#you should all take a look in the reblogs

[lady-luckk]

kids are cute, let’s make one

# pairings: yandere sugar daddies x sugar baby reader

# synopsis: you’re eight sugar daddies are starting to want more from you. they’re envisioning a future with you. they want something that will chain you to them. what’s more perfect then a child.

# warnings: this will contain dark themes such as obsession, baby-trapping, and toxic behavior. if you are uncomfortable, please block me. viewer discretion is advised. minors DNI.

# notes: reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated!

# parts: part 1 𖤓 part 2

# tags: @hopingtoclearmedschool, @yawnzzx, @hasty-desert, @enchantingarcadecreation, @cannyyyyy, @lianobody

something was shifting.

you started to notice a new pattern in their obsession—one that’s more invasive, more intimate.

they’re all talking about children.

elijah brings it up casually over dinner. "you’d make such a good parent," he says, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. "you ever think about settling down? having a little one running around? maybe… soon?" he grins, but there’s a look in his eyes that makes your stomach churn.

lucas leaves a baby magazine on your coffee table one day. you know you didn’t put it there. when you ask, he just shrugs. "just curious," he says. "wondered if you ever thought about a future. our future."

nathan jokes about it first. "imagine a little version of you running around. wouldn’t that be something?" but then he gets serious. "you’d look beautiful pregnant," he says. "really. you should think about it."

kai starts watching your cycle. you don’t know how he knows, but he always seems to know when you’re not feeling well. "we don’t have to use anything," he says one night. "i’d take care of you. both of you."

matthew starts buying vitamins. leaves them on your counter like it’s the most natural thing. "prenatal’s good for you even if you’re not pregnant," he says with a tight smile. "you never know."

leo gets quiet when you bring up birth control. "you don’t trust me?" he asks. the next time you’re together, the condom disappears. he just grins. "guess we’ll see what happens."

xavier's eyes never leave yours, a hint of something darker lurking behind his affection. "i’ve been thinking about our future," he says quietly, his hand resting lightly on your stomach. "a family... with you. we’ll make it perfect. just the way it’s meant to be."

damien doesn’t say anything at first. but he starts talking about names. baby names. casually, like it’s part of a normal conversation. you laugh it off until he hands you a list. "just in case," he says.

you feel trapped in silk—soft, golden lies that tighten every time you smile back.

but it doesn’t matter.

because they’re all dreaming of the same thing:

tying you to them. permanently.

soon, their suggestions turn to plans.

you catch elijah browsing baby clothes on his phone while you’re lying next to him. when you ask, he turns the screen away and says, "just looking." later, he offhandedly mentions how his apartment has a second bedroom. "could make a nice nursery."

lucas books a weekend getaway to a remote cabin and conveniently "forgets" to pack your pills. "you don’t need them all the time," he says. "you should trust me. we’d make a gorgeous kid."

nathan buys you a silk robe—one size up. when you laugh and ask if he thinks you're gaining weight, he just smiles. "you’ll grow into it."

kai starts talking about quitting your job. "you shouldn’t be stressed all the time," he says. "i’ll take care of everything. just focus on yourself. on… us."

matthew has taken to watching you sleep. one night, you wake up to find him staring at you from across the room. he’s holding a small, velvet box. inside isn’t a ring—it’s a positive pregnancy test. "just imagine it," he whispers.

leo starts leaving baby toys in your bag, your coat pocket, your purse. you find a rattle in your kitchen drawer. a bib in your laundry. all new. all tagged. all left without a word.

xavier starts talking to your stomach, even when you’re alone. "you’ll be a good mother," he says. "our child will be perfect. better than either of us."

damien starts recording you on his phone when you’re not looking. videos labeled with dates and times. you catch a glimpse of one named "first signs."

you’ve always felt like you were running the game. scripting the story.

but now, they’re writing their own chapters. and in every one, you’re a mother.

a possession.

a prize they plan to keep.

you don’t care about love. you don’t need it. you care about money. security. a life of indulgence. and as long as they’re giving you what you want—gifts, attention, wealth—you’ll keep playing the part. a baby? that’s not part of the plan. but the luxuries they promise? now, that’s something you can’t resist.

you knew they cared for you. at least, you thought you did. love, or at least the way they acted, was easy to ignore at first. fleeting glances, soft touches that felt almost like accidents. casual conversations. but lately? everything’s been different.

they’re not just affectionate—they’re obsessed. in ways you never expected.

elijah

you’re curled up on the couch with elijah, the room softly lit by the flicker of the tv. he’s close—too close—and you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin, but it’s not the comfort it used to be. there’s a shift in the air tonight, a subtle change in the way he looks at you, as if he’s seeing you for the first time. or maybe he’s just trying harder to convince himself of something.

"i was just thinking about something," he says, his voice unusually soft. his fingers idly trace the rim of his mug, but his eyes are glued to you, like he’s waiting for a reaction. "do you ever think about the past? i mean, really think about it? like, when everything felt right. simple."

you feign a thoughtful expression, though your mind’s already calculating how to play this. he’s nostalgic, searching for meaning, and you know exactly how to feed into it. you smile gently, nodding, your tone light but smooth as you reply, "yeah, i’ve thought about it. a lot of people wish they could go back to those simpler times."

his eyes brighten a little, encouraged by your response, and you can almost feel the trap snap shut. he’s already entranced by the fantasy, the idea of a perfect, easy life. you let him run with it.

"my grandmother’s house," he continues, drifting off into his memory. "it was always so warm, so... safe. i remember her kitchen, the smell of fresh cookies, and how she’d always hum little tunes when she baked. i used to sit on the counter, and she’d tell me stories about love, about how everything just... works out. back then, i thought maybe she was right. maybe things really do just fall into place."

you notice how his voice wavers, just a touch, and a small part of you feels a flicker of guilt. but the larger part knows this is your opening. you let him paint his picture, nodding with a gentle smile, your eyes softening just enough to keep him talking. you want him to keep going, to believe in this idea of a perfect future with you in it.

"i think that’s what i want," he says, his voice quieter now, almost intimate. "a life like that. the family, the love, the little moments. a house full of laughter, a kid running around. maybe it’s silly, but i picture you there. i picture us together, raising our little one in a place just like that."

you feel the weight of his words, heavy with his expectations. he’s already imagining you as a part of his dream, as the perfect mother in this idealized life. and you—well, you’re simply here for the luxury he promises, for the status, for everything he thinks you want. a baby, though? that’s not part of the plan.

you let your smile stretch just a little wider, a calculated mix of warmth and consideration. "let’s just enjoy our time together first," you say, your tone soothing and playful. "we’ve got all the time in the world to figure things out, right?"

but you can tell by the way his brow furrows, the way his gaze stays glued to you that he’s not hearing the subtle dismissal in your voice. elijah’s too wrapped up in his fantasy of a future with you—too blinded by the image of a picture-perfect life. his smile falters slightly, but only for a second.

"i know we do," he says, though there’s a small crack in his usual charm. "but i just… i keep thinking that we’re meant for something more, something bigger. you and me, building something real, something lasting."

you can feel the pull of his sincerity, and for a moment, you wonder how far you can lead him. how much you can take before he realizes you’re only here for the perks.

you lean closer, your hand brushing lightly against his, the perfect image of affection. "you’re right," you say, your voice low, almost teasing. "we’re meant to have it all."

and that’s exactly what you plan to get.

lucas

lucas stands at the edge of the room, watching you scroll through your phone with that lazy, practiced smile he’s grown used to. you don’t even need to look up to know his eyes are on you—he’s always watching. always assessing.

“you ever think about what comes next?” he asks softly, voice barely above a whisper.

you glance up, feigning curiosity. “next like… what?” you already know.

“a real life,” he says, moving closer, his hands tucked in his pockets. “something solid. a family.”

you tilt your head, studying him. you know what he wants—what he’s been hinting at for weeks. he’s too careful to say it outright, too controlled to beg for it. but it’s written in the way he starts keeping extra toothbrushes in the bathroom. the vitamins in the kitchen cabinet. the way he holds your waist like you might vanish.

“with me?” you ask sweetly, tilting your head in mock innocence.

he nods once, slow. “yeah. with you.”

a pause.

“i think you’d be good at it. being a parent. i see it.”

you smile, soft and distant, the kind that keeps him guessing. of course he wants a child. a future. something permanent to anchor you to him. but you? you just want the stability, the luxury, the money. you don’t care about late-night feedings or milestones. what you care about is the black card in your purse and the name on the lease.

“let’s take our time,” you say, your voice smooth and sweet like honey. “we’ve got everything we need right now, don’t we?”

lucas watches you for a moment, his expression unreadable. but you can tell he’s clinging to hope. clinging to you.

“yeah,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “we do.”

you lean forward, kiss his cheek like a reward. because that’s all this is—a game. and the deeper he falls, the more you win.

nathan

you find nathan in the kitchen, hunched over the stove with a recipe book cracked open beside him. the scent of something overly sweet lingers in the air—his attempt at baking again. it’s endearing, in a clumsy sort of way. he looks up when you walk in, startled like he always is, cheeks already flushed.

“hey,” he says, brushing flour off his hands. “i, uh… i made something. thought you might like it.”

you smile, amused by how nervous he gets just offering you dessert. “how thoughtful,” you say, stepping closer, letting your fingers trail along the counter like you own the place—which you practically do by now.

he watches your every move, eyes wide, anxious. “i was thinking, um… it’s kinda dumb, but…” he hesitates, then blurts, “do you ever think about kids? like, maybe someday?”

your smile doesn’t falter, but inside, you’re rolling your eyes. he’s been skirting around this topic for days now—staring too long when you walk past, buying things he thinks you might need “just in case.”

you lean against the counter, all soft glances and false affection. “you really think i’d be good at that?”

his face lights up like you handed him the sun. “yeah. yeah, i do. you’re already amazing. you’re everything i ever… i mean—” he stops himself, voice trailing into nothing.

you tilt your head, feigning interest. “maybe someday. just not right now.”

he nods quickly, eyes cast down. “of course. no pressure. i didn’t mean to rush anything. i just… i like thinking about it. about us.”

you reach out and touch his hand lightly, just enough to keep him hopeful. he melts under the contact, bashful and grateful, clinging to the fantasy he’s built around you.

you take a bite of the too-sweet dessert and smile. not because it’s good—but because it’s working. he’ll give you everything. and all you have to do is let him believe.

kai

you wake up to the sound of kai pacing the bedroom. the curtains are still drawn, the room bathed in that pale gray light that makes everything feel dreamlike. he’s muttering to himself, barefoot, shirt half-buttoned like he forgot how to finish getting dressed. when he sees you stir, he lights up like a fuse.

“you’re awake,” he says too fast, too excited. “i was thinking. we should just do it.”

you blink, still groggy. “do what?”

“get married,” he says, stepping toward the bed. “why are we waiting? we don’t need a big wedding. we could just go. right now. vegas. or a courthouse. something private. something just ours.”

you stare at him for a second, then sit up slowly, letting the sheet slip just enough to keep his attention. “kai, it’s six in the morning.”

he laughs, a shaky little sound. “i know. but i couldn’t sleep. i kept thinking about it. about you. about us. it’s not just about love anymore. it’s about making this real.”

you tilt your head, watching how his hands tremble slightly. he’s always running too hot—too much energy, too much emotion. and he dumps it all into you.

“i want a life with you,” he says, crouching next to the bed now, his eyes wide and bloodshot. “a family. a home. i wanna come home to you every day, and know it’s permanent. no doubts. no distance.”

you reach out and brush your fingers along his jaw, your expression soft and practiced. “that’s sweet, kai. but maybe we should talk about it when you’re not… so worked up.”

his face shifts—hurt flickering across it like a crack in glass. but he nods anyway. “yeah. okay. yeah.”

you already know he’ll bring it up again—probably tomorrow. he wants to trap you in love, in rings and contracts and babies. and you? you want the penthouse, the trips, the wild, obsessive devotion he throws at your feet like offerings.

“come back to bed,” you say sweetly, tugging him by the wrist. “we’ve got time to figure it all out.”

he lets you pull him close, curling around you like a storm ready to break.

and all you have to do is keep him just unsteady enough to never question a thing.

matthew

matthew’s already in the kitchen when you step inside, sleeves rolled, apron spotless, breakfast lined up like it belongs in a magazine. the scent of lemon and herbs is sharp in the air, too clean for this early.

he doesn’t greet you—just gives you a once-over with narrowed eyes and pulls a chair out. “you look pale,” he says. “have you been sleeping? i told you to take the vitamins. the ones in the glass jar, not the white bottle.”

you sigh dramatically, dragging your feet a little as you sit. “i took something,” you lie.

he frowns, already moving to pour you a glass of water. “not something. the right thing. consistency matters, especially now.”

he sets the water down with a quiet clink, then brushes a hand over your forehead like he’s checking for a fever. you don’t pull away. you’ve learned not to.

“you need to be careful,” he says. “i’ve been doing research. early nutrition, hormone balance, sleep cycles. i’ll start meal-prepping. no caffeine, no stress. we’ll take it day by day.”

you arch a brow. “we?”

his jaw tightens. “you’re not doing this alone. this isn’t just about you—it’s about us. about the baby.”

you blink, slow and calculated. “matthew,” you murmur, voice soft and lilting, “i’m not even—”

“yet,” he cuts in. “not yet. but it’s going to happen. i’ve already cleared out the guest room. i’ve got names written down. and i want you resting more. no more of those late nights with your friends. they’re a bad influence.”

you stifle a smile behind your glass. “you’re serious.”

he steps closer, brushing invisible lint from your shoulder, fixing your collar like you’re a doll on display. “i’m always serious. this matters. you matter. and our child will have everything. structure, calm, care. they won’t grow up in chaos.”

his fingers linger at your wrist, possessive without pressure.

“you don’t have to think,” he adds, almost gently. “just follow the routine. i’ll handle the rest. you’ll see—it’ll all fall into place.”

you meet his eyes, innocent and trusting, masking the truth beneath practiced sweetness. you don’t want the baby. never did. but he wants this so badly he’s practically trembling from the pressure of his own devotion.

so you nod, just enough to keep him content. let him dote and micromanage, let him spiral deeper into the fantasy. because as long as he thinks you’re on board, he’ll do anything for you. and you’re not about to give that up

leo

leo sits on the couch, his body slightly hunched, nervously fiddling with his phone. he’s been texting you for hours, sending small, pointless updates about his day. the moment you step inside, his whole face lights up, and his eyes immediately scan you up and down as if checking for anything wrong.

“hey, are you okay?” he asks, voice filled with concern that makes him seem like a lost puppy.

you shrug, brushing past him toward the kitchen. “just tired.”

“no, you don’t look tired. you look…” leo follows you, but stops at the doorway, his hands wringing in front of him. “you look… stressed. do you need to sit down? i can make you something. i know you like that chamomile tea. i remember.”

you roll your eyes, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “leo, I’m fine.”

he’s quiet for a moment, but his gaze doesn’t leave you. it’s a soft, almost pleading look, like he’s waiting for you to need him in some way. the truth is, you know exactly how to manipulate him. you’ve been doing it for a while now. every word, every glance, feeds into the desperate need he has to take care of you.

he bites his lip, still standing in the doorway, his words slow, cautious. “you know… i was thinking about us today. about what comes next.” he steps closer, a nervous energy radiating off of him. “i want us to be… more, you know? i want us to be together forever. i know we can have something special. i… i want to build a life with you. a family, maybe. i know it’s a lot, but i’ll do whatever you need. we’ll have a nice place, a perfect home. you, me, and our future.”

he trails off, waiting for you to respond, but you can see the unease in his posture, like he’s afraid to push too hard.

you can almost feel the weight of his hopes pressing down on you, and yet, the more he talks, the more your mind drifts, calculating how to keep him hooked without giving up too much.

you glance over at him, your voice dripping with reassurance. “we’ve got plenty of time to think about that,” you say sweetly, taking a seat at the counter. “no need to rush into things.”

leo visibly relaxes, though his gaze stays on you like a hawk. “yeah, but… i just want to make sure you know how much i care. you’re everything to me. i’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re happy. i want to be the one who takes care of you. i can’t imagine my life without you.”

his words are almost desperate, and it’s clear he means them with every fiber of his being. leo’s never been good at holding back his feelings, but it makes him easy to manipulate—he’s so emotionally dependent on your approval that you don’t even have to try hard.

you let your eyes soften, making him feel like he’s won just a little bit. “i know, leo,” you say, your voice kind and warm. “but there’s no rush, okay? let’s just enjoy what we have now.”

he nods enthusiastically, almost too eagerly, as if your words were the reassurance he needed. his hands twitch at his sides, wanting to do something for you, to prove his love and devotion. but you know what he needs most is your constant attention, your affirmation, and you’ll give it to him as long as it keeps the luxuries rolling in.

he moves closer, gently brushing your hair from your face with a tenderness that’s almost suffocating. “whatever you need, i’m here. always.”

you smile, just enough to keep him believing that the fantasy he’s built in his head could actually come true. in reality, you don’t want the future he dreams of. but for now, his affections are just too easy to accept, too useful to ignore.

“thanks, leo,” you say, leaning into his touch. “you’re too sweet.”

he beams at your words, his face glowing with happiness, but you can see the cracks of insecurity hidden beneath the surface. he’s so ready to give you everything, but he still needs to hear you say it. you don’t say the words out loud, but the smile you flash is more than enough to keep him wrapped around your finger for now.

he steps back, still hovering in the doorway like he can’t quite pull himself away. “anything you want. just say the word,” he murmurs, his voice full of quiet desperation.

and you know you’ll never have to say much. he’ll keep offering, keep giving, as long as you keep playing the part.

xavier

xavier leans back in his chair, watching you with an intensity that makes your stomach flip. he’s usually so confident, but tonight there’s something different in his eyes—something raw, almost vulnerable.

“i’ve been thinking about settling down,” he says, his voice lower than usual, almost thoughtful. he doesn’t take his eyes off of you, waiting for a response. “i’ve got everything—money, power, success. but none of that matters without someone to share it with. someone who’s truly in this with me. someone i can count on.”

his hand rests on the arm of his chair, fingers drumming slowly as he watches you closely. "you know, i’m not getting any younger," he says, as though he's thinking out loud. "i’ve built everything i need. money, power, status… but it’s all meaningless without someone to share it with. someone who’s in it for the long haul. and that’s where you come in."

he pauses, his gaze softening as he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. “i’m done with the games. i want a life. i want a family. i want you. i want us to build something real. a future. a home. kids.” he looks at you with a seriousness that makes your pulse quicken. “i want to settle down, but only if you’re in it with me.”

you lean back, your fingers drumming on the edge of your glass, taking in his words. there's no hint of hesitation in his tone, no doubt in the way he speaks. everything he says sounds like it’s already planned, already decided.

“settling down? that’s not exactly what i had in mind,” you reply coolly, trying to keep your voice even. inside, though, you're calculating. the future he’s offering sounds tempting, but it comes with too much weight, too much commitment. it's not what you need right now.

xavier’s smile falters, just slightly, before he recovers. “but think about it,” he urges, his voice low and persistent. “we could have it all—kids, a future, everything you’ve ever dreamed of. i can give you that.”

you tilt your head, pretending to consider it, but your mind is already elsewhere. a family? that would tie you down, take away your freedom, your ability to move freely in the world. the money, the luxury, the life you crave—that’s what you want. the rest is just a distraction.

“i don’t know if that’s really my thing,” you reply with a forced smile. “i like things the way they are now. no strings attached. freedom.” you shrug slightly. “you know, enjoying life. luxury. i’m not really ready to jump into something so… permanent.”

xavier’s smile drops, just a little, but he recovers quickly. there’s a flicker of disappointment in his eyes, but he doesn’t push. instead, he leans back, crossing his arms and watching you, a calculating look now in place.

“i see,” he says slowly, his voice steady, though there's a hint of something else beneath it. “i guess we’ll just have to see where this goes, then.”

damien

damien looks at you with that soft, almost pensive gaze, as if he's carefully choosing his words, not wanting to overwhelm you. his presence is calming, but there's something undeniably serious in the way he speaks tonight.

"i’ve been thinking," he starts, his voice steady but filled with a quiet emotion. "about the future... about us, and how we could build a life together." his hand finds its way to yours, gently holding it as if grounding both of you in the moment. "i don’t just want a relationship with you. i want everything. a life. a family."

he leans in closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "imagine it," he continues, the words slow, almost like he’s picturing it in his mind. "a home, just the two of us and our child. a place where we’re not just living—where we’re really building something, a legacy. i want to be there for you, always. i want to take care of you, provide for you and our child. i know i can make it happen. i can give you a future, a real one."

his hand tightens just slightly around yours, not possessively, but with a sincerity that catches you off guard. "i see us growing old together, you know?" he says, his voice soft but confident. "building our lives, raising a family. you and me, together in this life i know we could have. everything would fall into place."

he pauses, his eyes searching yours, like he’s waiting for some sign that you see it too, that you can picture it as clearly as he does. "i know it’s a lot to ask," he admits, his tone slightly vulnerable. "but i believe in us. in what we could be. and if you’re willing, i want to share that with you."

there’s a weight to his words that feels different from the others. it’s not a plea or demand, but a quiet promise, a glimpse into the life he’s hoping to build with you. and as much as you try to push the idea aside, you can’t help but wonder—could this life he’s imagining be what you’re looking for, too?

but the truth is, it’s not the child he offers that catches your attention. it’s the luxury, the comfort of the future he’s offering you, that glimmers in your mind like a shiny, new prize. but you stay silent, hiding your true intentions, letting him believe you’re on the same page.

each one of them is so sure. so certain. their love, their desire to make you a part of their future, feels real, genuine. their words are sweet, full of promises, of things you’ve never allowed yourself to imagine. they see you as more than just a passing moment—they see you as the center of their world, as the one who will carry their legacy, their love, their future.

and yet, despite all their tenderness, all their devotion, a feeling creeps inside you—one that’s hard to shake. they love you, yes, but they love you in a way that isn’t quite healthy. it’s possessive. it’s consuming. and somewhere beneath the softness of their words, you can feel the pressure building. they’re not just asking for your love—they’re asking for everything.

they want to tie you to them, forever.

and with each passing day, it becomes harder to breathe

you woke up one morning to find your birth control missing. not just one pill—the whole pack. you check your nightstand, your bag, the bathroom drawer. it’s gone.

you’re careful with things like this. you have to be, with eight different men orbiting your life. there’s no room for error.

you try not to panic. maybe you moved it. maybe it slipped behind something. but the longer you search, the more certain you become. someone took it.

your mind flashes back to nights you wish you could rewind. moments where you weren’t as guarded. where one of them stayed over a little too long.

nathan, maybe. he insisted on staying. said he missed you. said he wanted to be close again.

he held you tighter than usual. kissed your stomach. whispered things you brushed off at the time.

"you’d look good round," he said, voice thick against your skin. "glowing. soft."

you’d laughed, unsure how to answer. now you wonder if you should’ve taken it more seriously.

later that week, leo asks if you’ve been feeling okay. his tone is too sweet, too knowing.

"you’ve been looking different lately," he says. "in a good way. like you’re changing."

you keep your face calm. smile like always.

"i just want you to be healthy," he adds. "you are taking care of yourself, right? eating enough? sleeping?"

you nod, but your stomach turns.

that night, you go to buy a new pack. the pharmacy clerk gives you a funny look, says, “didn’t you just buy these a few days ago?”

you didn’t.

someone did. someone pretending to be you.

your phone lights up again. it’s xavier this time.

have you been thinking about the future?

then kai: if something happened—something big—you’d tell me, right?

they don’t know about each other. they’re still in the dark, still convinced they’re the only one who matters.

but something’s shifted.

they’ve stopped talking like lovers. they’ve started sounding like planners.

you check your cabinets again and find a fresh box of prenatal vitamins, tucked behind your cereal.

you didn’t buy those.

you try to steady your breath.

they’re still oblivious to each other.

but not to you.

you’re the one thing they all want to keep. and they’re ready to make sure you never leave.

lately, they’ve been acting strange. clingier. needier. but it’s not just about where you go or who you’re with anymore.

it’s about what your body could give them.

their obsessions are mutating. no longer satisfied with your time, your attention, your presence—they want permanence. blood. legacy. a way to keep you tethered.

and they all have the same idea.

your phone buzzes, another string of messages lighting up the screen.

"you’re not answering. are you with someone else?"

"i had a dream you were carrying my child."

"come over. now."

they’re getting bolder. and richer.

luxury handbags, wired deposits, fine jewelry—all gifts, all apologies wrapped in money and obsession. you take them. you always have. you let them believe they can buy you, that their love is currency. but now the stakes have changed. they don’t just want to own your time. they want to own your body. your future.

when you step out of your building that afternoon, kai is already waiting at the curb, grinning like he belongs there. he opens the car door. "i found us a place. quiet. private. with room to grow."

that night, you catch elijah slipping something into your drink. he smiles when you confront him. "it’s just a supplement. good for fertility. you said you felt tired lately, remember?"

nathan leaves a black card on your vanity with a note: "for you and the baby. when you’re ready."

lucas starts asking questions about your family history. medical things. subtle at first, but then specific—like he’s researching.

matthew hands you a shopping bag with designer clothes for "future stages," as he puts it. "don’t worry about money. you’ll have everything you need. forever."

leo shows you a bank account he opened in your name. "for emergencies," he says. but there’s a clause at the bottom: joint parental use only.

xavier holds you longer after sex. "i’d give you the world," he murmurs. "you’d never want for anything again. just give me this."

damien starts sleeping over more often. always watching. always touching your stomach.

they don’t want you free. they want you claimed.

and you’re beginning to wonder if they’d rather trap you with comfort than fear.

money can be a cage, too.

a beautiful one. a quiet one.

and this time, it's holding a threat of diapers and diamonds.

there’s a knock at the door.

soft. then louder.

then a voice through the wood—low, familiar, insistent:

"open up, baby. we need to talk."

you freeze.

because it’s not one voice.

it’s two—one from the front door, one from the back entrance behind you.

and they both call you the same thing.

but neither knows the other is there.

[silens-oro]

You Know Where You Are: Part IV (final)

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x f!Musician!Reader Angst/Established Relationship Part I | Part II | Part III

The Pitt Playlist located here The Pitt Masterlist

Synopsis: You either let the grief bury you, or you allow someone to pull you out. Word Count: 2,702 Content Warning: PTSD; Trauma; Grief; Mentions of death; Reader is in her 30's A/N: I listened to I Bet on Losing Dogs by Mitski on repeat while I wrote this, so I'm very sorry in advance. Thank you so much for the love on this series. We've reached the final part to You Know Where You Are and it has been an absolute joy share the journey with you. I may possibly do an epilogue in the near future if enough people want it.

Please comment & reblog :)

“You are incredibly tough to track down, you know that?” Jack’s familiar voice grunted as he sat next to you on the park bench you were currently occupying. You were taking a small break to people watch at a park about four blocks away from your townhouse. It as a frequent stop during your daily wanderings, it was just a matter of getting the timing right on if someone would find you or not.

“That usually means someone doesn’t want to be found, Jack.” You continued to watch, not giving him any attention in the hopes that he’d give you space, but this was Jack and he knew how far to push someone before relenting. 

“You know, usually people thank me for saving their life,” Jack threw out to see what he was working with as he leaned forward with his elbows resting on his thighs. It was just after four in the afternoon and he had a few hours before he was scheduled for work. 

“I’m not grateful.” Yikes. Okay, redirect. “Should’ve left me in that truck as a DNR.” 

“Well, I’m going to disagree with you on that one. You held on,”

“Self preservation is a real bastard.”

“You’re telling me.” He tapped his prosthesis on the ground. Jack looked around, taking in their surroundings, and sighed your name. “I’m not here to fight with you or tell you to get your shit together, although I really wish you would.” He said pointedly, “I know why you’re doing it, but you can’t ice everyone out because you don’t want to face it. You can’t ice Robby out. The poor guy is hanging by a thread and the only thing he can worry about is you because you won’t communicate with him.”

“He was supposed to be there, Jack. Right where Leah was.” Oh, no. This wasn’t purely self isolation due to trauma -this was guilt. “I feel sick to my stomach every time I think about it and it is all I can think about.” Jack nodded. 

“You uh, you seeing anyone about this? Talking to anyone? If not, I have a therapist. He’s good.” 

“I’m talking to you.” You chuckled dryly as you shook your head, looking down at the raw cuticles and skin around your fingernails. It had been picked, scabbed over, then picked again. The skin on the back of your hands was scratched pink and you pulled the sleeves of your zip up down to cover them self consciously, but Jack had already seen the damage. 

“I’m not in the realm of qualification that this calls for, kid.” Jack scoffed. “When’s the last time you spoke to Robby?” 

“After I was extubated,” Your cell phone sat at home every time you left your house in the two weeks since you made it home, completely disconnected from the outside world. If someone wanted to reach you, they’d have to hunt you down, -and Jack happened to get lucky this time around. 

“That’s a long time to leave someone hangin’, ya know?” He didn’t want to reprimand you, just kindly point out that maybe the way you were going about things wasn’t the best. “We’ve all been worried about you.” 

“Then maybe he and everyone else should take the hint.” You knew it was mean, ugly, but that was all you felt these days. The kindness you used to run on, the glass half full mindset, was gone. The world was ugly and bitter and darker than it ever was for you, and so you too were ugly and bitter and dark. They were the easiest feelings to wrangle and they didn’t make you think past surface level to something deeper that you didn’t want to dig up.

“You don’t mean that.” Jack said softly.

“No, I do, Jack.” You glared at him. “I just…I want to be left alone. I’m trying to-to maneuver through the pieces of my life and figure out what I’m supposed to be doing or if there’s even a point to any of this anymore.” Jack’s heart clenched. “My entire way of life has been thrown out the fucking window and this is the only way I can deal with it without exploding into a million pieces or biting a fucking bullet.” You started absentmindedly scratching at your hand before you caught yourself by clasping them together. Jack watched it all and kept quiet, letting you get out everything you needed to say. 

“One of my best friends was murdered right in front of me.” Your voice cracked, “I was shot, Leah died trying to help me. Jake was shot helping me.” You shook your head, covering your eyes with the palms of your hands. “The band is done. We haven’t talked, but I don’t think I could ever go out on stage again, much less be near a crowd of people, even if I wanted to. Everything we’ve worked for in the last twenty years is gone. Nick’s gone.” Your voice trembled and something across the park held your attention as you spoke. “I’m on edge every second of every day. If I so much as hear a car door slam, my entire body clenches so hard it feels like my ribs are going to break. My anxiety is through the roof to the point that I’m physically manifesting symptoms,” You held up your hands for him to fully see before hiding them away again in your sleeves. “This is as close to hell as you can get without actually being there.” 

Jack saw your face fully for the first time since you were intubated in your recovery room. Your mouth was set in an agitated frown, your brows pinched together in irritation. Your face was gaunt and dark, heavy circles weighed under your eyes. You looked absolutely miserable and Jack couldn’t blame you -not when he himself went through something similar when he lost his leg. He was fortunate enough that his late wife was there to pull him out of the depths and back into the world of the living, and he’d be damned if you were left to flounder when you had people who loved and cared about you. Jack would do what he could to help you, and help Robby, before you both fell too far. 

PTSD was something Jack was well acquainted with. It was something he worked through, and continued to work through, and he also lost many friends to it who fell through the cracks. 

It was your eyes, though, that worried Jack the most. You should’ve been weaned off of the painkillers after your first week out of the hospital, but your pinpoint pupils were telling a different story as they looked over at him, looking but not actually seeing. You were so much worse than Jack could’ve imagined -you were a shell of who you used to be, and if he didn’t hook you and pull you back on board then this could spiral into something so much worse than it already was. 

“All I do is walk. I walk and walk around the city from sunrise to sunset because if I just rot inside of my house, Robby is all I see. I see his death over and over in every person I saw that night. I see Leah…and Nick. I see people who didn’t even have a chance to make it, but somehow I did. What made me special, Jack?” Your chin dropped to your chest as you tried to stifle the emotions that were coming out. “Nick had a family -a wife and two kids who will never see their father again. Leah hadn’t even started her life yet. I can’t imagine what her family is going through. They died for nothing, Jack. All of them died for nothing while I’m…here.” You shook your head. 

“I wish I had the answer to that. Sometimes it’s just the luck of the draw, I suppose. Some people make it, some don’t. That’s human existence.” You nodded, half listening. “You sleeping at all?” Another shrug from you. 

“I have to medicate myself to get the few hours of sleep I’m able to, and the nightmares worm their way in when it starts to wear off, so I get up and walk some more until I’m so tired that I just pass out on the couch for an hour or two. Had I known this is what was waiting for me, I wouldn’t have let them throw me in the back of that truck to begin with. This isn’t a life, Jack. This is just existing.”

“Sometimes existing is the best we can do, but it isn’t forever. Healing takes time, and the mental wounds are oftentimes the hardest burden to carry, but that doesn’t mean you have to do it alone.” You looked over to Jack.

“I’m scared of what he’s going to see if I let him in.”

All things considered, had you been thinking clearly, you would’ve known Jack would talk to Robby after your conversation in the park. It just never occurred to you that Robby would be waiting for you when your feet finally brought you back home just after sunset. The way your heart pounded in your chest when you stopped a few houses down nearly made you turn around and head in the opposite direction. 

Robby hadn’t seen you yet. There was time to leave and circle back once he’d been sitting out there long enough to call it quits when you didn’t show up. It was tempting, but ultimately it wasn’t fair to Robby. You weren’t punishing him, not on purpose. He didn’t do anything wrong but that didn’t mean you wanted him or anyone else around you. Not while you were like this. 

With those thoughts in the forefront of your mind, you stepped forward into his periphery, ready to turn him away. 

Robby’s head snapped up from where he was looking down on his phone, and he stood up quickly. He was dressed in his work clothes -cargo pants, black scrub top, and his hospital zip up a little disheveled after working his 12 hour shift. His backpack was sitting on the stoop and he met you at the bottom of the stairs. Robby breathed your name, looking you up and down, taking every bit of you in like he couldn’t believe you were standing before him.

“Go home, Mike.” You shuffled past him and up the stairs. Robby followed quickly behind you, picking up his bag and tailing you up the stairs -his long legs taking them two at a time to keep up with you. 

“I came to see you. You don’t answer calls or texts, you don’t-” You stopped mid-step and turned back to look down at him from your vantage point. He caught himself on the railing so he didn’t bump into you.

“I know.” Robby placed his hand on your arm to stop you from turning back around. 

“I’m tired, exhausted.” Robby’s voice cracked. His dark eyes were glassy and bloodshot, full of every emotion he harbored. “My tank is empty -has been for over a month, running on fumes I don’t even have and still I have to keep giving. I don’t have a choice.” His voice was growing thick with emotion and you wanted to flee to the safety of your unit, where you could lock yourself behind a door to deal with your own demons. At least they were familiar. “I’ve stopped by here every morning, every single morning since I found out you left the hospital and every night I walk by in the hopes of seeing a glimpse of you in the window. I’ve tried to contact you in every way possible until I realized that whatever I had, you didn’t want and now I don’t know if you ever did.” You felt your right eye twitch. 

“Go home, Robby.” Not Mike -Robby. Your voice shook, holding itself on the edge of a blade. “Go home.” You whispered, begging him to leave you in peace, but he didn’t. He took another step up, coming up to eye level with you and held you there with the intensity of his eye contact. 

“Not until we hash this out.” You shook your head, pulling away from him.

“I’m not talking about this,”

“Yes we are.” The assertiveness in his voice held no room for argument. “I’ve given you space, I’ve given you time, and now we’re doing this my way because you’re not the only one who’s living in absolute agony because of this, goddamn it!” Robby never raised his voice at you in the nearly three years you were together, not one single time. His tone cemented your feet to the concrete stairs, eyes wide and system shocked. 

“You never gave me a chance -not a single fucking chance after you woke up. Do you know what my day was like, how many people died in the ED before PittFest? Kids, teens, the elderly? It was just hit after devastating hit, on top of knowing I disappointed you, and then you pulled up in that fucking truck with Jake and Leah and I thanked God you had a pulse because if you didn’t…” He shook his head, “That would’ve been the end for me.” Robby’s words sat heavy between you. “Never in my wildest fucking dreams did I ever think I’d be mourning you while you were still alive.” Robby made sure you saw the devastation in his eyes and heard the raw hurt in his voice. “You could’ve told me you hated me -at least that would’ve been a reason to do what you did. I could’ve accepted that. I could’ve learned to live with that. At least I would’ve known, you know?”

“Why would I hate you?” Your voice was so small, just above a whisper. Tears were welled in your eyes, yet to fall. The question was stupid because why wouldn’t he think that you hated him? All you did was push and push and push without giving a single reason why, but you didn’t push him away for anything he did. This was purely on you. 

“Because I failed so many people that night,” He admitted, a half sob escaping his lips as he tried to hold himself together. “I froze when we wheeled you into the trauma bay. I’ve been working in trauma for twenty-five years and I fucking froze. And if I didn’t, if Jack had taken Leah’s gurney instead of yours I know I would’ve lost you-”

“Stop,” You inhaled deep breaths to stop the wall you had built from toppling over. 

“Even when you were in the recovery room, all I saw was the same version of you I saw in the back of that pickup and the blood -all of your blood. All I could think about was that I should’ve been there with you. I should’ve been there and I wasn’t because I couldn’t get out of my own fucking head. It has eaten away at me, day and night, that maybe you wouldn’t have been as worse off as you were and Leah wouldn’t have died because she wouldn’t have been there. It is my fault she was there. It’s my fault that she never made it out of the ED-”

“Stop,” The sob finally broke free, “Please stop,”

“All I wanted to do was hold you, comfort you, love you -to let you know that I was with you every step of your recovery -that we’d do this together. I wanted to physically feel that you were still there, to know that one more person I loved didn’t slip through my hands-”

“Please,” You begged, completely breaking down. 

“Tell me to leave and I’ll go.” Robby’s breathing was staggered as tears streamed down his bearded cheeks. “But I’m so fucking tired.” Without another thought, you stepped down and shoved your face into Robby’s chest, sobs muffled by his sweatshirt. His arms instantly wrapped around you, holding you so tightly that there was no space between you. 

“Don’t go,” You begged, “Please don’t go.” His chest shook beneath you, his face smashed into your hair. “Don’t go.” 

farewell, my friends. if you'd like an epilogue to this, please let me know.

as always, comment & reblog :)

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

a compass. l Joel Miller

Summary: your idea was good, but not everything went as it should

Warnings: angst, two infected, shooting, some blood, angry Joel, Ellie is in it, unprotected sex (don't do that), Ellie and Joel argue

A/N: .

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

“Have you found anything?”

“Not yet!”

You glanced at Ellie quickly, then looked around the room that used to be a sporting goods store. Most of the stuff had already been stolen, but she wouldn't give up.

When Tommy had secretly told her that Joel's birthday was coming up, she had wanted to give him a present. She had come to you that evening, asking you to take advantage of the fact that he was going on patrol. A visit to the mall should be quick and easy.

“We should hurry up.” You pointed it out to her. “It’s almost evening and I’d rather be out of here.”

“Give me a second.” Ellie groaned, struggling to open the last drawer. “I’m sure I’ll find something here.”

You smiled to yourself. Neither Ellie nor Joel had spoken of emotions, but you knew how close they were to each other. Joel did everything to ensure her safety, and she, although she pretended not to care, took his opinion into account. You started to wonder what you could give Joel as a gift when a strange noise caught your attention.

"Ellie?" you mumbled, gripping the gun tighter, "We should go."

"Just a moment." Ellie was shuffling through more boxes, "I'm sure it'll be here..."

You quietly took the next steps, trying to hear as much as possible. You were already close to Ellie when the girl raised her hand, gripping something tightly.

"I've got it! I've got it!" she shouted.

At that moment, several things happened. Somewhere behind you, you heard the sound of a cabinet falling, and then a sharp squeak. You grabbed Ellie's arm.

"Gun, gun!" you said quickly when you noticed movement, and then two clickers rushed straight at you.

You fired without thinking, hitting one in the shoulder, and then hitting him in the head. "Ellie! Hide!"

The girl jumped behind the counter. Although she aimed for the other infected, she missed. The monster hit you and you both fell onto the glass case behind you. You fell, feeling something painfully cut your skin. But you didn't have time to think about it. The infected rolled off of you, but he was already getting up. You grabbed the gun in both hands and shot him several times until he finally fell to the floor, lifeless.

"Shit! Shit!" Ellie climbed out from behind the counter with a terrified look on her face. "I didn't hear them! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I think so..." you replied, getting up carefully.

"Shit, you're bleeding."

Ellie approached and carefully took your hand in hers. Several pieces of glass pierced your hand, which was bleeding. It didn't look good, but it was a small price to pay for both of you still being alive.

"I should get this bandaged up." Ellie said, but you just shook your head.

"We have to go back. There might be more here." You said, pulling out a few of the larger pieces. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Yeah." She held out her hand and showed you the compass. It was really nice, in a neat little box that could fit in the jeans pocket. "Do you think Joel would like it?"

"I'm sure."

"You have to help me bandage this and I'll say I broke a glass while washing dishes." You said as soon as you entered the house and quickly took off your jackets.

"I'll get the first aid kit." Ellie declared, but she didn't even make it to the kitchen when she stopped dead in her tracks.

You took off your shoes with difficulty, because your hand hurt a little, but when you straightened up, you understood what had stopped the girl. Joel came out of his workshop and was watching you with a frown.

"Hi. I didn't know you were back already." You greeted, trying to smile and hide your hand behind your back at the same time.

"We did it quickly today." Joel replied. You could hear the tension in his voice. "You didn't say you were going out with Ellie."

"I..." you started, but she interrupted you.

"I wanted to check something out. You know, in that mall nearby and..."

One look from Joel was enough for Ellie to fall silent. "Have you been outside Jackson?"

"Yes." There was no point in lying. "But we're back now. How was your day?"

You tried to downplay the whole situation, but Joel wasn't fooled.

"Show me your hand."

"Joel, please."

"Show me."

You held out your hand without a word, showing the already dried blood and lots of small wounds. Joel took a deep breath.

"It was my idea." You said quickly. "I wanted to..."

"No! It was me!" Ellie suddenly blurted out. "I talked her into going to that mall with me. I wanted to find you a present for your birthday. Look what..."

"You risked her life over some stupid present?!" Joel roared so unexpectedly that you both stepped back. "Ellie, for God's sake!"

"I didn't know there would be infected there!" the girl squealed. That only made things worse. Joel's eyes darkened with anger, but also with helplessness.

"Were they infected?" he asked, and you nodded.

"Two. I eliminated them, but I ran into a glass case. Nothing else happened and..."

There was silence for a moment. You felt your heart pounding in your chest, but Joel must have felt even worse. Up until now, he thought you were somewhere in Jackson, but with every passing moment, your story seemed more and more terrifying to him.

"Joel..." you began quietly, trying to approach him, "I just wanted to..."

"Don't defend her. You keep doing this, and she has to finally understand." he said in a cold voice, "You risked your life for her. You could have... Fuck! You could have died because she wanted to find something. Some stupid shit!"

The girl's eyes shone with tears, but her face was expressionless. She stared at Joel as if she was ready for more accusations.

"That was irresponsible, Ellie!" he hissed. "I'm trying to protect you, and you do something like that?"

"I didn't go there alone." she replied quietly.

"Because you knew she would go with you! Because you knew she would do anything to protect you! How could you risk her life because of your own stupid whim and..."

"Stop it!"

Joel looked at you, surprised. Tears were also shining in your eyes, and your lips were quivering nervously. You looked at Ellie with horror, she was on the verge of breaking down. With each subsequent word that fell from Joel's lips, she began to fear more and more. This was not how it was supposed to end. She just wanted to find him a gift, something that would remind him of her, something that would be only his and show how much she cared about him.

"Ellie, it's not like that..." you started, but the girl didn't answer. Before you could put your hand on her shoulder, she turned around and ran out of the house, slamming the door. You both stared at the spot where she had just disappeared.

He did what he did best. He hid. The workshop was his escape from the world, a safe haven. Especially now when emotions were boiling inside him.

Joel felt angry and helpless. He didn't want Ellie to run away from home like that, but at the same time he knew he couldn't ignore what had happened. Your life and Ellie's were in danger, he was in Jackson and he would only find out if you didn't come home. He could have reacted differently, he could have let her say what she thought. But when two people so close to him did something so irresponsible...

A quiet knock on the door brought him back to earth.

"Can I come in?" your quiet voice reached his ears and Joel felt as if something soothing had washed over him.

"Always," he replied quietly.

You slipped into the room, bringing with you the scent of soap and shampoo. You were already wearing shorts and an oversized t-shirt that you wore to bed. Joel closed his eyes as your fingers slid into his curly hair just above his neck.

"Don't hide from me, Joel." you said quietly, your voice warm and soothing.

"I'm not hiding," he replied. He sighed softly as you kissed the top of his head. "I'm sorry for what I said. I shouldn't have."

"The only thing you shouldn't have done was yell at her. She meant well."

"But she did..."

"Stupid, I know." you interrupted him, leaning against the desk and looking at him softly. "And I should have asked Tommy or Shane to come with us. I am an adult. I failed. It's my fault too."

A colossal hand stroked your thigh slowly. You could see that Joel still didn't have the courage to look you in the eye. What had happened was eating him up inside. 

"Ellie is already fifteen. It's a difficult time for her. It was for all of us. She needs to know that she has our support, that she can count on us, that we love her."

"I try to understand her, I really do. Sometimes I have the impression that she does everything differently just to piss me off. You're the only one who can get along with her."

You put your hand on his cheek and turned his face towards you. Your heart broke every time you saw him trying to deal with all of this. Joel was stubborn and sometimes difficult to deal with, but he loved you both and would do anything for you.

"Ellie won't learn anything from our mistakes, she has to make her own. We just...accompany her as she grows up. We have to show and teach her what we can, and then let her live."

Joel sighed and finally looked at you. His eyes were gentle and sad. "I'm afraid that I'll lose you both. That I'll lose you."

With a quiet sigh, you straddled his lap. The sweet weight he adored so much. His hands rested on your hips, pulling you as close to his body as possible. 

"Ellie found out it was your birthday. She wanted to give you something personal. She asked me to go with her. Those infected surprised us, but I managed to deal with him." Joel opened his mouth to say something, but you didn't let him. "The situation was dangerous, yes. Next time, we'll ask someone to come with us. I'm sorry, Joel."

He nodded silently, and you took his face in your hands and kissed his lips tenderly. "I love you so much. And Ellie loves you too. I know it's hard." You added quietly. "Don't be mad at us."

"I'm not mad, I just... I feel so helpless sometimes."

"I know."

You let him snuggle into your arms. His safe place, a place where he didn't have to pretend he was strong, where he could truly be himself. Holding you in his arms was something that delighted him every time.

Your quiet voice broke the sweet silence. "Happy birthday, Joel."

He snorted. "Are we celebrating that I'm another year older?"

"We're celebrating that we can be together that day."

He could celebrate that. With you. He kissed you with affection, taking in this pleasure as much as he could. And when you rolled your hips, rubbing against his crotch, he understood immediately.

"Do you want to go upstairs?" you asked as he kissed your neck, his hands wandering under your shirt.

"Here is good, baby." he whispered.

He didn't need much. Finally, all he had to do was slide off his sweatpants and push your shorts aside. After a moment, he sank into you, sighing quietly. Since your conversation about the baby, every sex has been something extraordinary and full of tenderness. Joel didn't know he would ever feel like this again. He wasn't sure if he ever had.

"So good..." you moaned in his ear as his hands gave rhythm to your movements.

You were his, really. In the middle of the end of the world, you found him and let him be with you. Maybe it was one of the two good things that happened since the first day this all started. Joel wanted to draw from this, he wanted to live and have another chance.

Your quiet sighs filled his ears, he felt that you were close and soon your walls would squeeze him tighter. The movements became stronger, his hands held you more and more hungrily. You tilted your head for a moment to catch your breath, and Joel's lips found your neck, kissing you.

"That's right, baby, that's right..." he panted "Give it to me. I want to feel you all over..."

You came with a quiet moan, feeling his hands press you tightly to his chest. Joel was right behind you, filling you to the brim. You were both breathing heavily, still stuck in the embrace.

"Stay." he said when you twitched as if you wanted to get up "Give it a moment longer. Let it take it."

You chuckled quietly. "Do you want to conceive a child in your workshop?"

"Any place is good." He kissed your temple tenderly and, holding you in his arms, let the moment last a second longer.

It was late when the front door slammed quietly and Joel recognized familiar footsteps.

"Ellie?" he left the kitchen and came across a girl who already had one foot on the step "Can we talk?"

She didn't seem thrilled. She pushed her hands deeper into her jacket pockets, but didn't go upstairs, she stayed with him. He had his chance.

"I wanted to apologize to you." Joel began uncertainly "For what I said and how I said it. I should have listened to you first. Both of you."

"Have you talked to her?" she asked without even looking at him, he nodded. "You should listen to her more often. She's smart."

"I know. Much smarter than me." he replied. A shadow of a smile crossed Ellie's lips. "Listen... I know I'm a pain in the ass and overprotective, but I care about both of you a lot. I'm going crazy at the thought of something happening to you and me not being able to help you."

Ellie looked at him, her face devoid of emotion, though her eyes were shining. "You can't protect me forever, Joel. You know that."

He nodded again. "But that doesn't mean I can't try. I'm sorry, Ellie. I shouldn't have said all that. She told me why you went there and... and... I feel so fucking stupid."

"Good. I wanted to get you a present and you yelled at me. You know perfectly well I wouldn't have risked her life if I had known what was waiting for us. She's important to me too."

"I know, Ellie."

They stared at each other in silence for a moment. Finally, the girl's hand pulled something out of her jacket pocket. Ellie hesitated, but finally took a step toward Joel and held out her hand. Inside was a small metal box with an ornate lid.

Joel took it and slowly opened it.

"This is a compass. May you always find your way home."

When he looked at her with his brown eyes, in which tears shone, Ellie felt that she, too, was about to cry. Without a word, she walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling into him.

"Happy birthday, old man."

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again @callmebyyournick-name @hiroikegawa @mandaloriankait

[angelltheninth]

Michael Robinavitch Makes Take a Break From Work

Pairing: Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, age-gap, established relationship, co-workers, being tired, overworking, teasing, cheek kisses, headaches, banter

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Another medical show for me to obsess over. So many cool (hot) characters here. Enjoy, comment, reblog, all that good stuff.

Robby couldn't find you anywhere and it was already pretty late. What was worse was that you weren't answering your phone at all, which only added to his worry. In the last few days he'd been seeing you less and less, yes the work was piling up, especially with the recent strings of fights breaking out, but he still wanted to have some time with you.

The last place he looked was where he found you, over your little desk, with a lamp shining at you and the stack of papers and medical records. A cold cup of coffee was in the corner, almost gone.

"I kind of suspected you were here but I really wanted to be wrong. Working late again are you?" Robby's heavy, warm hand pressed against your shoulder, then another giving you a massage. "You're gonna get all stiff if you keep sitting like that. The posture's gonna ruin your spine too."

You chuckled and leaned back, head tilted to look up at him. "Don't worry about me Robby. You know I don't mind awkward physical positions." You teased and winked up at him.

He chuckled knowingly, his hands pressing a little harder, pressing a pleasant sounds from your lips. "Doll, you've only been working here about half a year and in that time there's one thing I've learned about you. How insanely nimble and stubborn you are. But you need to rest every once in a while. As new doctor you should know that. Or did you spend your medical school partying and studying just before tests?"

You thought back to those days, endless hours spent in front of a book, the cheap instant ramen you ate even though you knew how bad it was for you, the sleepless nights... definitely not as much partying or fooling around. You were a good student.

"No parties. Mostly getting as much studying in as humanly possible." You reached for you coffee and drank the last of it. Robby shook his head and sighed. Taking the cup out of your hands he set it back to the corner and pressed his thumbs against your temples.

Again, a soft, pleasant sound left you.

"More like inhumanly possible if the coffee intake is the same as what I've observed. Just because you're in your mid-20s doesn't mean you have to push yourself beyond what's good for you. It's probably not helping your headache either." You groaned under the scrutiny of his words. He was right, absolutely right and it irked you. "Let's go home. I'll make you tea and we can sleep until our next shift. And I do actually mean sleep this time. Promise."

Your cheeks heated up slightly but honestly you felt a little too tired to do anything but sleep once you got home. Even with all the caffeine in your system, it would have inevitably lead to an energy crashout and you can't afford that.

"Always looking out for me. My big, strong man." You kissed his cheek and felt a smile grace Robby's lips.

"Someone has to right? We look out for each other now, doll." Hand in hand he walked through the mostly empty halls, the cold lights illuminating your path.

Dividers by: @/bredasbendystraws

[luulapants]

why are americans not doing anything about doge. or ice for that matter. from an outsider's point of view, you are all just complying with everything.

ive heard that doge are setting up illegal email servers in some government buildings. why is nobody like. breaking them? the federal data center for ice is in vermont. why is nobody like. setting it on fire? i mean you americans love to talk about your guns so much and how they are for fighting tyranny. and yet... nothing?

you all seem way too complacent and okay with this. in the reblogs of your doge post there are so many people saying things like "there must be SOMEONE who can stop this." you have to do stuff yourself. nobody is going to save you.

Most Americans don't even understand why they're not resisting (hence the "SOMEONE needs to act!"), which is that we're already a fascist police state. Our regular police are militarized and willing to kill or disappear citizens. 0.6% of our population was incarcerated before Trump ever took office. Resistance leaders end up mysteriously dead or disappeared - it's been that way for decades. I think most Americans have a sense, consciously or not, that anything more than symbolic protest is a potentially fatal act.

It's notable that "Somebody should do something!" usually imagines an individual act. A lone gunman. Self-immolation. A suicide bomber. These are our model of "taking action." Most Americans are so detached from any sense of community, especially where politics is concerned. I was taught as a kid that talking about politics is rude. If people had better access to solidarity networks, if they were able and willing to talk openly with their neighbors and colleagues, we wouldn't have that same sense that resistance = certain death.

Meanwhile, another segment treats this like politics as usual. I see one Reddit post talking about the potential for American concentration camps, and the next post down reports that Donald Trump's polling numbers are down. It's surreal. The average citizen can't quite feel the difference in their daily life. Not quite. It still feels like something that's happening on TV, so they can pretend for now. People don't want to die for the cause because they're in denial that we're past the point of no return and they're in denial because they don't want to die.

I have no idea what our country will look like in three months. I couldn't have predicted the current state three months ago. I hope, as things get worse, people seek community and solidarity and work together toward resistance. I suspect, however, that the first resistance will come from individuals whose circumstances became extreme enough to die over. I also suspect those individuals will rarely, if ever, be able to take action anywhere near meaningful power.

Why aren't people shutting down the servers in government buildings? I can't speak to every building, but in GSA, there are alarms on the doors and guards with guns between regular workers and all things DOGE. I can't speak to every agency, but the IRS had armed DHS agents walk a bunch of fired accountants out "for security purposes." We're not the most militarized country in the world for nothing.

One bit of bleak hope: they're breaking their own systems. The US government has crazy security protocols to prevent things like, say, burning down a data enter. They're firing the people that wrote those protocols. I can't imagine they'll replace them with anything near as comprehensive or effective. I think burning down a federal data center would be near impossible for a citizen today. I have no idea what the country will look like in a month.

[ktownshizzle]

Love & Lullabies | Part 6 (Teaser)

Chapter Warnings: Is Yoongi bout to fumble MC?!, Sung Kyung in her villain era

Word count: 447

Series Masterlist | TAGLIST is open

You’ve only got one hand free—your other is balancing a box of those orange pastries Yoongi won’t shut up about—so you reach for the keypad to his apartment, thumb tapping the code you now know by heart.

But the second you swing the door open, you freeze.

Standing in the entryway, pulling a sleek beige coat over her shoulders, is none other than Lee Sung Kyung.

“Oh,” she says. Blinking, brows lifting ever so slightly. “Hi.”

You take in the scene—her boots by the door, a cup half-full on the counter. It’s not scandalous, not exactly. But it sure as hell isn’t nothing, either.

You tilt your head, offering a polite smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Hi.”

“I know you. You’re the temp nanny, no? My son isn’t here, though.” 

Oh wow. So that’s how she’s playing this.

You take a second, studying her face. Her expression is neutral, but her lips are just a little too tight. You have a feeling she knows exactly who you are. This isn’t ignorance—it’s a power play. A test.

Calculating your next move, you poke your tongue against the inside of your cheek—a habit you unknowingly picked up from Yoongi.

Speak of the devil. Behind her, Yoongi appears from the hallway, brows raised in alarm like he’s already running a thousand calculations on how catastrophic this looks. “You’re early,” he says to you, and then, to Sung Kyung, “I thought you were already gone.”

“I was just leaving,” she says lightly, turning to glance over her shoulder. “But I couldn’t stop myself from tidying up our son’s room. His toys are all over the place.”

It isn’t. And you know it.

“Didn’t realize you were expecting company,” she jabs.

“Didn’t think I needed an appointment,” you counter, lifting the box slightly. “Brought your favorite,” you say to Yoongi, keeping your voice steady. 

“Oh, but his actual favorites are the lemon tarts from Tartine?”

Ah. So she really wants to do this.

“Well,” you smile sugary, tilting your head, “you’ve been gone a while, haven’t you? He has a new favorite now.”

Sung Kyung mirrors your smile—tight, polished, and laced with something sharp.

You know Yoongi knows a cat fight is in his midst, and it would be in everyone's best interest that he does something, anything. He runs a hand over his hair, gripping his scalp tight, clearly dying inside. “Okay,” he mutters, eyes flicking between you and her. “Time to wrap this up.”

“But you haven’t even properly introduced us.” Sung Kyung grins and it’s fake as fuck. She turns to you again, not waiting on Yoongi to make the intro. “I'm Sung Kyung, Haneul’s mom, but you already know that.” 

“Y/N, Haneul’s teacher.” You let the silence stretch just a beat too long before adding:

“And Yoongi’s girlfriend.”

A/N: what a FLEX. 😏✨️ Dropping the entire chapter hopefully this month. I'm just adjusting with a lot of irl changes, but it should be better soon, hopefully.

Thanks for waiting on this, my lovelies. Are y'all even still here? Drop me a note, or a reblog if you can, I'd appreciate it!! 🧡

Permanent Taglist: (the rest to follow in a reblog)

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[phantomteafrog]

Alright, here’s my haul of all my Cult of the Lamb merch. (I still have more coming, but it’s going to take a hot minute to get here) It should honestly be a @stychu-stych shrine with how much artwork of her’s that I have lol. Also, the playmat?! Fucking huge, it’s fantastic, the photo doesn’t do it justice for just how big this thing is.

If you have CotL merch (especially for the Goat 👀) reblog and promote yourself! I’m always looking for more stuff to add to my collection! 😈 fanart prints, stickers, pins, whatever you got, lets see your beautiful work!!!

[seaweedbumblebee]

Terrible Lies

I’ve never posted on Tumblr before and I don’t write a lot so apologies for any mistakes! Don’t forget to comment, like, and reblog. I’m open to comments and requests!

Cross posted on AO3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61937722

The first time their hands grazed, it was purely by accident… possibly. Years ago when their partnership was still fresh and the idea of working near someone new was starting to bud, his fingers had brushed against hers while she handed him a wrench. He broke his steady gaze from the metal object he was tinkering with to look at where his fingers had made contact. He opened his mouth to say something but then furrowed his brows and closed his mouth. After a moment he said, “You should be more careful.”

Her lips parted with wide eyes and a soft smile forming at his humor. “Yes… it would be a real shame if I dropped it. I could have broken something.”

He hummed in agreement, nodding to the spotless floor.

He tried to shake the feeling of the softness of her skin to no avail. And so the habit began, the “accidental” and very frequent touches. They continued the habit of his hand slowly brushing against the bottom of hers when she handed him anything but it slowly morphed into other acts.

Over time their little touches became second nature - evolving with their relationship. She was standing on a chair and his hand rested against the small of her back. She peeked down at him and smirked. He looked right back at her and said, “You’re pretty clumsy you know… always tripping… it’s a real hazard.” She hadn’t tripped in years.

“You’re absolutely right.” She said as a matter of factly, “I don’t know what I’d do without your support!” She chuckled. A sound so soft that his breath hitched in his throat. Taking a swallow his eyes locked on her back where his fingers splayed.

Soon to follow were more touches, a gentle hand came to rest in between his shoulder blades one day, “Viktor! You’re slouching, you know that’s not good for your posture.” She said feigning concern. His back brace prevented him from slouching which he knows she can feel under his vest and shirt.

“That is very thoughtful.” He said earnestly.

“Isn’t it? You know I want the best for you”

His lips quirked up at the way her hand trailed to brush against the back of his neck when she moved away. Viktor briefly glimpsed her covering up a smile at her desk.

And then there were the late nights. Long hours spent in the lab, going over formulas, revising blueprints and tinkering with Hextech, often turned into leisurely walks home together - purely to ensure her safety and nothing else. On one night, her arm slipped into his and said, “The topside is such a dangerous place,” her voice laced with concern and a small frown tugging at her brows. He looked down at her face and saw the corners of her lips quirked up.

“Much more dangerous than the Undercity.” He said without missing a beat.

“Yes, I’m so glad that you’re here. I think someone could jump out and grab me if I were alone.”

“You would be at a great risk without someone to hold on to.” He said while nodding his head to get the point across as they walked through undoubtedly the safest area of Piltover. His mind halted at the warmth of how natural her arm fit into his.

On one evening when he was about to walk her home, he slowed his pace and said, “Hmm, the weather is dreadful to be walking in. At this rate our shoes will be flooded.” She looked up at the clear sky and frowned, shielding her hair with her free hand.

“We should hurry to your apartment.” She said as they took their time.

At first she took his bed while he took the couch, and then the next night she took the couch while he slept in his bed. It became a ritual to go straight to his apartment rather than hers that was all the way across town. It was truly a miracle that she had been making the trek to her own apartment this whole time. She thanked her stars that he was kind enough to let her stay with him more often than in her own bed. She made sure to stop just next door to grab some of her toiletries though.

One evening, he was resting in bed watching her braid her hair before she retired for the night. He watched the rhythmic motion of her fingers weaving silky strands together and felt a jolt in his chest. Before he could stop himself he quietly said, “It’s a little cold, don’t you think?”

She rubbed her toasty feet together, “You’re right. There’s definitely a chill in here. I guess we can share the bed if we keep to our own sides.”

He hastily agreed, “That would be the most respectable thing to do.”

He struggled with the knowledge that he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears not knowing that she was going through the same struggle. She was glad that the dimness of the room blanketed her flaming cheeks while he was grateful that the moon shone on her face enough to tell that she was blushing for him.

“This cold sure isn’t letting up is it?” She whispered staring into his golden eyes.

“Bitterly cold.” He said without hesitation.

“Freezing” her breath tickled his face as she scooted closer

“Unbearable” he murmured, his arm brushing against her waist. The crickets chirped outside, louder with the open window allowing for the summer breeze to cool off his room.

Every touch came with a reason. That was the most sound thing to do in any scenario. It would be very irresponsible to touch a coworker for no reason.

Tonight was different. The pull between them was so taught that they could no longer skirt around what was happening between them.

As they worked late into the night, the tension between them seemed to settle heavier and heavier with each passing moment. She felt his eyes on her and turned to meet his stare. His eyes narrowed at her lips.

“Your lips are chapped.” His tone infused with something deeper. His eyes quickly flitted from her eyes down to her mouth.

“Are they?” She felt like she was out of breath from the look on his face.

“Yes, they are so chapped that they are practically cracking. You should probably do something about that.”

“That would be a real tragedy. How would I go over plans with you and Jayce?” She said in a worried tone, her hand coming up to brush over them lightly - smooth and velvety, and she gasped, “Yes, you’re right - they’re very chapped.”

“I’m sorry to say so.” He said softly leaning forward.

“It would be a shame if they bled.” She said just as softly with a teasing smile.

“Disastrous.” He was leaning forward, “You wouldn’t be able to talk for days.”

“I should probably find something to cover them.” Her gaze fixed on his lips, “I just ran out of lip balm though and the market is surely closed by now.”

“That’s a real shame… covering them has to be the only solution.” His eyes half lidded and staring down at her soft lips.

She nodded, her nose brushing against his, barely mumbling, “Mhm.”

Their words stopped with gentle breaths against their faces. She looked up at him through her lashes and let them flutter closed at his proximity. His hand came up to rest on her nape, thumb brushing the juncture where her jaw meets her neck. Their lips met in a slow kiss. Moving gently together with a hesitation that deepened into an unmistakable pull.

When they parted, breathless and flushed, she whispered “Well… that solves the problem for now.”

“It’s only practical.” He whispered.

[riwoops]

ㅤ✶ㅤ WELTiTA .ᐟ l.hs

𝓢tarring — ﹙이희승﹚bf ! lee 𝒽eeseung x 𝑔𝓃 ! reader 𝒾𝓃... a hot summer day at the beach! wc. 670 𒀭 fluff est. physical touch

( SUMARIO ✦ ) it all started when heeseung invited you to spend the rest of your summer vacations in a house he insisted renting near the beach — now you were wrapped around his arms, admiring the sunset as you counted the last days you had left of your holidays.

·₊̣̇. ⊱ ℳind you . . . hihi !! omg, first post ever im kinda scared lmao😭 english isn't my first language, corrections are appreciated although i've proofread it! reblogs are very much appreciated too!! 💞

𓂃 ৻ 🥨🌴🗯 ⊹ ⭒ now playing weltita by bad bunny ᪤ ! ꒷

the shoreline was beautiful that day, birds could be seen flying everywhere and there were still some people playing volleyball as well as kids running ashore, althought the sun was already setting and it was getting quite late.

a soft breeze loomed for a split second, hitting you tenderly in the face and grounding you once again to your current position — your body wrapped around heeseung's arms, sitting comfortably in the sand as both of you waited for your bodies to dry after a long and refreshing swim in the ocean. some of your hair strands were still damp, stuck in your forehead and your swimsuit was filled with sand it had collected throughout the whole evening.

this is it, everything you ever wanted. you wouldn't want to be anywhere else than here, spending your last days of summer with the boy you loved and cared for the most.

"you look pretty when you smile" heeseung suddenly confessed in a soft whisper, his hot breath pressing against your ear as you detached your eyes ever so lightly from the scenery to focus on what your boyfriend was saying. "i want to fill your face with kisses so that i can see that smile" and that was the last thing you heard him saying before you found yourself giggling and smiling in his embrace.

you looked like an idiot. in fact, both of you looked like idiots — rolling in the sand as he kept peppering your face so affectionately, so carefully.

some passersby saw the moment — some found it cute, others grimaced at the view but, in the end, who really cares? it's just you and heeseung, this is your moment.

once he stopped marking your face, you propped up on your elbows, gazing once again at the sunset while he sat down beside you.

there was a comfortable silence in the air; as you were admiring the sun, heeseung was admiring you.

he cherished you, longed to be close to you. his eyes and the soft smirk pressed against in his lips spoke for themselves — he was so deeply in love with you.

you couldn't be luckier, having heeseung as a boyfriend was probably the best thing the universe had ever given to you. he's such a doting person, with a heart bigger than his body; so careful and bold at times, stealing pecks and caresses whenever you least expected it.

a slightly hesitant hand fell on your bare thigh, making you take a quick glance at where it was before gazing at heeseung.

"we should go" he whispered, his tone lacking any authority, rather carrying sadness in the statement.

the intimate yet fleeting touch he gave you before finally getting up was everything you needed from heeseung to feel even more grateful for dating him; you were everything heeseung needed to be grateful for every single moment he spent with you.

oh, to be spending your summer vacations at his side!

© riwoops | 2025

[flowercrownsandherondales]

Against the Odds Pt. 13

Had to feed everyone something, the Haymitch tag has been dead all day and it’s making me go feral. I have an eye surgery in the morning and I am SCARED. Let me know what everyone thinks! I’m living for the reactions to the last chapter. Comments are truly my fuel, but likes and reblogs are also so so appreciated. Love y’all fr, I’m gonna go try and knock myself out before I have a meltdown again 🙂

XIII: I Foresee Terrible Trouble, But I Stay Here Just The Same. 

The single white rose laid on the table for three days. 

Haymitch refused to acknowledge it, pouring himself into my recovery instead. A heaviness settled over his eyes, desperation, fear, acceptance. 

Snow had already taken everything that mattered to him. Why wouldn’t it be the same with me? 

“Why does he care so much? It’s been years since the Quell.” I asked, still wrapped and laid up in bed, Haymitch in his chair to the side. 

He just sighed, the saddest one I’d ever heard come out of his mouth. The circles around his eyes had gotten darker, his hair longer and shaggy, falling directly limp around his face. 

“He doesn’t forget rebellion easily.” His voice was lifeless, eyes peering to the wall like he was caught in a flashback. 

I never questioned Haymitch’s games. In all honesty, once Wiley had died I secluded myself in my room. Ma and Pa never told me what went on in the end, how Haymitch had won. When Burdock told me about the fire, about Lenore Dove dying, I pieced together that he had done something to piss off the president. Asking seemed like taking a step off a ledge and I didn’t want to plummet what we had. 

That was all before I was wrapped up in it with him. Before I felt my heart pull with him, when he moved I moved. If Snow was after him, he was after me too. 

He glanced at me, watching the question form at the tip of my tongue with narrowed eyes. He took a breath, then with a sense of finality said, “I suppose you should know what happened.” 

I took his hand in mine as he recounted the story of the Second Quarter Quell from his perspective. Names that meant nothing to me before; Beetee, Mags, Wiress, resonated in my mind now. Beetee Latier, a face I could faintly recall from Capitol interviews over the years, who’s name should mean nothing to me, but who had gone through what I did. My heart broke for him, for Ampert. 

He could barely speak about Louella. 

I tried my best to hold back my tears for his sake. We’d both known her, loved her fiercely as a sister, as our own. I kissed his fingers as he recounted holding her body, fighting for her even in death, even as she morphed into another nameless girl. The McCoy’s had never been the same after she came back in that box, never really understanding what happened. I heard inklings of rumors for years, and now that I had the whole truth I wasn’t sure where to put it in my heart. 

 Unexpected pain came for Maysilee. For all the children I never knew who held onto the hope that there was strength in numbers. 

The pain for Wyatt was quietly shifting to absolute anguish for Haymitch. He spoke with reverence for all of them, his time with each one leaving another gaping hole in his heart that would never be filled. I found myself wishing I’d broken from my stupor, begging my past self to wake up and hold him. 

His defiance was kept quiet. No one spoke of the bravery he held, the strength to go through with all the plans made, accepting death as it came. My blood boiled, angry tears starting to fall as I thought of all the people who looked down on him, writing him off as a drunk. I thought of the parents throughout the years, screaming at him as he exited the train, his head hung low in mourning and shame. 

Haymitch’s grip on my hand tightened, grounding me with a simple squeeze. I took a deep breath, steadying my need to throttle them all. 

“I didn’t want to get you into this- stupidly I didn’t think it through. I didn’t think he’d want to take anything else, thought I’d paid my penance and I could be done with it. I should have known better, should have done better.” His head hung low, not daring to look me in the eye in a fear of what he might find. 

“Baby.” I whispered, reaching out to tuck a curl of his hair behind his ear. I felt him shudder under me, body vibrating with defeat. “It’s not your fault. None of it is your fault. These burdens were never yours to carry. Your suffering is not just, you don’t deserve to be punished for being human. For being kind, for having a heart.” 

He sucked in a breath, and for a split second I realized he probably had never been reassured like this. No one had held him and told him they were sorry, that he didn’t do anything wrong. No one had ever thanked him for trying. 

I pulled at his hand, tugging him to the bed with me. He barely moved, breaths coming out heavy and harsh. 

“Thank you, Haymitch. Thank you for giving them all a chance, for holding them and mourning them all these years. Thank you for trying for a better future, at the cost of your own.” I breathed every word, my eyes holding onto him as tightly as my hands did. 

He could only manage a nod, letting me pull his body into mine, stitches screaming in protest. I ignored it, cradling him as I had Wiley when he had a nightmare, soothing him against my chest. 

“I’m not leaving. I won’t leave. Even if it kills me, you never deserve to be alone again.” my lips brushed his ear, my promise firm and true. 

His arms came to wrap around my middle carefully, cautious of the bindings that kept my back in one piece. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I can’t explain how sorry I am.” His voice tickled against my neck, still holding me like a prayer. 

I pulled away, cradling his face and just staring at him. The boy who had dared to hope, who had sacrificed himself. The man he’d become, the one who’d lost everything yet still held me so tenderly. The man who drank like he was in a race, who wrapped up my son’s flower in a handkerchief and cradled it in his bedside table. 

I loved Wyatt. If I had more time with him we would have surely married, lived a quiet life of barely getting by, had breakfasts and dinners, and held each other through the night. 

But Wyatt Callow was 6 feet under. 

And Haymitch Abernathy was flesh, blood and bone. He was everything I never saw coming and everything I never knew I needed. Haymitch Abernathy presented me with the same future, just altered in the ways we both needed. A shared space next to both our chairs at the table, a quiet yearning of all we lost and a quiet loving of all we gained. 

My universe tilted for the third time in my life. And I would be damned if I let it tilt a fourth. 

“I need you to listen to me. I will not let them take this. I will burn them to the fucking ground if I have to.” Haymitch looked taken aback by the fire in my eyes, slowly nodding his head in agreement. 

“What do we have to do?” I asked. We needed a plan, and fast. 

He pulled away for a minute, pondering on what Snow knew, what he really wanted. 

“He wants me to be alone. I think he believes that I’ll rebel again, especially when I have something to rebel for. We have to be careful, extremely careful. You can’t be seen here during the day. Keep a low profile, no more jumping in to save kids.” He laid it out, eyes accusatory as he mentioned my whipping. 

“Avoid the square as much as possible. Travel through the hob, take backroads. He’s got eyes everywhere. We need to keep interactions happening at night. Don’t come through the gate. I’ll meet you behind Victor's Village, sneak you in that way.” I nodded as he talked, hanging onto every word as gospel. I wonder if this is how he talked to Wiley on the train. Clinical, determined. 

“Is there any way for you to find out exactly what he wants?” I asked. We needed to know exactly what to avoid. 

“You want me to ask his secretary for a meeting?” Haymitch’s joke didn’t land, his voice falling flat as he glared at me. 

“In any case, I’m surprised he hasn’t shown up. From my experience he’s typically pretty thorough with his threats.”  I thought back to Haymitch meeting with him at Plutarch’s home. The obvious threat. 

“Should I go home now?” I asked, shifting up on the bed, barely containing a groan. Haymitch grabbed my shoulders, softly pushing me back to lie down. 

“I’ll walk you back once it’s dark. He already knows you’re here.” I nodded, letting him adjust the pillow behind my head. 

The sun had set low in the sky by the time he felt it was safe enough to walk home. On hand wrapped around my midsection, supporting me as we traveled back to my shack. Once we reached the steps he bid me goodbye, pulling me in for a heavy kiss that left me gasping for air. “Remember the plan. I’ll meet you tomorrow night.” He promised, leaving one more kiss on my forehead and heading back. 

I stood on the steps for a minute, watching his figure disappear into the chilled air. I took a few deep breaths, steading myself before opening the door. 

The scent was overwhelming. 

Rose. 

My eyes searched through the darkness for a moment, before a lamp was turned on in the corner near the record player. 

President Snow was every bit the man I had grown up seeing. 

And now he was standing in my shabby makeshift living room. 

“Welcome home Miss Y/LN. I expect recovery is going well?” His voice was perfected, calculated as he analyzed me. I could only imagine what I looked like, held up on bedrest for days. 

I could only nod once, as slowly as possible as I stood frozen. The staring contest had just begun. 

He walked with precision, as if he’d been in my home a million times. His suit was flawless. Really, every inch of him was. Groomed, not a single hair out of place. Dangerous. 

He motioned for me to sit at the dining room table, pulling out my seat slightly before he sat. I hadn’t let out a single breath, my blood freezing in my veins. 

“I believe we have a few things to chat about. Firstly I wanted to offer my condolences, the spoils of war are never pleasant.” 

Spoils of war. My son and my lover. Spoils. Of . War. 

I didn’t dare speak. 

“Alas, we all make sacrifices for the improvement of peace.” He folded his hands on the table, as if we were old friends catching up for a drink. 

“It seems we have a mutual connection. One I’d very much like to discuss.” Before he even had the chance the door flew open, startling both of us at the sudden intrusion. 

Haymitch stood in the doorway, heaving as if he had turned around and ran halfway back from his house. His eyes widened slightly, before setting into something I couldn’t describe. An animal, sizing up its foe. 

He ran a hand through his hair, straightening his spine, and pulled out another chair next to me, sitting down with more grace than I’d even seen him exhibit. 

There goes the fucking plan. 

President Snow seemed completely taken off guard, Haymitch looked like he could barely contain a wicked smirk at the thought. He’d caught the snake in a trap, one that could end up with one of us bitten within minutes. 

“President Snow. I believe the three of us have a few things to discuss.” Out of the corner of his eye Haymitch glanced at me, jaw tightening. I squared my own shoulders, attempting to match the united front we were about to present. 

Let the game begin. 

[roomwithanopenfire]

Stats Wednesday

I am many days late for sharing my March stats, but I still want to share! I have not written any words at all in many days, but i'm begining to write again. This post is kinda long, so expect graphs, stats, and musings under the cut. And I promise there IS a snippet down there somewhere :)

I posted 1 thing in March, and it was technically posted April 1st, but I'm counting it as March since that's when I finished writing it. It's a short ronance one shot for Stranger Things, if that interests any of you!

Total words written for March: 14516 (despite me falling off the writing wagon in the last week of the month this still beats Feb by 100 words!)

Days I met my writing goal (200 words): 24!

Days I didn't write or edit anything: 6

Day I wrote the most: Mar 2nd with 2422 (this beats last month's highest WC of 2249!)

Number of Fics worked on: 9 (but a bunch of these are small oneshots I'm hoping to finish for Carry On Sapphic Week!)

Daily Average: 468 words (but like always i am highly inconsistent and my WC varies wildy depending on the day)

And here's my WC distrubution pie chart!

You get to know the WIP name of SECRET project (Letters) now (not that knowing the name makes anything clearer lol). Also I worked a lot on THTHIPWGI last month, which was going to be a longer fic for COSW, but tbh I don't think I'll finish it anytime soon and it's probably doing to be on the back burner for a bit. Here's hoping I'll get to it one day.

Some thoughts:

I am very glad I decided to backtrack and make this post because i thought I written hardly anything in the month of March, but actually it was only a week of no writing and i'm doing amazing

However I have not written a word since March 25, but I started writing again yesterday so I'm back on the wagon. april's word count will likely be pretty low, but that's okay because i'm SO busy with school and stuff. Soon I will be free.

I should stop making promises about The Way We Are. i have such a love/hate relationship with that fic. I love it so much, but it's the hardest thing i've ever written, and i feel like the amount of effort it takes does not show in the final product. I literally have just one scene left to write it should NOT be taking this long. If you look at my chart it looks like i wrote a LOT of words but most of those have since been deleted.

There are two (2) reasons I haven't been writing as much. 1) i've been a bit of a funk. 2) I binged watched all 120+ episodes of 9-1-1 in less than 3 weeks and have since read many tens of thousands of words of fanfiction. Sorry to everyone who will now be subjected to my reblogs, i'm going insane. (also sorry if you're someone i've dmed since starting this show, it is like ALL i've been talking about)

My plans for COSW are kind of doomed, but I WILL be finishing at least 1 fic, you can count on that.

WAIT I forgot that I started a new fest last month too??? Okay, i need to stop beating myself up, I did a lot in March actually. Check out @carry-on-many-cakes, a very lowkey fest that me and @the-beard-of-edward-teach are running!!

Snippet from The Way We Are

The line inches closer to the door, and I take in the signs by the entrance.  Ghosts and ghouls must remain corporeal at all times. Please don’t touch the three-headed dog. All vampires are welcome here. (A sign that will help Marjorie and I cross the threshold.) Absolutely no mages allowed. I frown at the last one, thinking about my wand tucked into my arm holster.

Tags and Hellos!

@alexalexinii @aristocratic-otter @argumentativeantitheticalg @artsyunderstudy @arthurkko

@blackberrysummerblog @best--dress @bookishbroadwayandblind @bookish-bogwitch @brilla-brilla-estrellita

@cccloudsss @confused-bi-queer @cutestkilla @drowninginships @facewithoutheart

@fiend-for-culture @emeryhall @hushed-chorus @iamamythologicalcreature @ileadacharmedlife

@theimpossibledemon @jyae23 @larkral @lovelettersto-mars @m1ndwinder

@monbons @nausikaaa @noblecorgi @orange-peony @prettygoododds

@raenestee @rimeswithpurple @run-for-chamo-miles @shrekgogurt @simonscones

@skeedelvee @supercutedinosaurs @sweetronancer @talentpiper11 @thewholelemon

@valeffelees @youarenevertooold @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

[everythingwasnormalhere]

trans day of remembrance please for fuck's sake remember disabled trans people this time, dont leave it to us to be the only ones who mourn them

so many posts about today and ive seen nobody mention them. nobody at all.

im fucking tired.

[sunkissedliterarylightofchrist]

When people ask "What do you do for fun?" why isn't "Looking at art of my friends oc ship and giggling and kicking my feet <3" an appropriate answer?

[can-of-slorgs]

I'm personally blaming @starbiology and everyone who has reblogged or commented the other piece for this.

Bonus comic featuring my grundo:

[brown-little-robin]

o.o