely have any cigarettes left. If we were betting real money, I would’ve lost my house,” Steve joked.

“That’s why you won’t be doin’ it with real money, isn’t that right boys?” Darry called with a stern look etched on his face.

The boys all nodded in unison, making you giggle.

“You going home tonight Johnny?” Dally questioned with concern.

Johnny shook his head, taking a seat on the couch.

“Speaking of going home, I think I overstayed my welcome. Besides, I need to start smoking all the cigarettes you guys let me steal from you,” you said with a wink, making the boys groan in response. 

You made your way toward the door, ruffling Pony’s hair as you walked past him.

“Y/N!” You turned around at the sound of Soda’s voice. “You could never overstay your welcome. You can come here whenever you like,” he said with a smile.

Your heart warmed at his words and you nodded appreciatively. You opened the door, tossing a goodbye over your shoulder as you exited, Dally close behind.

The two of you walked in silence for a while. You and Dally could talk about any and everything but as your relationship progressed, you also became comfortable in each other's quiet company. That being said, your mind was restless.

“Why did you ask Johnny if he was going home tonight?” you blurted.

“Johnny’s folks are no good, man,” Dally replied after a moment, “every time he goes home, he comes back with new bruises.” 

You nodded, thinking to yourself.

“Where does he go instead?” you questioned.

“He stays at the Curtis’ or he goes to the lot.”

You nibbled on your bottom lip. You hated that. You hated that Johnny was spending nights alone, sleeping on a busted seat in an empty lot. But what you hated, even more, was that he thought it better than being at home. If that place could even be called a home. The more you thought about it, the angrier you got. You clenched your hands at your sides.

Suddenly, you felt Dally’s hand grab your clenched one.

“I know. I hate it too. But you ain’t doin’ nothin’ for him by working yourself up over it, so relax,” he said.

You took a deep breath.

“You were- You were upset earlier. Why?” you interrogated.

Dallas often marveled at your ability to read him. You seemed to always know how he was feeling without him having to say a word. You just got him in a way no one had before.

“I just… I didn’t like how Soda was touching you, doll.”

“You were jealous?” you thought aloud, a smirk growing on your face.

“I wasn’t jealous,” Dally said defensively, looking away from you.

“You totally were!” 

“I wasn’t!”

“Just admit it, you were jealous!”

Dally stopped in front of your house, tackling you into a hug. 

“Shut up man,” Dally said, kissing your neck, causing you to giggle.

“We’ve talked about this though Dal,” you replied seriously. “You know I only have eyes for you.”

“I know, doll. But ya gotta understand. I don’t trust em’, other guys I mean,” said Dallas carefully.

“But you can trust me,” you replied earnestly, “and Soda’s your friend.”

“I know,” Dally looked at the ground. “Can I- I wanna give you somethin’.”

“What is it?” Dallas slowly removed his St. Christopher from his neck. “Oh Dally, I couldn’t-”

“I want you to have it,” he said resolutely, “come on, turn around”

You turned your back to Dallas, allowing him to secure the chain around your neck. You fiddled with the silver pendant. When he was finished, you turned to face him.

“Thank you. I’ll treasure it forever,” you said with a smile.

Dally looked down at you, placing his hands on your face. His thumbs stroked your cheeks before pressing a passionate kiss to your lips. You guys stayed like that for a while, kissing under a street lamp on a warm September night. 

✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩

Dallas Winston had completely changed your life. It was a surprise to everyone but you that he was capable of changing it for the better. His gang quickly adopted you into their group; you went to movies with Ponyboy, made lunches on weekdays for Darry, visited Soda and Steve at the DX, drank with Two-Bit on weekends, and all the while maintained your multi-weekly sleepovers with Dallas. Out of everyone, though, you had grown particularly close to Johnny.

You no longer allowed Johnny to sleep at the lot. If he couldn’t stay at the Curtis’, you insisted that he stay with you. Dally, admittedly, wasn’t overjoyed to be sharing you with his best friend but he knew you couldn’t bear to let Johnny sleep in the lot, especially with the changing season; It was one of the many things Dallas loved about you. You helped Johnny with his homework when you could, went to the Dingo, taught him how to play a variety of your favorite games, read to him, and even cleaned his wounds after he visited his parents. Despite popular belief, Johnny was smart. You truly loved and treated Johnny like a brother. And Johnny loved you too, the first woman in his life to treat him with compassion.

You were at the Curtis house baking cookies for the boys. It was the holiday season and you wanted to do something nice for the gang.

“Hurry up! I want my cookies!” shouted Two-Bit from the living room.

“You keep shouting at me, and you aren’t getting any!” you called back.

“Do we pour in the dry ingredients now?” asked Ponyboy.

“Not yet, Johnnycake hasn’t cracked the eggs,” you replied.

Johnny moved to crack the eggs. He disposed of the eggshells while you mixed the wet ingredients. Ponyboy poured in the dry ingredients, missing half the bowl. You shook your head as the boys laughed, sweeping the powder in with their hands. You were glad you cleaned the area and made the boys wash their hands before you started baking. Once everything was incorporated, Johnny started mixing. You busied yourself by greasing the cookie sheets. Pony leaned against the counter, gazing at Dally’s St. Christopher hanging around your neck.

“Y/N, are you in love with Dally?”

You nearly dropped the cookie sheet you were holding, making Johnny laugh.

“Yeah Y/N, are you in love?” Johnny said, teasing, but still genuinely curious.

“What kind of question is that?” you exclaimed, your face hot with embarrassment. The two boys looked at you expectantly, causing you to sigh. “Of course I do. I love Dally with all my heart. But we’ve never said anything like that to each other before so keep your mouths shut, you hear?” 

The boys nodded, smiling.

“What’s it like?” Johnny questioned.

“Soda says bein’ in love is real nice,” Ponyboy answered.

“Well, I can’t speak for Soda,” you said, “but being in love with Dal is like… being at the top of a roller coaster. It’s exciting and enthralling and it makes you feel all fuzzy.” Johnny and Ponyboy watched you carefully. “So- So I guess Soda’s right… it’s real nice,” you smiled.

✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩

Dallas hadn’t returned any of your calls in the past five days. You were rather busy as it was the beginning of a new year and you assumed Dally just hadn’t been able to get back to you. But when the weekend finally came and you still hadn’t heard back from him, you were beginning to feel worried. You walked over to Buck’s hoping to find him there but he wasn’t. Buck informed you that he hadn’t even seen Dally in the past five days. Hearing that immediately sent you from worried to full-on terrified. You ran as fast as you could to the Curtis house. 

You pushed the gate open and ran up the steps, frantically knocking on the door. Johnny opened it, looking down at you from your spot on the stairs.

“Johnnycake,” you spoke through labored breaths, “have you seen Dal? I went looking for him but Buck hasn’t seen him and he hasn’t answered any of my calls. I- I’m starting to get really worried, Johnny, please tell me you’ve seen him.”

“You mean you don’t know?” Johnny asked, shocked.

“Know what? Johnny, what’s going on?” Johnny pulled you inside, the whole gang was there, looking at you sorrily. “You guys are really freaking me out. Where’s Dal? What happened?”

“Dal’s in the cooler Y/N,” Two-Bit said finally.

The boys all looked to the ground, unable to meet your eyes.

“He’s- He’s what?” 

You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t want to believe it.

“Y/N-,” Soda started.

“No. No.” You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes “Can I see him? I need to see him. Darry,” you approached him, “take me to see him. Please. Please take me to see him.”

Darry looked into your eyes, he'd never seen you so desperate.

“Alright kid, I’ll take you.”

“I’m coming too,” Johnny announced.

The car ride was quiet; the only sound that could be heard was the tires against the road. 

You knew Dallas had been to jail on multiple occasions for a variety of different stretches. But the image of Dally in a prison uniform, locked up in a cell, made your heart ache. Tears began streaming down your face at the thought. You laid your head on Johnny’s shoulder and cried silently.

When you arrived, Darry told you and Johnny to head inside while he waited in the car. The two of you met a lady at the front desk, giving her your names along with Dallas’. She invited you to wait while they informed him of your visit. Finally, she led the both of you to ‘the visitation room’.

There were two rows of seats facing each other, separated by glass. Each column was divided by walls, and a phone hung from the left wall of every column on both sides of the glass. Johnny stood at the edge of the room and you took a seat, fiddling with the pendant on the necklace Dally gave to you.

When Dallas entered, you watched from the other side of the glass as the cop removed the cuffs from his wrists. Dally had a nasty bruise on the side of his face. He sat at the seat across from you, picking up the phone. You copied his actions.

“Hey dollface.”

“Hey Dal,” you forced a smile, tears welling up in your eyes, “ are you okay?”

“I’ll be alright.”

“Is there really nothing I can do to get you out of here?” you questioned, tears spilling from your eyes.

“Please don’t cry, doll. I can’t stand to watch you cry.”

“This is killing me, Dal.”

“I know, doll. I know. And I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. But listen to me, alright? They said I got four months in here if I stay on my best behavior. I’m gonna be a saint, alright? I swear it. They’ll let me out early and I’ll come home to you. I promise,” he said decidedly. 

“Okay,” you nodded, tears streaming down your face.

“You gotta promise me you won’t come back here. I don’t want you to see me like this, ya understand? Just take care of the boys and wait for me. I promise I’ll come back to you.”

“Fine,” you said. “Dal, I-”

“Don’t say it. Not now. Just wait for me, alright?”

You nodded, hanging up the phone. You turned and left the room, Dally’s eyes on you as you exited. Dallas gestured for Johnny. 

Johnny sat down in your seat, picking up the phone just as you did.

“Hey Dal,” said Johnny.

“Hey kid. Listen, take care of Y/N for me, alright?”

“‘Course I will.”

“Thanks Johnnycake.”

Johnny had never heard Dallas say ‘thank you’ to anybody for anything. Johnny knew then that you were truly important to Dally, that Dally loved you.

✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩

That night, after your visitation with Dally, you stayed at the Curtis’; you fell asleep on Soda and Ponyboy’s shared bed, tucked between Johnny and Ponyboy as Pony read aloud.

In the following months, you did exactly what Dallas told you to do; you took care of the boys and waited for him. The boys took care of you too, sometimes unknowingly. Not a moment went by, though, that you didn’t think about Dally: his eyes, his smile, the feeling of his lips on yours. You missed him gravely and your driving force became the knowledge that he would, eventually, come home. 

It was a late morning at the Curtis house, as per usual on weekends. It had been four months since you had visited Dally in jail, but you believed that it was still far too early in the month for Dallas to be coming home anytime soon. You were cooking eggs and french toast for the boys, humming to the music playing through your record player. You had dragged the sound system over months prior, noticing that you were spending more time at the Curtis’ than your own home. You piled two pieces of toast next to some plated eggs. A new song began and you moved your hips to the rhythm, singing along. You were in your own world, completely unaware of what was happening in the rest of the house. You were dancing across the kitchen floor when you heard it, the voice you thought about every day for months.

“Jeez doll, I’m starting to think you didn’t miss me at all.”

You spun around so fast, you were impressed that you didn’t get whiplash. You dropped your spatula, legs carrying you as fast as they could, jumping into his arms. Dally laughed at the impact.

“Oh Dal, you’re home! You’re finally home!” you pressed your lips to his, months of longing behind a single kiss. You hugged him close. “I missed you so much.”

Suddenly, Dally threw you over his shoulder. You squealed in surprise. Dally made his way through the Curtis home, you giggling into his back. 

“Say bye to the boys, Y/N,” Dally announced.

"Bye!" you said, face red from the blood flow to your head.

A chorus of goodbyes could be heard from the boys as you exited.

✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩

You were laying in bed with Dallas in his single room above Buck’s bar, just like you had done many times before. But this time was different as you had waited months for this moment, to be in his arms again.

“I missed you so much Dal,” you reiterated.

“I missed ya too, doll. So much,” he said. Dallas looked into your eyes, stroking your cheek with his thumb. He remembered the thing you wanted to say to him when you visited him in jail, the thing he stopped you from saying, the thing he thought about you saying for the past four months. “I love you,” he blurted out, surprising himself and you. 

Your eyes widened at his confession, mouth slightly agape. You searched his eyes for any regret or doubt but there was none.

“I love you, Dal. I love you so much.”

He kissed you, tongue prodding at your bottom lip for entry. You allowed him, tongues molded together in an eloquent dance. When you parted, he rested his forehead against yours.

“I’m no good with words, doll. You know that. But I’m lucky. I’m lucky to love you.”

[andyxcds]

rosekiller microfic -- green (aug 6) | @rosekillermicrofic

(๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧ Word Count: 955 tags: slight violence. i'd reccomend reading the previous part linked here, or you might be a tad confused, so sorry!!

ᓚᘏᗢ ...

To see Barty on his knees, cradling and pressing his head into the thighs of another man was implicating evidence. It was the kind of news that took any prospects off his portfolio, shunning him to an uphill battle of, “I am who I am, I can’t change that,” with his father.

But to Evan, it felt green. That feeling of colour when you can breathe or something has been shoved down your system like water. It proved that some emotions and feelings had colours; that was how Evan felt. Green.

This colour, however, was not the colour that rose onto Evan’s face as Barty’s fingers pulled his from his hair and onto his cheeks, begging for forgiveness. A red tinge stained his cheeks as he felt Barty’s hot tears drip onto his fingers, and he wanted to wipe them off.

Unfortunately, the days Evan wiped Barty’s tears had been long and gone. Now his pride refused to let him indulge in destroying himself. So, he looked at the sky.

There were practically no bright lights blocking out the stars, but some six-odd years of pollution changed the way it looked. There wasn’t even much light in the alleyway where they stood. It was a large alleyway with lamp posts towards the farthest wall and one on the opposite side.

It was dry but musty with little mud, and perhaps that was why Barty was so comfortable kneeling. Evan found it easy to slide into his thoughts rather than face the man before him.

“Evan, please.” Barty cried softly. “I won’t do it ever again. I swear it.”

A beat passed and Evan waited, starting to understand the meaning of his words. Nothing came as easy to Barty as lying. He told the truth, yes. But when was the truth, not the truth? It was when you didn’t know what the lie could be. It was when the truth became the only tangible thing in your relationship. But Evan had learned how to discern the truth from a lie, and he was damn good at it.

But that was not a lie. And as much as it pained Evan to hand Barty that satisfaction, it pained him more that he was ready to give Barty that satisfaction. He was ready to throw away months of hatred just for some sweet moments in Barty’s arms.

Evan slid his fingers from Barty’s downcast face to grip his jaw. He finally brought himself to look down at the mess before him.

“How dare you cry at my feet? And swear the truth to me?” Barty was now afraid to meet those angry but softened blue eyes.

Evan continued to speak softly. “Nothing good comes out from your lips, Barty. You know that. Nothing good comes out of your actions. You called me here to see you. To talk to you. And you kneel down at my feet after parading a woman that looks just like me. How dare you?”

As Evan spoke, Barty’s heart picked up just at the words Evan was saying, finally addressing him. He was glad to say that Evan still wanted to hear him out.

“But—” Suddenly, the need to explain himself presided over.

“Don’t. You shouldn’t be trying to explain yourself. You can only keep fucking up.” Evan dropped his hand from Barty’s jaw and his face couldn’t stand to meet Barty’s as he rose to his feet.

Barty, with unmatched bravery, reached out for Evan’s hand which was pulled away before contact. Barty reached out again but this time, a pain bloomed in his jaw. A kind of familiar pain that he only could recall feeling back in his boarding school days.

So many bottled-up feelings were released into that punch and Evan could finally breathe. The green feeling had subsequently faded into a soft red. Now, he could truly hear Barty out.

“You can talk now,” Evan said as he watched Barty rub over his jaw and keep his eyes on the ground. He soon recovered because he was finally able to see eye to eye with Evan. They could be on even ground. But Evan knew that that punch was nothing compared to the full beatdown he wanted to give Barty.

“Do you want to hit me?”

Evan found that he had nothing green left in his system. “No. Not anymore.”

“Then can you forgive me?” How brash Barty was to pose these questions so quickly.

“I’m not sure.”

Together, they felt the air go sour between them. “Will you at least have me? Can you take me back?”

Evan stared into Barty’s seemingly black eyes for long seconds. No.

“Fuck you. I’m going home.” Evan readjusted his white shirt and smoothed out his khakis when he walked away and left Barty standing there with his hands at his side.

He only got as far as the back door with his hands in his pockets before he turned around to meet Barty right behind him. It was now or never. If he left this space, this space where his emotions became so real, he was not certain where else he would be able to act on it.

They stood at the same height, Barty and Evan. Similar build even, with their lean figures. But it was horrific how perfectly they fit together life-cut puzzle pieces. On their own, nothing made sense. Wasn’t that why Evan showed up? Because he needed clarity?

Evan pressed his lips to Barty, catching Barty’s lower lip in the process but did not let that kiss last for more than a minute. A long minute.

But Evan might’ve taken Barty back if that green feeling hadn’t come back. Perhaps it was blue this time. Sad.