abbyslev

[abbyslev]

[abbyslev]

arguing with ellie

a/n: hi guys i’m actually alive woooo here’s a blurb for pride month since ive been in a depressed mood and im a lesbian so what’s left to do other than write some angst. reminders of me and my ex. love u all

warnings: arguing

when ellie is in a mood, she’s in a mood.

one where you can’t even bare to see her. you wash the dishes, and ellie would come home every day and kiss your neck, hugging your waist while you push her off and tell her to shower. where she’d be so clingy and she’d be excited for dinner, just to sit and talk to you.

but when she was in these moods, she kicked her boots off, not even throwing you a look. not even bothering to ask you about your tasks or day. one where she’s ignore the dinner you had set on the table wrapped up for her to enjoy warm. you felt utterly useless.

when you two first started dating, you’d sit there for hours, begging her to talk to you. to eat something. begging her to please move from the bed. you’d take her patrol shifts and even bring warm bread from the bakery to cheer her up. it physically and mentally drained you.

it got to the point where ellie was like this everyday. you tried talking to your friends and joel but nothing in the world could get ellie out of these moods. “just talk to her, i’m sure it’ll be fine.” dina brushed it off for the millionth time.

so you did.

ellie kicked off her snowy boots, taking off her jacket. “els, could you come here?” you called from the kitchen. ellie eyed you, walking to the kitchen. she didn’t say anything. she noticed you were making coffee. you handed her a mug, which she took silently.

“i wanted to talk to you.” you sat down. you approached this in your mirror multiple times, and you decided it would be better if you were blunt. what did you have to lose?

“about what?”

“about us.”

“there’s nothing to talk about.” “when’s the last time you kissed me? hugged me? asked me about my day?” you leaned back against your chair. “is that what this is about?” ellie pushed her coffee mug away, eyes staring at the table. “you know exactly what this is about. ellie, i’m tired of this and i cannot keep going like this.”

“you’re being selfish.”

“i’m being selfish?” you were taken aback, staring at ellie with a twisted face. “i’m busy, can you not see that?” “i’ve been taking this since we started dating! you didn’t see me begging on the floor? begging you to look at me? for you to say something? i needed you ellie, and you just push me aside!” “it’s not my fault you’re so clingy.”

you knew this is how it would be. ellie doesn’t communicate, she didn’t talk to anyone when she was in a mood. “bad things happen to everyone, ellie.” “are you saying i shouldn’t feel this way?” “jesus fucking christ ellie, talking to you is like talking to a wall.” you drop your face into your hands.

“just say what you want to say.” “i’m saying that if you don’t start telling me what wrong and trying to be better ellie, i’m leaving. i have taken so many hits from you because you choose to ignore me and be mad at me for shit i don’t have to do with. what i’m trying to say is that i don’t feel the same way as i did. now it feels like i’m trapped in this… relationship because you refuse to even look at me.”

“i’m looking at you now.”

you stand up, throwing your chair on the floor. you grab your jacket off the counter, tugging on your boots. “stop being like that. you’re not going out there.” ellie followed you. you were fuming. you couldn’t get any words out.

ellie deeply regret what she was doing, but she just couldn’t tell you what’s wrong. she herself didn’t know what was wrong. she couldn’t help but be mean, she didn’t mean to. she didn’t want to lose you. and you were right, you had been taking hits from ellie. you had stayed silent about your issues for months just to not bother ellie with them.

“i’m leaving, don’t come and find me.” was the last thing you said before you slammed the door shut behind you.

[abbyslev]

soooo i met someone

[abbyslev]

it’s my birthday!! happy birthday to me!! finally treated myself and got my ellie tattoo. love you all.

[abbyslev]

˚༄࿔ jackson ellie and you being so so in love with each other…

warnings! GAY GAY GAY! mentions of smut.

⭐︎ going on patrols together and she’s just smiling like the biggest dork because you’re pointing out how that smell of spring is finally coming back but she’s just watching the tip of your nose move the tiniest bit when you talk.

⭐︎ bathing or showering after patrols and you’re massaging the shampoo into her scalp and she’s about to fall asleep because oh my god what the fuck it feels so good.

⭐︎ ellie being a bit reserved with pda or defining your relationship in public (like how we see her uncertainty with cat in her journal!) and being over the moon when you refer to her as her girlfriend. like maybe you two are at the tipsy bison and you’re talking with some newcomers…

“mhm! my girlfriend, ellie, has been reading me the comics, she’s collected tons of them!”

⭐︎ the two of you sneaking out of jackson with dina and jesse to go swimming in a nearby like and they won’t stop teasing the two of you.

“oh my god you two are so gay.” dina would say with mock disgust. and you can’t even deny it because you are so gay, especially when ellie takes her shirt off and only wearing a sports bra underneath.

⭐︎ waking up next to her in her garage in the colder months and just snuggling up to her for warmth. she tries to rub her icicle feet on your legs until you threaten to get up and go home. this would only make her hold you tighter and grumble something like nooo don’t leave in a raspy, half-awake voice.

⭐︎ pulling ellie to the dance floor at events and her getting all flushed and smiley. staring into her eyes or at her lips because you know it makes her flush harder.

⭐︎ ellie loving the idea of being rebellious and sneaking you in or out of her garage went joel isn’t looking (even if he knows about your relationship). she’d be so silly about it.

whisper yelling, “go now he’s not looking!”

“oh my god ellie you’re such a nerd!” you’d reply at full volume, leaving through the front door.

⭐︎ throwing ellie a suprise party for her birthday at the tipsy bison. it turning out to be extremely challenging because she was insisting that she would rather just stay in for her birthday but you had gotten all of her friends to hideout in the bar for half an hour at this point.

⭐︎ ellie genuinely being surprised when the lights flicker on and everyone she knows is yelling “happy birthday!” and her standing in shock, realizing why you were so persistent about going out tonight.

⭐︎ walking in on ellie (attempting to) cut her own hair and she’s royally fucked it up and now it’s your job to fix it. her grumpy pout in the mirror as you lecture her about just waiting for you to come home so you could cut it.

⭐︎ getting walked in on (maybe multiple times). once in ellie’s garage when neither of you heard joel’s knocks so he invites himself in and ellie had to panickingly throw the blankets over you two. then another time on patrol when dina and jesse came back from scoping out some supplies and they found you on a couch. and then maybe again when maria went looking for you two after a dance and you were tucked in an alleyway.

⭐︎ hanging out at a lake just outside of jackson and ellie’s sketching you.

“why’re you staring at me?” you’d giggle.

“cause you’re so pretty.” she’d reply, just her eyes peaking out from over her journal.

“lemme see what you’re drawing.” you’d say as your sit up.

“no!” she laugh, pulling the notebook away from your grasp.

“ellieuhhh, you’re so lame.”

[abbyslev]

girl time

i love sitting in my room…..alone….a girl in her cave….scheming and plotting and drinking tea

[abbyslev]

Kiss the chef

[warnings]: chef! Abby, unserious, suggestive mentions, headcannons, wc 1k

Chef! Abby’s! first viral video was around a year ago. A simple clip of her making cacio e pepe. The video was beautifully shot, a warm coloring complementing the glossy dish. but what really got everyone’s attention?

The way her forearms tensed while she cracked fresh pepper. Veins showing themselves along her freckled skin. Comments often reading:

@ “ok but how do i get the pasta to look this good?”

@ “i have something to say but i want to go to college”

@ “ma’am, i’m trying to focus but your ARMS?????😣”

@ “looks SO good💕..and the food i guess”

Chef Abby! had always loved cooking, growing up in a kitchen with her dad, who ran The Cordova, one of downtown Washington’s finest restaurants. But she liked the no pressure vibe of TikTok—just her and her food. She decided she wouldn’t show her face much, if at all. Letting the small flex of her muscles when she kneaded dough into a floured surface be the main visual. While comments? They were only half focused on what she was making.

Naturally, her account gained traction. No face, no voice—just hands, muscles, and literal food porn. Every video felt like a Sunday afternoon in a kitchen. @buffandbasil, now sat at 2.5 million followers.

Chef Abby! tried to ignore the thirst in her comments. How could she? It was honestly a small ego boost, even if it was a bit over the top at times. Like the second pinned video on the top of her page—where all she was doing was making bread.

@ : “knead ME like that.”

@ : “both lips are smiling rn”

@: “need her to bake something in me, respectfully😇“

@: “we need to chill in the comments… *saves video*”

Chef Abby! wasn’t a huge fan of putting her face in her videos. However, the occasional face slip would happen. A quick shot of her golden hair in view or a reflection in a clean pan.

The third and final pinned video? The one sitting at a few million views and a comment section that out-ratioed it?

Her hair draped over a fitted black Henley shirt, the top button undone. Sleeves rolled up to her elbows. And when she reached up for something overhead in a cabinet? A small sliver of her torso—those abs?

Yeah. They lost it.

@ “niagara falls just relocated”

@ “MY CLOTHES, WHERE’D THEY GO!!?!”

@ “her strap drags, for sure. touches the floor.”

@^ “mind you, i would take it.😊”

@ ^^ “y’all are TOO freaked out 💀”

And trust—Chef Abby! loved it. Really. Laying in bed, straight cackling on FaceTime with her best friend Manny, sending him screenshots or full-blown screen sharing. She didn’t reply. Not really. But she absolutely posted a few videos after. No shirt, just her “Kiss the Chef” apron and vibes.

And the one time she did reply?

@: “Do you do weddings?”

@buffandbasil :“Yes, actually.”

Harmless, right? Simple. Straightforward. She had catered weddings before. Large events, alongside her father, but—

@: “As… the bride?”

She saw it exactly three minutes after posting her reply. And in those three minutes, her comment had already tripled in likes. The replies? A war zone.

@ “ANSWER THE QUESTION!”

@ “HELLO???????”

@ “bro air balled.”

@ “ok so u free next saturday or???”

She paid it no mind. Mostly. But sometimes, a few profiles caught her attention. She was human, after all. Chef Abby! had seen your likes. You didn’t know it yet.

For you? It was originally just another cringe or brain rot video being sent by your roommate, Dina. But when you clicked the video of @buffandbasil all laughter halted. Typing back—

You: “Dee, hear me out..😭”

Dina: “Oh my god. OH MY GOD. Lost the plot.”

Chef Abby! considered reciprocating the engagement but saw how many views you usually received on GRWMs and storytimes and decided on a more… exciting approach. Wanting to see if you’d bite.

No aesthetic instrumentals—this time, a voiceover. Her voice, soft, steady Tutorial style.

“So today, we’re making sourdough from scratch. You wanna make sure your starter is active, and then we’re gonna knead it—”

@: “OH SHE TALKS???”

@: “it’s all over the screen ngl 🌊”

@: “asmr videos when?”

@: “great now i have a crush on a faceless chef, thanks.”

@: “I’m ovulating rn please chill 💔💔”

But the only comment she was looking for? Yours.

@ you: “Me next🫦!”

You typed it. And went to bed. She had so many comments—she probably wouldn’t even see it.

But as the sun poured through your curtains the next morning, your stomach flipped. A notification.

Followed by @buffandbasil. 2 hours ago.

Legs swinging the blankets off, then you were sprinting down the hall, launching yourself onto Dina’s bed like a feral animal let loose.

She groaned, blindly swatting at you. “Dude, what the—”

Without another word, you shoved your phone in her face. Dina squinted, blinked a few times, then—loud, cackling.

“Dee. This isn’t a ‘hear me out’ anymore—this is a hold me back.” You said, falling next to her dramatically, smiling.

Dina wheezed, shaking her head. “Nah. You are in the sunken place now, sister.”

[abbyslev]

pain and despair

— JUST A GRAZE —

— ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ pairing: abby anderson x reader | 2.5k words — ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ plot: a near death sitiuation — ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ authors note: hey, babes. here's a little something. this is angsty with a happy end, so enjoy :)

♡ navigation ♡

Chaos.

This mission is absolute chaos.

Rain lashes down in sharp, icy sheets, stinging against your skin, but the sensation is a distant thought—buried beneath the instinct to survive. You push forward, staying as close to Abby as possible, your breath coming fast and uneven.

Bullets tear through the air, too close. You duck with a sharp curse, but the storm swallows the sound whole, drowning everything in its relentless downpour.

A sudden grip—Abby’s hand, cold and desperate, latches onto yours, yanking you forward. Her fingers are slick with rain, trembling as they tighten around yours.

Then, for the first time since you’ve known her, you see it.

Fear.

Raw and unguarded, reflected in her wide eyes. She’s just as terrified as you are. Terrified to die here, in the mud, in the storm.

She drags you forward, your grip slipping as you sprint through the slick mud beneath your feet. Bullets whistle past, and your fingers tighten around hers in a desperate hold.

“A little further!” she shouts above the storm, her voice sharp and strained. She tugs you forward, her urgency matching yours.

The rain lashes against your face, and you fight to keep your eyes open, struggling to breathe against the torrent. You feel like you might drown, the cold water mixing with the weight of the moment.

Then, without warning, Abby veers sharply left, her hand gripping your shoulder as she shoves you into the remains of a crumbling house. The window is jagged and broken, but it’s a refuge—and it’s the only one you’ve got.

She slips in through the window after you, pressing her back to your front, almost instinctively shielding you from the storm—and from everything else.

Her body is warm, and in this freezing chaos, it feels like the only thing holding you together. She keeps one hand on her gun, but you can barely focus on that.

All you can feel is the rapid rise and fall of your chest against hers, the rhythm of your breathing desperate and uneven, matching the frantic pounding of your heart.

Your breath hitches in your throat, and as you press your hand against your side, it’s like the world shifts. Pain explodes through you, sharp and nauseating, and suddenly, the blood soaking through your shirt is the only thing you can think about.

“Baby... I...” You choke, words twisting in your throat as the agony sinks deeper. It’s not fatal, not yet, but the blood is warm and sticky, tracing a line down to your waist.

Abby’s gaze flickers over to you, her eyes scanning your face, searching for something—anything—before her focus shifts to the blood. Her jaw tightens, and without a second thought, she drops her gun, her attention entirely on you.

The world outside, the FEDRA agents, the chaos—they don’t matter anymore.

"Fuck," she mutters, her voice tight with frustration as she slowly lifts your shirt. The fabric is wet and sticky with blood, and you hiss in pain as it pulls against your skin, the sting a sharp contrast to the cold air in the room.

"Already did," you choke out, your words thick and strained, teeth gritted. Your hands cling to the crumbling windowsill, your knuckles white from the effort.

You fight to stay upright, refusing to let yourself slump against the rotting floor beneath you.

Abby doesn’t react to your joke—her eyes are hard, focused. You can’t tell if it’s because of your weak attempt at humor or the mission itself, but either way, the air between you thickens with the tension.

"Just a graze," she murmurs, her voice low, almost soothing as she inspects the wound. Her touch is careful, almost tentative, as she probes the skin around the injury.

The sharp, stinging pain makes you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, the pressure helping you fight back the urge to scream.

Her eyes find yours, wide with barely concealed panic as she cups your cheek, her touch impossibly soft despite the blood staining her fingers.

“You’ll be okay, you hear me, baby?” Her voice is firm, steady—but beneath it, there’s something raw, something fragile. You don’t know if she’s saying it for you or herself.

You manage a weak nod, your hand grasping hers, fingers trembling, slick with rain and blood.

“We need to go… I—” A sharp, searing pain cuts off your words, stealing your breath. Black spots dance at the edges of your vision, and the world tilts violently.

“I feel lightheaded already,” you finally hiss, voice strained, barely more than a whisper.

Abby reacts instantly, her movements fast, almost frantic. She hooks her arm under yours, hoisting you up with ease, but you feel it—the tension in her muscles, the slight shake in her grip. She’s scared.

The moment you step outside, the wind slams into you, cutting through your soaked clothes like ice. You shudder violently, pain lancing through your side, and Abby tightens her hold.

“I’ve got you, love,” she murmurs into your ear, her breath warm against your freezing skin. You tilt your head toward her instinctively, seeking out the comfort of her presence, her voice—anything to anchor yourself.

By the time you reach the stadium, darkness has settled deep into the city, and your body is no longer cooperating. Every step feels heavier, your legs barely responding. Abby is practically dragging you, her breath coming in sharp, uneven pants as she fights to keep you upright.

“Keep your eyes open, baby. Don’t you dare close ‘em,” she pleads, her voice tight, cracking under the weight of her fear. You try—you really do—but your eyelids feel like lead, and your fingers, curled weakly into her shirt, are numb.

“I’m so cold, Abbs…” Your voice is barely a whisper, and it terrifies her.

She pounds her fist against the stadium gates, her voice raw, desperate.

“Somebody open the damn gates! Help me!” Her grip on you tightens, like she’s afraid you’ll slip away right here, right now.

“Stay with me, baby. Please, don’t do this to me,” she begs, her free hand shaking as it brushes over your hair, a touch meant to soothe, to calm—but it does nothing to steady her.

Her heart is hammering, her mind screaming at her to keep you awake, to keep you breathing.

The gates finally groan open, but the moment relief is within reach, your body betrays you. Your legs give out, and you slump against her with a quiet, broken sound.

“No, no, no—baby, come on,” Abby chokes out, struggling to hold your weight, her muscles burning, but that’s the least of her concerns.

“Somebody help!” Her voice cracks, and she doesn’t care. Tears burn in her eyes as she cradles you, her hand threading through your damp hair, the same touch that had once been so casual—so loving—now a desperate attempt to keep you tethered to her, to keep you from slipping through her fingers.

A few of their friends rush through the gates, and the sight of you—unconscious, limp in Abby’s arms—is enough to steal the breath from their lungs.

Owen and Mel move fast, reaching for you, but Abby hesitates for a split second, arms tightening around you like she could hold you together, like letting go might mean losing you entirely.

“Abby, let go,” Owen urges, but she barely hears him, her mind a chaotic mess of rain, blood, and your fading warmth against her.

It’s only when your head lulls back, dangerously slack in Owen’s grasp, that her fingers loosen, and suddenly, you’re no longer in her arms. A sharp, panicked breath catches in her throat.

“What happened?” Mel’s voice is frantic, but Abby barely registers it.

She swallows hard, her throat thick, words tangled and broken in her mouth.

“I… FEDRA… it was—just a graze.” But the words sound hollow, meaningless, because no graze should make you look this pale, this still.

Owen glances down at you, then at Abby, and something in his expression shifts. He doesn’t waste another second before urging Mel toward the infirmary.

Abby follows like a ghost, her steps quick, unsteady, her pulse a deafening roar in her ears.

The moment they push through the doors, Mirella practically leaps from her desk.

“What happened?” she demands, rushing forward as Owen and Mel lower you onto a stretcher.

Abby stands behind them, frozen, eyes fixed on your face. You haven’t moved, haven’t even made a sound, and the silence is suffocating. She doesn’t realize she’s gripping the doorway until her knuckles ache.

“A graze,” Mel says, but Abby can’t tear her gaze away from you long enough to correct her, to explain how much blood there was, how your fingers went cold in hers.

Mirella barely nods before giving Owen a look—one Abby recognizes instantly.

Get her out of here.

Owen shifts toward her, and as soon as his hand brushes her shoulder, she snaps.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Moore.” Her voice is low, but it trembles at the edges, caught somewhere between warning and desperation.

Owen doesn’t listen. He nudges her back, and when she resists, Mel speaks, gentle but firm.

“She’ll be alright. Let Mirella do what she needs to do.”

Abby’s jaw clenches, muscles locked so tightly it hurts. She doesn’t want to leave. Not now. Not when she doesn’t even know if you’re going to—

Her breath shudders as she forces herself to take a step back, then another. Each one feels impossible.

The second she’s out in the hall, the weight of everything crashes down on her.

Her back hits the wall, and the ground beneath her feels unsteady, like she’s still out there in the storm, slipping on rain-slicked mud, trying to keep you standing.

Then, without warning, the dam breaks.

A choked breath rips from her throat as she slides down the wall, arms wrapping tightly around herself. The sob that escapes is raw and silent, like she’s fighting it, like even now, she can’t afford to fall apart. But she is.

Owen and Mel freeze, stunned into silence.

Abby Anderson doesn’t cry.

But right now, she’s shaking, unraveling right in front of them, her fingers digging into her arms, shoulders heaving with the force of it.

And there’s nothing they can do except watch.

After what feels like an eternity, Mirella finally emerges from the infirmary.

Her hands are stained with your blood. Abby notices—of course she does—but it barely registers.

She feels like she’s floating outside of herself, like she’s been emptied out, scraped hollow. The breakdown has passed, but it’s left her brittle, fragile in a way she doesn’t know how to fix.

She waits.

Waits for the doctor to speak.

Waits for something—anything—to take away the dread constricting her ribs like a vice.

Mel is the first to break the silence. "How’d it go?"

Abby doesn’t want to hear it. Doesn’t want words. She wants you. She needs to see you, talk to you, hold you—something real, something solid, proof that you’re still here. Anything but this unbearable waiting.

“She’s awake.” Mirella’s voice is gentle, careful, like she knows Abby might shatter if she’s not.

Abby sucks in a breath so sharp it stings. A sob tries to claw its way up her throat, but she swallows hard, hands trembling as she wipes at the tears that have fallen without her permission.

She wants to drop to her knees and thank whatever god is listening, but she can’t—won’t. Not yet.

“She’s asking for you.” Mirella offers a small, hopeful smile, a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

But Abby doesn’t respond. She can’t.

She’s already moving, legs carrying her forward before she even realizes it, feet pounding against the floor as she rushes into the infirmary.

There’s only one thought repeating, over and over, louder than the pounding of her heart.

You’re alive.

You’re awake.

And the first thing you did was ask for her—your girlfriend.

As soon as Abby catches sight of you lying on the stretcher—pale, fragile, wrapped in a thin blanket—her breath catches.

The relief is overwhelming, suffocating, and before she can stop it, the dam breaks. A silent sob wrecks through her, shaking her shoulders as she stumbles forward.

She doesn’t hesitate. She reaches for you, her trembling fingers closing around your clammy hand, cradling it as if it’s the most precious thing in the world.

You’re here. You’re real.

“Hey, baby,” you whisper, voice hoarse, soft—barely more than a breath. But it’s enough.

Abby presses your hand to her lips, closing her eyes as she lingers there, inhaling deeply, as if grounding herself in the warmth of your skin. She sniffles, hurriedly wiping her face, but the tears won’t stop.

“You scared me, love,” she chokes out, voice raw and unsteady, nothing like the strong, unwavering woman you’ve always known.

A weak but reassuring smile tugs at your lips. “I’ll be fine, Abbs.”

She exhales shakily, her free hand reaching forward, careful and reverent, as she brushes a stray strand of hair from your face. Her touch is featherlight, as if she’s afraid you might disappear if she presses too hard.

The way she looks at you—eyes full of unspoken words, love so deep it nearly drowns you—steals the breath from your lungs.

A tear slips down your cheek before you even realize it, but she’s already there, brushing it away with the pad of her thumb.

Abby nods, biting her lip hard, as if that alone will keep her from falling apart again.

“I know,” she murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

“But that doesn’t change the fact that I almost lost you today.”

There’s something so intimate about the way she says it, like a confession only meant for you, like if she says it too loudly, it might break her all over again.

You squeeze her hand gently. “I’m right here,” you murmur.

“And I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

Something in her crumbles at that, and she leans forward, pressing the softest, most reverent kiss to your forehead. She lingers there, breathing you in, reveling in the warmth that’s finally returning to your skin.

You’re here. You’re alive.

“Good,” she whispers against your skin. “No dying on my watch, baby.” Her lips brush over your forehead again, lingering like a silent prayer. “No leaving me behind. Got it?”

A small smile tugs at your lips as you nod. You reach up, fingers brushing against her jaw, then her chin, gently tilting her face down toward yours.

Your lips barely ghost over hers as you whisper, “Yes, ma’am.”

And then you kiss her—soft, slow, full of love. A silent promise. A reassurance.

You’re here.

You’re hers.

And you’re not going anywhere.

[abbyslev]

you don’t expect much when nanami tells you to wait in the living room. he’s never been the type for surprises, so you assume he’s just grabbing something small—a gift, maybe, or one of those fancy desserts he always insists are too sweet but still buys for you anyway.

but then the lights dim.

you turn toward the kitchen just in time to see nanami walking in, holding a tiny cake with a single lit candle in the middle. it’s nothing extravagant, just a simple little thing from the bakery down the street, but the sight of nanami—your nanami—carrying it so carefully, with the faintest hint of nervousness in his expression, makes your heart squeeze.

and then he starts singing.

“happy birthday to you…”

his voice is deep and steady—except completely off-key. you bite your lip, trying not to laugh as he powers through, his usual composure cracking just a little.

“happy birthday, dear—” he says your name, softer this time, a little more affectionate, before finishing the song with an awkward clearing of his throat.

by the time he kneels in front of you, holding the cake out expectantly, your vision is a little blurry.

“why are you getting emotional?” he asks, genuinely puzzled.

you shake your head, laughing as you swipe at your eyes. “you just—this is so sweet. and you were so off-key.”

he exhales, amused, setting the cake down before reaching to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “i never claimed to be a singer.”

“yeah, no kidding.”

“do you want me to do it again?” he deadpans, but there’s a hint of a smile in his eyes.

you laugh, grabbing his wrist and pulling him into a hug instead. his arms wrap around you instantly, warm and steady, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“make a wish.” he murmurs.

you close your eyes, holding onto him a little tighter before leaning forward to blow out the candle.

your wish? you don’t really need one. not when you already have him.

[abbyslev]

.°⋆🖇₊˚ෆ teddy’s notes: i know i said i will be gone for a while and won’t be posting stuff but i couldn’t resist myself I COULDN’T!!!

nanami steps out of the bathroom, rubbing his jaw as he adjusts his tie. he’s always clean-shaven, always meticulous about his appearance, but today, he decided to leave something behind—a neatly trimmed mustache. it was a half-hearted experiment, really. a whim. he expected to shave it off before heading out, but then he caught himself in the mirror and thought, why not?

he doesn’t think much of it until he hears a sharp intake of breath.

you’re sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone, but the moment you glance up at him, your jaw drops.

“oh my god.”

nanami frowns slightly, touching his face. “what? does it look bad?”

you don’t answer immediately, too busy blinking at him like he’s just walked out of a 90s action movie. finally, you set your phone down, leaning forward with wide eyes.

“no,” you say, breathless. “no, it looks—” your voice wavers like you can’t believe the words leaving your mouth. “—hot.”

nanami blinks. “hot?”

your eyes rake over him, lingering at his jaw like you’re memorizing the sight. then, as if drawn by some magnetic force, you push yourself up from the couch and stride toward him.

“why have you been depriving me of this? you look like a sexy detective. or—or a hot professor who’s about to change my life.”

nanami lets out a soft, amused sigh. “that’s quite the exaggeration.”

“it’s not,” you argue, reaching out but stopping just short of touching him. “may i?”

he raises a brow at your sudden politeness, but he nods. the moment he does, your fingers are on his jaw, running over the trimmed mustache like you’re committing it to memory.

you suck in a sharp breath. “oh my god, it feels good, too.”

nanami actually laughs at that, a low chuckle that rumbles in his chest. “i didn’t realize facial hair had this kind of effect on you.”

you ignore the teasing lilt in his voice, still in awe. “it makes you look a little dangerous.” your voice drops playfully. “like you have a tragic past.”

he hums, resting a hand on your waist as he indulges you. “i do have a tragic past. it’s called being a salaryman.”

you snort, but your fingers stay on his jaw, tracing the shape of his mustache. your touch is featherlight, like you’re savoring it.

then, suddenly, your playful expression shifts into something more serious, more contemplative. your eyes flick up to meet his, and your voice is softer when you say, “so you’re keeping it, right?”

nanami hesitates. “i was planning to shave it off—”

“don’t you dare,” you cut in, gripping his tie to keep him from moving away. “this is staying. effective immediately.”

he studies you for a moment, the way your fingers still linger on his skin, how your lips part ever so slightly like you’re already picturing what it would feel like to kiss him like this.

with a soft sigh—one of inevitable defeat—he murmurs, “i suppose i can keep it for a little while.”

your grin is immediate, dazzling. “good.”

and then, as if you simply can’t resist, you rise onto your toes and kiss him, deliberately dragging your lips over his upper lip to feel the new texture.

when you pull back, your eyes are half-lidded, and you whisper, “so hot.”

nanami exhales, shaking his head, but there’s a distinct warmth in his gaze now. “you’re ridiculous.”

“and yet, here you are,” you say smugly, running your fingers over his jaw again.

he huffs. “here i am.”

and when he kisses you again, he makes sure to press in just enough for you to feel the mustache against your skin, just to hear the little pleased sound you make.

[abbyslev]

IT’S A MATCH!

full nelson. how had you ended up here? squashed together as your tinder date—who was old enough to be your father—fucked his stiff cock into you. you were just looking for a little bit of fun after a few months in quarantine, and instead you found yourself stuffed to the brim whilst being pounded relentlessly. the sound of skin slapping together rang in your ears, the blonde’s groans and pants growing the closer he came. his balls pressed against your skin, blonde tuffs of pubic hair tickling you. his thick length rubbed your insides raw. you had never been fucked like this.

when you’d first seen kento nanami he looked like a gentleman, with his clean-cut hair and well-tailored suit. he looked like a person of status and importance, not the type to be splitting a girl that could be his daughter with his dick. but here he is, balls deep inside your pussy on his expensive sofa.

"you're such a naughty girl, fucking an old man like me," he said, voice thick with lust. "how did i get so lucky, mm? look at you, taking me so well." his cock curved in just the right way to hit that special spot inside you. and each time he pulled out, his fat tip would barely catch your g-spot, sending you into a frenzy, and when he pushed back in, he bottomed out. his large hands gripping your hips so tight you knew you would bruise.

salty tears fell from your glossy eyes. he had you full on fucking crying from the overstimulation, the pain only heightened by your inability to see. your hands were clutching at the fabric of the sofa, trying to keep yourself steady, but it was no use.

your cunt ached. the wet, sloppy sounds his angry cock made each time it slipped inside your abused hole had you feeling filthy, and it was clear that he wasn't going to slow down any time soon. your head was lolling back against his shoulder, your body had long given up on resisting. kento’s grip was the only thing keeping you upright, and if he hadn't had you in his hold, you would have collapsed a long time ago.

a familiar knot was forming in the pit of your stomach, and you were desperate to come. “ha—so wet, f-fuck you feel so good. feel me deep?” his voice was so gravelly and breathless that you almost didn't recognise it, and all you could do was moan. he laughed a little, his chest vibrating as he leaned down to nip at the skin of your shoulder.

this position, his thrusts were deeper. he was able to pull you flush against his cock. you were so full, it almost hurt.

his thrusts had turned erratic, and the room was filled with the sounds of your combined moans and heavy breaths. you felt his pace slow, and he began to thrust with more purpose. the tip of his cock grinding into your g-spot.

the waves of pleasure rolled over you, and your vision went white. you sobbed, toes curling. kento grunted as he fucked you through your orgasm, his thrusts even more sloppy as he bottomed out inside of you, coming with a growl. you felt his cum filling you, his hips stuttering pushing the heavy mess further in your cunt.

when you both came down from your high, he pulled out, his cum spilling out and running down your thighs. he released his hold on you, and you collapsed against the cushions with a humph, dazed. too dazed to see the man grabbing your phone from the coffee table, hands idly swiping through your apps. bingo. tinder. too dazed to see him swiftly delete the app.

he doesn't want to share. not you.

[abbyslev]

xavier choking you while biting ur ear and hitting it from the back………. #need

[abbyslev]

★ 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑫𝑬𝑬𝑷𝑺𝑷𝑨𝑪𝑬 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻★

XAVIER

jealous! xavier- NSFW

[abbyslev]

jealous! xavier x reader

A/N: i’ve been sucked into the lads lore. rip omfg. xavier had been eating away at my brain i cannot stop it. LMAO anyway i hope y’all enjoyed. i cannot believe i’m making a writing comeback to LADS.

WARNINGS: MANIPULATIVE XAVIER AHHHH, borderline toxic smfh, jealousy, cum fucking, chained up reader, possessive xav, rough xav omg IDK this is just freaky i apologize i’m horny for him

you could just feel xavier’s eyes preying down your body, breath hitching at every scar, curve, beauty mark, just looking at you made him lose his mind.

he pressed his cold thumb on your bottom lip, slipping his finger in your mouth. your teeth putting pressure on it. “you drive me crazy, you know that?” he whispered, watching as your arms pull on the chains. you tried to speak, but he just shoved his finger in your mouth deeper. “good girls don’t talk back.” he growled, teeth bearing.

“good girls don’t talk to other men.” he kneeled between your bare legs. you tried to explain yourself, wanting to tell him that it was just a old colleague trying to catch up. “you seem to like him more, hmm? smiling, laughing… i guess he’s funnier.” his knee pressed against your bare cunt. you shook your head, tears spilling from your eyes. “not what it seems?” xavier tilted his head, sucking his teeth in. you shook your head, chest heaving up and down.

he moved his hand from your mouth, down to your chest. “don’t speak.” he whispered into your ear, holding your jaw as you cried into his hand. “you asked for this. stop crying.” he roughly kissed you, rubbing his hardened cock against you.

he breathed out, seeming desperate too. “seeing you like this hurts me, baby. but you deserve it. i’m so sorry.” his voice turned soft. he rubbed his swollen tip against your wet cunt, bottoming out without a warning. your head went back, tears spilling again. “i’m so sorry, angel.” his fake apologies rang in your ears. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry, but you deserve this.” he watches as your wrists turn red from you pulling against them. “xav…ier…” you whispered.

your legs closed around him, lips shaking as you tried to push him away. “don’t fight it, baby. you’ll make it worse.” he taunted. “you make me mean.” he kisses your sore neck, lips kissing down your jaw before he pressed a hard kiss against your lips. “you make it hard to be nice.” he said between kisses.

you moved your hips, trying to get him to go faster. “you’re not in control.” he wraps his hand around your throat, slamming you back down. your body shivered, legs loosening around his sculpted waist as he continued to pound himself into you. he grabbed your waist, holding you so tight he was sure you’d bruise.

he traced the hickies all down your stomach. “these are mine. you’re my property. another man can’t make you feel like this.” his cold thumb pressed itself on your clit. you whimper, arms pulling down again. he goes faster, feeling himself become sloppy. “you just feel so good, baby. i can’t help myself.” he leans down, kissing you softly this time. “xav…” you lean into his chest, kissing his collarbone.

he felt you clench around him. “that’s it, baby. give it to me.” he leaned back, body coiling as he came in you. he fucked his cum back into you, watching as your body twitched uncontrollably, hands begging to grab into something.

he pulled himself out, leaning back down. “you promise to be a good now? have you learned?” he smiled a little, pressing a kiss to your lips.

[abbyslev]

it starts with frustration.

your brows furrow as you stare at the mirror, a tie draped around your neck, hands clumsily fumbling with the fabric. you had watched tutorials, even slowed them down frame by frame, but no matter what, the knot kept turning out lopsided or too loose.

you sigh, trying again. loop over, under, through—

“what exactly are you doing?”

—you panic.

“nothing.” you yank at the tie, intending to rip it off, but in your haste, you only succeed in tightening the mess around your neck. nanami sighs.

“stop.” he steps closer, his hands replacing yours with ease, undoing the disaster you created. “if you choke yourself with my tie, i’m going to be very disappointed.”

you grumble under your breath, avoiding his gaze.

he tilts his head. “why are you practicing with my tie?”

you contemplate lying. saying something like, oh, i was just bored or trying to impress my reflection, but nanami would see right through that.

so, instead, you mumble, “i wanted to learn how to tie it.”

“for yourself?”

“…for you.”

there’s a beat of silence. then, quietly, nanami exhales something that sounds suspiciously like a laugh.

your head snaps up. “are you laughing at me?”

“not at all.” his voice is as even as ever, but the amused quirk of his lips betrays him. “i just didn’t expect that.”

“forget it,” you huff, reaching up to take the tie back. “i’ll just—”

nanami catches your wrist before you can snatch it away. “no.” he gently pries the tie from your fingers and loops it around his own neck instead. “if you want to learn, let me teach you properly.”

your heart stumbles. “you don’t have to—”

“come here,” he says simply, beckoning you forward.

hesitantly, you step closer, watching as he takes your hands in his, guiding them through the motions—loop over, cross under, pull through. his fingers are warm, his movements slow and patient.

“see?” his voice is softer now, his breath warm against your cheek. “it’s not so difficult.”

you don’t answer right away, too distracted by the way his hands linger over yours, steady and sure. you swallow, heat flooding your cheeks as you look at his handiwork in the mirror. neat, sharp, effortless—just like him.

“…show me again?” you mumble, glancing away.

nanami chuckles, softer this time. “as many times as you’d like.”

[abbyslev]

nanami is a disciplined man, a creature of habit. he wakes up early, gets ready for work with precision, and leaves the house on time. but there is one part of his routine that he refuses to rush—those ten precious minutes before he has to leave, where he gets to hold you, kiss you, and remind you just how much he loves you.

this morning is no different. the alarm has gone off, but instead of getting up immediately, nanami rolls over, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. you’re still half-asleep, curled up under the blankets, but you hum softly when his lips brush over your shoulder.

“i need to get up,” he murmurs, though he makes no effort to move away. his hand slides over your waist, warm and steady, pulling you closer.

“no,” you mumble, voice thick with sleep as you nuzzle against his chest. “stay.”

nanami exhales a quiet laugh, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “you know i can’t,” he says, though he sounds just as reluctant as you feel.

“you can,” you argue, tilting your head up so he has no choice but to kiss your lips next. he does, soft and lingering, as if you’ve got him under a spell. maybe you do. maybe you always have.

“ten minutes,” he whispers against your lips, a reminder for himself more than for you.

those ten minutes belong to you. they always do.

his hands wander, tracing over your back, memorizing the warmth of your skin. his lips press over your face—your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, before returning to your lips like he’s drawn to them. he whispers between kisses, voice low and reverent.

“i love you.”

kiss.

“i love you so much.”

kiss.

“you make it impossible to leave.”

another kiss, deeper this time, until he hears you sigh against him, fingers curling into his shirt like you’ll never let go.

“so don’t,” you plead, and nanami’s resolve wavers. it always does when it comes to you.

“you’ll be the death of me,” he groans, burying his face in your neck again. “if i call in, it’s your fault.”

“i’ll take full responsibility,” you promise, and he knows you’re smiling even with your eyes still closed.

he exhales, pressing one last, lingering kiss to your lips before finally—reluctantly—pulling away. “i’ll come home early,” he assures you, smoothing your hair. “and then i’ll make it up to you.”

“you’d better.” you mumble, already drifting back to sleep as he tucks you under the blankets.

nanami lingers at the door for a moment, watching you, memorizing you, before finally stepping out.

but even as he leaves, his heart stays with you.

[abbyslev]

you storm out in the middle of an argument

pairings: gojo x reader, geto x reader, nanami x reader, sukuna x reader, toji x reader

GOJO - the second you stormed out, gojo was right behind you.

you heard his footsteps almost immediately, quick and determined. of course, he wasn’t going to just let you go—not without a fight.

“leave me alone, gojo,” you snapped over your shoulder, picking up your pace.

“nope.”

you groaned. “i need space.”

“i need you to not walk around alone at night,” he countered, effortlessly keeping up.

you whirled around, frustration bubbling over. “i can protect myself.”

gojo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "i know you can. you’re strong, way too strong for me, honestly—i think about it all the time, actually, how you could probably throw me into the sun if you really tried—”

“gojo.”

“right, right, focus.” he exhaled. “i know you can handle yourself. that’s not the point. i just—please, come back home.”

you clenched your jaw, crossing your arms. gojo loved your stubbornness—adored it, actually. but right now, he just wished you’d listen to him.

when you didn’t say anything, he groaned dramatically, throwing his hands up. “come on—don’t make me get on my knees.”

“you wouldn’t.”

“oh, i would. right here. in the middle of the street.”

you rolled your eyes, turning to keep walking. when you finally took in your surroundings. without even realizing it, you’d walked all the way to a 7-eleven.

gojo followed your gaze, then brightened immediately. “oh? a sign from the heavens?” he turned to you with a grin. “ramen?”

you sighed, and gojo, ever the opportunist, pressed on. “my treat.”

“you always pay,” you deadpanned.

“exactly! so, technically, i didn’t even have to say that—but i did, because i’m a generous and loving boyfriend.”

you exhaled, shaking your head. “…yeah, okay.”

gojo beamed like you had just accepted a marriage proposal. “knew you couldn’t resist me.”

you shot him a glare, but he just threw an arm around your shoulder, steering you inside like you hadn’t just been arguing minutes ago.

as he grabbed entirely too many snacks, sneaking extras into your basket with a shit-eating grin, you felt the weight in your chest ease just a little.

you weren’t done being mad at him—not completely. but as he stood beside you at the register, arms full of junk food, nudging you with his elbow like a lovesick fool, you realized—

yeah. you’d be okay.

GETO - suguru doesn’t stop you.

not because he doesn’t care—no, quite the opposite. he watches as you grab your coat, as you storm out, and he lets you go. he knows you need space, and he respects that.

but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to find you.

you don’t know how long you’ve been walking, the frustration from your argument still lingering, but eventually, you find yourself stopping by a quiet street corner. you sigh, rubbing a hand over your face, trying to steady your thoughts—

and then you hear it. a smooth, familiar voice from behind you.

“you’re really making me work for it tonight, huh?”

you whip around, only to see geto standing there, hands tucked casually into his sleeves, watching you with that unreadable expression of his.

you glare. “how did you even find me?”

he tilts his head, amused. “you’re predictable.”

you huff, crossing your arms. “if you’re here to drag me home, don’t bother.”

geto steps closer, slow and easy. “i’m not dragging you anywhere.”

you raise an eyebrow. “then what do you want?”

he exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “you’re upset. i get it. but you know i hate leaving things like this.” he steps beside you, hands still tucked into his sleeves. “so, i figured i’d come find you.”

you don’t answer right away, staring at the ground. then, without warning, your eyes begin to sting. you blink rapidly, willing the tears away, but it’s too late—geto sees it instantly.

his expression shifts, the tension in his shoulders vanishing in an instant. before you can turn away, he’s already in front of you, his hands cupping your cheeks with the kind of gentleness that makes your chest ache.

“hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs, tilting your face up to him. “don’t cry.” his thumbs brush lightly under your eyes, catching the first traces of tears. “look at me.”

you do, even though it only makes your throat feel tighter.

his brows furrow, guilt flashing across his face. “i’m sorry, okay?” his voice is soft, sincere. “i didn’t mean to upset you.”

you swallow hard, blinking up at him. “…you were being an ass.”

a small, breathy chuckle leaves him. “yeah,” he admits. “i was.”

you sniff, and he immediately wipes away another tear before it can fall, his touch warm and steady. “but i didn’t mean to be,” he continues. “you know that, right?”

you nod.

geto exhales, relief evident in his expression. his hands don’t leave your face, his thumbs still tracing slow, soothing circles against your skin.

“come home?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

you glance away, mumbling, “still mad.”

“i know.” his lips quirk into a small smile. “you can be mad at me at home, too.”

a pause. then, finally—

“okay.”

he doesn’t say anything, just lets his forehead rest lightly against yours for a moment before taking your hand in his, squeezing it once before leading you back home.

NANAMI - the argument had left a bitter weight in your chest, one that you couldn’t shake no matter how much you wanted to. the walls of your shared home felt too tight, too suffocating, so you did the only thing that made sense—you grabbed your coat and walked out.

you didn’t have a destination in mind, just the simple need to move, to put some distance between you and the words that had been thrown too carelessly.

at first, you thought you were alone. but then, a few blocks in, you heard it—steady, familiar footsteps trailing behind you.

you sighed. “kento.”

a pause. “hm?”

you turned slightly, just enough to glance over your shoulder. sure enough, he was there. hands in his pockets, expression unreadable, but present nonetheless. he didn’t try to walk beside you, didn’t call your name or tell you to come home—he was just there.

“you don’t have to follow me,” you muttered.

nanami exhaled slowly, adjusting his tie as he kept his pace behind you. “i know.”

and yet, he didn’t stop.

you didn’t push him away, either.

the night air was crisp, the streets quiet save for the occasional car passing by. you walked, and he followed. neither of you spoke. the argument still lingered between you, raw and unhealed, but for some reason, his quiet presence made it easier to breathe.

eventually, your feet carried you to the park. it was empty this late, just dimly lit by a few scattered streetlights. you found yourself heading toward the swing set, your steps slowing as you lowered yourself onto one of the swings. the chains creaked slightly under your weight.

nanami hesitated for only a second before taking the swing next to you. he didn’t say anything, just sat there, hands resting on his thighs, eyes fixed ahead.

the silence stretched, not uncomfortable, just… there.

after a long moment, you broke it.

“we’re going to be okay, right?” your voice was quieter than you intended, but you didn’t correct it.

nanami didn’t answer immediately. he let out a slow breath.

“yeah,” he said, firm, certain. “we’re going to be okay.”

and for the first time since the argument, you let yourself believe it.

SUKUNA - the door had barely swung shut before you heard heavy footsteps behind you.

you had barely made it down the front steps when a clawed hand wrapped around your wrist, yanking you to a stop.

sukuna’s grip wasn’t painful, but it was firm—unrelenting. “where do you think you’re going?” his voice was low, edged with something unreadable.

you didn’t turn to face him. “i need to cool off.”

his fingers twitched against your skin. “tch. you can cool off inside.”

you exhaled sharply, attempting to pull away, but he didn’t let you. his grip remained steady, grounding. “i don’t want to be inside right now, sukuna.”

“and i don’t want you wandering off alone.”

you finally turned, eyes burning with frustration. “i can take care of myself.”

his expression didn’t change, but something flickered behind his crimson gaze. “i know you can.” his tone softened, just barely. “that’s not the point.”

silence settled between you, tense and heavy. the night air was cool against your skin, the world around you quiet. your breathing was uneven, your heart still pounding from the argument. you wanted to be stubborn, to keep walking just to prove a point.

but sukuna didn’t let go.

for a long moment, he just looked at you. not with anger, not with amusement—just quiet, unreadable intensity. and then, after a sigh that sounded almost reluctant, his grip loosened. his hand slid down to take yours, fingers wrapping around yours in a way that felt less like restraint and more like holding on.

“come back inside,” he muttered. his voice wasn’t commanding, not like before. it was something else. something almost pleading.

you hesitated, still upset, still wanting to fight. but his hand was warm, solid, there. the fight had drained out of you, leaving only exhaustion in its wake.

after a long pause, you sighed, giving his fingers a small squeeze before turning back toward the house.

sukuna didn’t say anything, just followed beside you, his hand never leaving yours. when you stepped inside, he made sure the door was locked behind you, his movements slow, deliberate. neither of you spoke as he guided you toward the bedroom, the silence no longer suffocating but something quieter, softer.

the argument wasn’t over. you weren’t ready to let it go. but as sukuna’s grip lingered, steady and sure, you knew—

you two were going to be okay.

TOJI - toji doesn’t follow you. at least, not right away.

he watches as you storm out, jaw clenched, arms crossed, your anger still crackling in the air like static. he lets you leave, doesn’t call after you, doesn’t chase you down. he just sits there, rubbing a hand over his face with a deep sigh.

but after a few minutes, he clicks his tongue, grabs his jacket, and heads out after you.

he knows you—knows you’re stubborn, knows you need space, but he also knows it’s late, and he’ll be damned if he lets you wander around alone.

it doesn’t take long to find you. you’re sitting on a bench at some quiet little bus stop, arms hugged around yourself, your knee bouncing impatiently. toji exhales, shoving his hands in his pockets as he makes his way over.

you glance up when he steps in front of you, glaring. “go away.”

“not happening,” he says flatly.

you scoff, turning your head. “i don’t wanna talk to you.”

“good,” he deadpans. “cause i ain’t here to talk.”

you blink, caught off guard, looking at him. he just shrugs. “you needed space, so i gave it to ya. now i’m just gonna sit here and shut up.”

and with that, toji plops down onto the bench next to you, spreading his legs wide, leaning back like this is the most natural thing in the world.

you stare at him. “you’re kidding.”

“nah.” he closes his eyes, tilting his head back. “go on. be mad.”

you are mad. but suddenly, it feels a little ridiculous.

the two of you sit there in silence, the sounds of the city buzzing faintly in the distance. the weight of the argument still lingers, but toji’s presence, solid and unshaken, makes it feel smaller. like it’s not going to swallow you whole.

after a while, he cracks an eye open, side-eyeing you. “you done sulking yet?”

you huff. “i’m not sulking.”

“yeah, yeah.” he stretches, rolling his shoulders. “c’mon. let’s go.”

you hesitate. “i dunno…”

he stands up, glancing down at you. “i’ll buy you food.”

you squint. “bribery?”

toji smirks. “call it what ya want. just get up.”

you sigh, but when he holds a hand out to you, you take it. his grip is warm, steady, and when he tugs you to your feet, he doesn’t let go.

“where are we going?” you mumble.

“dunno.” he shrugs. “we’ll figure it out.”

and somehow, that’s enough.