#This is my version of counting sheep

[urban-unease]

I'm depressed and unable to sleep so I'm playing a fill in the blank game with myself called,

[INSERT VAMPIRE NAME] is [INSERT HORROR MOVIE CHARACTER] but adorable.

So far I have,

Armand is Angela from Sleepaway Camp but adorable.

Lestat is Jason Voorhees but adorable.

Louis is Carrie but adorable.

Gabrielle is the Predator but adorable.

Marius is Pinhead but adorable.

David is the evil businessman from Halloween III but adorable.

Daniel is the Bradley Cooper's character from the Midnight Meat Train but adorable.

Pandora is Nicole Kidman from The Others but adorable.

[mionemymind]

Lost in the Universe (Part 1)

Summary: Y/n is transported to a different universe and by chance, meets the Wanda that inhabits it.

Warnings: Fluff, Cursing, Slight Angst?

A/n: I know I haven't written in a while. But recently I've been on a surge to start writing again. I hope you all enjoy and please tell me honestly how you feel about it. Hopefully, I'm not too rusty.

Word Count: 1.6k

Masterlist

Part 2

Y/n dropped into a new universe, barely landing on her feet. She scrambled to find balance as the portal above her closed. “What the fuck?” Y/n wiped off her hands as she looked around the unfamiliar area. 

“Are you lost dekta?” Y/n spun around at the sound of her voice. A smile plastered on Y/n’s face when she saw Wanda. She took a couple of steps when she felt something was different with the girl in front of her. “Wanda?”

The brunette chuckled at the obvious confusion. “It’s me dekta.” Y/n still grew apprehensive. She looked around the location she was in. They were on a simple farm surrounded by acres of grape trees. There was a barn and home in the distance and sheep and cows grazed the plain. “I don’t think you’re my Wanda though,” Y/n said as kindly as possible. It was scary to be in a new world without a clue as to how they operate. Even though Y/n knew that the woman in front of her wasn’t exactly her Wanda, it still gave her some type of peace knowing there was a version of her here. 

“And you’re not my Y/n.” Y/n’s nerves eased with the comment as Wanda broke the distance between them. “So let’s get you back to my home and figure out how this happened.” 

“Make yourself at home.” Wanda took off her dirty boots at the front and walked to the kitchen. She took the kettle out from the drawer and filled it with water. “I’ll make you some hot chocolate. Is that your favorite in your world?”

“It is!” Y/n yelled from the front of the house. She took off her shoes and jacket, hoping to not get the house dirty. The entrance of the house led them into a decent-sized living room filled with various decorations and plants. 

Y/n didn’t mean to snoop but she couldn’t help but look at all the photos framed on the wall and tables. The first photo that caught her eye was a picture of young Wanda and Pietro back in what Y/n could guess was their hometown. She picked it up and analyzed it in detail.

“I miss him,” Y/n whispered to herself. Wanda noticed this as she walked in with two cups of hot chocolate. “We were only five in that photo. I think we went to the zoo that day. Probably one of our better pictures when we were younger. Everything else is either him or me or the both of us crying.” 

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Wanda nodded for approval, “is your Pietro still alive?” Wanda could sense this was a sensitive subject and gave Y/n one of the cups while directing her to the couch. 

“Yes, my Pietro is still alive. Currently, he’s away on work.” Y/n gave a small smile, the feeling of missing Pietro grew inside. “I’m happy to hear that.” Y/n took a small sip of her hot chocolate, making sure not to spill the hot drink on herself. 

“So your Y/n likes hot chocolate?” Wanda smiled in agreement. “Yes, my Y/n does like hot chocolate. She’s the only reason I have some. I’m just glad that part of her is with you as well. I hope it finds you comfort though because it must be scary to be in a completely different universe.”

“Well,” Y/n thought maybe lying would help ease her anxiety, but the presence of Wanda, even though it wasn’t necessarily her Wanda, made her want to tell the truth, “it is scary. I’m just hoping they find me. But you have been pretty calm for this whole ‘I managed to drop on your farm out of all the locations in this universe’ thing.” 

“Your humor appears to be the same no matter the universe,” Wanda playfully said. “But the reason I’m not freaking out is because in this universe, I’m aware of my other counterparts. Luckily enough, you dropped into a universe where I have my powers.” Wanda proceeded to show off her magic, covering Y/n in red swirls momentarily. 

“Are you able to drop me back home?” Wanda politely smiled, setting her cup down on the table nearby. “I’m sorry dekta. I unfortunately don’t have that type of power as of yet.” 

Y/n sighed in defeat, her anxiety coming back with worried thoughts. Wanda reached out and grabbed Y/n’s hand in a comforting manner. Even in different universes, Wanda Maximoff cared for Y/n Y/l/n. This was a simple fact that would not change. “However, your Wanda is currently on the hunt for you.” 

“She is?” Y/n placed her cup down, her hand still interlaced with Wanda’s. “The rules of the universe don’t allow any conversation to happen between each other but we can still feel each other. So when you dropped into my world, I could feel the slight imbalance. But, you just happen to be dating one of the most powerful people in the universe.” Y/n blushed at the compliment, already knowing that she was lucky to even date Wanda in the first place. 

“And the perk of dating powerful people is that we can feel other things in different universes. Right now, I can feel her dropping into other universes, trying her best to find you.”

“What if she can’t find me?” Y/n pouted. Wanda smiled even more. It was refreshing to see that their love expanded beyond her world. Wanda cupped Y/n’s cheek with her free hand, “This is something I will share only with you.” Listening intently, “You and your Wanda have a special connection. Think of it as a tether. Right now, she’s tugging on that tether hoping that if she continues to pull on it, it will lead back to you. No amount of magic, power, or science can cause this tether to break. It might be a little tangled with how many universes you might’ve accidentally gone through, but she will reach you in time.” 

“So believe me when I say this dekta, Wanda will always find you.” Wanda kissed Y/n’s forehead and proceeded to get up. “In the meantime, my Y/n is away on a mission. You’re free to stay here with me until all of this gets sorted out.”

Wanda walked back to the front of the house, putting her shoes back on. “Is there anything I can do to help out while I wait?”

“Wanna help me with the goats?” 

After a long day of work, Wanda and Y/n lay in the hammock near the campfire, admiring the stars that the night offered. “When I looked at your photos, I noticed none of them were of just you and I, how come?” 

Wanda blushed at the directness and was thankful that it was nighttime. “You see, my Y/n and I aren’t dating yet.” Y/n faced Wanda with a ridiculous look. “Are you serious? How come I haven’t confessed? If there’s a world where there’s a you and an I, then we must be together.”

“I’m not sure. We bought this farm together to get away from the city and have some peace time before they spring our next mission on us. Even then, she doesn’t seem to have the courage to confess.” Wanda sighed, her patience was running thin but she knew it was worth the wait. 

“Do you need me to get myself together?” Wanda laughed at the offer, clearly imagining two Y/n’s talking to each other. “I’ll probably be the one to have to confess first if she doesn’t do it soon.” 

“Just to be sure, does the Y/n here like you like that?” 

“Oh, I’m more than positive that my Y/n likes me back,” Wanda cockily states. 

“What makes you so certain? Back then, it took me forever to confirm that my Wanda even liked me.”

“Cause within our tethers, I can feel her. I’ve only ever felt her. The universe wouldn’t be so cruel to tie me to her if she didn’t feel the same way.” There was more to the truth than Wanda could let on, because in every universe, Y/n and Wanda always fall in love with each other, no matter the circumstances, no matter the era, and no matter the time. 

“I didn’t know the universe could be kind like that.” 

They continued to star watch when a red portal in the sky opened up and out came two figures. One landed roughly as the other descended slowly onto the ground. Y/n and Wanda got up from their hammock and walked towards them. 

“Wanda?” Y/n yelled out in the distance, hoping it was them and not an alien invasion. “Y/n?!” Wanda came rushing into Y/n’s arm, feeling her worries slip away as she finally was with her again. “I thought I lost you,” Wanda stated with worry. Today had been a long day for her and America Chavez. Hopping from universe to universe was hard, especially with a young teen that has no clue how to control her powers. 

“You could never lose me,” Y/n stated confidently. Wanda pulled back from the hug and sealed a kiss, one that made both of their knees weak and minds numb with love. Pulling away slowly, pressing their foreheads against each other, Wanda said, “Let's go home dekta.” 

Y/n nodded in agreement and intertwined their hands. They walked back to the portal but not before Y/n waved goodbye to this universe’s Wanda. “I hope she confesses soon!” 

Wanda smiled back in return and waved. Telepathically, Wanda said, “Thank you for taking care of my Y/n.” 

“Anytime, Wanda.” 

Part 2

Taglist: @halobaby  @arelyitsherec8 @blackxwidowsxwife @cristin-rjd @madamevirgo @trikruismybitch @paradiselost916 @mmmmokdok @morbid-gaymer @dailyavengering @itsnottilly @helloalycia @randomshyperson @tomy5girls @daenerys713 @ensorcellme @lezzzbehonesthere @imagine-reblog @sighsam @olsensnpm @tquick99 @feolok @emilyprentisslittlewhore @mvddison99 @iamapotato @shadowybailiffdreamer-donkey @yuhloversxx @mjaudrey @upsidedowndanvers @somewhatgreatexpectations @wandavixen @second-try-stevie @magicallymaximoff @username23345 @coollemonsaresour @littlewinchester15 @aimezvousbrahms @afuckingshituniverse @am-just-a-cosmic-joke-to-me @ohmygooddamnbisexualmood @diaryoflife @s7uts @newyork1432 @the-anxious-stargazer @hello-mtf @marvelousbelladonna @ima-gi–na-tion @obsessed-with-wandamaximoff @the-camilucha @itsnottilly @171611 @kaitlynroseb @daisybri7 @drpepperobsessed @bemyvitamin @musicinourlips @marvelousbelladonna @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xastrydx @chasethemoon @naixia00 @lostandsearching @stupidsapphicsstuff @haechanana @the-camilucha @severepeanutartisanhands @owloftheshadows @somewhatgreatexpectations @ywuen @mixed-fandom-mess @loomontoia @ilovemarvelwomen @isitallreallyworthit @coxmicbabygirl  @cyanide-mustard @mrs-avenger3000 @prentisshoe @andrea-stark @simpforwandanat @abimess @randomshyperson @yourtaletotell @magically-queer-stuff @imapotatao @iliketozoneout @maximoffbrossupremacy​ @olsensnpm​ @psychadelichues​ @whitelotus00

A/n: I just used the same tag list from Fake Memories. If you didn't want to be tagged, I'm sorry.

[aira-cc]

✦🪵Wooden Clutter Set🪵✦

Hello everybody!! It's been a while. I really miss all of you and the sims 🥺 I'm sorry I haven't been here lately. I was busy with work and trying to change-decorate the rooms in my house. During this time, I couldn't follow the sims news and my simmer friends' gameplays :,(( I want to catch up with everything. Also, one of my birds injured its wing and got sick. I was taking care of her. They said she had muscle loss and bone thinning due to egg laying so long-term treatment was started. It's going well for now, anyway.

I didn't want to spend this month without cc and had to share something before New Year's Eve. Here is the '’Wooden Clutter Set’'!! You can consider this set as a Christmas gift🎅The concept was chosen by my patrons and although It wasn't planned I think it fits Christmas.

The set includes 25 items:

♡ Wooden Framed Art | 1 Swatch | 882 Polys

♡ 4 Piece Pictures | 15 Swatches | 472 Polys

♡ 2 Piece Pictures | 15 Swatches | 236 Polys                            

♡ Wall Mounted Decor | 1 Swatch | 166 Polys

♡ Wall Mounted Shelf | 1 Swatch | 86 Polys

♡ Key Holder | 1 Swatch | 1.1k Polys

♡ Ballerina Music Box Low Poly | 5 Swatches | 2.3k Polys

♡ Ballerina Music Box | 5 Swatches | 3.7k Polys

♡ Bear Cutting Boards | 1 Swatch | 1.1k Polys

♡ Bear Cutting Board 1 | 1 Swatch | 386 Polys

♡ Bear Cutting Board 2 | 1 Swatch | 416 Polys

♡ Bear Cutting Board 3 | 1 Swatch | 410 Polys

♡ Watering Can | 1 Swatch | 486 Polys

♡ Angular Basket | 4 Swatches | 718 Polys

♡ Water Supply Box | 1 Swatch | 112 Polys

♡ Wooden Garden | 4 Swatches | 1.2k Polys

♡ Weather Stack | 1 Swatch | 446 Polys

♡ Pear&Orange | 1 Swatch | 880 Polys

♡ Sheep Note Holder | 1 Swatch | 332 Polys

♡ Wooden Animals | 1 Swatch | 852 Polys

♡ Bird Toy | 4 Swatches | 726 Polys

♡ Dog Toy | 4 Swatches | 726 Polys

♡ Dog Eyeglass Stand | 1 Swatch | 1.1k Polys

♡ Wooden Boat&Waves | 1 Swatch | 382 Polys

♡ Mushrooms on Log | 1 Swatch | 1k Polys

Additional Info:

BGC

Tagged swatches

Custom thumbnails

This time I tried to keep the poly counts low. I even added a lesser version of the music box because found its polys too high. You can use both versions at the same time if you want. You can quickly access these items by searching “wooden” or “aira” in the game. If you run into any issues please let me know. Hope you like the gift. Happy new year!! ❤️🎁

❀ Music Box and Bear Cutting Boards were suggested on Pinterest. Thank you very much to the people who made suggestions!! ❀

♡ Download on Patreon(Free)  

[atomic-rattz]

Counting sheep.. and turtles?! Get them out my head!!

When I had bad insomnia at night, I tried the technique of counting sheep. I imagined a somewhat complex area and a fence, trying to imagine the sheep hopping over. What the version was supposed to be was imagining so much in my brain it gets bored.

..or that’s what my brother told me. It did not work. 😔

Also kinda happy national tmnt day!! (March 19) atleast that’s what i saw?? 🐢 ❤️🧡💙💜

[koostarcandy]

whole damn world

summary: a night where jungkook and you just can't fall asleep. ensue the cutest night you've ever had, including karaoke, chicken, watching modern family and loving on your adorable son.

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: fluff, fluff and fluff.

wc: 923 words (issa baby 🤕)

a/n: guess who's gonna drop this and then pull a jungkook :]

"you're just fake snoring now, it doesn't even help!"

"i counted 837 sheep, sprayed our pillow mist and even played the dreamy lofi playlist we made and it got over. i have to resort to other measures, sweetheart."

you gasp, sitting up and throwing off the comforter, suddenly running to the living room. jungkook's tired brain short circuits, glancing around the room to see if you running wasn't something he dreamt of.

"baby?" he throws on a tshirt and quickly follows after you, "why are you running? did we miss an episode or something?"

"you said we tried everything but you forgot one thing, silly!" your eyes look akin to those of a detective who's pieced a puzzle they've been chasing to solve, fingers rapidly flying over your keyboard. he watches you in amusement and adoration, settling behind you and wrapping his arms around you. his eyes match yours now when he finds you ordering chicken from his new favourite restaurant.

"damn," jungkook lets out, "soy garlic chicken supremacy, okay?" he says aggressively and cutely, you note, his furrowed eyebrows letting you know that he was finishing the box, even if the moon laid to rest and the sun came up to start its daily duties. you're absentmindedly tracing the clock tattoo on his upper arm, midnight chicken and beer getting you quiet and sentimental.

your human pillow notices the comfortable silence from you, starry eyes following gloria delgado's rant about how the men in her family don't talk to her. "can see and feel you staring, koo." you turn your head to his side, lips lifted up at his adoring attention, eyes still focused on the tv. jungkook removes his gloves, downing the last of his beer. he nuzzles your neck, taking your homey and comforting scent. he pulls you impossibly closer, scattering kisses on your neck, tracing up to your cheeks. your eyes finally fall on his, peeking through his long bangs. its at level 3 now, you remind him proudly everyday, tying tiny braids and squishing his cheeks for your weekly change of wallpaper.

"you wanna play with my hair, don't you?" jungkook reads your mind, smiling when you nod sheepishly, already taking out the silk scrunchie which was holding his hair back in a sprout. he sits in between your legs, settling in comfortably. this is one of your favourite activities, carding your fingers through his soft and silky hair, watching the curls bounce when you brush through them.

you have nothing particular bothering you today, watching him grab the remote and shift to youtube, pulling up the karaoke version of dreamers, "lemme put on a show, baby, just for you," he says sincerely, getting up and letting bam sit on your lap now. he waits for the song to start, laughing when he looks at you looking unbelievably small behind bam.

you both never fail to cheer him on, giving him song requests and watching bam run around him, keeping up with his intense choreography. jungkook dramatically falls on you, giggling at your open mouth, mind still stuck on his sudden cover of unholy. "cat got your tongue, sweetheart?" you punch his arm weakly, "you've had too much to drink tonight, honey," you retort back, laughing at your equally weak attempt to get him back. he straddles your lap, letting himself fall on you like a weighted blanket. and he's your favourite type, made of love and cosy comfort.

you look down on him, the beer chugging finally catching up with him, his droopy eyes catching yours. "hi, my love," he giggles, turning his head to find bam nosing him, "and hello, my bamie!" he sits up slightly so he could shower the pup with kisses, booping his brown nose with his finger.

you watch the interaction with endeared eyes, finding your day incomplete without seeing the both of them, happy and content. you weren't planning on crying tonight, it wasn't in today's plot of your unusual night and you certainly didn't expect tears to fall down like waterfalls down your cheeks when you hear jungkook say, "you both are part of the most important people in my life, never forget that, okay?"

you immediately lift your arm to cover your eyes, sniffling and crying like your husband just returned from war. said husband from war is on you in an instant, holding your face tenderly. "i didn't mean to make you cry," he says, leaning his forehead on yours and willing himself to not cry. "happy tears, koo, we're fine," you reassure him, pulling back to place a kiss on his lips. you push his hair back from his forehead, tying his hair in a loose ponytail. his eyes trace your feature with starry fondness, pulling your neck so you're looking at him again.

jungkook sighs, making you tilt your head to the side in curiosity. he kisses you tenderly, leaving another one on your forehead.

"bamie, house, it's late and i just remembered we have to go to the doc's, so sleepy time, okay?" he says firmly yet gently, giving the doberman a forehead kiss. he doesn't go until he gets his customary forehead pat from you, which you lovingly give him promptly.

"he knocked out quickly," jungkook says quietly, getting up and settling on the couch. he pulls you up so you're on his lap now, nosing his way to your neck and sighing in content. "he got that from me," you say, giggling when you get a playful glare and apologizing half-heartedly, squishing his cheeks in retaliation when he starts tickling you.

jungkook holds your waist, making you go still, "god," he breathes, "how is it that when i look at you, i see the whole damn world?"

pt time: @armys-dna ; @junsai-tree ; @soobhyun ; @shatzkrinslinzki ; @jinsquishes ; @cherishoshi ; @fragmentof-indifference ; @indgio ; @jjkeverlast ; @parkdatjimin ; @yoogijk ; @starlight-1010

[darlingshane]

Salt of the Earth ~ Part 1

Pairing: Michael Berzatto x OFC

Summary: She was Carmy's best friend growing up, and Michael never looked at her as anything other than that until years later when she comes back to Chicago to start over. In the process, she turns his sorry excuse of a life upside down.

Content/Warnings: Friends to lovers, Fluff, Angst, Family Drama, Dysfunctional relationships, Implied/referenced drug addiction, Alcohol mention, Divorce, Pets, Pet names, Dialogue heavy. Undisclosed age gap (in my mind Michael is late 30s and OC is late 20s, but it's really up to your interpretation).

Word Count: 6.8k // 4 chapters // AO3 link.

A/N: This is set in the year of the Fishes episode on season 2. It starts in summer and slowly builds up to that Christmas.

— This was an anon request that I got a few months ago, I hope you're still around. I tried to fit all the ideas you sent as best I could. There's a bit of info dump on the first chapter, but I hope it isn't too off-putting.

Chapter 1: Best thing since sliced bread

Seconds stretch into minutes, minutes elongate into long hours on slow days like this at The Beef. Especially in summer when the air conditioner stops working for the second time in the middle of August. Any living soul that crosses that door must have a dying wish or be the devil themselves to adventure themselves to what has become Michael's personal hell.

It's been a testing year, and there's so much he can do to fix this place right now. While he waits for Fak to come check the damn AC unit, Michael tends the front while Ebra takes his lunch break.

Turning the paper's pages on the counter, he comes across an article about the extensive fires eating different parts of the country. A wretched thought crosses his mind as he reads – maybe it'd be better to burn this place to the ground and start over. He entertains the idea for a second until the door swings open, inviting more heat into the boiling pot.

He lifts his eyes from the words to find a familiar face approaching the counter. It's not Fak, but a much better vision of someone he used to know.

“Mayhem Maya.”

“Magic Mikey.”

That former thought of burning down this place disappears somewhere in the midst of that beautiful aura that saunters with her big brown eyes, long raven hair, nervous smile, and firm steps.

“It's been a while, Maybird.” Almost ten years since she set foot in this establishment. “What brings you to this hole in the wall?”

“Came to collect that meatball sub you promised at uncle Teddy's funeral, remember?”

“Oh, right.”

Ever since she moved to a different state, he only had seen her a handful of times when she came back for the holidays. Last time he saw her was at the beginning of spring, when her uncle, Ted Silva, passed away.

“I also had an interview at the new vet clinic on the next block.” She places her cross-body bag on an empty stool while she perches her ass on the one next to it.

“How's that going? Did you get tired of California already?”

“No, I love California. But I needed a change of scenery. It's been rough after… you know…” the divorce. She wasn't married for long, but she still can't bring herself to say the word.

“I’ve heard some of it.” He’s pretty much aware of how everything went down. Well, he’s got grapevine’s juicy version of the story, but he never heard her side directly.

Though Michael and Maya know each other as if they were related, they were never close confidants. She always thought he was the coolest guy in Chicago. And he always thought fondly of her, given their families association, and Maya’s close friendship with his brother.

Michael places an order for her sandwich and grabs a soda for her, while she explains she has two more job interviews later.

“Does your mother know you're back?” He folds the paper and props his elbows on the counter.

“She probably does.”

“Still not talking, huh?”

“It's not my fault she made me the black sheep of the family. She’s like vitriol on steroids.”

“Yeah? What happened at the wake? You left before I could say goodbye.”

Michael recalls the tension at the funeral, particularly at the wake when Angela Silva grabbed Maya by the elbow and took her youngest daughter outside the house as if she was still a child that needed to be scolded.

“Nothing. I barely said a word that day. Guess everything I do feels like a personal attack to her. I can admit that I'm not perfect, and that sometimes I've acted up just to get a reaction out of her, but that day she just went off again…” She pauses without finishing that thought to take a refreshing sip of her coke. “And that wasn't nearly as bad as the day I told her I was getting…”

“Divorced? Why can't you say the word? It's not Voldemort.”

“What the hell do you know about Voldemort?”

“How do I… Who took you and Carmy to buy those damn books? Have you forgotten?” Maya shakes her head. “You even tried many times invoking his name, so I was haunted by eaters or something like that. You two were real potterheads.”

“And you were just a pothead,” she laughs, stirring the ice cubes in her drink with a straw. “I totally blocked that out. We were just a couple of nerds.”

“I’d say!”

“Meatball sub!” Richie calls from the pass-through window and takes a second look when catching Maya in the joint. “Maya Papaya?!”

“Please, don’t call me that.” She scoffs while Richie promptly abandons the kitchen and goes around the counter to give her a welcoming hug.

“Did you know she was coming?” He asks Michael, as he props his ass on the bar.

“Had no idea. She just showed up.”

“Did you tell her about Carmy?”

“What about him?”

“He’s in Copenhagen.”

“Oh, I knew about that.”

“You two talk often?”

“Sometimes, I guess.” Barely more likely. They don't even text anymore. She's tried but there's been nothing but crickets at his end for months.

While Richie grills her about Carmy and what she’s been up to, Michael can’t help but look around the shop to notice, from every corner and wall, memories bouncing all at once in his direction. It takes him back in time to those days when she and Carmy were as thick as thieves.

Their shared history goes back to that same street their families have lived on for over thirty years… It’s still clear in his mind, like it was yesterday, when he was forced to babysit them when they wanted to go to the movies or trick-or-treating or the bookstore. That was a little annoying back then, now he fondly remembers all those times in summer, when they’d go to the convenience store to get ice pops on their bikes. Then they’d ride back and sit in the middle of the swanky rug in their living room and watch TV for hours. More than once they were yelled at by Mama Berzatto when she would come home to find melted colorful stains in the fabric. She would lose her shit. Carmy was used to it. Maya wasn’t, but the girl never flinched once cause Donna and her own mother were cut from the same unstable piece of cloth.

Maya and Carmy were really close up until they went separate ways for college. Their bond was something to admire. They had something so special that inevitably, Carmy fell in love with her. She was his best friend and confident. They kept each other's secrets, and Carmy thought she'd feel the same in return. It wasn't a crazy notion. They spent so much time together, everyone thought it'd lead to something more, but that never happened.

Mikey and Richie used to tease the youngest cub relentlessly. They tried multiple times to encourage him to ask her out, but he never found the guts to do it. Especially if it could potentially end their friendship. Carmy didn't want to lose that. Though he never confessed his feelings, Maya always knew. Even in her teens, call it a woman’s intuition, part of her already knew. Maya wished she'd felt the same toward him, but the heart wants what it wants, and she couldn't change that.

What was really fucked up was that she had the most ridiculous crush on the older Berzatto when she was a teen. While she knew he'd never look at her as anything other than Carmy's annoying little friend, that didn't stop her from daydreaming about it for years. It was a secret that no one ever knew and that was placed in a drawer at the back of her mind after she left Chicago.

After graduating, Maya and Carmy stayed in touch for a long time, until their calls and texts became less frequent. They followed different dreams that required a lot of attention and sadly their friendship got hurt in the process.

While she attended Vet School on the west coast, he became a chef on the east.

Maya thrived at school and work. She really went out on her own, and became the woman she always wanted to be. Unsheltered, confident, outspoken. She outgrew her shell and opened herself to new experiences and people. She loved it all. It wasn’t smooth sailing, but for the most part she was pretty happy with her choices.

And now she's back in Chicago, set on a new path and awaiting to see where it takes her.

She’s living in a house in Oak Park with her dog, Coco; Richie fishes out of her. Apparently, she got some money from uncle Teddy, and she’s invested it in a home for her and her beloved staffy.

“Does Carmy know you’re here?” Richie circles back.

“No, I haven't talked to him in months.”

“Why? Did you two have a fall-out or something?”

“There's no why. We're just busy.”

“Mike, help me out here. Weren’t these two fools supposed to get married?”

“Yeah, everyone thought you'd ended up together.”

“Man, I don't know what to tell you, we just didn't,” her head sinks between her shoulders.

“Just get over yourself and hit him up. The kid has been hung up on you since forever. It looks like things didn’t go so well with your marriage and all. You should take that as a sign, you’d never find anyone better than Carmy. The boy could really use some excitement in his life. And so could you.”

“C’mon, leave her alone. Go back to work, Cousin.”

Michael throws her a lifeline, noticing how miserable she looks every time Richie opens his unfiltered mouth.

“He’s not wrong, you know? You and Carmy… it looked like you two had something special.” Michael offers once Richie is back in the kitchen.

“It’s called friendship. You should look it up.” She points out.

“I have Richie.”

“Exactly. You have Richie. Why don't you two marry the other and leave me alone? If you think about it, you were as close to Richie as I was with Carmy. Even more. Should everyone assume you are in love with him? Cause that's what you're implying.”

“Touché. I'll drop it.”

“Look, as hard as it is to believe, there was nothing else between us. I was aware he felt something for me, but I didn’t feel the same.”

“You should give him a chance sometime. He might surprise you.”

It’s not the first time these two have been trying to play matchmaker between Maya and Carmy, and it’s bizarre to see they still do at any given opportunity.

“Okay, if I give Carmy a chance, you have to give Richie a chance. Those are the rules, Berzatto.”

“Oh, I've tried. He's not into me,” he remarks, amused, and leans closer to confess something in a lower voice. “Do you wanna know a secret?”

“Uh, sure.”

“He and Tiffany are having a baby. He just told me a few days ago.”

“What? You let him reproduce? I'll pray for Tiff.”

Chapter 2: Cool as a cucumber

Everything falls slowly into place as Maya settles back in Chicago. She secures the job at the clinic near The Beef, which is a huge relief after her rushed decision of moving back to her hometown without securing a job first. It was part of the plan all along to practice what she loves but never thought this would be the year. As much as she loved California, once her divorce was finalized she felt like something was trapping her there. And the money she got from her uncle gave her some leeway to improvise, get away from all that, and start over.

Maya is spending her morning going through the stack of unpacked boxes, finding a good place for everything, making it feel more homey. It's not a big house, but spacious enough for the two of them. The big selling point was the backyard for Coco to zoom around and cool down in her wading pool, which she loves. It didn't take long for the five-year-old pup to get used to her new neighborhood. They've even made a couple of friends at the park nearby.

A moment before the doorbell rings, Coco whines from her spot by the window, where she often sits to watch passers in the street.

“Who is it?” Maya playfully asks her dog as she makes her way to the front door.

Through the peephole, she sees Michael's profile as he inspects the porch.

“Hi,” her eyes widen as she opens the door. “Didn't know you were coming.”

“Yeah, I would've called, but I didn't get your number the other day.” But he got her address from Richie's intense questioning when she visited the shop.

“I knocked on two different houses until I got the right one,” he explains as Coco curiously circles around his feet, sniffing his pants, hitting his crotch with her nose in the process.

“No, Coco. Sit. How many times have we talked about no nut-tapping?” Maya glances at her with amusement as the dog sits on her haunches.

“It’s fine,” he snorts. “All dogs do that.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. But she’s not any other dog. I thought I had taught her better. So what brings you here?”

“This.” He offers the paper bag hanging in his hand. “It's just a little house-warming gift.”

“You didn't have to.” As she takes the bag from his hand she ushers him inside before closing the door.

“It's nothing, really.”

He glances around as Maya takes out the box from the bag.

“Wow, a set of knives? That's not nothing.”

“Everyone needs one good set of knives. But you can exchange them for something else if you want.”

“No. I like these. But I gotta warn you that I'm not much of a cook, and I'll probably use the same one for everything.”

“That's fine I can show you sometime though. Is she friendly? ” He points at the dog that keeps staring at him. “Can I pet her?”

“Yeah, she loves everyone. Go ahead.”

Michael cautiously pets the brown coat of her head as her floppy ears lower at the passing of his hand.

“Never pictured you with a pit bull.”

“Me neither. I always thought I'd be a cat lady. But I met her at this adoption drive when she was one, and she stole my heart.”

“I can see why.” Michael crouches down, and pets Coco with both hands. “She's really sweet.”

He lets her lick his chin a couple of times before standing back on his feet. Then they go on a tour around the house.

“It's still a work in progress. I'm thinking of painting a few walls, but we like it so far.”

“Yeah, it has good bones.”

“So you don't have to work today?” Asks Maya.

“No, we've had some trouble with the gas line, and we've been shut down for a couple of days.”

“That sucks. Now where am I going to get my sandwiches and coffee on my way to work?”

“Heard Starbucks is pretty good.”

“Shut up. Don't even joke about that.” She playfully shoves his shoulder as they go back to the living room.

“Are you doing something later?”

She shakes her head. “Why?”

“I don't know, thought you were having a comeback party or something.”

“I don't really have any friends here. And I don't feel like inviting my family yet. As you can see, I still have a lot to unpack.”

“Physically or mentally speaking?”

“Both,” she scoffs.

“Let's do something then? Just you and me. We could grab some pizza, or go out for a drink for old times’ sake?”

“Old times’ sake?” It's amusing, surprising and confusing his sudden interest in her. Maybe he can see how pathetic she thinks she is, and he's taking pity on her. Although, that was never Michael style.

“Yeah, c'mon, Mayhem. You look like you could use some fun.” He picks up a book that's sitting on top from the box opened by the couch that's titled — Dating Again with Courage and Confidence: The Five-Step Plan to Revitalize Your Love Life after Heartbreak, Breakup, or Divorce. “And maybe a rebound or something. You don't need a fucking help book. You only need me to show where to get the best guys, or girls. Whatever you're into.”

“Give me that. I don't need a rebound, a help book, or you for all matter finding me a date.”

“No? Then why do you have that?”

“My friend Paige thought I should give it a try.”

“Maybe she was onto something there.”

“I'm perfectly fine. Just want to finish organizing everything, focus on work and this handful I have right here.” Her hand gestures at Coco. “What are you so interested in my love life anyway? First you try to play matchmaker with Carmy, and now you want me to do what, exactly? Hook up with the first guy I see?”

“No, I'm just asking you to go out and have some fun. I know Carmy was the only friend you had here. And if I was in your shoes, I'd feel pretty lonely.”

“I'm not lonely, Michael. Do I miss my friends in Sacramento? Sure,” she admits. “But I don't wanna force anything. I'm just taking it slow. When the time comes I'll jump right in but for now, this is all I need. Really. Stop pitying me.”

“I'm not pitying you, sweetheart.”

“No? Then what is it? Where is this coming from?”

“I don't know… I've always thought you were the salt of the earth. And though we never really hung out together, I thought you could use… But I can see now that you're different, and that you know what you need right now, so I'll just shut up and back off. Let you do your thing.”

“Thank you. I do know what I'm doing, by the way. You don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine. But I appreciate you coming here anyway.”

“Yeah, of course. And I can help you unpack if you need.”

“Hm, if you don't have anything better to do, be my guest. We could grab a pizza later, if the offer still stands. Or just order some food.”

“Sure.”

Michael helps Maya unpack all the boxes and put everything in place in half the time it'd have taken her alone. They order some food for lunch and spend half the day talking and laughing until late in the afternoon when they decide to go out for some drinks to keep the good vibes going.

At the end of the night, she offers to drive Michael back to his apartment as a thank you for inviting her.

“Did you have fun?” Michael asks from the passenger seat as she pulls up in front of his building.

“Yeah, I did. I'm glad I changed my mind.”

“Me too. I didn't know you were this fun. You're nothing like I remember.”

“Yeah, I was kind of weird growing up. You guys probably thought there was something wrong with me. ”

“Nah, don't be so hard on yourself. We were all weird in our own way.”

“Uh-uh. No Michael Berzatto. You were the coolest guy back in the day, and you still are.”

“I don’t know about that,” he scoffs. “For the record… I never thought there was anything wrong with you.”

“You were probably the only one… Anyway, thank you for today. I know I said I didn't need this, but I guess I did.”

“You're welcome, Maybird. I'm glad you’re back.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Thanks for bringing me home,” he softly squeezes her arm before reaching for the handle to open the door.

“No problem.”

“You know you can call me if you ever miss your friends, y’know?” he throws casually.

“I uh…sure. I will.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she echoes back as he pulls the handle and the door opens.

“Have a good night, Michael,” she says as he gets one foot on the pavement.

“You, too, sweetheart.”

He closes the door and vaguely waves as she sets the car in motion and watches her drive away.

Chapter 3: Don't cry over spilled milk

In the few weeks he's been spending time with Maya, Michael has found himself enjoying her company more than he'd like to admit. Being with her grounds him. She makes him forget for a little while all that's wrong in his life. She's like a beacon in that immerse darkness that his sorry existence has become. Despite having her own set of problems, he's watched her rise above all that with poise. He wonders what it's her secret to her steadfast determination, even when her own family has disavowed her.

After closing shop, he dives into his stash to tame that brewing headache before driving to Oak Park to pay her a visit. She told him earlier via text that she was at Home Depot buying some paint to update the color of her bedroom and asked him to come over to hang out after work.

For some reason, he couldn't say no. Not even the storm in his head is strong enough to deny her request. He has a pull on him, tugging him hard like a dog tied to a leash in her hand, he can’t help but follow her lead.

When he arrives at her house, she's halfway done. Two of the walls shine bright new in a lavender tone as she starts working on the next one.

After having beer and playing a tug of war game with his new friend, Coco, Michael offers his help to finish painting the walls. He uses a brush to paint the corners, while she gracefully uses a roller like a pro with her denim overalls over a tank top, and her raven hair pulled up in a ponytail sprinkled with lavender paint beads. When she lifts one of her arms, he catches a glimpse of a tattoo on the side of her rib cage, leveled to the roundness of her chest that looks like the outline of a dog paw.

“What are you looking at?” She asks after catching him staring.

“You have paint on your chin.”

“Oh.” She wipes it with the back of her hand, but she just spreads the stain along her jaw. “I made it worse, didn't I?”

“Yeah.”

She shrugs it off and continues with the task ahead until the whole wall is covered.

“Is everything okay, Bear?” Maya puts down the paint roller. “You're quieter than usual.”

“Yeah, everything's alright.” It sounds so honest, he almost believes it. “It's just been a long day.”

“I'm sorry that I put you to work.”

“Don't be. This is relaxing.”

“Yeah?” She takes a step back and surveys how much brighter her bedroom looks already after covering most of the former downcast grey. “Is the color right? Do you think it's too girlish?”

Giving the room a once over he says, “it's a good shade. I dig it. It doesn't matter what I think or if it's too girlish, as long as you like it. Do you like it?”

“Yeah. I do.”

She dips the roller on the tray to cover another section of the wall.

“You never told me what happened at the funeral with your mom,” Michael leans on the stepladder, taking a short break.

“Do you really wanna know?” She glances over her shoulder.

“Yeah. Everyone does. I’ve heard some crazy stories about it. Thought I should get it straight from the source.”

“I never pegged you for a gossip girl.”

“I’m not. I’m just making conversation.”

She mockingly narrows her eyes, drawing a lopsided smirk, “liar.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna. But yeah, can’t help being a little curious about it.”

“I don’t mind telling you, but it won’t be as entertaining as those crazy stories people have made up.”

“I’m not here for entertainment. I just wanna hear your side of the story, Maybird.”

Maya lets out a heavy sigh and while keeping her focus on the wall she shares with him what really happened. She’s right to say that is not the best story she’s ever told, though when it comes to her mother, all her stories tend to have a surreal element even she can’t fathom sometimes.

That day at the funeral, she was taken outside during the wake by Angela Silva to get scolded about her imminent divorce. It wasn’t finalized by then, and her mom invoked one last Hail Mary to convince her to stay with her husband, who was also currently dating someone else. It was a messy situation that Maya couldn't wait to get out of, and the fact that her mother never offered an ounce of support wasn’t surprising, but still devastating. Somehow, Angela found that the reason for her separation from her husband was that Maya didn’t want to have kids, and that really vexed Angela. All she wanted for her three kids was to follow the same traditional path Angela was forced into, no matter how miserable she was. Her two older sisters followed her mother’s narrowed traditional values. But Maya, ever-the-nonconformist, swore she would never follow anyone’s drum beat but her own. Her husband thought she’d change her mind eventually. He was wrong. She knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, which led her here, to this moment.

“Is your mom ever happy?” Michael has always wondered.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her happy, except when she’s drunk. That’s why she has to make everyone else miserable.”

“Yeah, but she’s always had a fixation on making you miserable.”

“Like I said, every family needs a black sheep, and I’m it.”

“Is that why you became a vet?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“So, it's true, you don’t wanna have kids? I’m not judging. I’m just curious.”

“I honestly don't know. I just knew that when he told me he wanted to have a baby right away, it didn’t feel right. I said that maybe in six or seven years I’d be okay with it. Told him I wanted to travel and just be us for a while, and he said that was too long to wait. I don’t know… he stopped talking to me, and it was clear that he wasn’t changing his mind, and I wasn’t changing my mind, so. At some point I got tired of trying… He got a girlfriend as soon as I filed for divorce and I got a text from Paige the other day that said he got her already pregnant, like… that was never me. I guess it served me right… I married him on a whim, an impulse without really talking about what we wanted…”

“Hey, don’t feel sorry for yourself. You dodged a bullet there.”

“You really think that?.”

“Yeah, I do. You stood up for yourself and knew when to step back when it didn’t feel right. Not everyone has the balls to do that. Think how miserable you’d be by now if you had tried to please him or your mom. You seem happy now. That's what matters.” He means that with all his heart, and wishes he had the same drive to follow those same steps. As much as he loved the restaurant, he chose to run it to please people within his family. And that love turned into a nightmare he couldn't escape.

“You know… I liked you better when you were quiet,” she quips.

Michael huffs a soft laugh, picking up his brush to resume painting.

When the room is finished, she plugs a couple of fans and closes the door to keep Coco away.

Maya washes her hands and face in the bathroom sink. When she comes out, she catches the motion of Michael's arm as he shoves what looks like a pill into his mouth before taking a gulp of water from one of her glasses.

“What was that? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. It's just a headache,” looking down, he runs a palm over his short growing beard.

“Is it the fumes?”

“No, I had it before coming here.”

“Michael,” she sighs softly at his name. “You should've told me. I wouldn't have let you help if I knew.”

“Would you stop that? I wanted to help.”

“Okay, c'mere. Let's sit down.”

“No, I think I should get going.”

“Nonsense. I'm not going to let you drive until you feel better.”

He yields with a long exhale, and follows Maya into the living room, where her bed is settled askew in the middle of the space.

She takes a seat on the edge of the mattress and waits for him to sit next to her.

“Give me your hand,” she shows her palm up, as his eyes narrow. “C'mon, don't be a baby, give me your hand, Berzatto.”

“When did you become so bossy?” He slowly lifts his hand and as he lays it on top of her palm, his fingers tremble upon contact with her skin. Maya then uses her opposite hand to clip the webbing between his thumb and pointer fingers with her own and begins massaging that spot.

“My friend Sierra is really into acupressure. She says this is a pressure point that helps with headaches.” She explains while slowly increasing the force. “Does it hurt?”

“Not one bit. Is that like acupuncture?” His voice comes as a whisper as he focuses on her diligent fingers.

“Kinda. I think. I’m not really sure.”

“You don't have to fix me, you know?”

“I'm not trying to fix you, Bear. I just wanna make you feel better.”

“Admit it. You just love a good wounded animal.”

She smiles softly, placing his hand down on his knee and picking up the other. “Does it feel any different?”

He’s not really sure, it wasn’t truly a headache that led them to take that pill but the annoying rambling of his thoughts. She shouldn’t have seen that. And he shouldn’t have lied. But having her hands on his like this is straight up lovely. Inside of him, it truly feels like something is broken, wounded, and missing, and this is giving him a sliver of relief as he waits for the pill to kick in. If he was a better man, he’d tell her the truth. But he’s too far gone for saving. All he can do is keep that facade up.

“Does it?” She insists after not getting an answer.

“A little.”

“Do you wanna lay down?”

Swallowing, he responds with a nod, and they both lean back on the mattress at the same time. Looking at the ceiling, she keeps kneading that pressure point, unsure if she’s even doing it right.

They stay in comfortable silence for a good five minutes and when she finally places his hand down, Maya glances to the side and sees that his eyes have closed, and his chest gently rising and falling. She calls his name softly, but she can see that behind the sharp edges of his face and the ever-growing shade of his beard, he’s truly exhausted, so she doesn’t insist. She extends her hand to turn off the lamp, and curls on the other side of the bed without disturbing his sleep.

“Good night,” she says softly and closes her eyes.

From a dusty corner of her mind comes crawling that little forgotten part that used to harbor a lot of feelings for Michael. Though a few weeks ago he seemed practically the same Michael she knew, over the past month she’s keenly noticed little changes here and there. His eyes sometimes cast a dark shade tainted in nothing but sadness, it’s barely noticeable for other people. It comes and goes, but it tells her he’s not truly as happy as he pretends to be.

Michael wakes up disoriented at the crack of dawn.

It takes him a few seconds to remember he’s still in Mayas’ bed in the middle of her living room and that the weight that has his arm pinned is her body pressed against his. She’s warmly snuggled on his side, with her arms tucked between his chest and hers, and a peaceful expression on her beautiful face. She’s so awfully close, he can smell the scent of her hair, and feel the heat of her breath every time she exhales.

It's such an odd moment for him to have her that close. He's unsure of whether it would be better to slip out of bed unnoticed before she wakes up, or just stay there and watch her sleep for a bit longer. Either option would make him look like a creep, he thinks. So he opts to gently wake her up. His free hand reaches to his forehead to move a stand of hair away. Her brow scrunches as his light-feather touch grazes her skin. His lips curve up as he traces the shell of her ear to see her stir awake. She blinks slowly a couple of times until her focus shifts onto him.

“Hey, Maybird.”

“Hey.” Her lips move, it's barely audible.

“Sorry, I fell asleep.” His fingers absentmindedly massage her earlobe.

She's so stunned by waking up to that level of intimacy, she simply nods, as her mouth softly draws a smile.

“It's fine. Does your head feel better?”

“Much better. That pressure thing really worked.”

“I'm glad.”

“Listen, I gotta go open. Maybe we could do something later?”

“Okay,” she swallows nervously, hoping that waking up with him like this isn't just a dream. “Can you do me a favor first?”

“Sure.”

“Can you stay five more minutes?”

“I uh… I think I can,” against his better judgment, he decides he can stay for a few minutes more holding her.

The way her lips pull up timidly at the corners, revealing the dimples framing her mouth, completely disarms him. He’s always felt a certain affinity towards her, but being this close to her awakes a longing within that feels dangerous. He can’t bring someone new into his life. Not while everything around him is falling apart. It’s already hard enough having to pretend around other people.

He couldn’t do that to her. He won’t.

Michael will have to fight harder because when her arm tucks around his waist he can’t help but press his lips against her forehead.

Chapter 4: Hard nut to crack

Four months later…

After that initial moment of weakness when he fell asleep on her bed, he fought hard to elude that odd longing that has only grown into a big mass of love toward Maya. To anyone else in the world, a feeling as big as that would be a blessing, especially when it's reciprocated. To Michael, it's a weakness he can't afford right now.

Spending all that time with Maya has been like discovering a whole new planet Michael never thought existed. She's all vast, uncharted territory that fazes him more than it should. Despite his best efforts, he’s fallen into her alluring orbit and can’t find the way out into his own universe.

Far gone is that moody teenager that would mumble a few words here and there. And now there's this tragically stunning woman that looks you directly in the eye, says anything that crosses her mind, and laughs without a care in the world.

Though falling in love with her wouldn’t be completely wrong, it's not quite right either. It fills him with guilt to think about her in that manner. Moreover, it feels like a betrayal to Carmy, who’s far away in a different continent, prospering in his craft.

Michael tries to fool himself into believing that this is just temporary infatuation. He’s even attempted several times to convince her to get in touch with Carmy but hasn’t succeeded. It’d be easier for him if she were to put her focus on someone else instead of him. He has nothing to offer to her and has deemed himself unworthy of her, or anyone for that matter. If she only knew what’s really going on with him, she wouldn’t want Michael nearly as she believes she does.

Layer by layer, she’s tearing all his walls and defenses down. And after all the back and forth, he's absolutely sure she wants more than he can offer her. She’s been giving him the right signals. She doesn't shy away from it. Maya is direct and impulsive, and everything about her is fascinating and intimidating.

It’s time to either cut her loose, or accept that he’s madly in love with her and do something about it.

Amidst coming to terms with a final decision, he's lured into a surprise party she's organized for his birthday.

Michael is left speechless by her determination. And a little annoyed too for reasons he can't explain. To be honest, he’s never been a fan of surprise parties, but the main problem is that this would make things much harder for him to let her down easily. She’s carved herself into his life and the longer he drags this out, the worse this is going to hurt.

He’s aware that it’s selfish and obtuse of him for being that ungrateful that someone who cares that profoundly about him, that they would go all out to prove that. He feels like an asshole, but the train has already left the station.

Using the same tiring self-defense mechanism, he draws his best smile and brings out the Michael everyone seems to love. Not without help. There's always that crutch tucked in his wallet in the form of a pill. Being high numbs him enough to deal with the situation.

The cherry on top comes at the end of the night, when he walks her up to her car and asks if he's had a good time. He lies through his teeth and for the first time, he can tell Maya is not buying it. Perhaps she never did, but he's well-versed on her tells by now, and he can clearly see she's fed up with all the bullshit that comes out of his mouth.

“Look, it's not that I didn't like the party. It's just that I hate surprises, and I was exhausted today. But it was a nice thought, sweetheart. I just… I wasn't in the right mood.” It's seemingly convincing the second time around, but her face shows nothing but regret. “I love the jacket you bought me, though.”

Michael has never been interested in fashion, but he's always loved vintage jackets, and the one she picked it's a perfect addition to his collection. It's a bomber jacket, aviator style, in brown leather with a couple of patches and fur collar.

As they reach Maya's car, they come to a stop. She turns to him, “I know I can be a little too much sometimes. But I promise no more surprises from now on.”

“You and I both know, you won’t be able to keep that promise even if your life depended on it. That's part of what makes you– you, sweetheart. Don’t let my bad mood ruin that.”

“I’ll try.”

After a beat, without hesitation she leans in to leave a goodnight kiss on his bearded cheek and on a whim, she decides to press a second one on his lips.

It takes him completely aback. He wants to dive so badly into her mouth, but he freezes on the spot. And when Maya attempts to deepen the kiss, he finally reacts by placing a placating hand on her shoulder as he pulls his head back.

“I'm… I'm sorry we can't do this, Maya.”

“Wait, I thought… Did I misread something?”

“No, you didn’t misread anything. I just can’t do this.”

“Why?”

“I can't.”

“You can't or don’t want to?”

“Guess I don’t want to.”

“Can you at least tell me why? Did I do something wrong?”

“You did nothing wrong, sweetheart.” He wants to spill out the old – it's not you, it's me – excuse, but he refrains. Every thought and action go against every good instinct he's ever had. He hates himself for making her feel insecure. And yet, he can't backtrack now.

“Stop calling me sweetheart. You see how misleading that is?”

“Sorry. I think I gave you the wrong impression.”

Her eyes narrow, and he can see the gears turning for a long moment before opening her mouth.

“I don't think you gave me the wrong impression, Michael. I think you're too chickenshit to admit that there's something between us and, for whatever reason, you're just taking the coward's way out. You've been weird the whole night, especially with me. I just threw a party just for you, the least you can do is tell me why.”

“I didn't ask you to do that. And I don't owe telling you shit! I was trying to let you go easy, but nothing is ever easy with you. So I'll just say it. This, you and me, is never going to happen.”

It sounds ridiculous as it comes out of his mouth, but he stands firm on that statement as her heart breaks in front of him.

In the end, it'd be better for her, he believes.

[bjtch-craft]

"I'm a Rockstar Babe"

Todd Ingram X Bottom Male! Reader

☆ Summary: [Name] reunites with an old high-school friend turned rockstar things take a turn when they restart their old high-school ways.

☆ NSFW

☆Request: Yes or No

☆ Word count: 2,836

☆Genre: Angst to Smut (Kinda)

☆Warnings: Smut, degradation, manipulation (kinda, tbh I just tried making him cocky but rereading it it sounds like bro is manipulating), Bl♡wjobs, slapping, just douchy rockstar things, spitting (he's one of those ppl)

☆Authors note: Dude, I rewatched the movie and reread the novels, and why is Todd so mf fine like WHAT? And why are there no stories about this man? Anyways enjoy!! (P.s this has been in my drafts for like 2 months now and I've never finished editing it for some reason...)

Also look at the comic version of him like WHAT A CUTIE like yeah sure he's arrogant, narcissistic, uncaring, and may or may not be a pathological liar, and a walking red flag but like that red looking a little orange so??? PRAYING SOME OF YALL READ THIS!!

Did this count as being a groupie? No. It's not like I'm some obsessed super fan like Joseph I mean for fucks sake I knew Todd in high school [Name] thought as he lay on the mattress of the cheap motel room waiting for Todd to get out of the shower.

10:15 P.M. - some time earlier

[Name] was shoved and pushed around by the hundreds of thousands of fans who had gathered to watch the band play. The band in question was none other than The Clash at Demonhead. [Name] new one of the members (while technically two if you count Envy but they didn’t know each other. They were more of acquaintances really.) Todd Ingram who he was close friends with. Really close.

He'd given him head a couple of times (and slept with him too) but that didn't mean anything to them (yes it did.) it was what Todd considered a "bro-job" whatever the fuck that was. But that's not important (yes it is) what is important is how quickly their friendship ended after he got with Envy. They tried to keep in touch but after the band blew the absolute fuck up he cut ties with him.

Did it hurt? Yes. A lot. But [Name] didn't let it get to him he still supported Todd even if Todd himself didn't know it. [Name] bought every CD, vinyl, and cassette tape, and got tickets to most shows. He even tried to get backstage passes to rekindle his relationship with Todd but the prices were far out of his price range.

There have been times when for a quick second he'd seen Todd after a show or two and waved to him or said a quick word but he didn't recognize him. Which also hurt. How can you not recognize someone you spent almost TEN YEARS of your life with? But [Name] was determined to catch up with his best friend so after pulling a couple of night shifts and saving up some money he... still didn’t have enough.

10: 50 P.M.

"Todd's so hot!"

"Jesus Envys even hotter in person!"

"Why's that chick got a robotic arm?"

These are just some of the things [Name] heard throughout the event which was on the verge of ending.

12:10 A.M. - Later

The concert was over and [Name] pushed and shoved his way out of the venue and quickly rushed towards the back of the building looking for the band.

"Come on please don't tell me I missed them!"

His shoes thudded against the gravel, and as he rounded the corner a gate came into view.

"No. No, no, no, no!"

The gate door was slid open. How safe right?

"Envy? Do you wanna get a bite to eat or something?"

[Name] stopped for a moment as he saw Todd standing there his guitar case in hand talking to Envy. He took a deep breath and stepped through the gates. Fuck?

"T-todd?"

Todd turned to look at him a look of shock and anger upon his face.

"Who the hell let you in" Todd asked as he stepped closer to [Name] his voice coming off as aggressive as his eyes and hair started to glow.

"N-no one the gate was open."

"So you just snuck in?"

"I'm [Name], [First name], [Last name] we went to high school together. Remember?"

Todd's eyes and hair stopped glowing as his hair drifted back down in front of his face.

"You're kidding?!"

Todd dropped his guitar case and ran up to [Name] his tough guy rockstar persona shedding completely. He threw his arms around [Name] and pulled him into his chest. [Name] could feel the heat rising to two places as his face was smushed into Todd's rather large pecs.

"Todd you're squishing me..." [Name] said his voice muffled.

"Sorry!" He pulled away. "Jesus it's been a long time since we've seen each other... I'm a Rockstar!"

"I can see that!"

"Todd, what the fuck is going on," Envy asked?

Todd turned to look at them wrapping his arm around [Name's] waist. "This is [Name] from high school! He's my best friend remember?"

"While to me he looks like a fucking groupie! Let's go" Envy replied.

"I'm not a groupie..."

"Do you think he can come back to the motel with us?"

"No."

"Find some other cheap motel to fuck in," The Bionic arm bitch said.

"He's not a groupie and we're not gonna fuck! He's my friend and I wanna catch up with him!"

"Find. Another. Motel." Envy said the tone of her voice showed her annoyance more than anything.

12:30 A.M.

And they did find a cheap motel in an extremely unsafe part of town. Fits the stereotype, huh? A rockstar takes one of his fans to a cheap rundown-looking motel just to get it in.

[Name] once again was hugging Todd but this time was looking up at him.

"I'm so sorry for ghosting you [Name]."

"It's fine."

Todd's hands traveled down [Name's] back and reached his ass and groped it firmly, making [Name] let out an involuntary yelp. He pushed Todd off of him, causing the blonde boy to let out a laugh.

"What's the matter [Name] just like old times!"

"Todd aren't you dating Envy or something?"

He shifted his weight on his feet annoyingly.

"I'm a Rockstar babe we don't date," Todd said cockily.

"Oh?"

"I'm gonna hop in the shower. I know I reek of sweat... care to join me?"

"Smooth Todd.... real smooth."

He winked at [Name] and waltzed into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. After a minute or two he heard the shower go on.

Did this count as being a groupie? No. It's not like I'm some obsessed super fan like Joseph I mean for fucks sake I knew Todd in high school [Name] thought as he lay on the mattress of the cheap motel room waiting for Todd to get out of the shower.

"Do I wanna do this... again?"

The first time [Name] and Todd ever did anything together was on his eighteenth birthday. They were both unbelievably drunk, and both were bored lying on Todd's bed in silence. One of them now and then would say something, and they would have a short conversation.

"H-heyyy~ [Name] can I ask you for a favor," Todd asked his words coming out slurred.

"Yeah- hic! What'sss ~'s up?"

"Do you think you could um... s-suck me off?"

"Why?"

"Well, I'm one drunk! And two horny as fuck~! So can you?"

"You know what fuck it! You are my best friend!"

[Name] slid his basketball shorts off and then his boxers and grabbed at his length.

"I've never done this before so um... bear with me~."

Todd nodded his head a goofy grin on his face. "Do it as if someone's doing yours."

[Name] took him into his mouth slowly going down inch by inch the girth was almost too much to handle. Almost.

But that was years ago. They were two dumb eighteen-year-olds who were just helping each other out. But [Name] didn't feel that way anymore... but reminiscing on their old days made [Name] slowly begin to get hard in the shorts Todd had given him.

[Name] rubbed himself through the fabric and pushed down on it, making him release a soft moan. He needed Todd he didn't realize how badly he did until right then and there. The door opened to the bathroom, and [Name] quickly through the blanket over his lap.

Todd walked out with just a towel around his waist, his bulge catching [Names] eye as well as his body, which was still wet and glistened in the light.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting another pair of boxers, I forgot to bring them into the shower..." Todd looked at [Name] and noticed the tent that was forming underneath the blanket. "Aw, are you happy to see me like this again, baby?"

"What! No!"

"Come on..." He said huskily. The cockiness was back. "I heard you moan... were you thinking of the times I fucked you? The times you begged me to fill you up? The times I came on that pretty face of yours?"

[Name] could feel his cock growing harder with each question.

"N-no" [Name] whimpered out.

Todd walked to the side of the bed grabbed [Name's] hand and placed it on his groin.

"You miss my fat cock don't you," He asked his voice sounding oddly humiliating.

"I don't have to say anything."

Todd started to move his hips grinding his bulge against the palm of [Names] hand.

"Todd we can't... you have a girlfriend."

"I told you we rockstars don't really - truly date, and if anything, it's just another bro-job, remember?"

[Name] pulled his hand away and sat up and using both hands opened Todd's towel up causing his cock to pop out and slap against his happy trail.

"Fuck~," [Name] whispered out.

[Name] reached out and pumped his cock twice.

"Yeah that's it~ I know you fucking missed it haven't you?"

[Name] let go of Todd's cock and adjusted his position so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Todd backed up a little.

"Please don't like- hurt me that much. Please?"

Todd chuckled and ran his hand through his wet hair.

"You sweet dumb thing, you know I can't promise that."

[Name] grabbed Todd's cock once more and spat on it and stroked him off spreading the saliva over his cock.

"I haven't done this in a long time... so I'm a little rusty."

Todd smiled down at him. The grin was a mixture of amusement and humiliation.

[Name] placed the tip on his tongue and licked it gently before wrapping his lips around it and slowly going down on it.

[Name] couldn't lie he truly did miss this. Not only did he enjoy it, but it honestly made them closer as friends.

[Name] gagged on the base as he looked up at Todd with tearful eyes.

"Aww you look so cute with my big cock in your mouth," Todd said softly his voice coated in lust as he gently patted [Name's] cheek.

[Name] began to slowly come off his cock before Todd placed a hand on the back of his skull and slammed him back down causing him to gag and for drool to pour out of the sides of his mouth.

"Mmm-hmm-agh." [Name] groaned out.

Todd pulled his cock out of the boy's mouth and slapped it on either side of the guy's cheek.

"You took it so well [Name]~."

[Name] looked up at Todd with innocent eyes, his tongue sticking out a little as he gasped for air.

"Jesus you look so fucking gorgeous."

"I-I think you bruised the back of my throat!"

Todd grabs [Names] chin as he angles his head straight aligning his cock with [Names] lips.

Todd spat on his cock (and on [Names] face) and slammed it down [Names] throat before pulling out. [Name] stuck out his tongue and licked a stripe down his cock.

"You're such a fucking slut baby. I bet you've been craving my cock since you heard about our band haven't you?"

[Name] nodded his head embarrassingly. Todd placed a hand on the back of [Names] head and leaned in, planting a kiss on his lips as his hands traveled down his body. His hands reached the bottom of the boy's shirt and began to pull it up over his head, breaking the kiss in the process.

Todd pushes [Name] down onto the bed by his chest and crawls on top of him, attacking his neck, causing [name] to let out a soft moan. Todd kisses down his neck while unbuckling [Names] belt and gently pulls them off along with his boxers.

"I don't reckon you have a condom do you?"

"I have one in my wallet in my left pocket," [Name] says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Todd grabs [Names] jeans off the floor and pulls out the condom from the wallet before discarding them back onto the floor.

Todd rips the wrapping of the condom off with his teeth and slides the rubber on. He places [Bames] legs on his shoulders and lines himself up at his entrance.

[Name] squeezes his eyes shut as Todd pushes himself into him. A sudden wave of pain and pleasure washes over him, causing him to grab onto the sheets, twisting them in his hands. A soft whimper escapes his lips as Todd continues to push deeper into him.

"Shit- Todd, you're so fucking- ngh~ big!" [Name] whimpered out, causing Todd to look down at him with a cocky grin.

Todd had pushed himself into the other boy and slowly began to pull back out, only to slam back into him, which earned him a low groan.

"Does that feel good?"

[Name] nodded his head and let out a whimper. Todd began to rock his hips in and out of him, the tip occasionally brushing against his prostate. His thirst got faster and quicker he reached down and grabbed [Name's] hands and placed them above his head.

Todd began pounding into [Name]. The sound of skin against skin filled the room as well as screams of pleasure from both boys.

"Ugh~ F-fuck! You're going to har-!" [Name] wasn't able to finish his sentence as Todd delivered a gentle (but still hard) slap across his face.

"Don't tell me what the fuck to do!" Todd growled out.

[Names] cock twitched as pre-cum drizzled down his cock causing a moan to escape from his lips.

"Don't tell me you're into this shit you slut?"

"S-s-shut up Todd~"

Todd smirked and began rocking his hips.

"How bad do you want it?"

"W-what?" [Name] stuttered.

"I can pull out right now and leave and not let you finish you."

"Please don't~ I'll do anything!"

"Then admit it.'

"What?"

"Admit you're a filthy whore" Todd said his voice thick with lust.

"I'm not going to- ah~!"

Todd pulled out of [Name] leaving him feeling empty and somehow even more fucking desperate.

"Todd please" [Name] begged.

"Then say it."

"I-I’m a whore okay? Is that what you want to hear from me? I'm a fucking slut for you okay?!"

Todd looked down at [Name] with a cocky grin.

"Good boy."

Todd leaned back over [Name] and placed a soft kiss on his lips before pushing himself back into him. He wrapped his hand around [Name's] throat and began pounding into him. The sounds of skin against skin filled the room once again.

Todd raised his hand and brought it across [Names] face with enough power to cause a sting of pain leading [Name] to let out a dry moan.

"I can't believe your into this shit!" Todd said with a cheesy grin.

"Shut up!" The boy underneath him whined out.

Todd smirked and removed his hand from [Names] neck and grabbed him by the waist and slowed his thrusts.

"What are you- agh~!"

Todd pulled [Name] into him driving his cock deeper into him pushing past his prostate. [Names] jaw dropped as the sudden feeling causing a high pitched moan to erupt from his throat. Todd took this opportunity and grabbed his jaw holding it open and dipped his thumb into his mouth.

"Don't close your mouth got that?"

[Name] replied with a whimper as Todd's thurst became annoyingly slow as a string of spit slowly began to fall from his lips and landed in [Names] mouth.

[Named] closed his mouth after Todd gave him a look that practically yelled at him, too. Todd's slow thrust became faster and faster. Todd wrapped his hand around [Name's] dick and began jerking him off as [Name] placed his palm at the back of Todd's head.

"I'm so close!" Todd groaned out as his rhythm began to go out of sync.

His movements became harder and harder as he felt himself getting closer and closer to finishing.

"W-where- fuck~ where do you want it?" He moaned out.

"On me..."

Todd placed a hand behind [Names] head as his thurst became sloppy he spat once again at [Name] the salvia covering his face before pulling out and jerking himself off.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

With one final moan ropes of cum erupted from his cock covering [Names] body in white ropes. Todd pumped [Name's] cock for a minute before he came their cum mixing on his stomach. Todd scooped up some of his cum off of the boy's body with his index finger and popped it into [Names] mouth.

"How's it taste?"

"Salty... can you get me a towel?"

1:35 AM

[Name] lay on the cheap hotel's mattress, his head on Todd's chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"Hey, have you ever thought of being a roadie?'

"A what?"

"A roadie helps the band set up... you could be one for us so we could keep in touch and..." He wrapped his hand around [Names] body and groped his ass "Have some more time to ourselves."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THIS MAN IS SO FINE ARGH. I NEED HIM SO BAD LIKE I WANT HIM TO FULLY REARRANGE MY INSIDES.

Authors note!!

Again, sorry for the break. School is still once again kicking my ass :) I do plan on writing more over Christmas break, but I do have like half-written stories in my drafts, so here are some of them. (Some of them have titles, but they are to be determined, so kill me or wtv) .

Darry Jenner x Male reader (Fluff)

Miguel Ohara x Male reader (Smut)

Chad Meeks x Male reader (TBD)

Simon Kalivoda x Male reader (Fluff)

[katiexpunk]

Heat Wave | Pairing Javier Peña X fem!Reader

Summary:  In the sweltering haze of a Colombian heatwave, everyone's on edge, including you, your nerves fried crispier than plantains in a hot skillet. Even Javi is not immune - his nights spent tossing and turning, the relentless heat driving him mad. Imagine his surprise - and yours - when he knocks on your door late one night, a little buzzed and sweaty, craving a distraction. What's a generous soul to do but let him in and share some cool, sweet cholado? As the night unfurls, the heat outside might be unbearable, but inside, things are just starting to warm up.

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI. I say this with love -- GTFO.

Word count: 5K

Warnings: Javi wasn't super nice to reader and has to gravel a bit, female masturbation, references to the cartels, use of pet names (Hermosa, Cariño), emotions, reader cries, sweat, fingering, female stimulation, face-fucking, blowjob, praise kink, unprotected sex (wrap it up, don't lead by my written example), direct p in v, pussy slap, somewhat rough sex, sensual sex, creampie, and cum eating.

Authors Note: Eek! This is my first time writing for Javi, so be kind to be hunnie bunnies. Joel will always have my smutty heart, but damn, Javi can fucking get it. Special thanks to @sydneyinacoma for being my personal hype woman on this one, and to @josephquinnswhore for telling me this premise wasn't total trash. Ily bbs.

Also I often edit after I post (hello typos) so if you saw one originally sorry 🫣

The window is wide open, but the curtains aren’t moving; only offering a slight flutter now and again, offering a deceptive promise of a breeze that you know will never come. You lay there, restlessly, the cotton sheets sticking to your damp skin. The eerie silence of the room was punctuated by the whirring fan overhead, its blades churning the stale, hot air in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. It’s nearly midnight, hours since you’d gone to bed, but yet, you find yourself staring at the ceiling, cursing why you ever decided to move to Colombia. Had you known it would be the hottest summer on record, you might have thought differently and denied the job. 

You turn to your side, annoyed at the hair clinging to the back of your neck and forehead like velcro. You stare at the alarm clock on your nightstand, watching the numbers slowly change, like a shitty version of trying to count sheep, but there’s no point. You’re wide awake, and there doesn’t seem to be anything that can change that. 

You roll onto your back to splay out like a starfish, hoping the gap between your limbs will somehow offer you some reprieve from your burning core, and you stare at the ceiling. You wonder if you’ll actually get any sleep tonight. The heat was enough to keep you awake, but there were other things that would probably prevent you from dozing off if the heat weren’t a factor. 

Outside of the thud of your own pulse, it’s completely quiet in your apartment. You’re sure people are awake, but no sound comes from Steve and Connie’s apartment next door; nor from Javi’s. Odd, you think, considering work has been slow as of late and most of Colombia, even the cartels have hidden themselves away from the relenting sun and suffocating humidity, too tired to do anything substantial. 

In your haze, eyes transfixed on the ceiling panels above you, you try your best to think about something else, anything but him, but your last conversation replays in your brain like a bad rerun. 

You knew he wasn’t really the type to settle down, and you were more than aware of his reputation, yet you let yourself hope that this situation might be different, that you might be the one to change him. 

He had insisted that it was for the best and that he wasn’t the right guy for you; that it should be simple for you to move forward and erase any trace of your connection, and that he should do the same. Perhaps that was the reality of it; maybe it was only you who had experienced a heightened sense of joy during those countless nights he held you close. When wrapped in his embrace, the burden of your conscience seemed to lighten, and you couldn't help but wonder if he had ever found comfort in your presence as well.

Your mind begins to drift to the ways he made you feel like you were the most precious thing in the world. You can still feel his pillowy lips leaving a soft trail of kisses up your neck and across your jaw, cock buried deep inside of you. The memory of it sits low in your belly, adding to the stickiness between your thighs, now a cruel mixture of sweat and arousal. 

Your mind swirls with thoughts of him, and you decide that there might be one thing you’ve yet to try that might be able to help you fall asleep. You lay there, trying to focus, to let your mind sink into better days, better nights, ones you had spent wrapped around him in every way possible.

You tease your fingertips along the thin fabric of your tank top, trying to ignore the way the sweat that’s seeped into its fibers causes it to bunch up as you stroke your hand down your sternum. You circle your nipples through the fabric, trying to call forward any sense of arousal or sensuality. You slide your hand under the waistband of your linen shorts and place your hand between your legs, resting it atop your lace underwear, already wet, courtesy of Colombia and your incessant thoughts of Javi. 

Your fingers are quite delicate compared to his, and you miss the thickness only he can seem to provide. You slide your underwear to the slide, and drag your index finger through your folds, bringing your slick up to your clit. Your hips lift at the sensation, and you let out a little moan.  

You begin to slowly draw small circles, eventually increasing your pace enough to provide a nice mix of movement and pressure. Your restless thoughts of him have you so keyed up, already so close to the cliff of your orgasm you can practically taste it. Your body heats even more as you chase your high, desperate for a release, practically begging for an escape from this inferno. Like a cord about to snap, you swear you’re starting to see stars when you hear it  – knock, knock – and the distraction cruelly pulls you back from the edge, your pressure gauge falls, and your orgasm retreats back inside you like you scared it. 

No! Fuck. 

Now hot, tired, and sexually frustrated, you let out a long sigh. You slide your underwear back in place and withdraw your hand from your shorts. You wipe your wet fingers on the fabric beneath you, gaze at the clock once more, and wonder who the hell would be at your door at this hour. You rise, legs still a little shaky from your would-be orgasm, and walk over to answer it. 

Your aggravation at the disruption vanishes the moment you clock his face through the peephole. You unlock the top and bottom lock and release the chain from the door, opening it to completely see him. 

He looks like he’s been chewed up and spat out, his hair a disheveled mess of thick, dark, damp curls, small beads of perspiration collecting on his lush, tan skin. You’ve seen him like this before, a look of affliction, hiding behind soft brown eyes. But there’s something else flickering in his eyes – some kind of yearning. For what? You haven’t got a clue. He’s made his stance on your relationship very clear, or at least, the parade of women filing in and out of his apartment speaks volumes. 

You lean up against the door frame, waiting for him to speak, to give some sort of explanation as to why he’s on your doorstep.

“Hey,” is all he says, eyeing you up and down, eyes lingering a little too long on your exposed stomach. 

You’re positive you must look like a mess right now, but you don’t really care, you feel like one. 

“Javi – is everything okay? It’s late,” you answer quietly.

He crosses his arms, then uncrosses them, then shifts the weight from one hip to another, unsure of himself, obviously uncomfortable. 

“I know, ‘m really sorry to bother you. Can I come in?” he asks, looking at you with his big puppy dog eyes, and you can’t turn him down. You step aside so he can enter your small living room, hoping he can’t smell your arousal on you, hoping that he’ll assume the musk lingering in the air was just from the cracked window, the outside world seeping in. 

Your apartment was rather small to begin with, but with his presence, it seemed to shrink before your eyes. He walks over to the center of the room, and pauses once he sees the couch; a memory of him railing you on it flashes through his brain. 

No. 

No, he won’t let himself think about that. He swallows the thought, and palms at his jeans to adjust himself.  He’s not here for that, he’s here to gravel.

You let out a sigh, and walk over to him. You come to stand right in front of him, giving him the opportunity to commit the sight of you like this to memory – all pretty, skin clammy, cheeks a darker shade of pink than normal. You pause before saying anything, still unsure why he’s here in the first place. 

“Can I get you some water, whiskey, anything?” you ask, cringing at how awkward it feels to play hostess with him now, considering he’s explored every inch of your body with his tongue.

Javier shakes his head and runs a hand over his forehead to wipe away the sweat collecting there as if he’s deciding what to say. 

“Mmm, no. Probably shouldn’t have any more whiskey tonight,” he admits. “Some water would be good. You don’t happen to have anything cold by chance, do you? This heat is fucking killing me,” he says. 

“Actually, yeah, I do,” you say, your voice an octave too high, remembering your creation earlier this evening. You nod to Javi to take a seat on the couch, giving him a perfect view to watch as you saunter over to the kitchen. You open the freezer and reveal a container with a kaleidoscope of colors. It closes with a thud, and you open the fridge next, pulling from it a bowl of fresh fruit – juicy chunks of mango, sweet pineapple, zesty oranges – and a can of whipped cream. Javier watches intently as you gather it all neatly onto a little tray, glide over to the end of the tiny kitchen to grab two spoons from a drawer, and close it with a quick thrust of your hip. 

You place the tray on the coffee table. The couch lets out a little squeak as you find your seat next to his. 

“Fresh cholado – made it tonight,” you say, offering him a spoon. 

You neatly assemble the fruit on top of the colorful slushy mixture. The sound of the whipped cream releasing its contents onto the top of the fruit causes the hair on the back of his neck to rise to stand. 

“Go ahead, dig in,” you say, offering him a kind smile. God, you’re always so sweet and nice to him, even when he doesn’t deserve it. 

Both with a spoon in hand now, you delve into the sensory masterpiece, pausing in silence as you savor the blend of textures and tastes, a welcomed escape from the heat.

Javier closes his eyes and lets out a small hum in delight. 

“This is so good, holy shit,” he praises, not even finishing with his latest bite before he’s digging in for another. 

“I’m glad you like it,” you say, and you really mean it. 

The elephant in the room becomes harder and harder to ignore. 

“Why are you here, Javier?” you ask, voice a little unsure. 

His eyes hold your gaze for a moment, and he swallows his last bite and then places the metal spoon onto the tray in front of you both. He doesn’t say anything, instead, he holds out his hand, his eyes pleading with you to take it. You hesitate, before deciding to place your palm in his, allowing his fingers to wrap around yours. He stares at it, the pad of his thumb tracing over the back of it, and he inches closer to you. 

Neither of you says anything, but your brows furrow and you look at him, hoping he can see the pain – the hurt he inflicted on you – in your eyes. 

“Cariño,” he whispers softly, and you sense the obvious change in his tone. His hand releases yours, and he brings his palm up to land on your cheek. Maybe it was just the heat playing tricks with your emotions, but the simple action causes tears to well up in your eyes. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” he admits. 

Oh god, he already broke your heart once, was he here to just do it all over again? The thought causes your already battered heart to sink into your stomach. 

“I can’t pretend like I don’t need you anymore,” he continues, “like you’re not the only thing - the only person - in Colombia preventing me from losing myself,” he adds. 

The sudden truth bomb he’s dropped leaves you speechless. 

“I —” you start to say, but the broken silence is all it takes before Javi pulls you in closer, hugging your waist, dragging you up onto his lap, your knees straddling him. You try to ignore the uncomfortable press of his DEA badge digging into your inner thigh but secretly hope it leaves a mark. 

Fuck, it feels so good to be on him like this again. You shouldn’t feel this way, but you do. You rest one hand on his shoulder and instinctively run the other hand’s fingers through his hair. Old habits die hard. For the first time in a while, you feel a bit of relief; you wager he must feel the same by the hefty sigh that escapes his lips. 

“Javi – I don’t,” you pause, your words trembling, “I don’t want to get hurt again,” you say, allowing your hands to wrap around his torso and your head to fall into the crook of his neck. Hot tears begin to spill from your eyes and fall to the fabric of his shirt, the weight of your confession compounding with all of your other frustrations from the evening. 

“I know, baby. I just…fuck, I don’t know how to do this. I suck at the emotional,” he admits, gently patting the back of your hair and holding you close to him. He pauses before guiding your face up to look at him and continues, “I’m so sorry I hurt you. I was just scared; didn’t want to get hurt, or even worse, hurt you, but I realize now that I did, and I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong. Shit. I just… I need you, I need you more than I need air in my lungs,” he adds, and you hear the break in his voice. 

“You do?” you ask, hating how pathetic you must sound, your eyes puffy and cheeks wet from your crying.

“I’ll always be here for you, cariño, if you’ll let me. I know I don’t deserve it, but do you think you can forgive me?” he softly mutters. Seeing you trying to blink away the silent years trailing down your cheeks, he reaches up and swipes away at them with his thumb, and his hand stays there, cupping your face.  

You nod yes in response. 

Just like that, it’s almost as if everything were still the same; as if it were just you and him against it all. A thought of doubt crosses your mind, one saying this might just be temporary, your heart still unsure if you can trust him, but you allow yourself to cave into the feeling all the same. 

He holds you quietly against his chest, the pressure of his strong arm around you is soothing. You feel his cock begin to stiffen under you, and it causes something to stir in your lower belly. God, you want him. It was less than half an hour ago that you were coaxing yourself to orgasm with just the thought of him inside you.

Your chest begins to flush, and the heat your bodies generate together mingles with the warm air in the room around you. You slightly press off of him to find some reprieve from the burning surface of his chest and place your hand on it, his shirt slightly clinging to it as you do. 

You lean forward and press a soft, breathless kiss on his lips, one laced with the taste of tears. It’s delicate at first, as if to test the waters of your reunification after so much time apart, but it’s not before long that it deepens; his tongue exploring the recesses of your mouth, your mutual lust boiling to the surface. His hands glide down from your waist to your hips and he grips onto the delicious flesh there, inviting you to grind against him. 

Your hips roll on him, and you feel a sudden disdain for the clothing that clings to your skin like a second skin. The fabric is damp and heavy, and with each roll of your hips, it chafes against you. Your eyes tell you that you’re not the only one who’s uncomfortable, Javier’s face in a slight twist, one that screams both pleasure and pain. 

“You know, Colombia’s hot enough without the two of us making more of it,” you say, letting a little giggle out as you do, tilting your head back, letting your hair fall behind. Javier trails kisses down the side of your neck and then darts his tongue out to lick the hollow of your throat. The action causes your breath to hitch. 

“You’re right, Cariño, we really should do something about these layers, hmm,” he purrs, and you catch his drift. 

He releases both of his hands from your hips and helps you lift your tanktop over your head, your perky tits bounce in response and the friction of the fabric on your nipples causes them to stiffen. One of his hands finds its home on your hip, and the other comes to grab your breast. He rolls your nipple between his fingers, the feeling sending a tiny zap through you as he does. His mouth finds your chest and his tongue trails the valley of your breasts before slowly making its way over to the stiff peak of your other exposed nipple. A low, hungry growl leaves his chest, it’s a needy and desperate sound that goes straight to your cunt. 

“Javi –” you moan, “clothes,” It’s not a question, but a request, one he’s happy to oblige. 

He begins to undo the buttons of his linen shirt, and you watch in anticipation, his stiff cock under you making you impatient. His shirt joins yours on the floor, and you trail your hand down the expanse of his chest, noting the little freckles that pepper it; the small detail drives you to another level of impatience. 

You swing your leg over him, feet coming to the floor; a temporary but necessary adjustment so you can step out of your shorts and panties. You stand there before him, happily naked, pleased to be free of your cloth prison. The air is thick and hot, but it feels good to have so much exposed skin for the first time tonight. With his eyes dragging over every inch of your body, you eagerly watch back as his hands come to his waistline and he undoes his metal belt buckle. 

You look down and notice his boots are still on; you drop to your knees in front of him and you swear you hear his heart thump in excitement at what you might do. You look back up to lock eyes with him, and you reach down to his shoes and begin to undo the laces of his boots. Fuck, that’s definitely not what he thought you were going to do. With his feet free, his fingers fumble for the button and zipper of his denim jeans, and he slowly undoes them, lifting his hips slightly to let them over his ass as he drags them down, taking his briefs with them, until everything is off his body. 

Now both totally naked, you rise to take a seat on him, but his hand darts out to your shoulder as if to hold you in place on your knees. He spits into his free palm, and takes his heavy cock in hand, slowly gripping the length of it up and down. You salivate at the sight, the tip of him is red and weepy with pre-cum. 

“I think you look pretty good where you are, Hermosa,” he says, “always so pretty, especially like this,” he adds, still stroking himself. 

You love when he uses his Spanish on you, his words sending a surge of desire through you like a bolt of lightning, your body responding with intensity as the sticky tread of arousal pools between your legs.  

You inch closer to him, your hands finding his knees, and you gently pry them apart, creating just enough space for you between them. You look at him as if to say let me, and he releases his grip on himself, and you take over stroking his length. You lick your lips and position him at the entrance of your mouth. You place a soft kiss on the head of his cock, and smear the precum that’s gathered there on your lips like chapstick. 

You hum in delight as you sink down onto him, letting your jaw relax so you can take him deeper, savoring the salty taste of his skin. He gathers your sweaty hair into a makeshift ponytail and holds it back from your face, allowing you to work him without distraction. And god, you’re into it – the sounds are filthy, but your delighted little moans have Javier unraveling like a runaway spool of thread. You look up at him through your wet lashes and let out a little wink, an innocent act considering your practically sucking his sanity out through his dick and having fun with it. 

“Fuck, baby. Gonna have to stop or you’re gonna make me cum,” he says, holding the hair on your head taught as if to warn you to slow down, letting his head fall to the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling as if to think about something other than how good you’re making him feel. You let out a satisfied mew, and release him, a little pop sound fills the air as you do. 

“C’mere –,” he says, a little breathless and sweaty. You rise to stand, your knees pink and sore from the ground, and he stands to join you. At full height, you have to look up to see his face, and you feel him grab both of your hips and twist you around onto all fours, your upper body resting on the couch for support.  “My turn to taste you, Cariño,” he says, using his knee to nudge you, and encourage you to spread your legs open for him. 

With your tummy flat on the couch cushions, your ass is on full display, and he fucking loves it. Using his middle finger, he inserts it into your needy cunt, gently curling it to sweetly abuse your g-spot. The moans that escape your lips only encourage him further, a light chuckle follows when he reminds you that he’s only using one finger and that he’s just getting started with you. He uses his other hand and pushes your hips and ass deeper into the couch, while his one finger stays in place, gently rubbing the spongey texture of your g-spot without breaking, making you squirm under the bare minimum he’s providing you. 

You’re already wet, but once he thinks it’s enough, he extracts his finger, and uses his hands to lift your hips up, making you arch your back for him. He crouches down further to plant a tender kiss on your ass, biting into it very dimly, eliciting a little yelp from you in response. He slowly begins to move lower and lower, kissing the lines where your ass meets your thighs. He taps your cunt a few times with his thick fingers, each time getting a bit rougher, sending a stinging sensation through your whole body. The rough taps eventually become a full-on slap, and you move your hips in desperation, a mellow whimper escapes your lips begging him to give you what you need. He flattens his tongue, and moves it across the expanse of your dripping folds, lapping at you like you’re the cold refreshment he needs. 

The tip of his tongue finds your clit, and he stays there momentarily to give it a little suck before moving it upwards, licking the whole length of your pussy. He continues to do this a few more times, before finally stopping and focusing his attention on your now swollen clit. You’re barely breathing as his tongue relentlessly pleasures your needy little clit. He brings his forearms onto the back of your ass, and uses his thumbs to spread your outer lips open completely for him. 

“Javi – holy fuck,” you moan as he slides his greedy tongue inside you, moving it in and out as breathless moans continue to leave your lungs. 

“Taste so good, sweeter than the fuckin’ cholado,” he praises, and you’re nearly gone at his words.

He continues to eat at you, but releases a hand and then brings it back up, under you this time, as his fingers begin to circle smooth circles over your clit once more; your whole body begins to shake, it’s so much. You’re moaning and whimpering at the feeling of both his hands and his mouth on you. 

“Come for me – want you to soak my face,” he says, his encouragement is all you need and you snap. Your vision goes white, and your whole body tenses under his attention. He rides out your orgasm with you, ensuring no drop of your sweet juices goes to waste. Once your shaking has subsided, he lifts his chest and you readjust, bringing your weight to your forearms on the couch. 

“Javi, need you, god, please,” you’re all but practically begging for him. 

‘I’ve got you baby,” he coos, “gonna give you what you need,” he says as he strokes his cock a few times, and then places the tip at your slick and waiting hole. Both of his hands come to your hips, surely leaving little bruises under his strong grip. Your slick makes it easy for him to bury himself in you to the hilt, your greedy cunt taking every inch of him like it was your fucking job, like it was made for him. 

He begins a relentless pace, thrusting his cock deep inside of you, the obscene sounds of the clapping noises, a song made as a result of your wetness and his thighs, spurs you on. He reaches out and grips the back of your neck, and jerks you backward into him, forcing you to arch your back against him. The new position lets him take you deeper, harder. Holding you against his chest, he snakes a free hand around and his fingers find your clit once more. He makes soft circles on your clit, working you with each thrust until he once again has you climbing the ladder to your climax. 

“Just like that, you’re so perfect, Cariño, taking me so perfectly,” he praises, voice low. 

You squirm and babble something of the likes of gonna come under him, and he holds in place as you begin to unravel once more for him. Your hole contracts around him, your perky tits bouncing as he continues to fuck you through it. You’re so tight, your sweet sounds have his own orgasm not far off. 

Suddenly, without warning he stops fucking you and pulls out. You look back at him, brow creased, wondering why he stopped. 

The sight is one you’ll remember till the day you die, Javi all sweaty curls, ragged breaths, hard and throbbing cock in hand, shiny with your slick, looking at you through needy brown doe eyes. 

“Why – why’d you stop,” you ask, breathless. 

“Turn around, Hermosa. Lay on the couch. Want to look you in the eyes as I cum,” he rasps. 

You do as he says, and spread your legs open for him. Within seconds, he’s back on you, filling you up to the base of him. The dark hairs at the base of him tickle your swollen clit as he rolls his hips into you. A tingling warmth pools in his belly and surges through every sensitive nerve on his body, accompanied by the surge of blood that rushes to every corner of his flesh, his response making it obvious that his release is imminent. 

His hips slow, and he lets out a rough moan, spilling inside of you. He pauses there, and you feel him gently pulsate and twitch as your walls drain every last bit of cum inside him. 

He collapses on top of you, working to catch his breath, an exhausted mix of sex, heat, and general tiredness from the restless night. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, and intertwine your fingers around his now full-on wet locks and trace small patterns onto his back. You stay there like that, in your sticky embrace of sex and emotion, until your heart rates return to normal and your breaths find a manageable pattern. 

He slips out, bringing with him a glob of cum that pools on the cushion beneath you. He leans back on the other arm of the small couch and watches as he slowly pools out of you. “Mmm, sure do love watching me drip out of you,” his gaze doesn’t move from the filthy sight of it.

He leans forward to drag his pointer finger through your folds, causing your body to twitch at the unexpected sensation on your tender clit. He slightly presses the tip of his finger into you, and his cock twitches and begins to swell like it’s ready to go again. He drags his finger out, now coated with a mix of you and him, and he brings it up to your lips. 

“Taste us,” he says. You open your mouth to welcome the cum-coated finger onto your tongue. You savor the taste of the mix of you, an overly salty, heady mix of sweat and semen.

Once satisfied, he removes his finger and leans back once more. 

In your fucked out state, you tilt your head toward the coffee table, noticing that the remaining cholado has turned into a sticky, syrupy mess. 

“Sad that’s melted, I could really use something cold right about now,” you say as you reach your arms up and try to secure your wet hair into a little bun on the top of your head. 

“How about a cold shower,” Javi offers, a smile on his face. He stands and offers his palm to you for the second time tonight. 

Without saying anything, and without hesitation this time, you place your hand in his, and he pulls you off the couch and into his arms. His chest firm against yours, he brings both of his palms to cup your face in an embrace. He pauses momentarily before leaning down to place his lips against yours. 

“And then maybe some breakfast?” He says, tilting his head to the side, signaling to the window. 

The sun is now rising, bringing with it what you can only imagine is going to be another tortuous day. 

Well, almost as torturous.

At least now you have each other. 

Although you’re pretty confident you won’t be getting any sleep tomorrow night, either. 

END

Tagging some moots: @darkheartgatita @elegantduckturtle @alltheglitterandtheroar @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @reddedmiller @morallyinept @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @secretelephanttattoo @ruinmepedro @papipascalispunk @dins-riduur-anthe @untamedheart81 @planet-marz1 @pascalpvnk @elvinaa @joeldjarin @javiscigarette @cavillscurls @bastardmandennis @janaispunk @endlessthxxghts

Oh hey! You made it to the end. Cool. Thanks for reading. Since you're here, I'll pass on a reminder that I'm just a horny little wannabe fic writer trying to make her way on this hell site and write things that make people turned on happy. Likes and comments are wonderful and much appreciated, but reblogs are really what counts in making people see this, especially for smaller blogs like mine. If you like this, please consider reblogging.

[thefandomdirtymind]

Stand by Me

OPLA - Vinsmoke Sanji

Soundtrack : Stand by me - Ben E. King

Hymne a l'amour - French Version by Josh Groban

Hymn to love - Edith Piaf

Sanji / OPLA Masterlist and Coming Soon 

A/N : I had this idea stuck in my head for a while. Big shoutout to @alienstardustwrites for heard me complain about my cringe ideas and vocabulary struggle when helping me with my romantic vision.

* English is not my first language, I tried really hard to correct myself but, I hope you will excuse me if some mistakes are still there.

---

It was a really calm night on the Merry Going. 

Most of the crew was already asleep, even Usopp who’s, in the nest, was on vigilance duty. In the kitchen, you were lazily washing the dishes as Sanji was doing his prep for the next day. He had ,of course, insisted that doing both wasn’t bothered him and that you should go rest like the others, but you had assured him that you weren’t tired and preferred helping him than counting sheeps or worse fixing the ceiling. 

It was then in a comfortable silence that you both focused on your work, enjoying each other's presence. 

The calm atmosphere, only broken by the repetitive chopping sound and often clicking of plates against each other was in fact so peaceful that you at first thought you were mistaken. But, as you passed behind Sanji, you heard it again, faint but still melodious. 

The blond cook was singing under his breath. You recognized, by the few words you could hear, the ballad the musician was playing at your last, well deserved, night of fun.

The place was crowded, either by drunk sailors or couples, as much intoxicated as the previous, slowly dancing to the music. You remembered Sanji being particularly flirty that night, except for when that song had come. Multiple times, you had seen him reach for you before retreating himself or just brushing your question away. 

“ It’s nothing, love “ 

Had been the only answer you had for his momentary strange behavior. 

But here, in the tranquility of his own kitchen, you couldn’t help yourself to be amused by the tall man.         

Slowly, drying the plate in your hand, you softly join your voice with him, trying to not lose the tempo as you see the tips of his ears turn an interesting shade of red.

“ I’m sorry, I didn’t know you could hear me “ Sanji apologies. 

“Why are you sorry ? That’s okay Sanj, you can enjoy a song you know. And you were singing it pretty well. It’s the song the musician played last time right ? ”  

“ Thank you darling, yes it is. I have it stuck in my head for a while now…” He said, putting aside his vegetable prep and salted meat. “ In fact, that night, I was...I was trying to invite you to dance but I didn’t...I didn’t want to share that moment with the others.” He softly confessed. 

You could perfectly understand. As much as you love Luffy and the others, being with them all the time has only left you really few moments of privacy. And you knew that , even if Sanji and you didn’t really hide your attraction for each other, flirting as much as you can without crossing a certain line, you knew that you would have heard jokes and other childish reactions for weeks.  

Putting down your dishcloth, resolute, you slowly crossed the distance between you and the best cook of the east blue. 

“  Sanji,the night is calm, everyone is asleep, can I invite you to dance ? “ You gently asked. 

“ We don’t have any music “ He softly smiled. 

“ Then sing for me “ You replied,as your hands slowly slid up on his chest before locking themselves behind his neck. 

His smile could have illuminated the sky if the moon wasn’t so jealousy guarding his spot. Placing one of his strong hands on your waist before enveloping one of your hands in his, he slowly closed the gap between your two bodies.  

“ As you wish, Coeur en sucre“ Sanji answered. * Heart of sugar/Sweetheart

Softly starting to hum the instrumental part, adjusting his head above yours. He gradually drives you in a slow movement, keeping you firmly against him, his warm chest solid under your cheek.  

As you were both swaying in the night and he was singing in your ears how he wanted you to stay by his side, making you often gently twirl, before welcoming you back in your warm bubble. Sanji reaches the end of the song, but never stops the move, letting your two heartbeats become the tempo, wishing to keep you for him a little longer, even if it is just for a moment. 

Your flirtation with Sanji has always been fun, light and cautious. But, as you lifted your head off his shoulder, your lips brushing against each other, starting their own long dance of waiting and hesitation, you knew it was inevitable as your gaze got lost on each other.

Lightly his soft lips took possession of yours,making it seem  like time itself stopped, letting you enjoy in peace the sweetness of his kiss. Returning for more,his hand cupping the side of your face, passion diffusing itself little by little like a good liquor, kiss by kiss, you softly smile against his mouth. 

“ I think we have definitely crossed the line “ You joked, before stealing another kiss.

“ I think I had crossed that line the first day I saw you, “ Sanji confessed, his thumb caressing your cheek. “ You’re so perfect, I knew in a minute I had to make you mine “ 

“ Then, thank you for waiting for me.” You replied, leaving a long kiss on his lips before putting your head back at his place on his shoulder. “ Sanji, can you sing for me again please ? I don’t want the moment to end” 

“ Me neither mon ange” He answered, his arms tighten around your waist. 

As he intoned the debut of a french song about a hymn to love, your bodies moving in harmony, you knew you would have given everything to stay like this forever.

Song : (French ) ( English )

---

TAG LIST : @alienstardust @phantasmagoricalzenith @downforsanji @faefanatic @strongindependenttrash @hi3431 @sunnanse @neko-loogi @theluckyplaces @simbaaas-stuff @ofherscarlettwitchyways

Join my TAG LIST : HERE

[eydi-andrius]

Don't Get Sad, Get Even

warnings: cussing, implied infidelity/cheating word count: 743 words summary: You and your House Dressed Up for Revenge. This fic is highly inspired by Taylor Swift's new song "Vigilante Shit" from her new album Midnights. Unedited fic cuz I just want to write it out. divider from @firefly-graphics

Aemond Targaryen has been called the younger version of his uncle Daemond Targeryen but more callous and reckless.

A foolish one-eyed fool, they said. His reputation precedes him — really. And everyone would agree that he was following his uncle’s footsteps heedfully. Aside from his bloodlust, he is also following him when it comes to marriage. The same way his uncle disregarded his bronze wife and claimed that the sheep were prettier to fuck.

He is treating me, his lady wife, the same worst way. But much more shameful, as he brought back a pregnant whore with him from Harrenhal. He never cleared the rumors that the child might possibly be his bastard.

And to add insult to the wound, he brought her to the private dinner which was supposed to be for the family of the King only.

The moment my house found out about what happened, they were seething and so was me.

Maybe —  it was now time to put the Targaryen men to their rightful place.

“Final tribute!” Your husband said as he raised his cup. He banged the table before standing up, taking everyone’s attention to him.

The tension in the air was palpable. You could almost taste it. His tribute came out as a shock as no one expected him to speak anymore, as giving tribute already ended earlier. 

However, contradicting some of the rumors, you knew your dear husband more than anyone in this room. 

Probably, even more than his mother.

The giggle Lucerys made while the pig was served in front of Aemond wasn’t missed by your sharp eye. 

You saw that the little chuckle wasn’t also missed by your prince and he gave his nephew a challenging stare which was not taken seriously by the young boy who continued to laugh.

“To the health of my nephews: Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them, handsome, wise...Strong.”

Before the blacks opened their mouths to protest, you also raised your cup and stood up. “And let’s also drain our cup, for the cooks who prepared this wonderful….pig. This is the best pig recipe I’ve ever tasted in my life. What a wonderful day it is to gather here and eat scrumptious meals, especially, this pig.” You said with confidence and a wide grin adorning your face.

You specifically said the word pig over and over to make an obvious point that he doesn’t have the right to be mad on this peaceful night. 

You are mad. You are furious.

And you will not let him get away from this. It was your honor that was tarnished. It was your house’s name on the line. Not consummating a wedding can be forgiven.

But what he did tonight will not be dismissed. He will pay for the shame and hatred. All of it.

Even without looking, you've heard Daemond’s boisterous laugh and Aegon’s snickers. The smile you gave them in return was nothing but polite.

In the corner of your eye, you can see the worried scowl adorning the Queen’s face, Princess Rhaenyra’s sigh and Otto’s exasperation while draining his own cup.

Meanwhile, your prince was still standing when you already decided to sit down. He was staring at you now with that cold eyes of his. 

As a final insult, you just tipped your goblet in his direction and drank it without stopping — without removing your eye contact with him.

Remember, you will pay.

You didn’t flinch when he threw his goblet to the ground and walked away from the hall. The lady, Alys, followed him obediently. Like a fool that she is for accepting an invitation that she shouldn’t be in, in the first place.

The Queen Alicient dismissed the servant who poured another wine on your goblet. “Do you really have to do that? With all of these people?” “My grace…… your son is just the second prince who has no land under his name. 

I am an heir.

So yes, if I have to make a point that I am no lady nor a house to be trampled upon, then I would. I will….

This…. will be the last time your son will bring forth shame to my house. 

I can end things as easily as this agreement started.

Remember that. My queen.”

You smiled and tipped your goblet before drinking its contents. This is just the start of the war Prince Aemond had started between you two. And may the strong house….wins.

[this-is-fox-speaking]

FANTOCCIO FACTS POST (from screenshots i found in my own interests server)

- His name is italian for puppet, but he pronounces it incorrectly and insists it’s the correct way to say his name if anyone else points it out and says he’s wrong.

- He’s not from Italy, obviously. Goes to show. But Ash imagines he knows a bit of italian. (“Not enough Italian to say his name right.” - Katie.)

- Fantoccio has a pet shark named Sharkspeare! Mentioned in the song at the line “‘Cause Sharkspeare’s looking mean!”

- Fantoccio has to make all his own props, set pieces, clothes, etc in the theatre.

- Would never smoke, and would hate being around it/people who’re doing it actively.

- Fantoccio was made by Ash as a fan OC for the game, and this (as far as I’m aware) is what got them hired onto the game, cause Katie loved their ideas so much.

- Fantoccio is not very good with kids.

- Fantoccio’s favorite food is churros. This came from the fact Ash once had a dream about him infodumping about them cause he loved them so much, so they made it canon.

- Don’t worry, he can indeed taste things normally. No traditional taste buds, but some, nonetheless. Same goes for touch!

- Fantoccio is canonically autistic, having many traits of himself heavily projected from Ash, themself.

- When asked what his meltdown triggers could be, Ash thought that some might be: too much touching, being without his hat, or one of his props breaking.

- Fantoccio likes wearing dresses! Wears them if he feels like it or if the role calls for it, during a play.

- Ash thinks he’d ADORE snow.

- Fantoccio would 100% love spicy italian from subway.

- Fantoccio plays violin!

- Fantoccio would chant “I’m sleeping” when struggling to fall asleep, like his own version of counting sheep.

- He would NEVER say the Earth is flat.

- He’d be the “How do you do that” of that one keysmash meme, if paired with Barnaby.

- Ash once said that Fantoccio is like Duck from Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared.

- When doing a personality type test (and actually answering truthfully instead of in character) for Fantoccio, he ended up with ENTJ-T, Commander. Fanto would answer untruthfully on some questions, like if he ever gets insecure (“PFFFT NO THE ANSWERS NO”).

- He can go uwu in the bbu lore, but he’ll hate it. (“THIS IS STUPID!!!”)

- Fantoccio would apparently be a “mac and cheese FIEND.”

- He’d hate pranks (specifically a hand zapper in this case), because they’re unexpected. (“NEVER DO THAT AGAIN”)

- This also means he’d never troll anyone, cause he feels above that.

- Fanto would HATE hearing people crack their knuckles, like Ash does.

- Fantoccio loves to carve wood. Specifically only by hand, that’s how much he loves it! He carved the two giant wooden hands used in his battle, but his favorite thing to carve is ducks.

- Fantoccio is very intent on ONLY eating the few foods he knows he likes.

- If he were an ice cream, he’d be coffee flavor! Which is ironic, because Ash has also said that it’d probably be terrible to give Fantoccio caffeine.

- Fantoccio would LOVE chicken nuggets.

- Hates pizza, though. Too greasy and messy.

- Would enjoy having an ipad “a little too much. He would be super confused at first but once he learns how to use it DO NOT TAKE IT AWAY”. (kinda like Peridot from Steven Universe)

- He would like spruce wood in Minecraft, but also acacia “just to look at.”

- Ash adores pirates, so so does Fantoccio!

- He has no nose, so no sneezes!

- Appreciates detail as much as Barnaby does.

- Fanto would love birds!

- Fanto is not capable of curse words. Sad.

- Fantoccio would COLLAPSE trying to lift someone without his powers.

- He stims by patting his face and spinning around. Fidgets with his hands in concepts for his standing idle animations, because he’s uncomfortable with standing and prefers floating.

- He’d favor Murder Mystery!

- His wood is alive and can grow like a real boy! (if you’ve seen my post being reblogged around, lol)

- He lives in the lost city of magic, which is abandoned and overrun my magical zombies who used to be magic users, now with a terrible curse. So he lives mainly in his theatre. He’s not trapped, anymore, like his old story!

- Fantoccio’s powers are based around telekinesis and teleportation. It’s how he moves his body around!

- He used to have a plush toy rabbit he carried around, when he was younger, seemingly. It’s unclear where that went, when he got older.

- Fantoccio’s been locked up in this city for 15 years, since he was 8. Completely isolated (save for those zombies, I suppose)! When Billie comes along, though, he’s so excited to have something new to play with!

- Fanto’s song is inspired by Weird Al. Like 90% of this game is, of course /lh. He was also inspired by the pied piper!

- He’d dislike the idea of seafood. (“He’d be like “Why would anyone want to eat a fish?!” And cover Sharkspeare’s nonexistent ears like “Don’t listen to them!””)

- The red feather in his hat is also used as a pen!

- Fantoccio is a being of pure magic, having an entire magic gem be his whole life source. This means he can use magic endlessly without getting tired (I believe)!

- Fantoccio is 23, he/him, and pansexual.

- His face is made using magic. It disappears when/if he’s magic-less.

- Fantoccio can absolutely feel pain.

- When it comes to nature, Ash said he’d kinda be like Rarity from MLP:FiM, but certain kinds of nature he’d still really love. He’d really dislike walking through the wild or camping in general, but loves things like snow or flower fields. Just depends!

- Fantoccio would main Bowser in Mario Kart.

-In terms of favorite Halloween treats, Fantoccio would like anything chewy and fruity (no chocolate)!

- Canonically wears eyeliner.

- Magic sparks from his fingertips when he’s very excited!

- If Fantoccio was an animal, Ash says he’d be a cat.

- No traditional gross human stuff inside him like others, just wood and sap. “Whatever trees do.”

- His original concept by Ash was him having a purple phantom head, being a ghost in a puppet’s body. This was changed by Katie, I believe.

(feel free to add on if I missed anything! i’ll edit this post if i randomly remember something)

[fiftymilehighclub]

@historicalfictionsims' Courtney Paint-Splatter Dress Desplattered

I had a request on my sheet for a nonsplattered version of this cute little dress from Courtney's Mix-And-Match 80s Pack, and thankfully Pancreas was able to send me a clean texture for me to work with. Now, I can't seem to tag their blog, so Em, if you see this, I hope it turned out the way you wanted.

Included is the requested plain JewlRyBox and Historian swatches, as well as I went ahead and added Scientist, as well as the JewlRyBox HSY heart patterns, Beenie Baby solids and a cute set of pastel patterns I had lying around with accent colors from the Counting Sheep palette. All are standalones with custom thumbnails and do not require the mesh thanks to Pancreas's generous TOU.

Download (SFS only for now)

@maxismatchccworld @mmoutfitters @alwaysfreecc @thejewlbox @academiapalettes @childandtoddlercc @pluto-sims

[theminecraftbee]

hello! solving counting sheep question: do you imagine the life series would happen in the universe? if so, how would that go about happening?

YES THIS IS ANOTHER THING I'VE TALKED ABOUT WITH @strifetxt IN OUR DMS.

once again, like anything post-canon of scs: this is not canon, my word is not gospel, if you have your own headcanons on this one they're valid because the canon divergence is off the charts at this point.

so there are two answers here, the angstier version and the funnier version. okay no there are three answers. the first answer is that three isn't that kind of watcher and if you take the life series as a watcher trap, ala martyn's lore, three (and also even martyn and jimmy) is just... not easy to box into it. we have a group of people who are now relatively experienced killing watchers like. the odds of that one happening are Not Very High.

but if you WANT the series to be a watcher trap and WANT it to happen, martyn at the end of scs is, like in canon, kind of vulnerable. we at one point spitballed "what if life series happens because martyn gets ambushed and used as bait to catch the others in the game". this only half works, though, because if three is trapped into the life series it's not like three would play along unless forced. the name of the game would be combination "convincing three that murdering everyone to get it over with faster is not the good solution it looks like it is when you're a little desperate" and "how do you stop a cast that includes martyn, experienced listener agent, jimmy, actual listener for all he's not all the way one, three, superweapon, and pearl, experienced at deterring watchers on her own, from just... breaking out of the games and wreaking havoc".

the FUNNY option, however, is that. okay so three is with the hermits and jimmy is with the x life cast. the hermits notice that three really likes structured play and also is good at killing things. the x life cast notices jimmy misses his friends and also they're playing x life its not that dissimilar from third life specifically. impulse, known for going overboard, goes "hey three you know what i bet would cheer you up?" and then contacts scott. scott, who thanks to x life sort of assumes this death game premise will be a fun survival multiplayer experience with occasional goofy drama and not a death game (which i'll note WAS what everyone assumed at the start of third life) agrees to get players. three makes a bunch of the rules after being coaxed into it because it's not as good at setting these things up but it DOES have strong opinions about rules. a very canon divergent third life then happens and then because the life series cast is like that they go "oh that's fun lets do it again".

you could also combine these: everyone BUT martyn is there for a fun time, martyn is just being tormented. this then brings up "three will kill people for martyn" however so i can't say how LONG he's tormented.

that's what we've mostly talked about. we've also joked about "what if instead we just... swapped three and canon grian in the middle of double life." lei said they think three would immediately put scar in an obsidian box to protect him as the only solution. it'd go great.

either way, i'll note the funniest thing about throwing three into a life series game: jimmy probably doesn't die first anymore because he now has a very protective albatross with a sword hovering over him every time he gets close.

so... yes you might say i've thought about this one,

[strangermarvelss]

class of '86- e.m

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Summary: you receive eddie’s diploma for him after his death

Warnings: angst, crying, angry reader, classmates being dickholes, mentions of blood and injuries, mentions of drug use, allusions to sex, wayne being a sweetie, not-so happy ending

Word Count: 4.8k

Request?: No

A/N: howdy! i am back with another one shot that has been on my mind since around august of last year which is insane, and since it is grad szn i thought it was appropriate to share now. slowly getting back into writing so i appreciate the patience. also note: i do not have any current plans to make a part two to this story, so please don’t bombard me with requests for it if you don’y mind :) enjoy! -sava

You have the same nightmare.

Every. Single. Night.

Every night you find yourself back in the upside down, Dustin hot on your tail as you rush over to the field in the darker dimensions version of the Forrest Hills Trailer Park, the body of the man you’d loved for several years lying on the ground as bites liter his body. Blood pooled in his mouth as he struggles for a steady breath, eyes wide as tears gather inside. You dove right down to him, scraping your knee as you clutched onto his figure and clung to him for dear life, your own breathing becoming unsteady as panic filled your entire nervous system.

You will never forget the scared look in his beautiful brown eyes, the ones you found so much comfort in for years as they shined in the bright yellow sunlight during the summers in Hawkins, or how the lights of the colorful stage lights at the Hideout would reflect off of him and enhance his performance in way. You’ll never forget the scared look on his face turning into joy when he saw you, trying to play it cool for a split second and put on a brave persona for you and his little lost sheep he helped bring to the right people.

You absolutely will never forget feeling his breath becoming more shallow as you held him, and how he was reassuring you and Dustin during his final moments. Holding you tight and looking at you lovingly until his grip on your hand loosened and his breathing coming to a halt. You felt you heart break into a million piece when his eyes glossed over and lost the feeling of his heartbeat, letting a violent scream rip through you as the pieces clicked together in your head. The love of your life was gone and there was nothing you could do to bring him back.

Dustin held you as you sobbed, his silent tears creating a puddle on your shirt as he let you grieve and process your own emotions about the matter. Later on he told you he wanted you to have your moment, that he felt bad about grieving him in front of you since you’d known him longer than he did, which made you emotional all over again while reassuring him it was okay to feel the bad feelings and holding him like he did with you as he finally showed you how messed up loosing Eddie had made him, breaking your heart all over again.

The two of you stayed in the Upside Down for a while, not wanting to abandon Eddie and leave him behind along with the rest of the fucked up dimension he would be stuck in. You tried to drag his body out, pulling him towards his trailer, but Dustin tried his best to reason with you, even thought his head wasn’t in the best place either. It was ultimately Steve Harrington of all people to help knock some sense into you, with Robin and Nancy quickly following behind him as they joined you once again. 

You’ll never forget the look of pity that covered their faces as they looked to Eddie’s body on the ground below you, then shooting you a sympathetic look as they instantly put everything together.

You will never forget the night your life changed forever.

Smoothing the hem of your sundress out, you take a look at yourself in the mirror of your bedroom, trying your best to put on a brave face for the events that would take place today. Any senior who was enrolled in Hawkins High School before the bell rang on the last day before spring break was getting a diploma, failing grades or not. They delayed the ceremony until after a lot of the bigger messes from the “earthquake” cleared, with the people in charge wanting to try and have a happy occasion for the town to celebrate for a change, giving all the tragedies that the town has faced over the past 3 years. They thought it was vital and needed to attempt to paint Hawkins as a happy town once again.

This meant that Eddie Munson, your Eddie, would be getting a diploma too. The school called Wayne directly to tell him the news, asking if he wanted to come by the high school sometime within the next couple of weeks to pick up the certificate instead of making it a public occasion. If you weren’t by the phone when it happened, you knew Wayne would’ve agreed, having lost his surrogate son and still wrapping his head around the entire situation. But you convinced him that it should be done at the public ceremony with the other students. Eddie had made it a point to actually graduate this year, and he deserved to be part of the ceremony like everyone else.

You knew going into that suggestion he would ask you to accept it on Eddie’s behalf, with half the people in Hawkins still giving Wayne a mix of hateful and sympathetic looks, as he still had matters to attend to. You on the other hand? You rarely left the house, only for groceries and the occasional meet up with Dustin. Watching someone you both admire die in front of you bonds you for life, and you wanted to be there for him and vice versa. The rest of your friends…you rarely saw, sticking to the comfort of your home as you were still coping with the stages of grief. They understand, not having lost someone so intimately like that, aside from Nancy loosing her best friend, Barb. If there was anyone besides Dustin you talked with, it was her.

Opening the door to your bedroom, you walk down the hallway and shovel a few necessities in your purse before grabbing your keys. You exit the trailer, locking the door before walking down to the new trailer Wayne was given as compensation for well…his other one being split in half. Knocking on the door three times, you take a deep breath as you wait for him to come outside and greet you. You could feel the nerves rising up, sending a weird feeling through your stomach as you thought about the different possibilities of how this could go. In a hopeful scenario, you would walk on stage and snatch the diploma right out of Principal Higgins’ hand, then quickly run off the football field after giving the other students the bird, just as Eddie said he would do back before spring break. But you knew you had to remain professional and kind, for Wayne’s sake.

The creak of the door makes you look up, seeing Wayne step out of the house with his light blue button-up shirt on and worn down slacks that you can only assume he’d owned for years now. This was the most dressed up you’ve seen him in the years you’ve known him through Eddie, with t-shirts with jeans and his work uniform for his nights at the plant being the only two versions you’d been used to. Smiling, you take a step back and walk down the steps of the small concrete porch he’d managed to create, trying his best to replicate the old trailer as much as possible. He meets you at the bottom of the few steps, extending an arm to give you a side hug. You flash him a half smile before returning the gesture, taking in the scent of soap and mint before pulling away. 

“You clean up pretty nice Wayne,” you tease, slightly chuckling a bit. He smiles, shaking his head.

“You hush,” he tells you, pointing at you before pointing towards his truck. The two of you walk over, throwing open the passenger door and carefully climbing inside. 

“I like that dress,” he tells you as he gets in the driver’s seat, his slight southern accent creeping out with each word. “I don’t think I’ve seen you wear many dress in all the years I’ve known ‘ya. Mainly just some of Eddie’s old band shirts and that Hellfire shirt he made.”

You can’t help but laugh at his words, knowing he is absolutely right. It was never something you did often, just on the occasional date with Eddie, prom, and your own graduation back in ’84. Nodding, you smooth out the skirt of your dress before turning to him as he starts the engine. “Yeah, these never were really my style. Hell, the last time I wore this Eddie and I were making out in the back of his van at Lover’s Lake last summer.”

Thinking back to the memory, you can’t help but let your smile spread from cheek to cheek, replaying how his ring-clad hands always kept trying to sneak inside the skirt of the dress in order to get to “the goods”, as he referred to it.  He had tied his hair back into a low bun, something he knew that always made you swoon and completely weak in the knees. He’d packed a bunch of both of your favorite snacks and called it a picnic, which you enjoyed nonetheless. A couple of beers he snuck out of the fridge when Wayne wasn’t looking and a couple of edibles in your system, it quickly lead to Eddie shutting the van doors and pulling orgasm after orgasm from your body in the back part of the van. 

You remember Eddie being upsetting about being held back once again, starting to look down on himself and doubt his ability to ever cross that finish line. You knew you had to step in with reassurance, because hearing him talk poorly about himself always made you feel hurt. So you suggested dedicating a day to spend together, from sunrise to sunrise the very next day. You told him you could do whatever his heart desired, within rationality of course, and you would be there no matter what. No negative thoughts in sight or rainy days, just the two of you curled up in his van and eating, laughing, and being at the center of bliss thanks to each other’s company.

The smile is quickly wiped from your face, snapping back to reality and letting the loneliness sink back into your heart. You visibly frown, turning your head away from Wayne as you felt a pricking feeling tickle the backs of your eyes. Wayne continues the journey to the high school, letting the silence fall comfortably in the car to give you some peace. Wayne usually wasn’t a big talker, even before the loss of his nephew, so it didn’t feel awkward to just let the sound of the motor running in his old pickup as the two of you let your thoughts go wild inside your heads, thinking about the man that was just the topic of conversation.

You feel the truck halt to a stop, snapping out of the far off land your mind wandered to. Looking over to Wayne, he puts the truck in park and opens his door. Looking our the front windscreen, you see the old brick building of Hawkins High School, a placed where you used to wander about for four consecutive years not that long ago. You used to bring Eddie lunch on the occasional off day you had from work, taking a moment to see the old stomping grounds and visit your favorite guy in the world. Now being in front of the building left a bad taste in your mouth. Knowing how much Eddie hated coming to school, especially without you. Dealing with the constantly bullying from all the kids that had already reached their peak and pushing past that typical high school bullshit until he took his dying breath. It angered you to your core.

Finally stepping out of Wayne’s truck, you follow him around the side of the school and down the path that leads to the football field. You hold your hands together in front of you, wringing your fingers as you try and settle the nerves that reside in your lower stomach. You were bound to run into the people who saw you at your most vulnerable state, knowing Nancy and Robin were graduating and Steve and the kids would be in the crowd alongside you and Wayne. As bad as it is to admit, the only people you’re comfortable enough seeing on a regular basis are Wayne and Dustin, so having to finally face everyone else sent waves of nausea through your system.

Making your way into the stands, you make eye contact with Principal Higgins, who shoots you a sympathetic look before chatting amongst his colleagues once more, probably talking about you if you had to assume. Scoffing, you take your seat next to Wayne, trying your best not to be seen by much of the crowd. Wayne takes notice of your nerves and places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, making you smile softly.

“So uh, did they give you a run down of what will happen with getting his diploma?” He asks.

“Um, yeah. I had a meeting with Higgins and a few other faculty members and they’re doing the memorial diplomas first, then the rest of the graduating class. Everything is going to be alphabetical, so I’ll go up towards the middle of that-“

You’re distracted for a moment, stopping mid-sentence as you see a familiar hairstyle bobbing through the crowd, with a hoard of kids trailing behind him. Steve Harrington turns, seemingly yelling at the kids to stop playing around and find a place to sit, before looking out at the crowd you found yourself in. You feel your body run cold as his eyes lock on yours, as if you body was plunged into a frozen lake. He waves at you, smiling for a moment before watching his brain piecing together why you’re here, which causes him to send a pitiful but sympathetic look your way.

Cautiously, you wave, watching the kids’ heads turn to look where Steve was and copying the older man’s expression. All but Dustin, who seems very happy to see your face out in the world like he’s been trying to convince you to do for a few weeks now. But the smile quickly fades when his eyes wander over to Wayne, guilt filling his eyes as he quickly turns away. You have told the boy several times that he is not at fault and shouldn’t beat himself up over what happened, but it just makes you sound like a hypocrite for not taking your own advice.

Finally willing yourself to look away after watching them take seats a few rows in front of you, you hear the football stadium speakers begin playing the instrumental music you recognized from your own graduation, peaking down at the field and seeing the green caps and gowns flow out in two uniformed lines. Taking a deep breath, you stand from your position and walk towards the stairs of the bleachers and stand by the faculty member that would lead you and the rest of the family members that are collecting other student’s diplomas who also couldn’t be here in person.

Watching the graduates take their seats, a tapping sound comes from the makeshift stage they set up on the field, watching Principal Higgins smile out to the crowd before looking down at the notes he placed on the podium.

“Good afternoon Hawkins High graduating class of 1986,” he welcomes, pausing as cheers erupt from the about to be former students, as well as the proud families situated on the bleachers. “You have come so far within the past four years, and given the circumstances that our town has faced, it is truly an honor to be standing in front of you all today as you start the next chapter of your lives. Each time you walked through the doors of Hawkins High School, you were determined and dedicated to learning and creating memories that will last a lifetime, so it is time to keep those close to your heart as you say goodbye to those high school years one last time.”

If only everyone who went here had lasting memories, you thought to yourself. It seemed as if he was pandering towards the popular crowd, speaking directly to those who experienced the “ultimate American high school experience”, which made the nausea settled in your stomach even worse. There are kids you know for certain that are in this very crowd of green caps and gowns who did not have the best time, having gotten bullied and ridiculed for the past four years while the administration turned a blind eye. Or there were others who have lost more than they could’ve imagined, and the painful memories of their high school years will stay with them in the darkest of ways.

“Before we begin the speeches and the passing out of diplomas, I want to take this time for the families of those who unfortunately did not make it to this ceremony today. The students who gave their life for this town have been such an incredible presence to not only our school, but our community. So to the families of these students, my sincerest apologies for your losses, and we would like to serve you with the diplomas that they worked so hard to earn over the years.”

Turning back, you look up at Wayne from where you were once seated, watching him hold the tissue close to his chest as he gently began to cry. He knew his nephew was not the most liked person, and you knew he just wished Eddie could be here to prove each and every person that ever doubted him wrong.

“Jason Carver,” Higgins says into the microphone. Scoffing, you keep your attention away from the stage for Eddie’s sake. Of all the people who couldn’t make it here today, you were the least bit sympathetic towards what happened to Jason after all those years of lies and physical violence he showed your Eddie. You also didn’t need to see his older brother, Jake, whom you graduated with a couple years back, act like all macho and pretend he is still the king of the school…even two years later.

“Chrissy Cunningham.”

You turn back to the stage, watching Chrissy’s mother walk up the stairs as she weeps with every step she takes. Taking the diploma from him, she and Higgins exchange a quick hug before another faculty member escorts her off the stage. You felt bad that Chrissy was caught in the crossfire of everything that went down. Being Vecna’s first victim in the recent attacks. But what really hurt was knowing that from the moment she was taken by the slimy creep, Eddie still blamed himself, wishing he knew sooner so he could’ve saved her from all this mess.

“Barbra Holland.”

You glance over at Nancy, who you spotted as you walked to your current position. Her big round eyes grew with sadness, looking down to her lap as you watch the guilt consume her. Yet another person you felt for, because if anyone would’ve been able to stop something from happening, it would be Nancy. At the same time, however, you think the loss made her the ferocious fighter that she is today, the anger and pain of losing Barb driving her to the strength and courage she has shown each time this shit keeps coming back, which you applaud.

As Patrick’s name is called, she looks back up and out to the crowd, fixating her big blue eyes right on you. Smiling ever so slightly, you through a gentle wave her way as she does the same, her dimples creeping onto her features as she shoots you a toothless smile. Maybe there was room to have some peace and happiness come out of this day-

“Eddie Munson,” Higgins says stalely in the microphone. The entire stadium falls silent, compared to how the other kids got cheers and claps. The quiet is all consuming, on top of hundreds of pairs of eyes glue onto your figure, staring blankly at your frozen figure.

Making your way to the stage, you carefully take each step one at a time, taking a deep breath in before walking towards Principal Higgins as his arm extends with the diploma in hand. You can almost hear Eddie’s voice edge you on, gaining more and more of a sense of pride as you inch further. “Almost there,” “Third time’s the charm,” you imagine him saying to you, a wide happy grin stretched on his cheeks as the victory of finally graduating reaches its destination.

“Who let the freak’s girlfriend on the field?” you hear someone ask from the sea of graduates. Ignoring it, you reach your hand out, mere inches from touching the rolled paper tied in a bright red bow. Now is the moment everything has led to, all the bullying and negative thoughts and perceptions Eddie endured within his last 6 years. This is what he’s been craving to achieve since last summer. This is-

“DING, DONG! THE FREAK IS DEAD”

“DEADIE MUNSON, DEADIE MUNSON!”

You halt. Frozen mid step as ice floods your system once again. A stabbing pain begins permeating throughout your chest, trying your best to tune the horrible chants and phrases out before the words are replaced with a long ringing in your ears. It feels hard to breathe as you stand there, all the eyes of the administration, parents, and graduates looking at you like some form of entertainment, waiting on the edge of their seats to see what your next move will be. It felt embarrassing, which you could only assume was the goal. They had no problem continuing to tease Eddie, even after his death.

Finally finding the strength again, you take a deep breath before turning around, eyes locking on the podium as the rage inside you begins to bubble. Principal Higgins immediately steps to the side, the fearful look in his eyes telling you he had no issue with what you were about to do. Hell, now it made you think he was scared of Eddie after all those years instead of just simply hating him. 

You plant yourself in front of the stand, looking out at all the laughing bodies that fill the stands and the chairs splayed out on the grass field. Their immaturity was telling, acting as if they weren’t taking the next step into adulthood in just a few minutes. There were only a few who didn’t join in with the laughter, which made your heart feel something for the first time in a while. Nancy was looking at you sympathetically, as did Robin and Jeff within the sea of green below you. As for in the crowd, Steve’s eyebrows furrowed as a frown rests on his lips, looking over at the gaggle of children who were also silently sending your their respects. Having them by your side in the crowd was giving you some much needed courage, allowing for you to take another breath before feeling ready to finally air your grievances.

“How dare you,” you say quietly into the microphone. The crowd is once again silent, the careless dickheads that were just taunting you freezing in place and stopping their sentences. You don’t care about the dirty looks the faculty members on stage with you are shooting you, the rage inside your chest is bubbling faster and faster made it impossible to let the cruelty slide.

“How dare you all sit there and talk so poorly about someone who is no longer here. Each and every one of you have no idea the pain Eddie’s friends and family have been through with his loss, and you sitting there and making jokes of it all is the cruelest thing any of you have done to that man,” you tell him, looking around the crowd and singling out those you know are responsible. “You all didn’t know Eddie for who he truly was. Instead you judged him for who you thought he was because of his looks, or his surface level interests. Like god forbid someone prefers to go crazy over metal music and a fantasy game instead of pop hits and sports games. Eddie never believed in everyone liking the same stuff, he embraced his interests and bonded with people who were different like him, all because you assholes judged him for years and made him think that, for the longest time, it wasn’t okay.”

“You have no idea what kinds of things Eddie gave for this town. A town that hated him and made his life a living hell for nearly twenty one years. All the shit he went through as a child, all the humiliation you all put him through in middle and high school. All because he didn’t conform to the bullshit suburban standard all of you were brainwashed into thinking was okay thanks to your parents, who are sitting in the crowd and judging him alongside the rest of this graduating class,” you pause, taking a breath and wiping a tear away. “Eddie gave his life trying to save this town, wanting to prove to you all that he wasn’t a coward or that he wasn’t some evil being you all made him out to be. He was the most amazing person I’ve ever met and I almost feel sorry for you all that you never got to know Eddie for who he really was. He protected and cared so deeply for the people he was closest with and…and I miss him so much. He should’ve been here to accept this diploma, to show you all that he could do it and laugh in the faces of all who doubted him. But instead, I’m here accepting my dead boyfriend’s diploma, so I’ll leave you with my final thoughts.”

“I hope you all know that your years of torment will come back to bite you. Good luck on whatever endeavors life throws your way, and go fuck yourselves,” you spit out into the microphone. Feeling like it was the most appropriate thing to do, you turn to Principal Higgins, flip him the bird, and run off the stage. As you walk towards the exit of the stadium, you spot Wayne rising from his spot in the stands, nodding with a smile as he begins his journey to the front gate, your purse in his hand. 

The heavy weight that strained your breathing has finally lifted from your chest, the relief of getting your true feelings off your plate and expressing that so openly has you walking with so much more confidence and ease. You didn’t care what the people in the stadium thought about you are your impromptu speech, because the students of Hawkins High, and a majority of the citizens of Hawkins, were no longer of importance to you, not that they were that much to begin with. You had Wayne, Dustin, and eventually the rest of your friends now that you’re starting to deal with the grief in a healthy way.

Smiling at Wayne, he hands you your purse and begins walking with you out of the gate, his arm around your shoulder as you quickly walk towards his truck. It made your heart warm to see Wayne’s approval of the scene you caused on stage, knowing the fear of his disapproval has already been bubbling in your stomach for the past week. But for a reserved man, he sure did like to see a show of things every once in a while and have a good laugh about it later. Hopping into his truck, you buckle your seatbelt and hand Wayne Eddie’s diploma, smiling as you see the proof of his high school success sitting right in front of you.

“Now what would Eddie want to do to celebrate?” I think we should honor him by spending the rest of the day basking in the accomplishment in the truest form of Eddie.”

“Well I can think of a few things, but those are definitely not on my list,” Wayne jokes, making you chuckle.

“How about going over to the music store and buying a couple of tapes? Then we can stop and get a six-pack at the store and a few snacks and just spend the rest of the day doing nothing. I think that’s the tamest thing he would do,” you suggest.

With a nod, Wayne changes the gear of the truck and pulls out of his space and down the parking lot of the high school, entirely missing a long haired shadow peer from around the back of the school’s brick building.

[deadlynavigation]

Counting Sheep

Warnings: Slightly ooc muriel, not being able to fall asleep

Author’s Note: just praying this reaches the target audience also praying for a man like muriel to snatch me up

(Navigation)

The moon is high in the sky by the time you finish your daily tasks. The birds are all silent, the wind has quieted to almost nothing, and the lost souls who wander the beaten paths have all gone home.

You sigh as you crack the door open and notice this. It’s far too late for you to be up.

“Ready for bed, Y/n?” Muriel calls from the corner, drowsiness clear in his voice. Sweet thing, he’s waited up for you, even though you told him many times to just rest.

“Almost. Do you know where my nightie went?” You ask, walking over.

“My shirt? It’s over on the table.” You shoot your lover a smirk and wander over to grab it. Quickly stripping to your undergarments, you throw the shirt on and catch Muriel’s eyes scanning you. He looks away a moment too late, blushing profusely.

You giggle before making your way over to him. “You can look, you know. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.

Muriel’s blush deepens. “I know.” He mumbles, eyes still turned away from you.

“In fact,” you crawl on top of the covers, kneeling above where he lays, “I like it when you look.”

Muriel snorts. He finally turns to you with a tiny smile on his face, opening his arms as an invitation. You’re struck with a sense of pride–it’s taken months for Muriel to get to the point where he’s comfortable with this level of affection, but you’re so glad he’s reached it. Hours of panic attacks, breathing exercises, experimentation, and cautious intimacy are being put to use.

You gladly fall into his arms, a small oomph leaving his lips as you collapse onto his chest. You stifle a laugh, tucking your legs and arms into his embrace. His warmth surrounds you, protecting you from the forest’s cold. You feel safe for the first time in a while.

“Comfortable?” Muriel questions, trying to fight a yawn. His arms come up to loosely wrap around you.

“Yeah. Night,” You kiss his chest, knowing he’ll feel it through the thick fabric of his pajamas.

But you get no response–Muriel is out like a light. And for a couple minutes, it’s peaceful, his heart beating a steady rhythm, his chest rising and falling with slow breaths. You press another kiss to his stomach, taking great pleasure in the sharp exhale he releases afterwards. It’s your own version of bliss.

But bliss fades as you become increasingly aware of something digging into your side. You try to ignore it in favor of cuddling into the man below you, but soon it practically forces you to switch positions. You huff, shuffling onto your back to lay besides Muriel. The warmth is now gone, but so is the bother in your side. You sigh, closing your eyes and trying to fall asleep.

It doesn’t work. You fling your arms to the sides, one falling off the bed before you think of the demons under the bed who could steal your hand away. Quickly yanking it back, you cuddle it to your chest, trying to force yourself to rest your eyes and fade away. If you could just hold this position, hearing the faint exhales beside you and the occasional breeze in the forest, you’d be out in no time.

But no, your mind decides this isn’t going to work. You rearrange yourself once again, this time with your back facing Muriel. Your arms and legs come into your chest, forming a sort of ball that better be comfy enough to induce sleep. But there’s none of Muriel’s hands resting on you, the blankets are all tangled up and pressed against you, and now your hands are cold.

For what you hope is the final time, you shift in bed. Your stomach is now against Muriel’s chest, chin resting on your hands as you observe his peaceful expression. How nice it must be to fall asleep in seconds, not concerned about what position will be best for rest or if you’ll wake your partner up in your fight with the blankets.

All of a sudden, Muriel shifts, breath stuttering for a moment before returning to the same steady pattern. You freeze, not wanting to disturb him. The last thing you want to do is wake the poor man up.

It takes a couple seconds to relax your limbs, and in doing that, you realize that you're not that comfortable anymore. You close your eyes in frustration, just wanting the sun to rise so this wretched night can be over. Looking over at the small clock you forced Muriel to install, you groan–it’s only been a few minutes.

You feel like crying. You just want sleep, and the universe seems determined in not affording you that. You shift again to where you started, heading resting on Muriel’s chest and legs tucked in.

You’re disrupted from your pity party by a small laugh coming from your lover. You glance up, noticing that Muriel is awake now, but his eyes are still closed.

“Love, you just completed a full turn around me.” He teases, hand drifting up and down your arm in a comforting motion.

You grumble, turning away from him and onto your back. It’s been hard enough trying to get to sleep, you don’t need his sass as well.

He doesn’t like that, though. His arms come to wrap around you, pulling your back flush against his chest. Like this, you can feel every breath against your neck, every word he whispers against your ear. Your eyes flutter shut as he chuckles.

“Sleep now, love. No more moving around.”

“It doesn’t work like that–on command.” Though you’re already starting to feel a little drowsy.

“Shhh. Sleep time.”

[heartateasee]

“Prologue”

Word Count: 4k

(Prologue to “Cherry Bomb” - please make sure to read the TW on the “Cherry Bomb” masterlist before proceeding.)

Marlowe walked around the garage of her parents house, beginning to set up everything that was needed for band practice. Harry's drum set stayed there permanently - something he requested due to the fact his mom wasn't super ecstatic about the noise that came with it. He was fearful that she would get drunk and destroy it if she got too irritated about it. When Harry hesitantly asked Marlowe two years ago if he could keep it here, she said 'yes' before he even finished asking his question entirely.

Harry and his mom had moved to LA when he was fourteen, and Marlowe was thirteen. It was the start of a new school year, and Marlowe built up the courage to finally compliment the My Chemical Romance sticker on Harry's binder. After that, they hit it off almost immediately. The two of them connected over music mostly, making each other mix CDs and exchanging them at their lockers in between classes. Once technology advanced a bit, they took the time to exchange playlists instead, and they were both grateful they had someone in their life that appreciated artists and bands as much as the other did.

As interesting as Marlowe found it that Harry and his mom just up and moved from Holmes Chapel, she didn't pry. It wasn't until after they had known each other for almost a year that Harry revealed his mom was catfished by this guy online, and now they were stuck in LA with no other way home. She learned that Harry didn't know who his father was, and he didn't care to. He also told her that his mom sometimes drank a lot, probably more than she should from what he said, but things were okay when she was sober.

Marlowe couldn't relate completely, her parents were there, but they weren't entirely present.

Once he had opened up to her, Marlowe and Harry were practically inseparable. It wasn't that much later in their friendship that they discovered they both had the potential to actually make music. Marlowe picked up the guitar easily, whereas Harry was drawn to the drums.

The first time they sang in front of each other was a bit comical. Both in Marlowe's bedroom - opposite corners of the room while staring at the wall. "If It Means A Lot to You" by A Day to Remember bounced off the walls, and Marlowe had to brace herself against the plaster when she heard Harry's voice. The cadence he carried throughout his vocals had her knees buckling.

Little did Marlowe know that as soon as she opened her mouth to sing, goosebumps covered Harry's skin. They had each heard each other humming carelessly before, Harry himself would whistle quite often as well, but never had they heard the other sing.

Once the song played out, they slowly turned to face each other. Their eyes met, and they both started to laugh. They had no idea that the other felt something in Marlowe's bedroom that day, but they were young. They avoided it out of fear of destroying the friendship they currently had as they didn't know if the other felt the same way.

Marlowe plugged her guitar into the amp, placing it on the stand before setting up the amps that both Kailey, their bassist would need, as well as Mikey, their lead guitarist. Harry and Marlowe were grateful that they ended up connecting with the two of them their senior year of highschool, as they loved music just as much as they did.

With Marlowe now being twenty and Harry being twenty-one, they were preparing for an upcoming gig they had at a local venue. Music had become their entire lives these past two years, and this gig was going to have a lot of talent scouts from record labels at it. The two best friends had decided to forgo college - Harry because he couldn't afford it, and Marlowe just wasn't sure what she wanted to go to school for. Her parents didn't really mind, but Harry's mom could sometimes use his lack of education against him during heated arguments.

He wanted to act like it didn't bother him all that much, but Marlowe could tell that it did. She did her best to always get his mind off it when he'd come over after those situations, and that usually meant just laying on the floor in her room - listening to vinyls, and smoking cigarettes.

Marlowe turned her attention to the large garage door as she heard it opening, and she looked over to see Kailey and Mikey standing underneath it once it was raised enough.

"Hey guys," she said, having just finished setting everything up.

"Hey, Harry not here yet?" Mikey asked as he kneeled down with his guitar case, getting the instrument out.

"Uh no, not yet," Marlowe responded after clearing her throat.

Harry had been acting a little off this past month or so, and at first she thought that he was just feeling the pressure of their upcoming performance, but it was really unlike him to be late to practice like this - although it had started to happen more often than not. He was also practically shutting her out, and he hadn't done that at all in their years of friendship. He had just turned twenty one last month, and it seemed like once he did - he didn't really have time to see Marlowe outside of band practice anymore.

She tried not to think anything of it at first, but she was starting to feel the emptiness of not having him around like she used to. There was a girl, Sierra, that he had been seeing, and it didn't bother Marlowe, but he had never even introduced the two of them. She would tell Harry to invite her to band practice, or to hang out at her house, but her invitations went ignored.

It hurt her, but she knew that Harry wasn't going to be hers forever. She knew eventually he'd start dating, and Sierra was actually the first girl he had ever really been with in the time they had been friends. She wasn't sure if Harry was ashamed of her, and that's why he didn't want to bring Sierra around, or if he was just trying to separate himself from her completely.

"Really?" Kailey questioned with a raised eyebrow as she plugged her bass into the amp. "Have you tried to text him?

"Mhmm," Marlowe hummed, averting her eyes from her two friends. Harry hadn't responded to her texts in two days now.

She didn't want them to see just how much this was affecting her.

Her reassurance was that they'd always have music. That was something that they'd always get along over - something to keep them connected forever.

Marlowe just shook her head, her blonde hair framing around her face as she looked down at her guitar. She picked it up before flicking on the amp - giving the instrument a few strums. As she approached her microphone, she spoke into it to test it while tuning her guitar.

As the three of them were preparing their instruments, it was only a few minutes later that Harry came bursting through the side door of the garage, slightly stumbling over his own feet. The noise caused Marlowe to jump, and she looked over to see Harry kicking a stray paint can out of his way.

"Sorry I'm late," he mumbled, not even making eye contact with any of his friends as he started towards his drum set.

Marlowe followed him with her gaze, watching as he sat down on the stool behind his set - adjusting the bandana that was pushing his unruly curls back. He pulled his drumsticks out of the holder, tapping them against a few of the drumheads before finally looking to Marlowe.

"So, are we gonna start or what? I have things to do after this," Harry commented, and Marlowe's lips parted at the tone he was using with her.

This wasn't her Harry.

"Uhm, yeah, sure, sorry," Marlowe responded with a nod.

The setup in the garage was that everyone was in a circle so that they could see each other while practicing. It was an exercise they had learned during a band workshop, and it actually helped them round out their sound more than they could've imagined.

Marlowe looked between the three others before nodding her head, strumming her guitar once and letting the noise drown out as Harry lightly tapped on one of his cymbals - the sound growing as it went on. As they got into the grit of the song, Marlowe let off her guitar, cupping her microphone in her hand.

"Hello again, friend of a friend, I knew you when -

Our common goal was waiting for the world to end."

She made sure to strum her guitar when needed, making eye contact with Mikey who gave her a small smile. This was the best this song has sounded so far when just starting it out - their confidence was growing.

"Now that the truth is just a rule that you can bend.

You crack the whip, shape-shift and trick the past again."

As the song went into the chorus, Marlowe slipped her eyes shut, feeling the music rattling in her chest - her fingertips tingling against her guitar strings as goosebumps covered her arms.

"I'll send you my love on a wire.

Lift you up, every time, everyone, ooh, pulls away, ooh, from you."

The song flowed into the measures between the first chorus and the second verse, and that's when Marlowe started to notice Harry missing beats. She looked over to him to see that his eyebrows were narrowed - as if he was focusing so hard on getting it right, but he just couldn't. His eyes eventually closed and he titled his head up towards the ceiling, still trying to play but missing even more beats as time went on.

"Got balls of steel, got an automobile,

for a minimum wage.

Got real estate, I'm buying it all up in outer space."

Marlowe let go of her guitar, clapping into the microphone as she sang while Mikey took over the guitar entirely for this verse. Harry seemed to get a little back on track now that the tempo had slowed back down, and she hoped that he could get it together by the time the next chorus started.

"Now that the truth is just a rule that you can bend.

You crack the whip, shape-shift and trick the past again."

The band went into the second chorus, Marlowe gripping her guitar once more to start up her playing again - swaying her hips to the beat of the song.

"I'll send you my love on a wire

Lift you up, every time, everyone, ooh, pulls away, ooh."

It was noticeable that Harry was now completely off beat - stumbling his way through the chorus, and Marlowe looked over in his direction again. Her eyes locked with his, and she shook her head - eyebrows knitting together as if to ask what the hell was going on.

"It's a mechanical bull, the number one

You'll take a ride from anyone

Everyone wants a ride, pulls -"

Before they could even finish the song, Harry stood up from his drum set, throwing his drumsticks across the garage. Mikey and Kailey quickly ducked out of the way to avoid getting hit as Harry made his way around the instrument and towards the side door he had just entered through only a few minutes prior.

"I can't fucking do this anymore," he grumbled, throwing the door open.

Marlowe's eyes widened, and she immediately set her guitar down - racing after him. He was already halfway down the street, and she realized that she didn't see his car.

Had he walked here?

They didn't live too far from each other, maybe a five minute drive or so, but she still couldn't understand why he wouldn't have called her for a ride.

"Harry!" She called out after him, chest heaving as she tried to catch up with his long strides.

Harry kept staring in front of him, hands tucked securely into the front pockets of his jeans as he completely ignored the girl coming up behind him. He could hear the rocks crunching underneath her feet, and he knew that she was getting closer.

"Please, just wait," Marlowe panted, reaching a hand out to grab him.

Her hand landed on his bicep, and he was quick to rip it away from her. Marlowe stopped walking, completely stunned by Harry's actions.

"Don't fucking touch me, Marlowe."

Tears pricked at her waterline, as she continued to watch him walk away.

She hadn't heard him call her just Marlowe in several years. He always called her by her nickname, and he had never snapped at her like this before.

Quickly coming to again, Marlowe scurried to match Harry's steps so that she could keep up with him.

"You're not even going to talk to me?" She asked, bottom lip trembling as she stared at the side of his face.

Harry's expression remained stoic as he kept his eyes ahead, doing his best not to pay attention to Marlowe at all. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his hoodie, tucking one between his lips as he fiddled in his front pocket for his lighter.

Marlowe grimaced at the fact he was just completely avoiding her, and she snatched the stick from between his lips.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" She gasped, trying her best not to get overcome with emotion, but she didn't even recognize the person next to her.

Her best friend for the past seven years was acting like someone she had never even met.

"Give that back," Harry demanded through clenched teeth, and Marlowe shook her head as they stopped walking.

"I need you to talk to me, Harry. What is going on?"

They both stood there staring at each other, and Marlowe's face contorted as she looked away from him - pressing the back of her hand against her mouth. Tears of both anger and confusion began to stream down her face, and she swallowed down the whimper that wanted to leave her.

"Just go back home," Harry muttered, looking down at his feet.

Marlowe continued to look away, dropping her hand as she pursed her lips to the side. She shut her eyes, dropping Harry's cigarette to the ground to dig her nails into her palms - leaving crescent shaped marks across her skin.

"I feel like I'm losing you," she whispered, nausea swirling her stomach at the thought. "You don't even talk to me anymore. Y-you're my best friend, and I don't know what to do with how I'm feeling."

It grew quiet between them, the cooler March air whipping across their faces as they stood facing each other, but not looking in each other's direction.

"Well, I don't think we should be friends anymore."

Heart plummeting, Marlowe's head snapped to look over at Harry who was still keeping his eyes on the ground.

"What?"

"I don't want to be friends with you anymore...or Kailey and Mikey," Harry stated, his voice more firm now.

His piercing green eyes met Marlowe's blue ones, and she didn't see any emotion behind his.

"What did I do?" Marlowe grasped to her chest, tightness taking over. "H-how can I fix this? Please tell me, and I'll do it, Harry, I can fix it. Is it Sierra? Does she not want you to be-"

"Fuck, Marlowe!" Harry's voice boomed, echoing against the houses near them, causing her to immediately clamp her mouth shut. "This isn't anything that can be fixed because nothing is broken. We're adults now. We've grown up, and I don't want the same things anymore. I don't want the band, and I don't want a music career - I don't even want Sierra anymore, and....and I don't want to be friends with you."

It was so quiet that Marlowe was surprised that she couldn't hear the cracking of her heart in her own chest. Her knees began to shake, and she was having to will herself to remain upright with the weight that was starting to press down upon her.

"What did I do?" Marlowe whimpered out again, dropping her chin to her chest.

Her ears began to ring as she realized Harry really meant this, and that this is what he wanted. Her best friend had already been fading away from her for some time now, but she never thought that he would allow himself to completely disappear after everything they had been through. Their connection was something Marlowe felt she could never find again.

"Go home.”

Marlowe remained frozen as she heard Harry's footsteps moving away from her, and she tried to will herself to open her mouth and call out for him again, but she couldn't. Her mind was reeling, trying her hardest to grasp onto what was actually happening.

By the time she was able to ground herself, her head lifting to look around her neighborhood again for any sign of Harry, he was gone.

●・○・●・○・●

A month had passed since Marlowe last saw Harry. Her calls and her texts went unanswered, and eventually she just assumed that he had blocked her number. Marlowe was devastated. She had never felt this type of emptiness in her entire life, and that was saying something considering her parents had a habit of missing almost every important event that came up for her.

She barely left her room, burying herself under her covers as she stared blankly at the wall her bed was pressed up against. No vinyls turned on her record player. There weren't two cigarettes resting and burning on her ashtray, and Harry's cackles didn't fill her room.

Marlowe hadn't listened to a single note of music since that day. She apologized to both Kailey and Mikey, but she told them she couldn't continue the band on without Harry. It didn't feel right.

That band was theirs, something they had created together, and it was nothing without him. No one would be able to play the drums like he could, and no other voice would blend with hers as perfectly as his did. Thankfully Kailey and Mikey understood, and they both had tried their best to console Marlowe due to Harry's absence, but she explained that she just needed to be alone for a while to process everything.

Her parents noticed that something was off, but they didn't try to get to the root of it, and she was honestly grateful for that. They didn't have anything against Harry by any means, but Marlowe knew they wouldn't understand the weight of what had happened.

Rain pelted down against her window, the first rain LA had seen in a while, while Marlowe hung her legs over the side of her bed - cupping her mattress in her hands.

She needed to see him. She needed to force him to see her. This wasn't how their friendship was going to end.

Popping up quickly, Marlowe pulled on a pair of leggings and her Doc Martens while throwing a hoodie over her head. She grabbed her wallet and her keys off her dresser before heading down the stairs and out of her house. After slipping into her car, she started off down the road towards Harry's mom's house.

She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her palms feeling like pins and needles from the adrenaline that was coursing through her. Deep down she knew that this was probably really stupid, and that the end result could end up just hurting her worse, but she needed more closure than he had given her. She deserved that from him.

After pulling into the driveway, she sat in her car for a moment - staring blankly at her steering wheel. She contemplated just turning around and going home, but she wasn't going to move on without this happening.

Marlowe made her way up to the front door with her hood over her head, quickly knocking on the door before tucking her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie. She shivered slightly, looking around a bit before the door opened. It revealed Harry's mom, and Marlowe sent her a soft smile.

"Hi Tamara, is Harry-"

"Nope," she cut Marlowe off quickly, and as much as she wanted to roll her eyes, she didn't.

"Please, I just want to talk to him. I only need few minutes and then I'll go, but I really need to-"

"Look, Marley," Tamara slurred, raising her hand to interrupt her once more.

His mom never called her by her actual name, and Marlowe wasn't sure if it was just because she couldn't remember it when intoxicated, or if she never actually cared to learn it. Her and Harry never really spent a lot of time here. She could probably count on one hand how many times they hung out here instead of Marlowe's house.

"Harry hasn't been here in probably...three weeks now. He left a note saying that he was gonna be gone for a while, and that's the last I've heard from him. I don't know if he'll come home, I don't really care at this point, but don't come around here bothering me anymore, alright?"

Marlowe opened her mouth to attempt to speak again, but Tamara slammed the door right in her face. She swallowed harshly as she stepped backwards off the porch, still keeping her eyes on the door for a while before she turned around and hurried back to her car.

Hands clutching the wheel, she began to sob with her chest jumping up and down with every large breath she tried to take. All of this just didn't feel real - this past month without Harry, the last time she had seen him, and even right now with her sitting outside of her house crying in her car. It all felt like a terrible dream that she couldn't wake herself up from.

She allowed herself a few minutes to calm down, pulling the cuffs of her hoodie over her hands to wipe her cheeks before pulling out onto the road to head back to her house.

It was so difficult for Marlowe to picture what her life was going to be like next week, next month or even next year without Harry. Every vision she had of her future up until now had him there right beside her, and now that wasn't a possibility anymore. All she had were her memories with him.

Once she got home, she raced back upstairs - stripping out of her clothes to dive back into her covers in just her bra and underwear. Her hands gripped at her comforter as she smothered her face in it. She didn't know when she'd be able to stop crying.

Marlowe loved Harry. She knew she had loved him for a while now, and she knew it was more than platonic on her end, but it was obvious that she was foolish for ever letting her feelings get that far. She only had herself to blame for him not knowing the extent of them - as she could never bring herself to tell him. There were times here and there, especially through the last four years or so, that she had thought that maybe he felt the same way, but there was no way that could be true to what he had done to her.

Even though she was so angry and hurt by him, she just hoped that he was okay, and that he was safe. She hoped that he was taking care of himself, that he wasn't getting into any trouble, and that he was with someone, or surrounded by people, who loved and cared for him as much as she did. She could only hope that he felt the comfort she felt in him in someone else.

Her Harry was gone, and it was evident that he was never coming back.