#002. ❛ I’m not the answer to the questions that you still have. ❜ — ( asks. )

[goldsainz]

# DREW STARKEY — ACTORS ON ACTORS !

MASTERLIST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ drew and you participate in variety’s “actors on actors” series.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ cursing, talking about nude scenes, probably inaccurate acting experiences.

003. NOTE !

✯ sorry to all the actors i stole roles from😭 also zendaya is used as a face claim for the social media but the writing is inclusive and has no descriptors of physical appearance… or at least i hope so.

word count : 5,4k (chat i got carried away)

The cozy studio was bathed in warm light, designed almost as if to feel like a welcoming living room. Two plush chairs faced each other, separated by a low coffee table adorned with a few carefully placed books and a small vase of fresh flowers. Everything about the space was crafted to exude intimacy and warmth, inviting open conversation.

Drew Starkey entered the room first, his usual calm confidence mingled with a tinge of nervous energy. He smoothed his shirt absentmindedly and scanned the setup, trying to ground himself in the moment. He was used to being in front of cameras, but this felt different. This wasn’t just about promoting a project or answering rapid-fire questions on a press junket. This was you.

“Hello,” Drew started, a smile gracing his features as he took in the fact that he was sitting right in front of his number one celebrity crush. His hand hovered awkwardly in a small wave, as if he couldn’t believe this was real.

“Hi,” you said back, a giggle falling past your lips when you noticed his sheepish look. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” he said, his voice just a little higher than usual. Drew cleared his throat, laughing at himself, which made you laugh too. “Sorry, I’m… a little nervous.”

“Oh, don’t be,” you reassured him with a warm smile. “I promise, I don’t bite.”

“Good to know.” He chuckled, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “How are you doing?”

“I’m great, thank you. What about you?”

“Pretty good, can’t complain.” A laugh bubbled out of him, and subsequently, you. The way he rubbed the back of his neck made you think he was still pinching himself that this was happening.

The cameras rolled, capturing the easy charm and immediate chemistry between the two of you. 

Drew’s grin widened as he began. “First of all, let me just say���I’m completely starstruck right now. I mean, the way you completely own every role you take on... it’s incredible.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, a bashful laugh escaping as you waved off the compliment. “Oh, stop it. You’re making me blush!”

“I’m serious,” he pressed, leaning forward slightly. “You’re like… the blueprint. If I ever get even halfway to where you are, I’ll consider myself lucky.”

“Well, now you’re just flattering me,” you said, your voice teasing but your cheeks undeniably warm. “But thank you, that’s so sweet. And honestly, you’re being way too hard on yourself. You’re incredible in Queer. You’ve got this natural charm that just lights up the screen.”

“Natural charm, huh?” He smirked, pretending to preen, which made you laugh again. “I’ll take that.”

“Good,” you replied, smiling. “You should, because it’s true.”

Drew’s gaze softened, the teasing giving way to something more earnest. “That means a lot, really. Especially coming from you. You’re like… Hollywood royalty to many.”

You tilted your head, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “To many, huh? And are you part of this many?”

Drew’s eyes widened, and he laughed, a little caught off guard. “Oh, absolutely. I’ve got a lifetime membership to the fan club.”

“Good to know,” you teased, crossing your legs and leaning back in your chair with an air of mock superiority. “I’ll have to start charging you membership fees.”

“Totally worth it,” he shot back, his grin widening.

“Well, thank you,” you said with a soft laugh, “So, we’ve both got some things in common, which I think is pretty cool.”

“Like working with Daniel Craig?” he asked.

“Yes! Honestly, I still reminisce about our time on set… he’s genuinely incredible, isn’t he?”

“He is, yeah. I found myself just admiring him and sort of forgetting I had to act too. He’s just… he’s on another level, for sure.”

“Daniel’s a master of his craft… Most of my scenes as Paloma in No Time To Die were with him, and at first I was so nervous because, like, what if I messed up in front of the Daniel Craig?” Drew let out a laugh at your words, and you couldn’t help but laugh too. “But when he noticed I was nervous he reassured me that it was all good. He’s just the best.”

“You’ve worked with so many high-profile actors.” You nod slightly at his words, as if it were the most common thing in the world. “Are you always nervous when meeting them, or was it just a Daniel thing?”

“It wasn’t just Daniel, no, but I think it depends. For example, when I did Oppenheimer with Cillian Murphy, for some reason I felt more relaxed… even though I had some nude scenes with him.”

“Nude scenes just make you connect, don’t they?” he joked, leaning back with a sly grin.

“They do, actually,” you replied, leaning into the banter. “You’d think they’d be worse, but honestly, with the amount of seriousness and concentration they take, it’s like you don’t have time to be nervous.”

“You clearly pulled it off flawlessly,” Drew said with mock solemnity. 

“You did too in Queer.” You compliment him, “I watched it a few days ago, and the chemistry you had with Daniel was just off the charts.”

Drew’s face lit up, a mix of pride and bashfulness crossing his features. “Daniel’s an amazing scene partner. He really made it easy for me to tap into everything.”

“Well, it shows,” you said. “It was such a raw and beautiful performance. I might’ve shed a tear or two.”

“Okay, now you’re just trying to make me blush,” Drew teased, pointing at you with a playful squint. “But seriously, that means a lot coming from you.”

“Hey, give credit where it’s due,” you shot back with a grin. “You’ve got this way of making everything feel so real. Like when you’re in pain, we’re in pain. When you’re in love, we’re falling right alongside you.”

“Wow,” he said, shaking his head as if to clear it. “I don’t know what to do with all these compliments. This is the best therapy session I’ve ever had.”

You laughed, crossing your legs and leaning forward slightly. “Well, I’m glad I could help. But now I’m curious—how did you prepare for a role like that? I mean, it’s so emotionally intense, no?.”

“It was a lot of journaling, a lot of talking with Luca about backstory and motivations,” Drew explained, his tone more thoughtful. “And honestly, I kind of drew from real-life experiences. Not the exact ones, obviously, but just feelings of vulnerability and… wanting to be understood.”

“That’s beautiful,” you said softly, your smile turning tender. “It’s amazing how much of ourselves we pour into these characters.”

“Exactly,” Drew agreed. “And sometimes it’s terrifying, but when it resonates with people, it feels worth it.”

“It definitely resonated with me,” you assured him. “And I’m sure with countless others too.”

“That’s really nice to hear,” he said with a soft smile.

“How was it for you to work with Luca? Because I remember it being one of the highlights of my career.”

Drew’s eyes lit up at the mention of Luca Guadagnino, and he leaned forward slightly, as if the memory itself was a magnet pulling him closer. “Oh, working with Luca was… incredible,” he said, his voice laced with awe. “He’s got this way of creating such a safe, open space on set. It’s almost like he’s not just directing—he’s inviting you into this world he’s building in his head.”

You nodded eagerly, your own memories of working with Luca bringing a nostalgic smile to your face. “I know exactly what you mean. He makes it feel like you’re collaborating on this deeply personal piece of art, rather than just executing someone else’s vision.”

“Exactly!” Drew said, gesturing animatedly. “And he has this way of pulling things out of you that you didn’t even know you had. Like, he’ll ask you one simple question, and suddenly you’re diving into this emotional rabbit hole.”

You laughed, tilting your head in agreement. “He asked me once, ‘What would this character, Maren in my case, dream about?’ and it completely changed how I approached the next scene.”

Drew’s mouth dropped open in mock surprise. “He asked me the exact same question!”

“No way!” you exclaimed, your laughter spilling out in disbelief. “I love that! It’s honestly such a deceptively simple question, but it opens up so many layers.”

“It really does,” Drew said, chuckling. “And then you’re sitting there like, ‘Okay, now I have to rethink everything I thought I knew about this character.’”

“It’s kind of genius, though,” you added. “He makes you work harder, but not in a way that feels forced. It’s like… he trusts you to figure it out, but he gives you these breadcrumbs to follow.”

“Exactly,” Drew said again, his tone growing softer. “I think that’s why his films feel so intimate, he gets the human part so right.”

You smiled, letting his words settle in the air for a moment. “I think that’s what makes working with him feel like such a privilege. It’s not just about telling a story—it’s about feeling it.”

Drew nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “And those are the moments that stick with you, you know? The ones where you felt something real, even if it was just for a moment.”

“Completely,” you agreed, your voice soft with sincerity. “Those moments are why we do this.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in companionable silence, the weight of the conversation settling in the cozy studio. Then, Drew broke the quiet with a grin. “Okay, but did Luca make you do those impromptu rehearsals at, like, the crack of dawn?”

“Oh my God, yes!” you burst out, your eyes widening. “I’d just roll out of bed with zero coffee and somehow be expected to pour my soul into a scene.”

Drew laughed, his face lighting up. “Right? It’s like, ‘Good morning, here’s your emotional breakdown for the day.’”

You laughed along with him, the shared experience adding another thread to the easy camaraderie forming between you. “But honestly, I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.”

“Same,” Drew said, his expression softening again. “For Luca? Anytime.”

“Absolutely,” you agreed, your eyes locking with his for a moment before the warmth of the studio light reminded you both that the cameras were still rolling.

Drew shifted in his seat slightly, his expression thoughtful. “You know, it’s kind of wild—hearing you talk about all these incredible experiences. You’ve been doing this for so long, and yet it’s like you’re just getting started.”

You tilted your head with a small smile. “That’s sweet of you to say. But yeah, I guess I have been in this industry for most of my life. It’s all I’ve ever really known.”

Drew’s eyebrows lifted. “That’s crazy to think about. I didn’t even consider acting until after college. You must’ve been, what, ten? Eleven?”

“Eight, actually,” you corrected with a chuckle. “My first role was in this little indie film. I was basically just the kid who ran around in the background eating ice cream, but I thought it was the coolest thing ever.”

He laughed, clearly amused. “That’s adorable. And now you’re the Hollywood It Girl. No big deal.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, your laughter light. “Oh, stop it. But yeah, it’s been a journey. Growing up on sets definitely shaped me, for better or worse. Sometimes I wonder what it would’ve been like to have a more ‘normal’ childhood.”

Drew’s smile softened. “That must’ve been such a whirlwind. I can’t even imagine starting that young. I didn’t even think about acting seriously until high school.”

“Oh, I’ve read about that!” You said, your voice lighting up. “You were all about sports growing up, right?”

“Yeah,” Drew admitted with a chuckle. “I was your typical small-town kid—baseball, basketball, you name it. I was convinced I was going to go pro in something, but clearly, that didn’t pan out.”

“Well, I think acting suits you pretty well.” 

“Thank you,” he says with a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “But yeah, the real shift happened in high school when I joined a drama class. It was all Samuel Beckett and absurdist plays, which at the time I thought was the coolest thing ever.”

You leaned forward, intrigued. “So that’s what pulled you in? Drama class?”

“Pretty much,” he said with a nod. “And then I went to Western Carolina for college. I double-majored in English and theater, thinking, ‘If this acting thing doesn’t work out, I’ll at least have a backup plan.’”

“That’s so realistic of you,” you said with a laugh. “Meanwhile, I was ten, telling anyone who’d listen that I was going to win an Oscar one day.”

“And look at you now,” Drew said, gesturing to you with an almost reverent smile. “You made it happen.”

You chuckled, a bit flustered by his admiration. “Well, not quite, just an Oscar nominee for now. But thank you. You know, I think your journey’s pretty incredible too. A double major? That’s no joke. And starting later in the game like you did… it must have felt like a slow burn, but it’s clearly paid off.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Drew said thoughtfully. “It was definitely a slower burn for me. I didn’t land my first real gig until I’d been auditioning for what felt like forever.”

“I think that makes your journey even more special,” you said, your tone sincere. “You came into it with all this life experience and maturity. It shows in your work, you know? There’s this depth to your performances that’s just… rare.”

Drew’s ears turned a little pink, and he laughed softly, glancing down at his hands. “Wow, you’re gonna make me blush over here.”

“Good,” you said with a teasing smile. “It’s only fair after all the compliments you’ve been throwing my way.”

He looked up, his grin sheepish but warm. “Touché. But seriously, hearing that from someone like you—someone who’s been at this for so long and is so insanely talented—it means a lot.”

“Well,” you replied with a playful tilt of your head, “I think it’s safe to say we’re officially mutual fans.”

Drew laughed at that, the sound easy and genuine. “I can live with that.”

The conversation shifted into more comfortable territory as the two of you shared experiences, trading stories about acting and the film industry. Drew, now feeling at ease, leaned forward with renewed interest.

“You know,” he began, a thoughtful expression crossing his face, “I've been thinking about how different TV shows and movies are, especially when it comes to the pacing and character development. Like, in a show, we have to maintain this ongoing energy for the characters over multiple seasons. But with movies, it’s a totally different vibe, right?”

You nodded, understanding immediately where he was going. “It’s definitely a huge shift. With TV, you’re given time to build on a character slowly. Every episode is another chapter, so you can explore new facets of them and keep the audience hooked for longer periods of time. But movies, they’re this intense sprint. You have to get everything across in just two hours or so, but in a way that feels just as layered and satisfying.”

Drew's eyes lit up with excitement, clearly passionate about the topic. "Exactly! You have to balance the action and suspense while still giving the characters these moments of vulnerability. Over multiple seasons, you can really let them grow and change. It's like a slow burn. But when you're doing a movie, you don’t have the luxury of that buildup. It has to be this concentrated emotional punch right from the start.”

“That’s one of the biggest challenges of film, for sure," you agreed. "In a film, every second counts. You can’t afford to waste a moment. But I think what’s also interesting is how both mediums can explore a character’s journey from different angles. TV shows can dive into their backstory in more detail, but movies... they really need to hit those emotional beats and leave an impact without dragging it out."

Drew smiled, clearly engaged in the discussion. “In TV shows you need that perfect balance of suspense, character development, and personal growth. And then, at the end of the season, you drop a huge bombshell that leaves people wanting more.”

You laughed, raising an eyebrow playfully. “Sounds like you’ve been doing some serious thinking about it. What’s the secret to keeping the audience hooked without losing the depth of your character?”

He leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “Well, I think it’s about letting the characters evolve with the story. You need to make sure the audience sees the human side of your character, even when they're in these crazy situations. It’s what keeps people invested in the long run.”

“You’ve really got the process figured out,” you said with a smile. “But you’re right—it’s a different rhythm for TV. With a movie, you get to go deep quickly, but with a show, you have to keep it dynamic and varied. And let’s not forget, you need that cliffhanger at the end to make people binge-watch the next season.”

Drew’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “You’re giving away all the secrets! Next thing you know, people will be expecting a cliffhanger every time they watch a movie."

“Well, movies and TV are both art, but they demand different approaches,” you said, “and you’re doing an amazing job balancing both. I’m honestly so excited to see where your career goes next. Both worlds are lucky to have you.”

He chuckled softly, clearly humbled. “Thanks. I think I’m just lucky to be a part of both. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be in a show that gets people talking for days?”

“Right? You’ve got Outer Banks, which has such a dedicated fanbase, and then movies like Queer that touch people in such a different way. It’s amazing to watch your versatility.”

He leaned in slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. “I’m just trying to keep up with you. Honestly, your transition from action to more emotional roles is inspiring. I hope I can pull off something even close to what you’ve done with your career.”

Your smile softened, your voice sincere. “Well, you’re already doing it, Drew. You’re already there. It’s not just about the roles—it’s about the heart you put into them. And you’ve definitely got that.”

Drew’s smile faltered for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in. His gaze softened, as if he were truly reflecting on what you’d said. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms but keeping his eyes on you, his expression thoughtful.

“It's crazy, isn't it?” He began, his voice a little quieter now, “The idea of giving so much of yourself to something that feels so... intimate. But when it works, when the audience feels it too, there's nothing like it.”

“Exactly,” you agreed, your voice a little quieter now. “That's the real magic, when the audience feels like they know the characters, like they're right there with them. It’s not about the plot twists or the fancy sets—it’s about the emotions that we build and share with them.”

Drew nodded thoughtfully, his gaze drifting away for a moment before returning to you. “Speaking of emotions, I just saw your new movie, We Live In Time,” he said, his voice taking on a softer tone. “It’s one of those films that stays with you, you know? It’s raw in a way that makes you uncomfortable, but it’s also beautiful. How did you tap into that for Almut?”

Your expression softened as you thought back on the experience. We Live In Time had been a journey—a raw, almost therapeutic one. “It was an emotional rollercoaster, honestly,” you said, leaning back slightly, letting the memory settle in. “I think the hardest part was showing that moment where her whole world shifts. It was such a raw, profound type of emotion I had to channel in order to do justice to the character and her experiences.”

Drew sat back, letting the weight of the conversation settle. “I think that's what makes your career so incredible. You never just play a character. You become them. And you take us with you. Every heartbreak, every triumph, every moment of doubt... we feel it all with you. That's what makes your work so powerful.”

You met his gaze, feeling the depth of the conversation linger between you both. “It’s all about connection, right? Connecting with the character, with the audience, and with the emotions that we all share as humans. Because at the end of the day, we’re all just trying to make sense of time, love, and the moments we get.”

Drew smiled, his expression genuine and soft. “Well, you’ve definitely made sense of it for me. We Live In Time—it’s not just a movie. It’s a reminder to cherish what we have. And that, in itself, is something special.”

You smiled back, your heart full as you let the words sink in. “Thank you, Drew. That’s really sweet of you.”

You both shared a comfortable silence for a moment, before Drew broke it with a playful grin. “You know, it’s clear you’ve mastered the art of vulnerability on screen, but I can’t help but wonder—did you ever have moments on set where it was just... impossible to take things seriously?”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Oh, absolutely. In fact, as a kid, it was all impossible to be serious,” you admitted, shaking your head at the memory. “I remember this one time during a scene on set when I was probably around 9 or 10. We were supposed to be doing this emotional scene, and I had to cry on cue. But instead of crying, I couldn’t stop giggling. It was a dramatic moment, and my co-star was all serious and trying to get through the scene, but I just... lost it.”

Drew raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Giggling during a dramatic scene? What happened?”

“Well, my director, bless her heart, kept trying to give me these 'serious actor' looks. She was this no-nonsense kind of woman, and she had this way of narrowing her eyes when things weren’t going well. I tried my best to hold it together, but then my co-star—who was way too good at being serious—looked at me and just gave this super intense stare, and that was it. I burst out laughing right in the middle of the take.”

Drew chuckled, shaking his head. “I can just picture that. You were probably trying to hold it together, but it must have been so hard with all that tension in the air.”

“I swear, the more I tried not to laugh, the harder it became,” you continued, grinning at the memory. “It was one of those moments where you’re like, 'Why am I even here? I can’t do this.' But somehow, I got through it. The director had to take a deep breath, and we did a few more takes. Eventually, we got it done, but I think we all were on the verge of cracking up the whole time.”

Drew let out a laugh, clearly imagining the scene. “I can’t blame you. I feel like as a kid, you have no filter. Everything feels like a joke, and it’s so hard to be serious when everyone else is trying so hard.”

“You have no idea,” you said, your voice still light. “There were so many times I’d be doing a serious scene, and I’d start thinking about something random, like a certain meme or a funny sound someone made on set—and then, bam, it was game over. I’d be holding in a laugh like my life depended on it.”

Drew smirked, leaning in a little. “I totally feel that. I mean, as an adult, I still have moments where I struggle to keep a straight face. I once had a scene where I was supposed to be super intense, but the prop guy was standing just out of frame, and he made this ridiculous face at me—completely threw me off. I couldn’t stop laughing, and it ended up taking hours to finish the scene because we kept cracking up. Honestly, I think the crew started to get annoyed with us after a while.”

“See?” you said with a grin. “It never really changes. Truthfully, the older you get, the harder it becomes to hold it in. But then you look at the footage and realize how much fun you actually had, and that makes it all worth it.”

Drew nodded thoughtfully, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Yeah, that’s the thing. Sometimes it’s the moments you didn’t plan for that end up being the most memorable. Like when you have a laugh on set, and suddenly you feel closer to everyone, even though you’re supposed to be in character.”

“Exactly,” you said, your smile widening. “There’s something so beautiful about those unscripted moments. It reminds you that acting is, at its core, about connecting—whether that’s through laughter or the heavy stuff. And even though I had my fair share of giggling fits as a kid, I think those moments taught me just as much as the serious ones. Maybe more.”

Drew leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “It's funny how those little moments—like a laugh in the middle of a serious scene—can end up being the ones you remember the most. I think those are the ones that make the work feel real, you know?”

You smiled, your gaze distant as you reflected on the years of working on sets. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“Yeah, like those unscripted moments,” Drew added, his voice quieter now, as if the weight of the sentiment lingered in the air. “They give the performance an authenticity that you can’t get from just following the script to a tee.”

You nodded, the words hanging between you like a shared understanding. “Exactly. And as a kid, I was so focused on getting it ‘right’—on being perfect—that I missed the beauty of just being in the moment. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized how important it is to let go of the idea of perfection. It's in those mistakes, the wrong takes, the bloopers—that's where you find the truth.”

Drew's expression softened, his eyes meeting yours with a sincerity that made your chest tighten. “I think it’s key not to be afraid to show the mess, the imperfect parts of a character, because that’s what makes them human.”

A small chuckle escaped you, the warmth of the moment filling the studio. “Right? We’re all just a little bit of a mess, trying to figure it out, but that’s what makes the journey worth it. We’re constantly learning, constantly evolving, and we bring that to our work. The growth, the mistakes—it all shapes us.”

Drew nodded, his gaze shifting as if reflecting on those same ideas. “Yeah, and the growth never stops, does it? Just when you think you’ve figured it out, something new happens, and it challenges you again.”

“That's the beauty of it,” you said, your voice quieter now, the bond between you both deepening. “The challenge is what keeps it exciting, keeps you moving forward.”

Drew grinned, a playful spark lighting his eyes once more. “Well, I guess we’re both lifelong students of this thing called acting, huh?”

“Absolutely,” you said with a laugh, the lightness returning. “And just like any good student, we’ll always be learning. Who knows, maybe we'll even get better at not laughing in the middle of dramatic scenes.”

Drew let out a hearty laugh, nodding enthusiastically. “I think that’s going to take years of practice, honestly.”

You both shared a moment of genuine laughter, the warmth of your conversation filling the space around you. You leaned back into the chairs, the laughter still lingering in the air, a sense of camaraderie that made the space between you feel comfortable and open. You continued sharing stories, moving seamlessly from one experience to the next.

The conversation began to slow, the easy flow of stories fading into a comfortable silence, as you both shared an unspoken understanding. The light laughter that had filled the room now felt like a warm, lingering hum between you.

Drew shifted slightly in his chair, his gaze turning toward you with a subtle, thoughtful expression. “You know,” he began, his voice softer now, “I really hope we get to work together sometime. I think it’d be incredible. It’s the kind of thing where I can already imagine what it’d be like. Just... easy, real. Like this.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but you kept your composure, offering a smile that spoke volumes. “I’d love that. If you receive a call from your manager these days… maybe I had something to do with it, so be prepared.”

The air between you both was charged, the quiet intensity of the moment not lost on either of you. There was something unspoken, something deeper that neither of you addressed outright but that seemed to hang there all the same. The connection was undeniable, yet it lingered in the silence, unspoken, but clear.

Drew finally broke the spell with a playful grin, his eyes flicking back to yours. “Oh, I’ll be ready. Can’t wait to see what magic we create together.”

You returned his smile, your heart racing ever so slightly, though you kept it hidden behind the ease of your words. “I’m sure it’ll be something incredible.”

As the interview wrapped up, there was a lingering sense of something unspoken between you both, an attraction that neither of you had to mention but was so clearly felt. The kind of connection that could only be hinted at, but would never truly fade. It was the kind of moment that would stay with both of you long after the cameras stopped rolling.

“Thank you,” you said softly as the final moments of the interview started to loom, your voice carrying a depth that reflected everything unsaid between you. “This has been amazing. Honestly, it feels like we’ve been talking for hours, and yet it still doesn’t feel like enough.”

He nodded, his expression soft but genuine. “I feel the same way. This has been one of the most honest and open conversations I’ve had in a long time.”

The crew began to pack up, signaling that the interview was at its end, but neither of you seemed in any hurry to break the moment. The usual chatter and movement around you felt distant, as if the two of you were in your own world for just a little longer.

“You know,” Drew said, his voice quieter now, a hint of sincerity threading through, “I think we make a pretty good team even just sitting here talking. Imagine what we could do with a whole script.”

Your smile softened, and you nodded, the words feeling right, but the undertone of something more—something unsaid—hung in the air. “Yeah, I think we’d be unstoppable.”

The moment stretched between you both, filled with the kind of comfortable tension that comes when you realize you’ve shared something real. Something that felt like it could turn into something more.

You both stood up, a final, lingering moment before the usual goodbye. Drew extended a hand, his gaze holding yours a beat longer than necessary.

“Take care, okay?” he said, his voice warm, like the words carried more than just a polite farewell.

You shook his hand, the warmth of his touch lingering just a moment longer than expected. “You too, Drew,” you replied, your voice soft yet carrying an undercurrent of meaning that mirrored his own.

As you turned to gather your things, you couldn’t help but glance back over your shoulder. He was still standing there, watching you with that same thoughtful expression, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. The faintest smile curved his lips, as if he were replaying the conversation in his mind.

“See you around,” he called out, the words simple but loaded with promise.

“Yeah,” you said, meeting his gaze one last time. “See you around.”

Walking away, you felt a peculiar lightness, as though something intangible had shifted, leaving you both exhilarated and curious. It wasn’t every day you met someone who made you feel seen in such a profound way, and as you left the studio, you found yourself smiling, a quiet hope blooming in your chest.

And for a fleeting second, you allowed yourself to wonder what could come next.

[elliesbabygirl]

ch. 002 ⇄ ch.003; 10:36 - Beabadoobee

"You don't need me, as much as I need you"

my masterlist.

word count: 5.0k words

Series synopsis: friends with benefits, that's what ellie wanted. yet, she can't let you go, even after the messy 'breakup' between the two of you.

Warnings: mentions of drinking + implication of a character being high, mentions of blood + two characters physically fighting, swearing, crying, snot, and kissing. 🚶‍♂️‍➡️ft. mama bear dina fighting for you..

author's note: okay, was ch. 002 fire or was it firee?? 🔥I'm so glad people liked ch. 002 and you might've noticed that ch. 003 is a bit lengthy but that's because, I couldn't find a 'safe' spot to end the ch. on so I ended up writing way more than I intended to for ch. 003😭+ so if you see some wonky parts... Just know i was tweaking out tryna end this ch. (Not proofread..)

The restaurant was warm, dimly lit, the kind of place that had candles on every table and soft jazz playing just loud enough to make everything feel intimate. The kind of place meant for real dates—ones that actually required effort.

And Abby had definitely put in effort.

She looked good. Black button-up, sleeves rolled just enough to show off her forearms. Relaxed, confident, completely at ease. She had insisted on picking the place, made sure the reservation was set, and even ordered a bottle of wine before you had a chance to glance at the menu.

Now, sitting across from her, glass in hand, you couldn’t help but be impressed.

“You know,” you mused, sipping the wine in your glass, “when you asked me out, I wasn’t expecting this.”

Abby smirked, taking a sip of her own drink. “Oh yeah? What were you expecting?”

You hummed, pretending to think. “I don’t know, omething more… casual. A café, maybe. Bar food. Not—” you gestured around the restaurant, “—a place that has like, five different kinds of steak on the menu.”

Abby chuckled. “What can I say? I like to go all in.”

“Clearly.” You glanced at the menu again, shaking your head. “I feel underdressed.”

“You look great,” Abby said without hesitation.

Your cheeks warmed, but you played it off, shifting your attention back to her. “So, is this your usual move? Fancy restaurants, expensive wine, charming conversation?”

Abby raised a brow. “You think I’m charming?”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “Answer the question.”

Abby leaned back in her chair, shrugging. “Honestly? I don’t do this often, dating, I mean.”

You tilted your head. “Really? Thought someone like you would have people lining up.”

Abby huffed a small laugh. “I mean, sure, I’ve been on dates. But most people assume I’m just some gym rat who only talks about protein intake and deadlifts.”

You smirked. “I was gonna ask about your max bench, but I didn’t want to scare you off.”

Abby chuckled. “Two-thirty.”

Your brows shot up. “Damn.”

She grinned. “Impressed?”

“A little,” you admitted, sipping your wine. “I can barely do a push-up.”

Abby laughed. “I can fix that.”

“I’ll pass,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I’m more of a ‘stay in and read for fun’ kind of person.”

Abby perked up at that. “Oh yeah? What do you read?”

You hesitated, eyeing her carefully. “Promise you won’t judge?”

Abby smirked. “No promises.”

You sighed dramatically. “Philosophy.”

Abby blinked. “Like… old-ass philosophy?”

You laughed. “Yes, old-ass philosophy. Nietzsche, Camus, Sartre.”

Abby shook her head, amused. “So, while I’m lifting weights, you’re sitting around questioning the meaning of life?”

“Pretty much,” you said, grinning. “Balance, right?”

Abby chuckled, shaking her head. “That’s actually kind of cool.”

You raised a brow. “You don’t have to lie to impress me, you know.”

“I’m serious,” Abby said, leaning forward slightly. “I like that we’re different, you think about shit I never even consider. That’s kinda nice.”

You held her gaze, heart skipping a beat at the genuine look in her eyes.

You liked this, the ease of it. The way she could tease but still be sincere. The way her confidence never felt overbearing, just natural, like she was comfortable in her own skin.

And, most of all, you liked how—just for tonight—you weren’t thinking about anyone else.

The food arrived, and the conversation never lost its rhythm. The ease between you and Abby felt natural—effortless, even.

“So,” Abby mused, twirling her fork between her fingers as she watched you across the table. “Since we’re already talking about personal stuff—what’s your relationship history like?”

You huffed a small laugh, picking at your plate. “Going right for it, huh?”

Abby grinned, leaning her elbow on the table. “What? I like knowing what I’m getting into.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Not much to tell, really.”

Abby raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

You sighed, setting your fork down. “I mean, I’ve dated, had a few relationships, nothing too wild. The last one was… complicated.”

Abby caught the slight hesitation in your voice. The way you glanced at your drink like you were considering whether to keep talking.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Abby said, voice softer now. “I don’t mind complicated.”

You exhaled, shifting in your seat. “Let’s just say… we weren’t on the same page. I wanted something real, and she—” You hesitated, then shook your head. “She didn’t.”

Abby’s expression flickered for a second, like she knew exactly what you meant.

“That sucks,” she said simply.

You let out a small, dry laugh. “Yeah, kinda does.”

Abby studied you for a moment, fingers drumming lightly against her wine glass. Then, with a smirk, she said, “For what it’s worth—I noticed you way before we talked at the café.”

Your brows lifted slightly. “Oh?”

Abby nodded, grinning. “Yeah. First day of class, you sat a couple rows in front of me. I remember thinking you were cute, but I figured you had someone waiting for you already.”

You scoffed. “What, just because I actually pay attention in class?”

Abby chuckled. “No, because you just… seemed like someone who would be taken.”

Something warm bloomed in your chest, but you kept your voice light. “Guess you were wrong.”

“Guess so,” Abby murmured, her gaze lingering on your lips for just a second before flickering back up to your eyes.

Your stomach flipped.

“You?” you asked, trying to ignore the way your pulse picked up. “What’s your dating history like?”

Abby shrugged, taking a sip of her wine. “Had a couple serious relationships. Some flings. Nothing really stuck, though. Not because I didn’t want it to, but because I never found someone worth fighting for, you know?”

You nodded, swirling your wine absentmindedly. “Yeah. I get that.”

Abby tilted her head, still watching you. “Think you’re someone worth fighting for?”

The question sent a jolt through you. Your lips parted slightly, caught off guard, but before you could answer, Abby smirked.

“I think you are,” she said, voice smooth, confident.

Your breath hitched.

Abby leaned back, slightly man-spreading on her side of the booth. Still smirking like she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Finish your wine,” she said, nodding at your glass. “I’m not done learning about you yet.”

And for the first time in a while, you wanted someone to learn.

The date had flown by. Hours melted away between laughter, lingering glances, and easy conversation that made it impossible to tell when one topic ended and the next began.

Now, the night air was cool against your skin as Abby walked you up to your dorm, hands in her pockets, her usual confidence softened by the lingering warmth of the evening.

“Alright,” she said, leaning casually against your doorframe, smirking. “Be honest—best date you’ve ever had, or best date you’ve ever had?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh, so those are my only two options?”

Abby grinned. “Yup, pick wisely.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. “Okay, fine. Best date I’ve ever had.”

Abby chuckled, shaking her head as she watched you laugh, a soft grin tugging at her lips. “You know,” she mused, voice lower now, “you looked really good tonight.”

Your laughter faltered slightly, warmth creeping up your neck. “Oh?”

Abby nodded, eyes flickering over you in quiet admiration. “Yeah. I mean, you always do, but… tonight? You’re kinda killing me here.”

Your breath hitched slightly at the way she was looking at you—like you were something worth taking your time with. The space between you felt smaller now, the cool air of the dormitory hallway charged with something heavier, something unspoken.

Neither of you moved at first, but then, almost subconsciously, you both leaned in just slightly, like gravity was pulling you closer—

“Didn’t think you’d actually fall for this shit.”

Your stomach dropped.

Ellie.

You turned just in time to see her strolling down the hallway, hood up, hands stuffed into her jacket pockets. Her eyes were red-rimmed, pupils slightly blown—was she high? And worse? She looked pissed.

Abby immediately straightened, her playful expression fading into something unreadable.

Ellie scoffed, looking you over before her gaze flickered to Abby. “This is what we’re doing now? Her?”

Your jaw clenched. “Ellie—”

Oh my god.

But Ellie wasn’t looking at you anymore. She was looking at Abby, lips curling into a smirk that didn’t reach her eyes. “Damn, man. Didn’t peg you for the type to pick up rebounds.”

Abby’s expression remained cool, but there was something sharp in her eyes now. “Didn’t peg you for the type to throw a fit over your ex moving on.”

Ellie let out a low laugh, shaking her head. “You don’t know shit.”

“Yeah?” Abby challenged, crossing her arms. “I know you’re standing here, high as hell, trying to start shit because you can’t handle the fact that you fucked up and now she doesn’t want you anymore.”

Abby could practically smell the remains of a smoking session off of Ellie.

Ellie’s entire body tensed. “Shut the fuck up.”

Abby didn’t flinch. “Why? Because I’m right?”

Ellie’s hands curled into fists at her sides. “You think she actually wants you? You think she’s gonna stick around? Please.” She scoffed, shaking her head. “She’s too good for you. She’s too good for anyone.”

Abby’s expression flickered, something softer crossing her face before she squared her shoulders. “That’s what you’re mad about, huh?” She took a slow step closer. “You know she deserves better than you. You know it, and now you can’t stand the idea of someone else treating her the way you should have.”

Ellie’s jaw tightened.

“You never even tried to be what she needed,” Abby continued, voice low, unwavering. “And now that she’s with someone who actually wants her, all you can do is stand here and act like a fucking child about it.”

Ellie’s restraint snapped.

She shoved Abby hard, sending her a step back into the doorframe. “Shut the fuck up, Anderson.”

Abby barely stumbled, hands immediately coming up as she glared at Ellie. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

Ellie let out a humorless laugh. “What? Gonna fight me?”

Abby exhaled sharply through her nose, muscles tense. “I don’t fight people who are too wasted to think straight.”

Ellie smirked bitterly. “Sounds like an excuse.”

Abby rolled her eyes. “Sounds like you’re pathetic.”

That was it.

Ellie swung first.

It wasn’t a clean hit—she was too high for that—but her fist still clipped Abby’s jaw, sending her a step back.

Before you could even process what happened, Abby lunged forward, grabbing Ellie by the collar of her jacket and shoving her hard against the wall.

“Are you serious right now?” Abby growled, fists clenched in Ellie’s hoodie. “This is what you wanna do?”

Ellie’s lip curled. “Get off me.”

“You are so fucking lucky I don’t knock you out right now,” Abby muttered, shoving Ellie away roughly before stepping back, shaking out her hands like she was trying to calm herself down.

Ellie barely stumbled as Abby shoved her back, but her hands were already curling into fists again. Her heart was pounding, blood roaring in her ears, every inch of her burning with something she couldn’t name—jealousy, anger, regret.

Abby wiped at her jaw, rolling her shoulders like she was ready for more. “you done, yet?” she taunted, voice steady, unbothered.

Ellie snapped.

She threw another punch, aiming for Abby’s face, but this time, Abby dodged, catching Ellie’s wrist before twisting her arm back sharply.

“Fuck—” Ellie hissed, trying to yank herself free.

Abby didn’t let go. “You wanna act tough?” she growled. “Fine. Let’s see how tough you really are.”

Then she shoved Ellie hard, sending her staggering back into the opposite wall.

Ellie gritted her teeth, shoving herself forward, slamming her shoulder into Abby’s ribs, forcing her back against the doorframe. Abby grunted, but before she could recover, Ellie swung again, fist connecting hard with Abby’s cheek.

Abby barely flinched.

Instead, she grabbed Ellie by the collar and threw her to the ground.

“Jesus fuck!” Ellie grunted as she hit the floor, her vision swimming for a moment as she tried to land another punch on Abby’s face.

“Ellie, stop!”

Your voice barely cut through the noise.

Ellie groaned, pushing herself up, blood dripping from a fresh cut on her brow. Abby loomed over her, chest heaving, a dark bruise already blooming across her jaw.

“is this what you wanted?” Abby spat, wiping at her lip, smearing blood across the back of her hand. “You think this makes you better?”

Ellie glared up at her, breathing heavy, fists still clenched. “This is your fucking fault!” she snapped, voice hoarse. “You think you’re some fucking hero, swooping in to save her? You don’t even fucking know her!”

Abby scoffed, rolling her sore shoulder. “Right, because you did such a great job at loving her, huh? If you actually gave a shit, she wouldn’t have needed to move on!”

Ellie’s jaw clenched so tightly it ached. “Fuck you.”

“Stop it!”

Your voice cracked, and suddenly, the rage between them was cut through by something worse.

Humiliation.

Ellie’s chest was still heaving, her body buzzing with adrenaline, but when she turned to look at you—really look at you—she felt something sink deep in her stomach.

You were crying.

Right there, in the middle of the goddamn dorm hallway, your face was twisted in frustration, eyes filled with tears—not just from anger, but from something rawer.

Shame.

“This—” You took a shaky breath, pressing your fingers to your temples. “This whole thing is so fucking embarrassing.”

Abby wiped her bleeding lip, shifting uncomfortably.

Ellie swallowed hard, something sharp catching in her throat.

But the damage was done.

You didn’t say anything else. Didn’t bother to bid Abby goodbye, and definitely didn’t bother to spare another glance at Ellie.

You walked inside your dorm, slamming the door shut behind you.

Ellie wiped at the blood trickling from her brow, glaring up at Abby with nothing but spite. “Look at what you fucking did,” she spat, voice raw. “You made her cry. Nice fucking job, hero.”

Abby scoffed, shaking her head. “Me? You’re the one who started this shit because you couldn’t handle seeing her happy with someone else.” She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair before muttering, “Pathetic.”

Ellie clenched her jaw but didn’t argue. She just let out a bitter laugh, turned on her heel, and stalked off down the hall, shoulders tense, hands shoved deep into her pockets.

Abby stood there for a moment, rolling her aching jaw before turning towards your door.

She hesitated, guilt settling deep in her chest. Then, slowly, she raised a hand and knocked—soft, careful, like she was afraid to make things worse.

“Hey,” she said, voice lower now, more hesitant. “I know you probably don’t want to hear from me right now, but… I’m sorry. I didn’t want tonight to end like this.”

Silence.

Abby sighed, letting her head rest briefly against the doorframe before stepping back. “Just… let me know you’re okay.”

She waited a second longer.

But the door never opened.

Abby sighed, pressing her palm flat against the door for a second before knocking again, softer this time. “Come on,” she murmured. “Just open the door for a second. I just wanna make sure you’re alright.”

Abby exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re okay.”

Silence, again.

Then, barely above a whisper, she heard you from the other side of the door.

“I’m… I’m sorry about Ellie,” you croaked, voice thick, the wet sound of phlegm caught in your throat. You sniffled, probably rubbing at your already raw eyes. “She shouldn’t have—she was just—” You cut yourself off with a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

Abby’s chest ached. “Hey, don’t—don’t apologize for her, okay?” Her voice was quiet, pleading. “That’s not on you.”

More silence.

Abby exhaled, pressing her forehead against the door. “Please, just open the door.”

A beat.

Then, slowly, she heard the lock click.

When the door cracked open, the sight of you knocked the wind out of her.

Your red, puffy eyes, your runny nose, the way your lips trembled as you finally met her gaze—Abby had been so caught up in the fight, in Ellie, that she hadn’t even realized how much it had all taken out of you.

But then, your eyes darted over her face, and you gasped.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, eyes wide with horror.

Abby blinked, confused for half a second before she remembered—her cheek.

She could feel the swelling now, the way the bruise was already blooming across her skin, hot and tender. The split in her bottom lip still bled, a faint coppery taste lingering in her mouth.

“Shit, Abby,” you choked out, your fingers twitching at your sides, like you wanted to reach for her but didn’t know if you should.

Abby shrugged it off, offering a weak smile. “You should see the other guy.”

You didn’t laugh.

Instead, you swallowed hard, stepping aside.

Abby didn’t hesitate. She walked in, shutting the door behind her, eyes still on you.

“Hey,” she said, voice softer now. “I’m sorry for the fight. I didn’t mean for tonight to go like that.”

You let out a shaky breath, rubbing at your arms like you were trying to hold yourself together.

Abby took a cautious step closer. “I don’t want you to regret tonight, the date.”

Your lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

So Abby did the only thing she could—she reached out, gently, brushing her fingers over your wrist, grounding you in the moment.

“I got you,” she murmured. “I promise.”

You sniffled, eyes still locked on Abby’s face, your expression shifting from exhaustion to quiet concern. “You should see a doctor,” you murmured, voice hoarse. “Or at least go to the emergency room.”

Abby let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. “I’m fine.”

You’re not fine, Abby.” You gestured at her bruised cheek, at the split in her lip that was still bleeding. “You’re literally bleeding.”

Abby shrugged, offering a lopsided smile. “I’ve had worse.”

You stared at her, unimpressed. “That’s not reassuring.”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Look, I promise, I’m okay. I just—” Her voice softened. “I didn’t come in to just make you worry about me.”

“it's too late for that,” you muttered, crossing your arms.

Abby watched as you chewed on your lip, debating something in your head before exhaling sharply. “At least let me clean you up,” you said, voice firm. “And put some ice on your face.”

Abby hesitated, but when you looked at her like that—tired, puffy-eyed, but still worrying about her—she couldn’t bring herself to say no.

“Yeah,” she murmured, voice quieter now. “Okay.”

You nodded, turning towards your kitchen to grab some tissues and a water bottle, already shifting into caretaker mode. Abby just watched you move, something tight settling in her chest.

Abby sat on the couch in your dorm’s small living room, legs spread slightly apart, hands resting on her thighs as she let you tend to her. The air between you was quiet, thick with something unspoken, but you didn’t acknowledge it. You just focused on the task at hand.

You crouched slightly in front of her, a damp tissue pressed gently to her bottom lip, wiping away the drying blood with careful, featherlight strokes. Your free hand rested on her cheek, keeping her still as you worked, fingers cool against the warmth of her bruising skin.

Abby exhaled softly, barely noticing the sting from the contact. She wasn’t thinking about the pain anymore.

She was thinking about you.

The way your brows furrowed slightly in concentration, the way your lips parted ever so slightly as you focused. The way you were touching her—gentle, careful, like she wasn’t someone who had just thrown a punch at your sour ex, nearly an hour ago.

Her gaze flickered from your hands to your lips, then back up to your eyes.

And before Abby could stop herself, she leaned in.

Her hand moved instinctively, coming up to cup your right cheek, fingers grazing your skin as she closed the space between you. Her lips met yours—soft, hesitant at first, like she was giving you the chance to pull away.

You froze, the tissue slipping from your fingers, landing soundlessly between the two of you.

For a moment, all you could do was breathe.

Then, slowly, you melted into her.

Your hands slid up, arms wrapping around her neck as you deepened the kiss, pressing closer, tilting your head just enough to match her movements.

Abby inhaled sharply against your lips, her fingers tightening ever so slightly on your cheek before sliding back, threading into your hair.

The tension of the night, the fight, the bruises, the words left unsaid—it all melted away as she kissed you like she had been waiting for this all night.

The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, yet charged with something that neither of you had fully acknowledged before now. Abby’s hand trailed from your cheek down to your jaw, her fingertips grazing the sensitive skin there before sliding to the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t stop her. Instead, you shifted forward, pressing into her, your body molding against hers as your fingers curled into the fabric of her shirt. Abby groaned softly against your lips at the way you tugged her closer, her free hand resting against the small of your back, firm but not forceful, like she needed to feel all of you.

Your lips moved in sync, slow and teasing, learning each other in real-time. Abby’s mouth was warm, slightly chapped from the fight, but she kissed you like she had been thinking about it all night. Like she had been holding herself back.

You tilted your head, lips parting slightly, and Abby took the invitation immediately, deepening the kiss as her fingers tightened their grip in your hair. A quiet hum left your throat as she tugged, just enough pressure to make your pulse quicken.

Her thumb traced slow, lazy circles against your hip, and you shivered under her touch. The soft fabric of her shirt was bunched between your fingers, the scent of her skin—faint traces of sweat, expensive cologne, and something undeniably Abby—filling your senses, making your head spin.

Neither of you spoke, the only sound between you two was the soft, wet pull of lips and the occasional sharp breath as you explored, as the distance between you and Abby disappeared.

You had no idea how long you stayed like that, pressed against each other, lost in the heat of it. But when Abby finally pulled back, just slightly, her forehead resting against yours, her breathing uneven, you realized your hands were still gripping her shirt, like you didn’t want to let go.

Abby’s lips were parted, swollen from the kiss, her eyes half-lidded as she looked at you like she wanted more.

“You okay?” she murmured, voice husky, breath warm against your skin.

You nodded, swallowing thickly, trying to catch your breath.

She smiled, thumb tracing along your jaw. “Good.”

Then she leaned in again, her lips brushing against yours, slower this time—deeper, like she had no intention of stopping.

Ellie sat slouched on Dina’s couch, an ice pack pressed against her bruised eye, her jaw tight as she stared at the ceiling. Her leg bounced restlessly, her free hand fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie—anything to keep her from completely losing it.

Dina sat across from her in the armchair, arms crossed, watching her with an unreadable expression. She had let Ellie in without question, had handed her the ice pack and a beer without saying a word, but Ellie could tell her patience was wearing thin.

“So, let me get this straight,” Dina finally said, her voice slow, measured. “You fucked up, you pushed her away, you made it clear you weren’t ready for a real relationship—and now you’re pissed that someone else gave her what you wouldn’t?”

Ellie groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “It sounds so much worse when you say it like that.”

Dina raised a brow. “Oh, I’m so sorry—should I make it sound better?” Voice sarcastic.

Ellie scowled, sinking further into the couch. “It’s not just that,” she muttered. “It’s her.”

“Abby,” Dina clarified flatly.

“Yes, fucking Abby,” Ellie snapped, dropping the ice pack onto her lap. “She just—she swooped in, like it was nothing. Like I didn’t—like we didn’t—” She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “It’s fucking unfair.”

Dina scoffed. “Unfair?” She leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. “Ellie, what the fuck did you expect? That she was just gonna sit around waiting for you to maybe pull your head out of your ass?”

Ellie clenched her jaw, eyes burning. “I know it’s my fault, Dina,” she muttered, voice lower now, almost hoarse. “I know I fucked it up. I know I don’t get to be mad about it.” She let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “But guess what? I am mad. I’m mad that she moved on so fucking fast. I’m mad that I don’t know how to fix it. I’m mad that I want to fix it, even though I don’t know if I can.”

Dina sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Jesus, Ellie.”

Ellie swallowed hard, eyes glued to the beer bottle in her hands. “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted, voice quieter now, almost defeated. “I don’t know if she’d even hear me out at this point.”

Dina was quiet for a moment, studying her. Then she exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. “I think the real question is—do you actually want her back?”

Ellie froze.

Ellie had no answer for that.

So she just sat there, shoulders hunched, ice pack forgotten, as the weight of it all pressed down on her chest.

Ellie’s knee kept bouncing, the silence stretching between them like a wire pulled too tight. Her fingers picked at the label on her beer bottle, nails scraping against the condensation.

She hated this, hated feeling this fucking exposed.

“I don’t know,” she finally muttered, barely above a whisper.

Dina narrowed her eyes. “What?”

Ellie shifted uncomfortably, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. Like she wasn’t completely unraveling inside. “I don’t know,” she repeated, voice barely louder than before.

Dina leaned forward, her expression hardening. “No, no—actually say it, Ellie. Really say it, for once in your fucking life, stop acting stupid and just say it.”

Ellie swallowed, her throat dry, her pulse hammering.

“I—” She hesitated, her voice catching in her throat. “I think I do, want her back, I mean.”

Dina’s stare was unwavering. “You think?”

Ellie exhaled sharply, rubbing at her face, frustration bubbling beneath her skin. “Yes, Dina. Yes, okay? I want her back.”

Dina sat back slightly, studying her, like she was waiting to see if Ellie was actually serious this time.

Ellie’s chest felt tight. She dropped her hands, her fingers twitching against her jeans. “But,” she added quickly, voice smaller now, “I don’t know if I deserve to.”

And fuck—there it was. The ugly, real truth of it.

Dina’s face softened just slightly, but she didn’t let up. “Then what the fuck are you gonna do about it?”

Ellie didn’t have an answer for that.

Because deep down, she knew just wanting you back wasn’t enough.

Dina let out a slow, measured breath, pinching the bridge of her nose like she was trying so hard to be patient. But Ellie knew that patience was running real fucking thin.

“Okay,” Dina said, her voice low, controlled. “So you want her back, but you don’t think you deserve to. Does that about sum it up?”

Ellie shifted uncomfortably, picking at the label on her beer bottle again. “Yeah,” she muttered.

Dina slapped a hand against the coffee table, making Ellie flinch. “Then what the fuck are you gonna do about it?”

Ellie’s mouth opened, then shut.

Dina scoffed. “That’s what I thought.” She shook her head, sitting back, arms crossing over her chest. “Jesus, Ellie. You don’t get to sit here and sulk like some heartbroken little kid when you literally just told me you fucked up her date by fighting Abby outside her dorm while you were fucking high.”

Ellie winced. “Yeah,” she muttered, voice lower now.

“Yeah?” Dina snapped. “That’s all you have to say?”

Ellie stayed quiet, her face burning.

Dina let out a laugh. “You know, for someone who acts all tough and ready to fight at a moment’s notice, you are such a coward when it comes to real shit.”

Ellie scowled. “Fuck off, Dina.”

“No, I won’t,” Dina shot back. “Because I actually give a shit about you, even though you make it really fucking hard sometimes.”

Ellie exhaled sharply through her nose, gripping the beer bottle tighter.

"You want her back?” Dina pressed. “Then fucking fight for her, but not like some jealous asshole by swinging your fists because you can’t handle seeing her happy without you. Fight for her the right way. Or don’t, and actually let her move on instead of fucking up her life from a distance because you’re too much of a mess to deal with your own feelings.”

Ellie’s throat felt tight.

Dina softened—only slightly. “But you can’t just sit here and do nothing, Ellie. You owe her more than that.”

Ellie clenched her jaw, staring at the floor.

Dina exhaled, watching her for a moment longer before standing up, grabbing Ellie’s now-forgotten beer bottle off the table. “Figure your shit out,” she said quietly, walking towards the kitchen. “Before it’s too late, Ellie.”

And just like that, the pressure was off.

Or on?

© 𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙨𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡 ─ 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙙. 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮, 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙖 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙨.

author's note: i'd let abby manhandle me 🫦rrr.... did u also catch Abby's 'worth fighting for' moment🤭

TAGLIST: @liasxeatt @vahnilla @sleepingwasp @morticeras @violetszn @eriiwaii @elliesactualgirlfriend @mikellie @lovely-wisteria @idletyouruinme

COMMENT TO BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST!!

[calsvoid]

for the character ask 002 Bobby Nash

(I love how you're fighting with polls, I also hate that you can't delete them)

character ask game

reply threads are so great tumblr can you make a fucking x button for polls

anyway

version two — give me a character and i will tell you:

how I feel about this character:

i need to fuck that old man

and then also hold him tight and keep him safe because he needs stability and love in his life and let him know that he never needed to be perfect or even great and the pain he suffered wasn’t a punishment it was just life and it’s not his time yet

all the people I ship romantically with this character:

it’s athena it’s just athena who else no one could beat THE athena grant they’re soulmates i love them they’re so perfect each other THE married couple of all time even if i wanted to ship anyone else i couldn’t because she’s literally right there and nobody else matters

my non-romantic OTP for this character:

will never not hate rockmond for taking away bobby and michael bestieism from me they were perfect together husbands in law besties god brought them together because god can be kind sometimes and by god i mean tim there was always support between the two of them and they were so good at communicating their issues and urghhh just every scene between the two of them is amazing

also him and the kids like the firehouse field trip and all his moments with may and always caring about them ugh i love this family if they don’t give me more moments next season ill fight someone

my unpopular opinion about this character:

i think the only one i have remotely is that i don’t want him to retire yet, i think they absolutely could do well with it (especially if that one food truck idea gets followed through ppeawepleaseoleasepleawepleaseeapsleapslewapslw) but ill just miss him as captain even though i know his attitude towards his job isn’t like athena’s so it might happen but ill be sad because change is hard

one thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

um his fucking house didn’t burn down

no bc i get it but oh my fucking god BRING THE GRANT NASH HOUSE BACK TO ME TIM YOU ARE EVIL AND YOU BETTER BE READY WHEN I FIND YOU

also my previous answer before season seven probably would’ve been more details on his childhood but guess what tim hates me and he wants to make both me and my husband suffer through the horrors

my OTP:

me and bobby

lol no it’s bathena of course it is, they are such a beautiful couple and i’m on my rewatch and “thanks for coming to get me” “always” never fails to make me a believer in true love like it is insane how much love you can pack into one word they’ve always got each other’s backs and they are just soooo in love they’re everything to me

my crossover ship:

once again no one because i’m not big into crossovers unless real life counts then it’s me and bathena

a headcanon fact:

i like to think after he retires he’ll be a lot more involved in charity work and whatnot, like he’d probably still help a lot with the 118 fundraisers and then do more with his local church. he and buck would probably make homemade meals and donate them to a shelter idk i just think it’s cute. and the firefam kids help too because kindness and volunteer hours

[channwie]

𓍯 MIRAGES OF YOU ( A MINI SERIES ) ⋆ FEAT. BYAKUYA KUCHIKI & AIZEN SOSUKE ─ ⋆

002 — omnipresent dreamer.

It’s midnight when you rouse from a dream, your cheek pressed against the wood of your desk.

The vacant study seated on the west wing of the Kuchiki Manor has been renovated in the previous week following your release from the clan’s infirmary. On Byakuya’s orders.

You think if you’d prefer to be imprisoned by anyone, it’d be him. He makes being locked away from your real office in the Gotei thirteen’s barracks feel eerily comforting. That, and he spent a considerable amount to have all your things moved to the estate on such short notice.

“Soul partition?” A voice echoes from the phone held loosely at your ear.

The sliding door is open only an inch — just in case your beloved husband departs his post at the Sixth Division earlier than anticipated.

“I’m asking if it’s a possibility, Kisuke.” You whisper into the line, rotating the miniature sized piece of paper in the palm of your other hand, numbers scrawled fine. “Not that I know it’s for sure.”

Urahara hums on the other side of the line. You hear his wooden sandals clanking in the background, is he pacing? “There are only a few cases of beings who are capable of this technique, like—”

“Coyote Starrk.” You finish, and your mind goes back to Karakura, quite literally.

The numero uno Espada was capable of sharing his soul with a counterpart, the case files from all that transpired sit somewhere in Byakuya’s study. “Supposedly the Arrancar’s reiatsu was so great, that upon creation, one vessel could not satisfy it's output.”

Do you trust me?

“It wouldn’t be impossible for him to have a separate vessel harboring a piece of his soul. It would explain how he’s still able to access you.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you sit up, gaze following the flow of the river outside the corridor in the moonlight. Urahara doesn’t need you to say it, he’s well aware of what you’re about to say.

“I need to know, Kisuke.”

“If you really—” Urahara pauses, there’s a bit of static over the line. “Really want to know—” He’s hesitating. Something of this nature shouldn’t be spoken over the phone, it’s outrageous.

“Say it already.”

“The answer to your questions would have to come from the source.”

Your blood runs cold. Urahara goes silent on the other end of the line, and he knows what he’s saying — he’s a man of logic, experimentation. However…

“Surely, you don't mean—”

“Aizen Sosuke is the only one who would know.”

The last time that man was inside your head it left you in the Kuchiki clan’s infirmary. You can’t, no, you absolutely refuse, to let him back into your head of your own volition. If he wants to enter your head again, he’ll have to do it by force.

“You told me yourself, he said you let him in.” Urahara reasons, it’s the only way. Either that or begging the Captain Commander for clearance to enter the Central Underground Prison, and permission to see Aizen.

And you’re the last person the Gotei thirteen would let see him.

“And you expect him to tell me outright if he severed his soul or not?”

“Maybe, if you did let him in like he suggests.”

“I didn’t let him in—” you defend. Beyond your better senses, you believed you killed every fragment of memory you held of Aizen Sosuke that day in Karakura. The day he took whatever sanity you had left.

“Perhaps not willingly.” He sighs, and you look down at your lap, hanging your gaze low. “I’ll look into the soul partition theory.” Urahara breathes, “I’ll ring your office line if anything comes to light.”

“Thankyou, Kisuke.”

“(Name.)” The man pauses before he hangs up, an air of hesitation lingers. “If he’s accessing your mind at will, then—”

“Kyoka Suigetsu, sir.”

Byakuya stands from his chair immediately, and Renji turns to the fellow member of the Sixth Division who has delivered the news, shoulders tight. How did this even happen?

“How long?” Byakuya asks, his body still.

“Captain Commander input the report just now, Captain Kuchiki.” The subordinate says, handing Renji a sealed scroll which he passes to Byakuya instantly. “The area of its imprisonment was entrusted to him alone.”

“And Aizen?” Renji asks, worry seeping into him.

“Remains in his cell.” The subordinate bows to Byakuya and Renji. “A Captain’s meeting has been scheduled for tomorrow, at first light.”

As the subordinate leaves, Byakuya’s eyes are still reading the scroll, absorbing every single word written in front of him. Renji stands in the corner of the room, his gaze shifting to and fro the piece of paper and his captain. “Captain—”

“Aizen Sosuke remained in the same spot as his arrival, smiling, he asked if I had come to share a meal with him before I die.” Byakuya reads aloud, the bottom half of the paper becoming crumpled under the force of his grip. “He knows.”

Renji pales, “It’s his zanpakuto, for sure he has to know where—”

“No, Renji.” Byakuya lets the paper fall to the desk, a frown occupying his lips. “He knows about her.”

“You came.”

A shiver runs down your spine. You’re standing in the forest of the Fifth Division’s grounds, shrouded in darkness. You can smell the petrichor in the air. Springtime, you think.

This one belongs to you both.

“Not of my own preference.” You reply, staring off into the distance. He’s standing behind you, the sleeve of his Shino Academy uniform brushing against your shoulder.

We’re connected.

Up until now, you’ve never dreamwalked, as he calls it. In your youth, he’d meet you here after dark, still dressed in your uniforms, teaching you how to transcend your own being, in a universe of you two’s creation. Power like that — it’s no wonder he turned out the way he did.

But you, what of you?

“Ask me.” He says, and you look down at the grass beneath you, the aftermath of rain seeping into your socks. “You said I let you in — how?”

Aizen laughs, and your palms form fists at your side.

Must you torment me this way?

“Since the moment I met you,” he breathes, a squish sound from below indicating he’s turned around. “I knew you were special.” You still, swallowing hard. “No, not special — omnipresent.”

“Since the day Kyoka Suigetsu spoke your name to me.” A hand moves your hair aside, flesh of your neck kissed by harsh cold breeze. “You knew it too, the omnipotent power we both share.”

“Those are two different things — your power and mine.”

“You’re naive.” Aizen tilts his to the side, removing the glasses your memory so insultingly placed on him. “The power you have is based on lies—”

The sound of glass cracking cuts you off. “And your power is the noble pursuit of justice, right?” He opens his palm, the spectacles fall to the grass. “Kuchiki trained his lap dog well.”

A harsh slap echoes through the air, your body facing him and his head turned to the side from the impact. “I warned you about mentioning him.”

He chuckles, shaking his head, dark hair falling over his forehead. “You’re beautiful.” Brown eyes wander across your features, gaze darker, the same as the first time.

I’m tired, Sosuke.

“Say my name again.” He says, and you look up at him in utter bewilderment. “Don’t act surprised — dreamwalking works both ways.” He’s in your head, again. No, this is the creation of your own reiatsu, he’s bluffing.

“Kyoka Suigetsu is sealed.”

“Is that what he told you?”

You stare at him, confused. Aizen looks down at you, and for a split second you see Sosuke, the Sosuke you used to know. He leans in closer, presses his forehead against yours.

You remember what this feels like, don’t you?

His voice is in your head, brown eyes staring into you, and your heart speaks before your will can urge you otherwise.

Don’t say things like that, Sosuke. You’ll break my heart.

He dips his head, nose grazing against yours. He needs you to feel it.

It’s nothing I can’t fix.

You turn your head to the side, and his lips graze the curve of your jaw instead.

Aizen huffs out a breath, lowering his head. He presses a searing kiss on the side of your neck in defiance, licking a stripe up the skin, and you’re paralyzed.

“Tell Byakuya Kuchiki,” He whispers, and you can feel his breath on the tip of your ear. “I want him to know it was me.”

Byakuya towers over you once you wake up.

“I thought you had duties at the Sixth.” You raise your head from your desk, his haori draped over your shoulders and drooping. Instinctively, you press a hand to your neck. It burns, like there’s residual reiatsu lingering.

“I had more important matters.” He replies, offering you a hand, and you take it as you get up. Your husband eyes you intently as you raise to your full height, following you out into the corridor. He’s watching you.

Something feels different.

“Byakuya—”

“Kyoka Suigetsu is missing.”

You feel your heart drop to the bottom of your stomach. Byakuya stares, intensely, gaze narrowing once you stop walking and turn to face him in the middle of the corridor.

“Don't look at me like that, Byakuya.”

Like I’m someone you barely know.

“You were talking in your sleep.”

You look at him incredulously. “And you’ve returned to persecute me for dreaming?”

He outreaches his hand, then retracts it halfway. He’s being foolish, he thinks. But his father taught him about the nature of people. He’s hesitant to search your touch for answers – he’s afraid he won’t like what he finds.

“I know about you secret trainings — A guard saw you with your zanpakuto.”

“And you have spies tailing me too?” Your eyes are wide in disbelief, taking a step back. You’ve upheld your part, not dishonoring his clan’s name.

What ever happened to his vow?

“It’s for your own safety.”

God killer.

“Listen to yourself, Byakuya.” You scoff, turning away, having had enough of his blatant accusation.

Slate gray eyes turn cold, and he looks down at you as if you’re some stranger. “This is not Squad Zero, nor am I Aizen Sosuke — you will not run away from this.”

Byakuya finally reaches out, grasps your wrist to turn you around. “You owe me this.”

Your footsteps halt immediately. The nerve of him.

“I owe you?” Your voice comes out shaky, with frustration. “You should be on your knees thanking me.” Your body turns, wrist still in his grasp.

“You’re alive right now because of me.”

“No.” You say, firmly, unshaken. “You're still standing in Seireitei right now because of me.”

Byakuya’s grip slips loose around your wrist.

We don’t count favors, Bya. He lowers his head, and sighs. “Kyoka Suigetsu—”

He should tell you the truth. You deserve to hear it from him instead of that scum haunting your past from Muken.

“Is none of my concern.” You finish, and you grip his hand in yours. “What you think of me is though.” You’re tired. Sosuke is dead, you should be stronger — figure out how to get rid of him for good, and apologize to Byakuya once it's done.

Byakuya feels a twinge of guilt seep through him.

They don’t know what you are.

“I’m sorry.” Byakuya holds your hand just a little tighter, he thinks if he lets you go, you’ll just fall into Aizen’s arms. And this time, he’ll be too late to save you.

“I’m sorry too.” You let him hug you, the same way he did the moment you reunited after years apart. You still hug like a child, Bya. “It hurts.”

“He won’t touch you again,” He whispers into your hair. “As I live and breathe.” Byakuya’s seen the things Aizen’s capable of. And using your past – he’d kill him a thousand times over if he could.

Do you know the things I’d do for you?

Byakuya looks down at you, and no matter how many times he’s looked at you, he always thinks, how did you two even get here? From fighting side by side to a marriage of convenience.

You’re supposed to be my sparring partner.

I am your sparring partner.

No, you’re not. You’re disloyal, Kuchiki.

[shootstyled]

@tempestflames / random headcanon time x2.

really double teaming me here aren’t ya. I’m gonna count these as two.

Izuku can’t stand accessories or skin additions on his body. whether it’s makeup, a bandage or nail polish, he absolutely cannot stand it and will immediately try to take it off. this even extends to things like jewelry; his mom had his ears pierced as a baby so he could wear earrings if he wanted to, but steadfastly refuses.

while they can easily avoid most things that hang off their body or apply to their skin, they’re more prone to injuries than their peers, which usually means bandaids are a thing. they have to be watched super closely to make sure they won’t immediately pick it off after application.

so duly note that pulling Izuku into girl’s night: not a good idea.

[iceablaze-blog]

@gale-force​​  /  sibling / parent / child meme.

“Is 1 too young for fries…?”

          a snarky comeback rises in Shouto’s throat and it’s only the knowledge that he doesn’t know the answer that keeps the sass at bay for a bit longer. instead, he silently pulls out his phone and types a quick search into his browser.

          ❝  I mean, I guess not,  ❞  he mumbles, scrolling across his phone,  ❝  but I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to feed anything that young fast food.  ❞

[blastzoned]

@animabenevolus​ / zayne’s bias

first up on the list is Kac/chako; really love it, though I haven’t rped it terribly much. but I do like the dynamic that goes between Ochako and Katsuki.

second up, Baku/mina, I was a little skeptical about this one but I think that they do have the potential for a great relationship. 

third, we’ve got Baku/iida, which is kind of a weird ship I was introduced to but like?? it’s kinda cute. there’s potential.

second to last, Shin/baku is another favorite of mine. I think Shinsou’s clever enough not to put up with Katsuki’s shit.

last, the dreaded Baku/deku, but only when done right. there’s issues there that can’t be glossed over, which is why I’m normally hesitant to rp it, but I feel like @xshootstyle​’s broken me out of that shell a little.

[iceablaze]

@explosiveheroics​ / send me your URL and I'll tell you

My Opinion on;

Character in general: 

Izuku is amazing as a character. despite his flaws, he’s caring, loving and has a strong morality. his steadfast determination is what really made me fall in love with him. sometimes I can be iffy on if I totally like him, but the way he does everything to help someone in need is what gets me. Katsuki, Shouto, Kouta, Eri, and more people than just that. Even if his approach isn’t the best, I can agree with it.

Katsuki is a special character to me, probably downright one of my favorites. The clear transformation we’ve seen from Chapter 1 all the way up to Chapter 284  (  don’t worry, no spoilers here!  )  has been astronomically well done. he’s grown so much, and yet hasn’t lost his spitfire personality. he respects and disrespects everyone equally, and even if he’s got a long way to go still, I won’t give up my support for this character.

How they play them: 

Izuku is a wonderful muse. you’re right up there as one of my favorite two Izukus, high praise from me. even though we’ve just got the one thread, our ooc plotting tells me all I need to reinforce the idea that Izuku is loyal to a fault and it almost always pays off for him. the ways he’s affected my Shouto are unbelievable and I wouldn’t have it any other way. the unique life blown into Izuku makes him so special.

I’ve not interacted with Katsuki myself, but I do like what I’ve seen of him on the dash! He feels very real to me, which is a quality I can’t say about all the Bakugous I meet.

The Mun:

so sweet and completely harmless. apologizes a lot for taking long on replies like they haven’t stuck with me through like 4 instances of blog hopping. always up for crazy idea and crying over replies and concepts. Sarah’s the one who figured out we built a whole world up for Izuku and Shouto and never planned how they became boyfriends?? like several months into this worldbuilding??? definitely, I love being friends with Sarah, sorry I’m trash, but I hope we stay friends for a long time.

Do I:

RP with them: 

Obviously! I need to harass Sarah for more interactions, but our one thread is still going strong.

Want to RP with them:

hell will freeze over before I don’t.

What is my;

Overall Opinion:

fantastic characters, a sweet mun, with apparently the patience of a saint from how many times they’ve had to change my mains tag.

[quirkbeat-archive]

@quirktold​  /  unexpected  messages!           ❛ yo, mina! mind if i come in and hang out? ❜

          ❝  hey!  c’mon  in,  ❞  she  calls,  throwing  another  shirt  onto  her  bed.  ❝  and  hey,  reaaaal  quick:  pink  or  blue?  ❞

[cataclysmicregret]

@vishapsking​ asked,  “ drink this. it’ll calm you right down. ”

          the  yaksha  was  sternly  quiet  as  he  sat,  still  and  eyes  downturned.  his  body  is  littered  with  the  dark-centered  wounds  of  battle  and  as  much  as  Xiao  likes  to  think  otherwise,  adepti  do  require  rest.  it  is  something  he  has  always  struggled  with,  having  been  forced  time  and  again  to  push  his  own  limits,  first  by  his  original  master  and  now  by  the  misery  of  the  archon  war.  though  he  didn’t  regret  his  decisions  as  of  late,  his  body  did  not  agree  with  them.

          ❝  ...thank  you.  ❞  gloved  hands  take  the  teacup  tenderly,  as  if  afraid  he  may  break  it  if  handled  without  care.  tea,  of  course,  brewed  with  qixing  flowers  if  he’s  not  mistaken.  his  stomach  already  turns  with  the  thought  of  having  to  stomach  anything,  though  he  hopes  the  tea  will  be  gentle  on  him.

          bitter  as  he  thought,  definitely  made  with  the  flowers  of  the  high  mountaintops.  finally  amber  eyes  flicker  back  up  to  study  the  Lord  of  Vishaps.  he  never  quite  knew  how  to  address  his  lord’s  closest  friend,  so  he  stuck  with  not  addressing  him  directly  at  all.  he  did  not  intend  to  offend  the  Vishap  King  and  warrant  his  lord’s  ire.

          ❝  to  what  do  I  owe  this  honor?  ❞  though  he’d  hardly  consider  it  such.  he  never  had  been  one  for  understanding  when  others  wanted  to  care  for  him.  even  his  fellow  yaksha’s  behavior  often  eluded  him,  far  beyond  his  stilted  understanding  still.

[viatrixisms]

general tags!!

[rintarhue]

NVRLND'S QUEST ✰ 002 : drunk baking - intro

↳ MAIN MENU | PREVIOUS | NEXT EPISODE

“Dreamers, please - please don’t imitate anything that we will be… um…” Atsumu moves his head to look at the other members beside him, “What are we doing again?” 

Semi pours a glass of vodka and hands it to him while answering his question; “Drinking until we get absolutely fucked—” You give Yachi, their content editor, a sympathetic smile, knowing that she’d have to edit many clips of the group. You along with all the production staff sat behind the cameras. “And then, we’re going to bake.”

“Bake?!” Kanji shouts, jumping on the balls of his feet. “While drunk?”

“You heard him, didn’t you?” Kenjirou rolls his eyes, while the younger punches him jokingly. Kenma, Keiji, and Tobio stand on the side quietly. Oikawa and Suga both strut in front of the kitchen table, their legs wobbling slightly. “And as you can see, they already started drinking 30 minutes ago. That’s why they can’t even walk properly.”

“Are you sure they didn’t fuck?” Atsumu jokes while you snort. The staff laughed quietly, while the members just shook their heads, done with his antics. He claps his hand together, cackling at his joke. “Why am I an idol? I can just be a comedian!”

Keiji purses his lips, “Then everyone won’t see your big, fat, scrumptious—”

“Abs?”

“Meat?”

“Heart,” Keiji continues, eyes twinkling at his joke. The members laugh, while Atsumu deflates. “Dreamers admire your big, fat, scrumptious heart.”

Kenma sighs, “Can we just start already?” Tobio scratches his neck, nodding at the shorter guy’s words. If the youngest in the idol group would be totally honest, he would prefer drinking a smoothie or his favorite box of milk, because the last time he got drunk, he almost posted his very private pictures on Twitter.

“What are we baking anyway?” Tobio asks, a pout evident on his face. “Are we baking our face?” 

“We’re in the kitchen,” Kenjirou groans. 

Tobio purses his lips, then, opening his mouth to argue. “We can still use makeup while we're in the kitchen, you know!”

“Can we just start already!” Kenma shouts, exasperated. He pushes a hand through his dyed locks, “I’m giving 10,000 yen to anyone who first stays quiet.”

With the talk of cash, silence immediately meets the room.

(“Can I go pee?”

“You can but you may not, Tobio.”

“Fuck you, Tooru.”

“Y/N—”

“I’m sorry.”)

— im back </3 these are split into 3 parts !!

— honestly this fic wont have like problems n stuff bc this is just rly self indulgent and just fluff all over 😭✋🏻

— ^ ALSO!!!! this fic might be jus short bf of that </3 pain. ANYWAY HOW ARE YALL SEXCISS ;D

taglist in reblogs! taglist is closed.

[bigmandiego]

INTERVIEW 002 | THE AFTERMATH

also see [ diego’s first interview ] [ diego’s letter ]

Sitting outside of the interrogation room with his father next to him going over things he already knew. Keeping calm. Just answering the questions they asked. Let him answer if Diego didn't know what to say, or didn't want to say anything. Luis Fuentes put a hand on his son's back, pulling him close. "You're a good kid, Diego," he said, "you don't have anything to worry about, here."

"Mr. Fuentes, we're ready for you," one of the recognizable cops said. Leading the two men into the room and letting them sit at a long wooden table. Diego had to find himself thankful these were not New York Detectives, many of which already had run ins with his father, and thoughts of how crooked the man may or may not actually be. He tried to stress to his dad he wanted to keep this all ... above board. The man had given him a grin and a, "don’t worry, papi. I'll be on my best behavior."

Well, so far so good...

"Good evening Mr. Fuentes," a detective that had not been there the last time said. Trying to look friendly, though Diego knew enough to not buy it, but he still gave a wan smile settling in at the table. "We just have a few things we need to follow up on with you on your letter, so we can try to find out where Miss Morrison is, as quickly and safely as possible."

"Of course," Diego said, nodding his head.

We need you to be very clear about what you remember when your letter was delivered. Anything you can remember that you may have missed. Envelopes, anybody you might have seen that seemed out of place, or anything.

"There were no extra envelopes, or anything like that," Diego stated. "I didn't think to look out in the hall for anyone else out there. I was a little shocked to see what looked like Greer's handwriting so I didn't look around for who might have delivered them, I'm afraid. I was pretty shocked."

Then what?

"Well, I read the letter," Diego said slowly. "Then me and Kit talked about what we should do with them, and decided to turn them in. I called my dad and... here we are now."

We greatly appreciate your cooperation in all of this. We're all here to find Greer. Do you think the contents of your letter may hold some clues as to where she could be? This other person mentioned in the letter that Greer said you were with. Would that be Oliver Inoue?

Diego felt his stomach drop a little bit, glancing towards his dad. It wasn't that he was... in the closet, he had considered himself to be Out for a couple years now. It was more like he'd never shown interest in other guys in front of his parents, but if his dad was surprised or put off he made no sign of it. "Yeah, that's him."

Did Greer have any problems with you seeing him, or other people after you'd broken up? Or... While you were together.

Diego cringed so deeply  he felt it in his soul. His dad was a great lawyer, he hadn’t even questioned going to him when all of this went down. But damn, having to talk about his shitty relationship in front of his dad who had been under the impression it had been a perfect relationship was rough. He shook his head. "No, not really. She was never really the jealous sort, that I could tell," that had been more his thing. "And her and Ollie are friends, even after we'd... been seeing each other." He held back any unnecessary details. That the relationship hadn't been that serious (a lie), that it had been a rebound thing (had it just been that?) — the less attention put on Ollie the better.

It sounds like your relationship with Greer was not as smooth sailing as everyone seems to have been saying.

"We broke up for a reason," Diego said, with a note of finality in his voice.  

And your probation —

"Hang on," Diego's dad spoke up, "before you continue is this going to be relevant to finding Greer, or are you attempting to dig for dirt? Because I would hate to have a reason to not be as cooperative as we have been."

— What do you think Greer meant about helping you with your probation.

Diego shrugged his shoulders, "I know as much as you do. You read the letter," he pointed out, glancing over at his dad, who gave a small nod.

When you last spoke to Greer over the summer, did it sound like she had been planning on leaving, or taking an extended vacation for any reason? I'm sure you have picked up that it sounds like this was all premeditated. Any information you have not given yet would be helpful in our investigation, Mr. Fuentes.

"I'm sorry," Diego said, with a frown, "I wish Greer was here as much as anybody else does." Perhaps more, because he wasn't sure there were a ton of people who actually did want her around. "Everything I've said before is all the information I have. Even with the letter. It's more confusing than anything else. But if she somehow gets in contact with me again, obviously it's something I will let you know about." He pointed out. Stressing that he'd been as up front, and honest as he could possibly be. Greer coming back would be a good thing for him, her going missing... was a very bad thing for all the plans he'd wanted for his future.

The detective nodded his head, and stood up at the table, Diego's father, and then Diego doing the same thing. "Please keep in touch with us if you hear absolutely anything, Mr. Fuentes. Again, we appreciate the cooperation."

[gunspluraltm]

GUNSPLURALTM, is an independent and private RP SIDEBLOG for Nancy Wheeler; Max Mayfield; and Vickie of NETFLIX’S STRANGER THINGS. Portrayed by Melody. follow backs from @aworldofyou Eddie Munson is request only.

RULES:

001. CANCEL/CALLOUT CULTURE. First and foremost, I under no circumstance whatsoever support the callout/cancel culture. If I see you reblogging callouts or anything in support of the callout culture I will not follow you, and will no longer follow you. I do not agree with the mindset that a witch hunt must occur for every little nuance that you don’t agree with, I don’t agree with gathering your friends to gate keep friends in who they talk to, I don’t agree that any disagreement be approached in this standpoint.

SUPPORT =/= UNFOLLOW. I don’t care about the situation at hand, I don’t care what excuse is presented, and there will be no discussions of the matter. You are in charge of your experiences just as I am mine, and I choose to have nothing to do with the mob mindset. That is it.

002. RACISM. When I say that I do not forgive racism in all forms I mean it. That includes the widely accepted tumblr view that gatekeeping and erasing people’s own cultures is okay. Fact check. It is not. And I will not tolerate any forms of racism in any way. When I speak on my culture, or want to write a negative aspect involving the history, you have no right to tell me what I - or the people I trust - and have educated with what  - with this, what can be done. If you try, you will be blocked till the end of time. No questions asked. You are not allowed to gatekeep me, you are not allowed to tell me what I can or cannot do in my own culture. Erasure is racism. Do not try it. You will be blocked.

2.2 CONCERNING BILLY. I first and foremost believe that Billy’s throw away line was just a CLEAR reminder that the 80s was a REALLY racist time. This was mindset that MOST people had, don’t forget that. And the gang and main characters were probably considered odd balls for NOT practicing racism. (Especially with all that is going on, and just coming out the 60s, 70s which was a really active time for movements such a AIM and MLK and many more great movements.) THIS IS NOT A BILLY HATE BLOG. The fact that Lucas or Max both weren’t concerned with that, should be a testament to the very sad fact that Lucas likely heard worse. Doesn’t make it okay by any means necessary but I believe that any racist mindset he had before would have been changed after Season 3. He still would have been a fucking asshole, but he wouldn’t have been a RACIST asshole after.. This is not a Billy hate blog.

003. 18+ ORIENTED BLOG. I will not interact with anyone under the age of 18. My content is very 18+, and while everything is tagged I will not interact with anyone under the age of  18.

004. ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS I AM NOT OPEN TO WRITING ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS WITH MAX MAYFIELD. WHILE SADIE IS NEARING 20, MAX IS STILL MEANT TO BE 14 CANONICALLY. CASUAL THINGS LIKE KISSES AND HAND HOLDING, AND THE CANONICAL RELATIONSHIPS CAN BE DISCUSSED IN THREADS BUT OTHERWISE? NOTHING BEYOND THAT. OTHERWISE PLOTTING IS REQUIRED. 

05. PASSIVE AGGRESSION Will not put up with passive aggression under no circumstance.

007. PLOTTING. And on the note of plotting. If an attempt toward plotting is being made, and I find that I am only getting single non-interested responses. Then I will likely, very quickly, lose interest. It takes a lot for me to comfortably outright chat with people. Lots of energy, lots of nervousness at times, and if the plotting reduces to little half answers that reflect things like ‘oh that’s cool-’ or ‘oh nice’ then I will likely just lose interest in trying. If I’m putting effort into interaction and it very clearly looks one sided, I’m going to show myself out.

And on that, if there is little or no interest shown in the character(s) that I am trying to best put forward to compliment the canon, or my efforts are constantly ignored. Then I’m likely going to stop trying. I’m not gonna beg for your attention or chase you, especially if I’m here to accommodate you as best as I can. Take it, or leave it, because if any of the above is going to happen I’m likely going to leave it myself.

I will also likely still make my exit if I sense an underlying aggressive tone in any and all attempts to plot. Because again, it takes lots of energy for me to keep my focus in one place - and I’m not going to waste it on attempts that make it seem like I’m the inconvenience for even trying to talk.

008. TONING DOWN / DARK CONTENT I will not water down the negative aspects of my muses, do not ask me to.

There is dark content on this blog, you are in charge of your own experiences do not follow me if these topics make you uncomfortable. If you come at me for this, know that I am pretty readily using the block button and will rarely backtrack. Once you’re blocked, you’re blocked. Nothing will change that. So don’t even try contacting me.

009. MUTUALS / DO NOT SOFT-BLOCK ME I’m very good at keeping track of who is my mutual and who isn’t, I’m not one to go by the whole ‘please soft block me if you unfollow me’, if I have you on my dash I genuinely like the content that you produce, if you choose to unfollow me it’s perfectly fine and dandy. (For whatever reason that our characters don’t mesh, our writing doesn’t mesh, for whatever perfectly sane reason that isn’t conflicting with our persons. I don’t care, it’s fine.), please don’t softblock me. I’m not one to go by that standard, chances are if we’re not mutuals I’m respectful of that.

9.2. I don’t believe in ‘liking posts’ to stay mutuals. I followed you and I value you, and I believe if you genuinely wanted to keep me around you would. So don’t ever expect me to like those posts, it does nothing but raise my anxiety.

010. WRITER OF THE BLOG. My name is Melody, I am in my late 20′s. I am every bit native american as one can be, and I am a very passionate soul. I love to ramble, but I am also very slow. I can go from chatting your ear off one moment, to disappearing for days the next. It’s nothing on you, I’m just slow. I’m a nice person, friendly, and one of the most understanding souls you will likely ever meet. I prefer to plot everything, so my ims are always open! Don’t be afraid to reach out to me on any of this. We’re all adults here. We can talk it out.

I’M ALSO A HUGE AVOCADO FAN. so on that note, if you want to get my attention in any way, you need only mention the word and I’LL LOVE YOU FOREVER.

[shootstyled]

@tempestflames / caring for sick muses.

send ‘ PROP UP ’ for [ MY ] muse to prop up [ YOUR] muse on a set of pillows. As he’s doing so he remarks. “Well you don’t look as shitty as you did yesterday.” ( from baku!

  Midoriya Izuku doesn’t get sick. they take pride in that fact, because they want to be at 110% any time someone’s in need of their help. they take vitamins, they exercise regularly, eat full meals whenever possible.

  — so maybe it stings a little more than it really should when he drops like a sack of potatoes after his twelfth day of work in a row and wakes to Kacchan taking care of them. somewhere in his mind, he can vaguely remember that Kacchan had been there yesterday too ( and maybe even the day before, ’cause he has no idea what day it is anyway ) and he is pretty sure he had a fever, but everything’s a bit fuzzy.

  ❝  ha’work t’day.  ❞  they mumble incoherently; every single one of their limbs feels like lead and it takes an exorbitant amount of energy just to raise their hand to scrub at their eyes. it’s so damn cold in here too, which is what incites him to attempt a pathetic burrow into his blankets.

  ❝  Kacchan’s here.  ❞  as if that hadn’t already been glaringly obvious. Izuku’s a workaholic, not an idiot ( though maybe Kacchan would call him one regardless ) so he knows Kacchan’s there to take care of him, but the question still poses: why? when had Kacchan cared enough to want to stay by somebody’s side while sick? oh well. that’s a philosophical question for when he doesn’t feel like he’s been hit with a Manchester Smash head on.

[iceablaze-blog]

@merrysband​  /  upsy daisy.

     from Bakugou so "C’mon on you loser."

          ❝  hey!!  ❞  the sudden feeling of his feet leaving the ground doesn’t do a lot for his mood. if it were anybody else, he’d have been more cross, but Bakugou is constantly calling him a princess for a reason. shifting slightly, he puffs out a cheek and huffs at the other. they may have gotten close, but not close enough for him to ever quite be ready to give Bakugou the opportunity to drop him. 

          ❝  who said you could pick me up?  ❞