#but i am a home with people and don't wish to alarm

[truthcakes]

AaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[a9saga]

the brilliant green - stand by me // the day I run out of tbg videos to post will be the day I stop posting weekly song recs on this blog

[clockwayswrites]

So far this file is called 'birdritch'. Those of you who follow my art tumblr might know where this is going. I needed something light to write, been a low day. There has been zero editing or reading through and it is past 2am, sorry and enjoy! (Don't need any typos pointed out, ty.)

---

“You are supposed to be home.”

Danny blinked up from his work to find Lucius Fox standing in the doorway of the lab. The man had the sport of expression one wore around a child who had just done something disappointing.

(Danny was used to the look, even if it had been a long time since he'd been a kid. Or seen his parents, for that mater.)

“Okay, but,” Danny started, “we agreed that I could start at ten and take my eight hours and one for lunch—”

“A mandatory one hour for lunch away from your desk,” Lucius interrupted.

“Yes, yes, I’ve been doing that! I’ve been eating out on the rooftop garden or even leaving the building and eating out or taking lunch to the park. I’ve been behaving, Lucius, I promise.”

Lucius raised a judgmental brow. “It’s after eight, Danny.”

“What? No. I have an alarm on my phone and everything… okay, well, that only works if my phone is charged.” Danny jabbed uselessly at his phone screen. He followed the charger, which was plugged in, all the way to the wall. He resisted the urge to let his head fall against the wall. “I guess Leslie fried the outlet again or something. I’m sorry, Lucius.”

“It’s fine, Danny,” Lucius said, “but only because, one, I know you have been trying, and two, I am going to buy you the most embarrassing alarm clock I can find and mount it to something in this lab. Now it is late and I am going home and so are you, Mr. Fenton.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Fox,” Danny said and made an exaggerate show of packing up his backpack, dead phone and all.

Lucius gave a little snort at the antics, but left with a ‘get home safe, Danny’. After his boss was gone, Danny took the time to actually make sure everything was in his bag and secure. He still didn’t get why he couldn’t just work late, but apparently WE had something of an insistence of work life balance. According to Lucius, Danny crossed the line too often and so was being kept in line. (Danny didn’t think mention he didn’t have much of a life, literally and otherwise, would help his case.)

Still, Danny mused as he stepped inside the empty elevator, the rules did keep him from becoming his parents. And that was a very, very good thing! Being a mad scientist in Gotham usually ended up landing someone in Arkham. It was just that after the chaos that Danny grew up with, going back to his empty apartment was depressing. It wasn’t as if Danny never got out and did things, it was just that all those things were mostly on the weekend. Most days he just didn’t have a reason to go back to his place.

There was no getting out of it tonight, the great and powerful Fox had spoken and Danny knew better than to try and sneak back up. He lifted his hands over his head, stretching as the elevator descended the last few floors. Oh well, at least it was before ten. He could still grab something on the way home and have a full, warm meal to take his pain meds on. By the pull along his forearm he would need them.

“Night, Bill,” Danny said as he passed the security guard who was on the evening shift. He got another ‘get home safe’ in response and gave a little wave in reply over his shoulder.

Even after the few years in Gotham, it still amused Danny how much everyone wished everyone else some sort of safe travels here. As much as Gotham was a city of hardened realists, there still was so much hope about it. Hope people got home safely, that the Bats would get where they were need in time, that the city would rebuild again and again and again. The undercurrent of hope was so strong that Danny could practically feel it moving through the city like a river.

It had been one of the reasons Danny had taken the job.

He could use hope.

He also had been very careful not to look too closely into it all. While Danny’s early life may have been dominated by the occult, he tried to stay away from it these days outside of the necessary visits to the Realm for his health. As much as the Far Frozen was full of ghost yetis, Frostbite was still a being of science and being there felt more like a cold vacation to his weird relatives than anything else those days.

Danny was actually worried that he was getting close to needing another visit. He shouldn’t, not yet. He wasn’t actually due back for another three months, but the thought of visiting Frostbite had been pulling at the back of Danny’s mind. The most annoying part of it all, is that there wasn’t any concrete reason that Danny felt he needed to go, just a lot of little things: the ache was deeper in his bones, he’d been missing noticing little things, his near constant vertigo was worse, and, oddest of all, he had been feeling chilled.

Maybe he should just take a long weekend and go for a quick visit.

Lucius would undoubtedly approve of the break.

Tomorrow, Danny would ask tomorrow.

(As long as he remembered.)

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Mr Gaiman, I hope your day is going well.

I can't say I'm looking for anything other than the comfort of talking to someone I don't know, and I apologize that for some unknown reason you are the only 'wiser older being' I can think of other than God. I'm 16, and because of forces outside of my control, I don't know if i can continue living normally. My family is loving, I am safe in my home, I currently have it better than most of the people in my country, I am not suicidal, but I'm terribly scared. Every time I watch the news or see my parents/teachers talk to each other, I feel this unexplained sensation that my life is getting shorter and shorter.

Mr. gaiman, I feel like I'll never get to finish high school. I'll never get to visit my grandparents' old house since the town evacuated. My aunt and her family are still up in the north, they send us videos every time they see rockets in the sky, and I debate sending 'goodbye' and 'I love you' one more time just incase. I'm terrified for them, for the people under the rubbles of their homes, for the people in foreign places that still don't know if they'll live, for the kids with no parents, for parents with no kids. I remember being nervous to talk to my friends about what we'll do when we go to the army in a few years, but as long as we keep in touch we're sure we'll be alright. I remember what I wanted to be when I'll grow up, I wanted to move, get an apartment in Porto Fino or go to meet my uncles in Viana, and translate books.

I remember it was the last few days of holiday vacation before it started, I remember it was still warm outside, and I still possessed the privilege to live.

Mr. gaiman, these days I'm learning that while I get to be luckier than most by simply being alive, I will always feel just one alarm sound away from sharing the same fate of my great-grandparents. From a young age I've seen black and white pictures of them, and so many others, and was told: 'they were here, they were alive, and you get to live the dream they died for'. I don't want to die on unfulfilled dreams.

I apologize for making you deal with this, but I want to be remembered by someone from outside who will get to live longer than me, or so I hope.

I'm 16 and a half. My brother just turned 11. I'm about to fail the test I have tomorrow. My tattoo just fully healed - the flowers symbolize undying love. I learned English on my own. I collect records with my dad. I study American history. I love your books. I bake when I feel down. I am alive. I if I die I hope it will be in a bomb shelter.

All I can wish you now is luck, good fortune, and the hope that you and your loved ones survive and that the world heals. I hope your generation helps heal the mess that previous generations have left you in.

[li-x1nyu]

how tartaglia reacts when you're drunk and don't recognize him

tartaglia x gn!reader

sfw, drunk reader, angst, some fluff, reader has been hurt in prev relationships

A/N: i don't usually post stuff like this hehe, idk what changed my mind to!! hope you enjoy🤭

You had told him if you didn't come home before 2, he should probably come pick you up.

"Hey, you're here!" Hu Tao beams at Tartaglia.

"Thanks for watching them," he grins and gestures to you sitting at the counter.

"Yeah, dude, of course."

Tartaglia stares at you for a little while. He still can't get over how pretty you are, the curve of your nose, the ways your eyes kiss in the corners. Your hair looks surprisingly neat for someone who's drunk. Your expression is distant, finger trailing along the edge of the glass. You seem to be drinking vodka? He thought you didn't like vodka.

Sliding an arm around your shoulders, he leans to whisper in your ear, "Hey, pretty, you ready to go?"

You leap back into the present.

Looking puzzled, you push his arm off of you, saying, "Please don't call me that."

He blinks, a ghost of a smile still on his face. "Haha... what?"

Their faces mirror each other in confusion.

"I'm not going home with you, I have a boyfriend," you say, turning back to the half filled glass.

It clicks in Tartgalia's head, and a teasing grin forms. "A boyfriend, huh? Can I fight him for you?"

"You'd lose," you reply flatly, deadpan.

Dropping himself into the seat next to you and propping up his cheek, he says, "Tell me about this boyfriend of yours."

He watches his lover's expression brighten, like you forgot the entire exchange that just happened.

"Oh, he's the sweetest," you gush immediately. "And he makes me laugh so much, and he's so lively and good with people, but he's so hardworking and stubborn and, ugh, he's so beautiful. How is it possible to be so beautiful?"

His heart is about to explode all over Hu Tao's kitchen counter. His mind can't believe it, he's the reason your face is a beautiful, dreamy, rambling mess.

And you're not done. "I don't deserve him," you say, "I wish I could do something for him, but he always says I don't have to."

Because you don't have to, my dove, Tartaglia thinks. You're doing more than enough already.

Your expression suddenly snaps. "Shit. I'm a terrible person. I need to go home."

Tartaglia snaps out of his own trance in alarm. "Why?"

"He's at home now, and I'm out here getting wasted." You rub your face and search for your bag and phone.

"Woah, hey, you're drunk," he holds you by the shoulders, "I'm taking you home."

"Just because you're literally gorgeous doesn't mean you get to touch and take home random people!" You smack his hands off of you, again. Tartaglia's not sure if he should cry or laugh.

You cover your mouth in surprise at your own words. "Holy fuck, I'm a terrible person," you whisper. "Am I allowed to call someone who isn't my boyfriend gorgeous?"

He's convinced alcohol makes your brain overthink twice as fast as it usually does.

He also thinks it's a dumb question. Have I given them the impression they can't speak their mind?

He thinks it's okay. "Of course you are," he tells you instead, frowning. "He's not a good boyfriend if you have to be allowed to do something."

"No, he's a great boyfriend!" you say instantly. "I just-" You cut yourself off with a sigh and chew on your fingernail. There's a loud thumping in his heart as he waits for you to continue.

"I never know about these things," you say finally. "I feel like he never really tells me how he truly feels. I don't know if there's something I do that actually bothers him. And I'm..." You rub your nose bridge. "I'm scared to ask."

Tartaglia is quiet for a long moment. What he has cleverly deduced from this is that his lover is scared of him. All pride he'd felt earlier from making you swoon is now replaced by a sick feeling of self hatred.

"Maybe there's just nothing you do that really bothers him," he suggests softly, trying to lighten the mood.

Your expression turns glum. Fuck, was that the wrong thing to say? He mentally kicks himself.

"That can't be right," you sigh. "When I have nightmares, he always wakes up to comfort me. I'm pretty sure that pisses him off. And he always says it's okay too, but-" you blink rapidly, like blinking away tears. Tag winces.

"But then he... he takes longer in the shower, adds more caffeine to his coffee. And- and he'll eat less of the breakfast I make him."

"Oh," he says smartly, running out of things to say. He should've paid more attention to the little things, knowing that of course you would.

You shake your head and squeeze your slightly glassy eyes shut. After mumbling to yourself, "stop oversharing to strangers" twice, you put the cork back in the vodka bottle and set your glass in Hu's sink after pouring it down the drain.

"Anyway," you turn to him when you're done, "goodnight, I guess. Thanks for listening?"

"I'll walk you home," he offers again, softly.

You hesitate. Of course you hesitate.

"You're drunk," he reminds you. "I'm sure your boyfriend won't mind as long as you get home safe."

You give in. You let him put his coat around your shoulders, but you don't put your hands through the sleeves.

Halfway home, you just stop walking.

"Love?" Tag tilts his head at you. "Darling, what's wrong?"

You blink a few times. "Tartaglia?"

He grins. "Yes, hi. You recognize me now?"

You blink again. Then a smile starts to spread, and you forget the reason for your daze. You put your arms into the sleeves of his coat. "Yes," you say sheepishly. "Hey, you."

A hand is held out for him to hold.

Their talk can wait for next morning.

sorry if tartaglia is a little ooc! thank you for reading 🫶 might post a part two where he comforts you about it?

[withleeknow]

six minutes.

pairing: seungmin x reader genre/warnings: friends to ??, fluff; a couple of swear words here and there bc who am i if i don't swear, mentions of hurling but it doesn't actually happen, not really unedited lol word count: 0.8k note: HELLO FELLOW WIFEU (you know who you are), number 13 was "things you said at the kitchen table" lol. anywhomst people, my first seungmin piece!!

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

when blinding sunlight playfully slips through the curtains, you wake up with an ache inside your head, then instant confusion as you take in your surroundings.

this isn't your bedroom.

the clothes you're wearing aren't the ones you put on before you went out last night.

there's someone on the other side of the bedroom door, and the rummaging of cabinets, the clanging of pots and pans.

you sit up fully, clutching the duvet cover close to your chest, evidently disoriented. there's not much for you to go on - the room is clean, tidy, barely any decorations except for what seems to be a few baseball mementos displayed neatly on the credenza sitting opposite from the bed, surrounded by empty cream-colored walls.

a dumb, possibly-still-drunken thought pops up.

oh my god, i've been kidnapped.

you blink, feeling fatigue in every limb, slightly alarmed but not scared even though you probably should be. (you've been told that your survival instincts aren't very sharp.) the brain fog must also be a contributing factor, but even in spite of the thought of being kidnapped, you don't register any sense of imminent danger. just a growing perplexity because not everything has clicked into place yet.

your eyes notice a framed photo on the bedside table when the light catches on the glass. upon closer examination, you gasp sharply, because why the fuck is there a photo of your dog in this strange bedroom?!

oh wait.

okay.

thank fuck. you've been here before.

it's just kim seungmin's bedroom that you're in, and it's just kim seungmin's favorite baseball t-shirt that you're wearing.

after a moment of sitting by yourself in total dumbfounded silence, you venture out of the bedroom on unsteady legs - not even the good kind of wobbly legs that you wished you'd experienced as a result of a freaky night tangled up in the sheets - to find your friend in the kitchen with his back turned to you, hunched over something you can't see on the counter next to the sink.

you take a seat at the kitchen island, making sure to scrape the chair across the floor loudly to alert him of your presence. he turns around at the sound, a bit startled - cute - then throws a smile your way when he realizes who the intruder is.

"morning, sunshine," he chuckles upon seeing the disgruntled look on your face, courtesy of your stubborn headache. "sleep well?"

"i don't even remember what happened," you grumble, bypassing his question entirely. "why am i here? why didn't you take me home?"

"you wouldn't let me. you made me take you back to my place, then you practically demanded to sleep in my bed too," he tells you, filling a glass with water and handing it to you before turning back again to continue working on whatever task he was occupied with before you interrupted him. "thank god you didn't hurl."

you scoff, but you take a grateful sip of the water anyway. "you would've made me sleep on the couch?"

"yes." zero hesitation. motherfucker.

"and they say chivalry is dead."

"you'd be dead too if you had puked on my bed."

"i almost did. i woke up thinking i was kidnapped."

seungmin laughs, extending a hand to his right to grab a container of salt. you recognize it because it's part of the spice container set that you got him as a housewarming gift when he first moved into this apartment.

"would a kidnapper let you wear his favorite shirt and drool on his pillows?" he asks.

"i was practically blacked out. you could've thrown me a potato sack and i wouldn't have noticed."

"yeah, well, you wanted the shirt, so..."

for some reason, it makes you warm all over. though you still feel icky as hell from the night out, the soft material of his tee covering your body becomes more welcoming, makes you want to wrap yourself in the fabric even more.

you clear your throat, trying to dissolve the lump that forms in your throat upon hearing his words. the mischievous sun makes an appearance again, tiptoeing from the bedroom window to the kitchen window, sneaking through the cracks to saturate seungmin in a generous dose of golden light.

he turns around to face you once again, before you can think of anything else to say. he places a plate in front of you, and the sight leaves you a little taken aback. soft boiled eggs, already peeled and halved, sprinkled with your favorite sea salt.

"i don't think a kidnapper would get up early and google how to soft boil eggs either," he says with a casual shrug, but there's a hint of a smile there, tugging at his the corner of his lips.

"you had to google how to boil eggs?"

"soft boil eggs," he tuts, mildly offended that you'd think he's that incompetent in the kitchen. "because you like them."

he lets the smile take over completely now, the very second you feel heat rush to your cheeks.

"google said it takes six minutes, by the way."

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 21.12.2023]

[asuyaka]

Ok hear me out, Reader is besties with Gojo and Geto and was paired with them to deliver the Star Plasma Vessel(Riko) and Readers notices how the girl's passing seemed to take a toll on Geto the most, so after seeing his decreasing health, both physical and mental, they decided to reach out to him and pull him out of his dark thoughts. Yes I am in denial about the recent chapters, this is how I cope. This man deserves all the hugs in the world😭😭

★ - 'm totally agree! all Satoru had ta do was speak with Suguru 'n JJK probably wouldn't have happened !! <(＿　＿)>

☆ - Teen! Geto Suguru x Male Reader — Can be read as platonic or romantic !!

♡ - Hurt/comfort, suicidal thoughts, and Suguru bein' mildly racist towards non-sorcerers (；′⌒`)

The merging of the Star Plasma Vessel— Riko Amanai— and Tengen went to shit the second Fushiguro Toji came into the picture.

You tried, you tried saving her even though you were scared. No one could touch Satoru, but Toji could. Toji killed him and Riko like it was nothing.

You and Suguru weren't enough, he was too strong. When he killed Rainbow Dragon, Suguru's strongest curse, the reality set in that you two most likely weren't going to make it out alive.

You did, thankfully, but at what cost?

Your quaint little friend group broke up. Shoko was busy learning medical Jujutsu most of the time, Satoru had officially become the strongest and started taking solo missions which left you and Suguru.

But after that day, you noticed something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Suguru had lost weight, his hair which he prided himself in taking care of had split ends and was mildly greasy and he had eye bags.

This also added to the fact that he was coming late to class almost every day sent alarm bells in your head, so you decided to check up on him.

In your home clothes since you didn't have any impending missions and classes were over, you knocked on Suguru's door. He's stopped coming to class the past few days which scared the shit out of you since Suguru doesn't miss class unless it's something serious.

You waited, hoping to hear an answer. When you didn't, you checked the doorknob. It was open so you walked in, announcing yourself just in case Suguru was busy with something.

His room was a mess. The trash can was overflowing, clothes were piled up in a corner and dishes were stacked on the sink.

Suguru was curled up in his bed—which was also a mess, sheets that needed to be washed and his bed was in desperate need of a making— his blanket pulled up to his neck and his body facing away from the doorway.

"Suguru?" You whispered, checking his breathing just in case. It was there and stable, which meant he was just sleeping. You gently tapped on him, noticing the soft tear lines on his cheek.

He had cried himself to sleep.

Suguru stirred as his eyes opened slowly, blinking away the tiredness when he saw your concerned face. "[Name]..? What are you doing here?"

"I came to check on you. You haven't been in class, so I got worried. Are you okay?"

Suguru sat up and rubbed his eyes. He didn't realize he'd been gone for that long, it felt better to stay asleep than wake up. Some days he wished he stayed asleep forever.

"Sorry, I lost track of time." He came up with a lie off the top of his head, hoping you wouldn't question anything and leave him alone.

He knows you though. Knows how empathetic you are, knows how caring you are to the people you love, so it was no surprise when you sat on his bed making yourself comfortable. "Are you okay, Suguru?"

"I told you, I just lost track of time—"

"Suguru..." Your voice was soft as you took his hands into yours. Usually, his were well-manicured and painted black, but now they were long. Suguru hated it when his nails were long, they always got in the way when he was fighting curses. "You don't have to lie to me, you don't have to say anything you don't want to. Please, just tell me if you need help and I'll help you. I won't ask for anything more."

Suguru tensed up. Does he need help? He hasn't felt like himself ever since... everything happened a few months ago. The world felt so grey and he couldn't think of a reason to keep waking up and getting out of bed.

So what if those monkeys needed saving? Sorcerers shouldn't have to put their lives on the line to save people who were barely worth saving.

He feels sluggish. He reeks, his hair feels so greasy and his eyes are heavy. He just wants to lie down and hopefully take his last breath. He can't keep doing this— be a sorcerer that is.

He hates morals, he hates that 'the strong should protect the weak' bullshit, he hates that he wasn't strong enough to protect someone who needed saving, someone who deserved it.

He's so tired. Tired of the Jujutsu world, tired of the fake lies of non-sorcerers, tired of everything.

"...please." He mutters out, his hands slightly squeezing yours and his head hanging in shame.

You nod as you help him up. You don't need to tell him anything right now. If he needs you, if he needs your help, that's all that matters.

You start a bath and help him get undressed, closing your eyes for the sake of his privacy when you got to his boxers.

The water was warm against your legs, and you thanked yourself that you wore shorts instead of sweats. You washed him, taking extra care of his hair to show him you remembered how much he loved it. Show him how much you care about him.

You leave him momentarily to grab clean clothes, settling on an old Mario shirt, black shorts, and a pair of fuzzy white and black socks.

"Do you want to stay here while I clean?" You asked as you tied his hair into a loose ponytail, the smell of his cinnamon shampoo in the air.

Suguru shook his head. He wanted—no— needed to stay close to you. To hold you, to feel someone else's warmth against his. You didn't ask any questions, letting him hold onto your waist as you went to make his bed.

He stayed like that, pressed against you as you sorted his clothes, cleaned his kitchen, swept his floor, helped him take care of his nails, and him made him food.

Suguru doesn't feel like he deserves this. He doesn't deserve you. You're being so patient with him, you aren't judging him for being messy or unclean, you weren't judging the fact that his fridge was almost empty, you were just there.

There for him, to make him feel better.

Suguru feels like he's going to cry.

He's pressed against your chest, hands wrapped around your waist as he listens to you read aloud a book you had brought with you, hands in his hair, scratching his scalp gently.

"...thank you." He mumbles, wiping the wet away from his eyes. He feels so loved, like someone would care if he flat out died.

You smile softly, pressing a kiss against his head. "I'm always going to be here for you Suguru. No matter what."

And for the first time in months, he believes that it's worth it to live. That if he gets to feel you like this, he might stay in the Jujutsu world. All for you— everything for you.

[katyswrites]

don't call me 'baby'

PART 10 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, SMUT (18+), angst, mentions of pregnancy/a pregnancy scare, mentions of food and alcohol, unprotected p in v, daddy kink, oral sex (f receiving), creampie, ddlg dynamics, swearing, alcohol use, smoking, age gap, no use of y/n

Wordcount: 10.4K

A sugar daddy modern AU, a whirlwind summer romance in Italy, and two people from completely different walks of life, somehow finding each other in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But, what will happen when summer ends?

PART 10 | meet me in the afterglow

FOUR MONTHS LATER

Your walk to work was chilly enough to warrant a coat. That was perhaps the thing you missed least about home in the U.S. - even though the winters certainly got cold here, it was nowhere near the sub-zero temperatures you had grown up with during the coldest time of year. Maybe the only thing you missed was snow - in all of your time living here, you had only gotten a brief dusting once, and it had melted by the following day.

Still, a week out from Christmas, you now needed to wrap something warm around yourself as you walked down the street, heading closer to the city center as your shift was due to start. 

You were technically two minutes late to your shift, the coffee shop busy enough to have a line going out the door when you arrived. Yet, your manager Francesco said nothing - a small spark of joy in your day. 

You didn’t necessarily need to go back to work - Steve’s money had yet to run out. But, you felt good about earning your own money - and, the less you had to draw on his remaining funds, the less you had to think about him.

You hadn’t seen or spoken to Steve since the night of your argument. Well, that was only partially true - you had received one piece of communication from him. It came a few days later - you had been moping in your apartment, having barely left your room for days, when an envelope arrived. It had his familiar writing and wax seal, with another wad of cash and a letter made out to you:

I promise this is the last you’ll hear from me. I am a man of my word, so I promise to help provide for you until you’re finished with school. I’ll be transferring enough money to your account to cover all of your expenses, so no need to worry about your rent, food, anything of the sort… I really do want you to be able to focus on school, okay? So, please don’t protest, or try to send the money back. Please feel free to use the credit card if you need to. 

I’m sorry it ended this way. We both knew it was going to, but I apologize if I said anything out of line the other night. I truly do wish you the best. 

Take care,

Steve

Reading it had been a punch to the gut. The formality of it, the finality of it… you would’ve rather that you never heard from him again. You had stashed the letter in a box under your bed, and not looked at it since.

A few weeks after that, you had pregnancy scare. It was silly, really - but, your period was late, and if was the first conclusion your mind had jumped to. You had called Robin in a panic, begging her to come home - she did, with four different brands of pregnancy tests. Those 15 minutes of waiting for results were the most agonizing of your life - then, upon seeing them all negative, you fell to your knees and burst into tears.

“It’s okay,” Robin had cooed, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “You’re good it was a false alarm - you’re probably just late because of stress -”

“I know,” you sobbed. “I just -”

“What is it?”

You then had sat up, chest heaving as you sobbed.

“He’s really gone isn’t he?”

Robin held you in her arms that night as you cried yourself to sleep.

To your knowledge now, he had gone back to the U.S. - was he still in Chicago? Or, did he go back to New York? You realized it was better for you to not ask these questions, or to think of him at all. As the weeks had turned into months, you found yourself thinking of him a little less each day - but you still thought of him. You saw him in the passersby as you walked down the street, in every car window, in every businessman walking through the door to order a coffee. Sometimes, you’d hear a laugh, or get a brief whiff of cigarette smoke, and swear it was him. But it never was - it never would be again.

The days had dragged on, but luckily, you often found yourself too busy to dwell too much on thoughts of Steve. Between work and school, your plate was pretty full. With graduation in mere weeks, you had spent the entire term studying and working on your thesis. Steve’s remaining money, at least, allowed you to work far less hours than you had before - a small blessing, you supposed. 

The day was moving pretty quickly, the morning rush busy enough that two hours flew by without much notice. It was only during the afternoon lull that you found yourself able to look up from the espresso machine - only to lock eyes with a familiar face through the window.

Eddie smiled back at you, waving. You couldn’t help but grin, and beckoned him to come inside. He bounded through the glass doors, bursting into the coffee shop with the infectious, chaotic energy he always carries with him.

“Bella, how are you?” he asked, leaning over the counter with a big grin.

“I’m okay,” you said, shrugging.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Just okay?”

“Oh well - you know, a bit stressed with the end of term and all. But, that’ll all be over soon.”

“I’m almost done, too - just finishing up my exams, all of that nonsense.”

“Do you have someone for your thesis?”

You nodded. “Professor Hopper - he’s always had a soft spot for me,” you said, smiling fondly, thinking of the seemingly-gruff. 

“I have Clarke - I don’t actually know how much he knows about photography, he teaches chemistry for godsake, but apparently it’s a hobby or something, so he’ll sign off on whatever I do,” Eddie said, laughing.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you - I actually have my own studio space now.”

“What? Eddie, that’s amazing!”

He grinned. “Thanks - I mean, I’m still technically freelance, but I’m hoping once I’m fully graduated more work will start coming in. But for now, I don’t mind having some spare time to practice with the band.”

You did your best to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“Right - don’t forget me when you make it as a big rockstar, Eddie.”

He let out a hearty laugh at that, the infectious kind that had you joining in - you hadn’t laughed like that in quite some time.

“You know, you should come by later to check it out,” Eddie said. “I mean, if you want -”

You thought for a moment, then nodded.

“Sure, why not - I get off in about a half hour -”

“Perfect,” he cried, clapping his hands together. “I’ll just wait around then - and, uh, can I get an espresso? Since I’m already here and all.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting a smile.

“Yeah, sure thing Munson - I’ll take my sweet time with it, just for you.”

The end of your shift flew by, and soon enough you were pulling off your apron, linking your arm in Eddie’s as he led you out the door and through the city.

The studio, as it turned out, was only a few blocks away. The space was small, but nice - a big glass storefront allowed plenty of light in, even with the fading sun, indicative of the short days of winter. Some of Eddie’s work hung framed on the walls - city scenes, candids of people on the street, bands in action at his favorite club… and even a few of you, from the project you posed for a few years ago.

“Wow - this is amazing, Eddie!” you exclaimed, glancing around the studio with genuine pride for your friend. You knew this was always the goal for him, what he always wanted to do.

“Grazie mille,” he said, beaming. 

“Do you have anything lined up?”

He nodded.

“Some - nothing too interesting. A few weddings, graduation photoshoots, things like that. Oh, do you want to see the photo lab?”

You let him lead the way into the back room, passing through a dimly-lit room with machines and equipment that you were sure you had no idea how to use. Newly developed photos were hanging around on clothespins, or spread across the table in the middle.

“Back there is the darkroom,” Eddie said, gesturing to a small door on the other side of the room. “But yeah, this is where the magic happens.”

“You develop all your pictures this way?” you asked, examining a few laid across the table.

He shook his head. “Not exactly - only the stuff I shoot on film. A lot of what I do is digital, and I edit that on my computer but… I really do love shooting film. I only really do that for specific things. Oh, which reminds me!”

He turned his back to you, rummaging through a filing cabinet until he produced a large manila envelope, extending it to you. You furrowed your brow, confused. You turned it to examine it properly - the only thing written on it was your name and a date, in Eddie’s telltale scrawl.

“What -”

“It’s those pictures I owe you, from your birthday party - sorry, it took me a while to get around to developing them.”

Oh. 

“Oh,” you said quietly, gripping the envelope a bit tighter. “Uh, thanks - that was really nice of you, Eddie.”

You were still staring down at the parcel in your hands, your hands shaking a bit - you had completely forgotten that Eddie had been taking pictures all night. Most likely because you had been a bit distracted at the time. But now…

“I think they turned out pretty nice, if you ask me,” Eddie said. “But, you can be the judge of that yourself.”

You pressed your mouth into a tight line, nearly feigning a smile as you finally met his eyes again. He was looking back expectantly, and you realized he wanted you to look at them now. 

“Oh, yeah,” you mumbled. “I guess I’ll just -”

You opened it up, sliding out the stack of photos - they were slightly bigger than the ones you had seen from a digital camera, on a beautiful matte paper that you knew must have not been cheap. This, you realized, was Eddie’s belated birthday gift to you.

You thumbed through the pictures - the first few were just candids of your friends on the dancefloor, or deep in conversation around the bar. There were a few of you and Robin, arms thrown around each other and smiling ear-to-ear.

There were quite a few solo shots of you, raising a glass to the camera, mid-laugh, or dancing - somehow, he had made it look like you truly were the center of attention, as if to tell people this is who we were there for! 

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, laughing quietly at a few of the shots, including one of Robin flipping off the camera as she kisses Vickie. Then, your smile dropped, because there he was.

Steve, looking as handsome as you remembered, but somehow also a stranger, or like a figment of your imagination. Somehow, a small part of your subconscious had convinced you over the last few months that perhaps he wasn’t real, a true figment of your imagination that had been too good to be true. But there he was, large as life, his arm wrapped around you as you smiled into the camera. You were smiling in his arms, a girl completely unrecognizable in some ways. In another photo, he’s pressing a kiss to your cheek as you laugh - you remembered that one being taken, that’s for sure. You gently trailed your fingers across the picture, as if you were hoping to reach in and pull that happy girl out, just to shake a bit of sense into her. You didn’t even realize you were crying until a fat wet teardrop his the page, rolling down and off the edge.

“Whoa - are you alright?” Eddie asked, his voice tinged with worry.

You jumped, having nearly forgotten that he was there at all. How long had you been staring at the pictures of Steve? For a few minutes, or hours? There was no way to know.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you said, the thickness in your voice betraying you. You pressed the heels of your hands under your eyes, willing the gentle tears to stop, sniffling.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asked softly.

You laughed dryly, more hot tears welling up as you did.

“Nothing! I - they’re beautiful, Eddie. Really - thank you. You - you’ve really got a talent.”

Your voice wobbled a bit at the end, and you sniffled.

“I’m sorry, I - it’s nothing to do with you,” you assured him. “I just - I’ve been having a hard time lately.”

Eddie cocked his head, confused. Then, his eyes flitted down to the picture in your hands.

“Oh - I’m sorry, I - is this about him?” Eddie asked quietly, gesturing to the photos. You just nodded, avoiding his gaze again as you stuffed them back into the envelope.

“I didn’t know you two had broken up, I’m sorry -”

“We didn’t break up!” you snapped, harsher than intended. “Fuck, I - sorry, that came out wrong. We didn’t break up, because we were never exactly together. It’s just complicated.”

Eddie furrowed his brow. “Yeah, okay - well, I’m sorry to hear about your not-breakup. I guess I’m just a little surprised.”

“Why’s that?” you asked.

He shrugged. “I spent a long time looking at all of those when I was developing them - you know how they say pictures tell a thousand words?”

You nodded.

“Well - I take pictures of a lot of couples - weddings, engagement shoots, all of that… and I’ve never seen two people more in love than you two.”

You felt your chest tighten - maybe you were being a lovesick idiot at your party, but Steve?

You shook your head. “No - Eddie, it… it wasn’t like that. I can promise you that.”

Steve made that perfectly clear.

Eddie shrugged again. “I’m just telling you what I observed, that’s all.”

“Well maybe you should mind your business,” you grumbled.

Fuck. You shouldn’t have said that.

Eddie’s face fell a bit, and he slowly took a step back, hands shoved in his pockets.

“My apologies,” he whispered. He was hurt, that much was obvious. You mentally kicked yourself.

“No Eddie - I’m sorry, I didn’t -” 

You sighed, frustrated.

“Things have been, like, really weird the last few months and… it doesn’t matter.”

“I could tell,” he said, voice quiet. “You’ve been.. Distant.”

You nodded, the awkwardness filling the space between you two. You had fucked this up too, somehow.

“So,” you said, clearing your throat. “Uh, it’s getting late, and dark… I probably should head home.”

“Yeah, okay - good idea, I have some stuff to work on anyway.”

You both nodded, avoiding eye contact as you both headed out back into the studio.

It wasn’t until you were at the door that you turned to face Eddie again.

“The place really is beautiful… I’m proud of you,” you said sincerely. He offered a small smile in return.

“Thanks.”

“I also - the pictures are beautiful. Thank you for these, I - they’re great.”

“I’m sorry if they -”

“Don’t apologize,” you said firmly. “They’re great - you’ve really got a gift, you know.”

You could tell Eddie was fighting a real smile, a small win in your book.

“C’mon, you know my ego’s just fine on its own.”

You laughed, and without thinking, pulled him into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry I lost it a little earlier,” you whispered.

“It’s alright,” he said, pulling away. “Heartbreak is funny like that.”

You decided not to bother protesting his assessment this time, too tired to start a fight again just to feel something.

“Right, okay.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take out the photos with… him?” Eddie asked, gesturing down to the envelope.

“No, that’s alright - I’m a big girl, I can go through them. I’m definitely going to hang a few of these up though, so thanks again.”

“Take good care of yourself darling, alright? And come by any time - for any reason.”

It was an olive branch, an assurance that things were okay. You forced a smile, nodding.

“Thanks, Eddie - you’re a great friend, you know.”

You bid your farewells, and left the studio with a strange feeling settling within you. You pulled your coat a little tighter around you, stuffing the envelope underneath as you charged through the chilly evening air to the nearest bus stop.

You didn’t get home until nearly 6pm, the winter sky fully dark by then. By the time you walked a few blocks and up the stairs to your apartment, your face was stinging from the cold, the wind picking up more since that afternoon.

Robin was on the couch, a rerun of Friends playing on the TV.

“Hey! You’re back kind of late,” she remarked.

“Yeah - I ran into Eddie, funnily enough,” you replied, hoping you sounded nonchalant.

“Oh really? How is he? I miss him - we should really make a plan to hang out with him soon -”

“Yeah, for sure,” you said, kicking off your shoes and hanging your coat on the rack. “He’s good - I saw his new studio, it’s nice.”

“Oh, no way! That’s great - I need to go sometime -”

“Yeah, totally,” you said, absentminded. “Uh, I’ve got some stuff to do, but I’ll be out here later -”

“Maybe we can get takeout or something -”

“Yeah, perfect -” you tittered, closing your bedroom door behind you, eyes on the envelope in your hands.

You bit your lip, debating what to do. Part of you considered finding all of the pictures of Steve, and burning them. But, that felt a bit dramatic. You pulled out the stack again, sifting through until you found the shots of him. You couldn’t help but smile, looking at how happy the girl in the photos was - if only she knew how quickly things would fall apart that night. The photo of Steve kissing you cheek was your favorite - it was just full of pure, unbridled joy. The one after that was the one you stared at for quite some time, though. You were looking into the camera, grinning widely. Steve, however, wasn’t - no, he was looking at you. You stared at him for quite some time - and remembered Eddie’s words.

I’ve never seen two people more in love than you two.

You had thought it was crazy - but, in the picture, Steve was looking at you like you’d hung the stars. Like, if he didn’t have you, he’d be lost. He was looking at you with eyes full of love - you just hadn’t been looking.

You gasped, realizing what Eddie had seen that you couldn’t - maybe everything had meant more to Steve than he had let on. No, that was crazy - wasn’t it?

What happened next didn’t have much explanation - it was probably crazy. You found yourself Googling Steve’s company headquarters in Chicago - it couldn’t be this easy, could it? But it was.

A quick call through the directory brought you to his secretary, a bubbly woman who was more than happy to help. You pretended to be the secretary of a business partner you had remembered Steve mentioning, saying how you wanted to send a thank-you gift - it had been too easy to get his home address, really. And, a confirmation that he was back in Chicago.

The next morning, you sent out an envelope, sticking on international postage. You debated not putting your name on the return address, but ultimately decided to include it - he’d recognize the address anyway. When you dropped it at the post office, you walked away feeling a sense of relief - and, perhaps, just a bit unhinged. TIme would tell if anything came of it. But, at the very least, it felt like finally closing the chapter of your life that had been defined by Steve Harrington. And, that was a good thing… right?

********

The day before Christmas Eve, you received great news: confirmation that you had passed all of your exams, your thesis receiving glowing feedback from the professors in your department. Your degree, which studied Art History and Travel and Tourism Management, meant that you would actually be able to stay here - you hoped to work in tourism in some way right here in Rome, or perhaps work in one of the city’s many museums - being bilingual would help, and more importantly, it meant you never had to set foot back in the United States again, if you didn’t want.

Christmas brought its usual cheer and celebration, complete with mulled wine and a potluck dinner you and Robin held for some of the other foreign students you were friendly with, knowing they didn’t have families to go to for the holidays. Your graduation only brought extra festivities, including a speech prepared by Robin given as a toast at dinner, saying how proud she was of you (and, how jealous she was that you didn’t have to worry about schoolwork anymore). It was silly yet sincere enough to make you tear up and pull her into a big hug. Eddie and Jonathan even swung by for a bit, joining in on the celebration until the wee hours of the morning. Robin and Vickie were all over each otherYou ate and drank to your heart’s content before stumbling to bed, leaving cleanup in the kitchen for the morning.

The morning of Boxing Day, it turned out, was actually the afternoon, with you and Robin oversleeping. You, to your own relief, felt tired, but not too hungover - the same couldn’t be said for Robin and Vickie, who stumbled into the kitchen with grimaces on their faces and grumbles as a greeting.

You spent most of the day cleaning up from the last two days’ festivities, washing dishes and clearing away wrapping paper, wiping countertops and vacuuming just enough until your home felt semi-in order. 

You were still in your pajamas as it was getting dark again in the evening, a rarity these days. When Robin said she was heading out to dinner with Vickie and likely would be staying at her place that night, you bid her farewell, looking forward to some time alone to fully relax and unwind. 

It was several hours later, after scrounging together a dinner of Christmas leftovers and half-dozing on the couch while a movie played, that your doorbell rang. You sat up with a start, your heart jumping at the unexpected intrusion. You stumbled to the door, grumbling about who could possibly be here at this hour - maybe Robin decided to come back after all, and got locked out again? You were ready to playfully ridicule her when you opened the door. But when you saw who was standing on the other side, you froze.

Steve Harrington was there on your doorstep, barely illuminated in the dim light. His chest was heaving, his hair just a bit disheveled. His eyes widened when he saw you, and you imagined you did the same. Your heart plummeted to your stomach at the sight of him, so real and alive in front of you. Were you dreaming? Was this some sick prank?

Neither of you said anything for a moment, two mouths hanging open, searching for the words.

“It’s Christmas,” you blurted out, the first words you’ve said to him in over four months.

“It’s December 26th,” he replied, simply and casually.

“I - well, it’s still a holiday, kind of.”

“Yeah, I know - do you know how hard it is to catch a last-minute flight on Christmas?”

You just stood there in the doorway, unable to think of anything else to say - what the fuck?

“What are you doing here?” you asked, words biting. You were lashing out a bit, but you didn’t care - this moment right now reminded you of a similar one over the summer, when he came to your doorstep to explain how he wasn’t engaged. What was his excuse now?

“Why did you send me this?” he asked, holding up a familiar envelope - the photo.

Why did you? You weren’t certain of that answer yourself. So, you went with the first explanation that came to your head.

“It’s a good picture of you,” you said quietly.

He rolled his eyes.

“Do not - I don’t hear from you for months, then I get this in the mail - on Christmas Eve, mind you -”

“I’m sorry, were you supposed to hear from me?”

“I don’t know!” he cried. “Maybe?”

You scoffed. “You can’t be serious - you made it very clear that you never wanted to see me again.”

“I - what?”

“I wish you well? Take care? We ended things, Steve - what else was I meant to think?”

He sighed, his shoulders sagging.

“I don’t know. I guess part of me - it doesn’t matter. But, what am I supposed to make of this?” he asks, waving the envelope.

“I - Eddie gave me a bunch of pictures he took at my birthday party… I thought maybe you’d want that one.”

He took a tentative step closer towards you, gauging your reaction. You held your ground, not breaking eye contact.

“Is that the only reason?” he asked, voice low.

You felt your heartbeat quicken, your palms clammy - he really was just so handsome. Still, there was something so boyish about him, something that reminded you of why you fell for him in the first place. He had cut his hair a bit, his summer tan faded - and he looked tired. Then again, you probably did too - you suddenly became conscious of the fact that you were in your pajamas, still looking like you had just woken up - you wished you could disappear, never to be perceived again.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “The only reason.”

He was close enough now that you could see his Adam’s Apple bob as he gulped, his eyes glancing up and down your form as he took a deep breath.

“Tell me that, when you sent this, there wasn’t at least a small part of you that hoped I’d respond - that, when you sent this, you hoped I’d call, or show up here. If there wasn’t, I’ll walk away right now, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

There it was - everything laid out on the table. So much was still unsaid - but, it was obvious that he also had been hurting the last few months, that he didn’t want this to end, maybe even nearly as much as you did. 

“You really flew all the way here because I sent you a photo?” you whispered.

He nodded. “Of course I did.”

“You realize how crazy that is, right?”

He chuckled dryly.

“Well, they do say it makes you do crazy things.”

“...it?” you asked, voice wavering.

He nodded.

Oh.

“Come inside,” you murmured. “It’s pretty cold out there.”

As soon as the door was shut behind him, he began spiraling into a new explanation.

“I hope you know that I didn’t come here just to - you’re right, it is kind of crazy, but I didn’t know what else to do, after everything that happened -”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” you said, cutting him off. “I don’t want to talk at all.”

You both stood there for a moment, eyes locked on eachother. Then, as if reading each other’s minds, you both moved at once - you crashed your lips into his, fast and desperate. He sighed against your lips, pulling you close as his tongue slipped into your mouth. 

You felt like crying - you had missed him so much, more than you had realized - his voice, his warmth, his scent - it brought everything flooding back, the feelings you had buried in an attempt at self-preservation. But now, as you kissed him, you felt the tears well up, stinging your eyes as they rolled down your face, hot and fast.

“Whoa - baby, it’s okay - what’s wrong -”

Baby. 

“Nothing,” you cried, wiping the tears away. “I just - I really fucking missed you.”

You felt stupid to admit it, but then again, didn’t he come close to confessing that himself just a few moments ago?

“I know, I know, baby - you have no fuckin’ idea -”

Another kiss, passionate and apologetic.

“I didn’t mean any of what I said that night,” you gasped, pulling him closer. “I was just so scared -”

“I know, me too, baby - m’sorry -”

Baby. Babybabybaby.

He was holding your face between his hands now, backing you up until you were pressed against the wall, his lips finding yours again. He titled his head down to nuzzle at your throat, pressing his lips to the sensitive skin there. You tipped your head back, giving him full access to do as he pleased. He kissed and nipped at your neck, until you were moaning and crying out his name, pulling at his coat until it fell off of his shoulders. You twisted your hands in his button-down, his hands squeezing tighter on your waist in response.

“Fuck, Steve,” you breathed. “I’m sorry -”

“Stop with that,” he said, firmly taking your face in his hands again, catching your lips in another gentle kiss. “You’re right, I just realy don’t want to talk anymore -”

Then he was kissing you again, swallowing your noises as you whined his name, fingers gripping his hair.

“Bedroom, now,” you told him. “Please -”

“Yeah, okay.”

He couldn’t keep his hands off of you, both of you stumbling down the small hallway and into your bedroom, Steve slamming the door closed behind him with his foot.

“No Robin?” he asked, lips finding your neck again.

“No - ah! She’s at Vickie’s tonight -”

“Thank Christ,” he growled. “I don’t know how quiet I’m capable of being right now.”

He was apparently as desperate as you were, lips finding yours hungrily as he pulled your oversized t-shirt over your head, eyes practically rolling to the back of his head when he saw your breasts.

“No bra?” he asked.

“I was lounging around, until you showed up -”

“Thank god,” he practically snarled, his hands finding the small of your back to pull you close.

You reached between yourselves, unbuttoning his shirt, fingers slipping as they shook with anticipation. He reached down to help you, until he eventually shrugged the shirt off. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your bare chest to his, nearly crying again from the contact.

“I really missed you,” he whispered, a man ruined. “I never thought I’d be able to have you like this again -”

“None of that,” you murmured, pressing a finger to his lips. “It’s alright.”

You just stared at him, running your hands down his chest as you took a deep breath.

“I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” he asked, face flickering with concern. “Oh god, are - are you seeing someone else? I didn’t even ask -”

“No! No, nothing like that,” you assured, biting your lip. “I just - do you remember the night of my birthday on our trip, on the rooftop?”

He nodded. “That was a really nice night.”

“I haven’t been totally honest with you,” you admitted, heart racing as you were ready to lay out the thing you had been terrified to admit aloud.

“About what?” he asked softly, cupping your cheek gently with his palm.

“Remember when I said something in Italian, and you asked what it meant? And I just said it meant I loved the gift, the star thing?”

He nodded. You took a deep, shuddering breath.

“That wasn’t exactly true. I - I said that I was in love with you,” you managed, voice quivering at the end. “That’s why I was so scared - I didn’t realize until I said it… I had broken our rule, our number one rule -”

“Hey, hey -” he cooed, shaking his head. “Did you mean it?”

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah - I still do.”

The few seconds that passed after that had your stomach doing somersaults - what if he still didn’t feel that way, and everything he had said in the doorway was bullshit? You thought you were going to be sick -

But his face softened, his eyes glistening - was he going to cry?

“Fuck the rules. I stopped following those a long time ago,” he said.

Your heart fluttered, your face heating.

“Are you saying -”

“How did you say it in Italian again?” he asked. “I’m sorry, I’ve been slacking on my lessons without you around.”

You laughed. “Oh, um, it’s sono innamorato di te. It translates directly as I’m in love with you, or I’m falling for you.”

He nodded. “Well then - sono innamorato di te.”

You felt like your chest was about to explode, and before you knew it, you were crying again. He was too, you realized, his cheeks glistening with tears as he choked a sob with laughter.

“We could’ve saved ourselves a lot of trouble if we both just said that in the first place,” he said, reaching to wipe away some of your tears.

“How long?” you asked.

“Since the night of the gala I brought you to. So… longer. I guess I win.”

You sobbed again, Steve swallowing the sound with another kiss. It’s wet and salty with tears, a mess of apologies and confessions.

“Steve - I -”

“I know, baby,” he whispered, kissing your salty cheeks. “It’s alright - I’m here now -”

The conversation truly stopped after that - you couldn’t keep your hands off of one another, shedding clothes until you were nude and devouring each other with desperation unlike anything you had ever felt before.

Steve was pressing his lips between your breasts when you asked, voice breathy and filled with need.

“Steve - I need you, please -”

“Mm - yeah, okay -”

Before he could move, you were reaching down to grasp his cock in your hand. He gasped, pupils blown as his head thumped back against the wall. The noise that came out of him was unholy, wrecked and ruined as you brushed your thumb along his leaking tip.

“Christ, baby -”

“Can I suck you off, please?” you asked, desperate to make him come undone. 

“Honey - you can’t - I just, I wanna fuck you so bad… I won’t last if I let you get your mouth on me, baby.”

You pouted, even as your heart raced with the thrill of knowing you’d have him inside you again.

“Next time,” he said, “I swear.”

A promise of a next time, of a thousand more times - you started kissing him again, lips bruising his - losing yourself in any drink or drug would never compared to losing yourself in Steve Harrington, you decided.

“Get on the bed,” he muttered, gently pushing you back. You did as he asked, falling back onto the mattress gently as he joined you, face hovering inches from yours.

His hair was a mess, pupils blown and lips glossy. He just shook his head, as if in disbelief.

“What?” you asked.

“You’re just so beautiful,” he breathed. 

You felt your face heat, and you buried your face in your hands.

“Shut up.”

“About you? Not likely.”

Before you could come up with a clever remark, he was kissing your neck again, his lips traveling down slowly between the valley of your breasts, taking his time - he was going to leave bruises, you already knew.

But he didn’t stop, traveling down, down, down - 

“What are you -”

“I never said I didn’t want to taste you first,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “I miss having my mouth on you so fuckin’ much -”

“Fuck,” you gasped. “You’re unreal -”

“Says you,” he retorted. Whatever you planned to say next died on your lips, anything resembling a coherent thought dissolving as his lips found your cunt.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, back arching as his tongue swirled around your clit.

“Just as fuckin’ sweet as I remembered,” he whispered, his breath against your pussy making your chest heave.

He licked a stripe along your slit, making your back arch off the bed, your eyes fluttering closed.

“Be loud for me, baby,” he murmured, lips finding your clit again. You did as he asked, moaning and crying out his name as he devoured your pussy, eliciting desperate sounds from you as your fingers wound themselves in his hair. He groaned as you pulled on his locks, encouraging you to continue doing so as he opted to slide a finger inside you.

“Fuck - Steve! Ohmygod, fuck -”

You felt him smile as he lapped and licked at your folds, adding a second finger and beginning to pump them in earnest, finding that spot inside of you too easily. 

You were crying out, bucking your hips against Steve’s lips, like putty in his hands. For about ten minutes you were completely his, mind numb with pleasure as he took you apart with his mouth. You let him, feeling the blunt fingernails of his free hand digging into your thigh, pulling you as close as possible.

“Steve - I’m gonna - I’m so close, y’feel too good -”

Encouraged, he picked up the pace a bit, sending you completely over the edge. When you came, you saw stars, grinding down on Steve’s mouth and fingers. You were screaming, and he helped you through it, nuzzling against your core as you pulsed around his fingers. Your hand left his hair and found his temple, gently coaxing him closer as you rode out your orgasm.

You were still breathing heavily as he kissed his way slowly back up your body, worshiping every inch of skin he could find. YOu didn’t let your eyes open again until he was face-to-face with you, chin glistening with your release as he wore a smug grin.

“Such a good girl for me,” he murmured. “Tasted so good… you came so hard for me -”

“Mm -” you hummed, pulling him down for a kiss. You tasted yourself on him, the sensation completely euphoric.

“Do you need some time?” he asked gently.

You ran a finger over your clit, still sensitive and puffy, and shook your head.

“No, I’m okay - I actually really need you to fuck me.”

“Thank god,” he said, exasperated. “I don’t think I can go another second without fucking you -”

“I know -”

“I would dream about you, you know - all the time. I’d wake up in the middle of the night with a hard-on, of a mess in my boxers like a fuckin’ teenager -”

“I know what you mean,” you admitted, recalling a few times you had thought of him as you touched yourself since he’d left. 

“Please tell me you’re still on the fuckin’ pill -”

“Yeah, I am - God, Steve -”

“I know, I know - ready baby?”

You nodded, locking your eyes with his as he positioned himself above you, pushing inside of you ever so slowly. You could tell he was holding back, doing everything he could to not enter you in one rough movement. You winced at the stretch, nearly forgetting just how big he was. He kissed apologies across your face, gasping as he felt your warm walls envelope him.

“Fuck -” he groaned, burying his face in your neck. “I can’t believe I went so long without this - you feel so fuckin’ perfect, baby - such a tight, perfect pussy -”

“You feel so good,” you breathed, digging your fingernails into his shoulderblades. “Steve - I’m so full, please fuck me -”

He did as you asked, rolling his hips against yours, eliciting a groan from both of you. He was still holding back you could tell - but you didn’t have time for that, not after months of missing him, of missing this -

“Let go, baby,” you whispered. “Please -”

“What did you just call me?” he asked.

“I - baby,” you repeated. You realized you never had before - was that wrong?

“Say it again,” he breathed.

“Baby,” you breathed, gasping as he thrust into you a little harder. 

“Baby, please - fuck me, let go,” you cried.

It became fast and hard quickly, the desperation you shared impossible to mask. The slapping of his hips against yours was positively dirty, Steve’s arms caging you underneath him as he pounded into you. Your hand snaked down between you, your own finger finding your clit.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, continuing his relentless pace. “Touch yourself for me, just like that - M’not gonan last long, I’m sorry, you just feel too good -”

“It’s okay,” you assured, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I want you to lose it.”

He groaned, the room filling with the sound of slapping skin and moans, your names on each other’s lips.

Nothing else mattered, not when Steve was making you feel like this, not when he had flown across an ocean on a whim, a desperate hope to just see you again, even if only for a moment. You suddenly became so overwhelmed with love for this man, this person who had turned your world upside down - it was indescribable, impossible to even express. So you just held him tight, burying your face into his shoulder.

“M’close - I need you to come with me, baby - can you do that? I know you can, you’re always so good for me -”

You nodded, unable to formulate words anymore.

“I fuckin’ love you,” he cried, hips stuttering, his thrusts growing sloppier. “So much, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you - I love you, baby -”

His words sent you over the edge, white-hot pleasure surging through your body as you screamed his name. The feeling of you clamping around him sending him into his own orgasm. He spilled inside of you, your name on his lips like a prayer. He practically collapsed on top of you, the feeling of his heartbeat against yours feeling like home, like it was always meant to be this way.

Your breaths were labored, sweet kisses peppered across skin. Neither of you spoke for quite some time. After he rolled off of you, he immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you as close as physically possible.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, slow and gentle. It was only when you pulled back, brushing some of his sweaty hair away from his face, that you broke the silence.

“I love you, too,” you murmured. You brushed your fingers along his face, and he caught your wrist, pressing kisses to your palm and knuckles, as if determined to worship you every chance he got.

“I want more than an arrangement,” he whispered. “I don’t want rules, or a deal, or -”

“Yeah, that was obvious,” you replied, chuckling. “And, me too.”

“And, you were right - you have school, and I never wanted you to think I just wanted you like a trophy or something - you have your own life, aspirations, and i know that - I just like spoiling you, but I never wanted you to give up who you are,” he said, face soft. “I need you to know that.”

“I do,” you murmured.

You really did. 

“Besides, I graduated.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What? When?”

“Officially? A few days ago.”

He smiled, soft and sincere - part of you was worried he might cry again.

“Congratulations - I’ll have to take you out to celebrate.”

“Mm - sounds good to me. How long - when are you here until?”

There was still life to reckon with, after all - living on two different continents, jobs, obligations - the kind of thing that could ruin this. But, he just shook his head.

“I bought an open-ended ticket. So, until whenever you want.”

“I - what? What about work?”

He shrugged. “Turns out, when you run the place, you can get away with that stuff.”

Your jaw dropped.

“What? Are you serious?”

He nodded. “Brenner’s out. I’m in - youngest CEO in the company’s history.” 

You laughed, pressing your palm to your forehead as you stared at the ceiling in disbelief.

“Steve - that’s amazing. But how -”

“Shhh - we’ll figure everything out later. But, let’s at least ring in the new year together, yeah?”

You nodded cautiously - he really was here, now, and wanted to make it work.

“Okay,” you said. “Sounds good.”

“Hey - you know what’s really pissing me off, though?”

“What?” you asked, wary as a pit of dread formed in your gut.

“I have to thank Eddie fucking Munson for fixing this.”

You laughed, a real, hearty laugh, and in that moment, you realized things were going to be okay.

******

That night, you slept better than you had in months, safe and warm in Steve’s arms. That was, until you woke to Robin’s scream the next morning, both of you shooting up in bed with a start.

“WHAT IS HE DOING IN YOUR BED?” she cried, shielding her eyes. “God - I wish I could bleach my eyes - motherfucker -”

Then, the door was slamming shut, Robin bemoaning her luck as she bolted down the hall to her own room.

You felt your face heat with embarrassment, sinking under the covers.

“Well - I guess I owe her an explanation -”

“Later,” Steve saidly, shaking his head incredulously. “For Christmas, I’m getting you a fucking industrial lock for that door!”

Then you were laughing, blissful and unable to control yourself, Steve joining you. He kissed the giggles away, pulling your body to his, and not much talking happened after that.

It didn’t matter what real life held after this - because Steve was here, and he was yours. Wherever you ended up, you realized, if you were with Steve, you would be home.

He was here to stay.

author's note: Hi y'all - thanks for your patience! This story isn't quite done - there will be an epilogue posted tomorrow. But, that's essentially the conclusion of don't call me 'baby' - I told you it would be a happy ending! Shoutout to @is-writing for some help with this. And of course as always, Em, without whom this fic wouldn't have happened. Comments, reblogs, and messages are always welcome - keep an eye out for the epilogue!

[thetreefairy]

Hiya, for your event can i request fantasy au with king gojo with the prompts Sunflower,3,4 platonic yandere. I see you just made a gojo fic so if you don’t wanna write for him can fyodor for bsd replace him? Thanks in advance

I tried to write this with fyodor, but I could not--- so here's gojo, you can request as much Gojo as you want cuz he's my fav in JJK. Reader is related to Gojo in this .

Warnings: manipulation, reader wants to find their parents, parental deaths, gojo is a bit dubious ngl

Sunflower - "I adore you like you are mine."

"Stay with me, or I will make you."

"You are the bird in a golden cage, act like it."

They/them reader

700 rules - 700 masterlist - kofi

King Gojo had little family, and the family that he did have was barely in contact with himp.

At least, until their child came to him, begging for him to help them find their parents. "My sister went missing?" He had asked to the teen infront of him, they had his eyes.

"Yes, as well as my pa." Reader had said with teary eyes. "I beg of you to help me find my parents, your majesty."

"My sister and I don't have a cordial relationships." Gojo said with a small smile, he missed her truly. "But this situation will make us put our differences aside."

Reader looked at him with a bright smile, causing him to grin at them. "And perhaps I will finally get to know (my cousin/niece/nephew)."

The way his posture changed and how his expression, it set off alarm bells in Reader.

Perhaps they should have listened to their mom's warnings about him...

While Gojo had promised Reader that he would search for their parent, he had offered them a place in the palace. Which caused Reader to ask: "Why did ma give up her title?"

"Is it important?" Gojo had asked. "Quite so, I don't wish to be murdered you see." Reader had answered back.

"You have quite the imagination, I would never let my blood be harmed."

While Reader tried to help with the search, they slowly became close with Gojo, they even started to call him uncle. Slowly the court started to treat Reader as the crowns heir.

During Tea time Reader asked about it. "Uncle Satoru, why are people treating me like the crowns heir?"

"Perhaps, because." He started dramatically. "I adore you like you are mine."

Reader chuckled nervously and drank their tea quietly. So this is what their mother meant, as long as their parents are found... His obsessions won't continue.

But the next day, the imperial knights brought two death cerficates to them.

Reader had dropped to their knees and broke down. Their ma and pa were gone. The people who were supposed to be by their side until they were old and gray, the people Reader was supposed to care for as they grow old.

And now they are gone.

Reader had to leave this place, they had to, before their uncle because obsessed. Just like he was with their ma.

But when Reader voiced their desire to leave and bury their parents at their home, Satoru's behavior took a dangerous turn.

'I have been too naïve.' they thought as Satoru grabbed their arms tightly and said: "Stay with me, or I will make you."

"W-what?" Reader had dumbly asked. "You can't do that, uncle."

"I can do what I want, I am the king, and I hold full authority."

"Yes, but imprisonment without a just cause is illegal!" Reader shouted. "Even for the king!"

"Oh, but I have a just cause." Gojo said in a low tone, pulling Reader into a tight hug. "A grieving child cannot make decisions for themselves."

Reader gulped.

"Now can they?"

All they could do was smack his chest, not that he would budge. "awh, darling." He chuckled. "Your grief is making you violent, perhaps you should rest."

He pushed you towards a new room, it was big. It almost felt like the entry to a house.

"Everything you need is here." Satoru whispered in Reader's ear as they cried out. "You'll never need to leave."

With that Satoru left and shut the door, locking it. A maid in the room ran to Reader as they dropped to the ground saying: "Your highness, why don't we take a bath and read a few books. That will surely calm you down."

They had nodded and allowed the maids to do as they pleased. As they whispered praise in Reader's ears.

The only time Reader was allowed out of that room was for their parents funeral.

It seemed like Satoru truly meant for them to never leave. So Reader fought with him every time he came to visit. He told himself: 'They just need to adapt, soon they'll accept their new positions.'

But eventually he broke.

The next time he came to visit he asked: "When will you stop asking such foolish things?"

"When you realize you can't keep me here, I am my own person." Reader had hissed back at him. "No." He spat with venom.

"You are a bird in a golden cage, act like it."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Same as it ever was 8

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: hello again.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You change out of your work clothes into a pair of old jeans and a fraying sweatshirt. You can smell the smoke from the basement as you huff at the ceiling. Great. You thought maybe having Pete home could at least spare you a few minutes to lay down. As usual, you have to save the day he's spoiled. Not that it was any good before that.

You go upstairs as the fire alarms wails and you hear Simone asking if everything's okay. You come up behind your daughter and gently touch her shoulder, "go read, everything's fine."

Pete pokes the button on the detector with the end of the broom as you hurry in to move the pan from the burner into the sink. The pan is ruined as the breasts stick, burnt to the finish entirely. You shake your head as you face your husband. He looks like a beaten dog as he holds the broom and pouts.

"I'll put some of the frozen nuggets in the oven," you resign, "why don't you set the table or something?"

He mopes and puts the broom back in the closet. He doesn't leave though. He approaches as you open the freezer and take out the breaded processed chicken. You put the bag on the counter and tear it open.

"I'm sorry, babe. I'm really... I'm trying."

"I don't want you to try, Pete, get it through your head," you whisper sharply, "I don't want you. At all."

He sputters as you refuse to look at him. You pull out a baking sheet and spread out the nuggets. He watches, helpless and stunned.

"You can't mean that," he mewls.

"What am I supposed to want with you?" You ask, "You blew it. We both did. It's done. We just... get through for the kids. For the company, until you can pay me alimony."

"Huh?" He chokes on the noise.

"Mom," Simone jolts you as she chimes from the doorway. You and Pete turn in unison. "That idiot with the lip fur is outside."

You frown as Pete gives another confused utter. "Who-- he is?"

"He knocked but I told him to go away," she shrugs, "don't think he got the message."

"Simone," you look at Pete as he furrows his brow. "My boss..."

"What the hell is your boss doing here?" Pete asks.

"I wouldn't know," you answer dryly.

You march out of the kitchen, past Simone as you go to the front window and peer out. You see Hansen inspecting your mailbox before he jams the doorbell. Great. 

You go to the door with your daughter and husband trailing you. This is the last thing you need. How dare he come there and disturb your family. He gets eight hours a day to torture you. And you haven't eaten, you're about to fall over.

You swing the door open, ready to eviscerate him but stopping short. You can't do that. Not least of all because Simone is right there. 

"Mr. Hansen," you greet airily, "what can I do for you?"

"Ah, nice to see you too," he eyes Pete over your shoulder as Simone stands beside you.

"Wish she could say the same," Simone sneers, "I told you to go away."

"Sim," you reproach, you're starting to think she gets that from you. "Mr. Hansen..."

"You're the boss? What're you doing here?" Pete asks, gripping the door frame as he' stands almost right against your back.

"You must be the old man," Hansen smirks, "didn't the wife tell you? She got a promotion."

"Huh, old man-- promotion?" Pete reels aloud. "No."

You swallow and suck in air. Just go along with it. One wrong step and he might just tell the truth for once.

"I haven't had the chance, we've been making dinner," you simper sourly.

"Well, I wish I could say I'm just here to say congrats but business calls," Hansen checks his watch. 

"It's six-thirty," Pete scoffs.

"Oh, you know, the big boys, it's a business dinners and useless small talk but gotta put on a good face." He looks at you and a line forms between his brows, "so better go doll yourself up."

"Wha-- right now?"

"I called you. Several times. You didn't pick up. Your problem, not mine. Let's go," he snaps your fingers.

"Mommy," Malik's voice startles you as he squeezes between you and Simone, "oh! Mommy!"

He whimpers and clings to your leg as he gapes up at Hansen, hiding behind you like he did when he was younger.

"I told you he's evil," Simone grumbles.

"Alright, everybody, inside," you declare as you raise your hands, "Mr. Hansen, please, just, give me a couple minutes."

"I've given you a few already but suppose I can't take you to dinner with grease on your shirt."

You look down at the new stain on your sweatshirt. Of course. You back up and close the door, turning to face your family, crowded in the entryway, bearing down on you.

"Okay, here's what's going to happen. Pete, put the chicken in, twenty minutes, make sure you flip them so they don't stick. Simone, keep an eye on Malik, please, help him with his homework, honey. Mal," you pause and untangle your son from you, "be good, please."

"Are you leaving?" He pouts.

"I have to."

"What the he--ck," Pete corrects himself before he can swear, "you're just going with him?"

"He's my boss, Pete," you snip, "I don't have much of a choice. I need the money. We both do. I doubt it'll be all night. A dinner, easy."

You know it's probably not what Hansen says it is but you're not going to unveil that deception. It's better to go along. You hate to lie to your family but you'd feel worse to let them down.

"Great, so you get to go out and have a fancy dinner and I have to stay here?"

"Pete," you sniff, "you're a father, start acting like it." You stop yourself, "Simone, Malik, please, go watch some TV."

Simone frowns as she peeks between you and your husband. You see the suspicion and anxiety sparking in her. She takes Malik's hand and takes him into the living room.

"I'll bring leftovers, happy?"

"That guy looks like a real scuzz bucket," he growls.

"Oh, please, you've spent how long staying late to go to dinners and be with Miss Panties or No Panties," you snarl, "don't start because I have to miss one night."

"Honey," he changes his tone, "I can't-- what do I do?"

"What do you do? Figure it out," you shoulder past him, done with the argument. You haven't won, you have to go put up with Hansen.

"Babe," Pete calls after you.

"I'm sure you could ask Simone, even a twelve year old can figure it out," you toss over your shoulder as you stomp upstairs.

🗄️

You pull on a plain black skirt that ends at your knees, of the few you have among your wardrobe. You match it with a lamb gray blouse and a blazer you can’t button. You try your best to refresh your hair and face but at this point, there’s not much you can do about it.

You come downstairs and slip into a pair of round-toed flats as Pete watches silently. You know he wants to argue. You don’t want to go either but you’re sure as shit not telling him that. Let him suffer while you do the same.

“I’ll try not to be too late,” you shrug on your coat and hook your purse over your shoulder, “Malik, don’t give your father a hard time at bathtime and Simone, do your math. You can’t read all night.”

You reach for your phone and spin back for the door. Pete catches you, holding you at arm’s length. His blue eyes cling to yours with a glimmer of desperation.

“Love ya, honey,” he says, “I really do.”

You gulp and put your chin up. The kids are there. You try not to let your loathing tighten in your cheeks, “love you too…” you eke out and clear your through. “Love you all.” You pull away from him and smile at Simone and Malik, “have a good night.”

You quickly turn away and scurry to the door. Something about the moment leaves you breathless. The realisation that your family is hanging by a fraying thread. You pull the door shut as you come out to find Hansen leaning on the hood of his sports care. Is that douche bag red?

You come up the walk as he watches you with a smirk, “adorable, got the whole clan home.”

“Please,” you grumble, “let’s just get out of here. Far away.”

He stands up straight, “already jonesing for more, huh?”

“No, I just don’t want you near my family,” you retort.

He cackles and the car chirps as it unlocks. He goes around the driver side as you approach the passenger’s. You open the door and get into the low seat. You don’t like the incline of the seat or the smell of the air freshener. Everything about him is unbearable.

He jams his index into the ignition, hitting the button to turn the engine. He sits back and rests a hand lazing on the bottom of the steering wheel as he pulls out slowly. You buckle the seat belt and stare ahead.

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer the phone–”

“Good start, toots, but a better one would be your hand in my pants,” he snickers.

You cringe and put your purse between your feet. You strain against the seat belt and lean over the stick shift. As you reach for him, he swats you away and growls. You retract, annoyed.

“I thought–”

“You know, I was thinking of just driving you to the Wendy’s parking lot and sticking it in,” he cruises well past the speed limit as he remains casually reclined, “but that seems too easy.”

You grit your teeth. He’s mocking you. He slaps his hand on your knee and drags it up your thigh, rumbling your skirt.

“I didn’t know you owned one of these,” he pinches the hem, “you really got yourself prettied up, huh?”

You don’t say anything.

“Can I make a suggestion? Doesn’t matter, I’m gonna. Try something shorter. You got the tight part but this is something my fourth grade librarian would wear. Oh, and lace. Or silk.”

You want to scream at him. Does he really think you can afford all that? That you want your ass or tits hanging out in front of your daughter? He knows all that, he’s once again making a joke of you.

“Aw, tootsie roll, am I upsetting you? Well, that’s real fucking shit,” his voice goes rigid, “I was pretty upset listening to your voicemail on fucking repeat.”

“Sorry, I told you–”

“I don’t care. Busy? Not in my world. Let’s get this straight, the only thing you’ll be busy with is me. Or… I think Petey Boy may just love to hear all about your workplace antics. I mean really, he should be proud, you’re fucking skilled. That man, I see why he put a ring on it. Wherever it is… Shit…” he skids to a stop at a sign and looks at you, “you didn’t have to pawn it off? That’s goddamn sad, honey buns.”

You inhale and lift your chin. That would be a better story than the truth. Besides, you have a feeling he doesn’t genuinely care.

“I’ll buy you a new diamond. Two of them, one for each titty,” he chortles as he steps on the gas again, “what’s your birthstone? I’ll get that for your ass.”

“Mr. Hansen, I understand you’re upset. I didn’t listen. I didn’t answer the phone, but I can’t just leave my family–”

“You will do whatever I tell you,” he interjects, “first, you’re going to stop. No more excuses, you figure it out. Second,” he veers into a lot, just behind an unmarked office building, “you’re going to loosen the fuck up.”

He steers around to the back of the lot, parking slightly crooked and across the lines. There aren’t too many other cars this time of evening. He turns off the engine and rolls his shoulders. Well, it’s not a Wendy’s at least.

“Get in the back,” he orders.

You want to ask what or why but you know better. You get out and open the back door. You sit on the end of the seat.

“Lay down,” he says, still facing forward.

You glance at him, slightly confused. You slide up the seat and recline. His seat belt snaps back against the interior and his door opens. Gravel crunches under his soles and his shadow passes between the car and the streetlights. He darkens the open back door.

“Pull your fucking skirt up,” he orders in exasperation, as if you should’ve done so already.

You lift your shoulders and reach down to tug at your skirt. It’s hard to get it up, it’s tight and uncomfortable, you should’ve thrown it out. You feel the zipper about to burst. Impatiently, he shoves the hem up as he bends over the seat.

You’re suddenly very self-conscious as you realise what he’s going to do. He holds himself between your thighs as his hand crawls up to your panties. High-rise cotton underwear that balloon a bit too much around your pelvis.

“Sir, I’ll just take care of you,” you insist as you try to sit up.

“Fuck off,” he snarls, “lay down.”

You blink as your lip twitches. You can’t remember the last time Pete did that. You’re not okay. You don’t want Hansen down there. You really don’t want anyone at this point.

“Really, Mr.--”

“Lay the fuck back and shut up while I eat your pussy,” he grabs your panties and yanks, jolting you.

You fall back as he forces the fabric down. He growls and rips along the seam. You close your eyes and tense. As he exposes you, your thighs quiver.

He presses his face against your leg, his mustache tickling you as his breath dampens your skin. You swallow a shiver. You’re oversensitive and strung out. You squeeze your eyes tight and focus on your breath as he nuzzles and nips up towards your cunt.

You clench as he gets closer. Without thinking, you push your hand to his head as you try to stop him. Your heart is racing. Why is this harder than what you’ve already done?

He snatches your hand and throws your arm over the edge of the seat. You wince as he bites into your tender thigh. You squeak and he growls, his nose grazing up to your lips. You hold your breath as he closes in.

His tongue flicks up and you gasp. He glides between your folds, delving into you, humming so it rumbles through you. You raise your hand to grip the back of the seat. You forgot how nice this felt.

He takes it slow. A patience you’ve never seen in him as he dotes on your clit, swirling back and forth, suckling, dipping his tongue up and down your lips, lapping up your flowing delight. You quiver as you sink into the sensation, almost forgetting the man who’s inspired it.

His hand creeps up to your blouse, beneath your open jacket, and he squeezes your chest through the fabric. You wiggles his head back and forth as his tending grows more intense. He spreads his tongue wide and groans, his mouth slurping and sucking noisily.

The heat spreads into your thighs and tingles up your back. You arch your spine and dig your nails into the seat. You puff as you feel a climax rising. Hansen stretches his other hand over your stomach, pinning you down as he devours you ravenously.

You’re tipped over the edge, letting out a series of squeaks and squawks as you give into the orgasm. You’re dizzy from the sheer ecstasy of the moment, of his still lapping tongue, not stopping even as you cry out. He keeps on, urged on by your helpless moans. As in everything, it’s never enough for him.

[nvoirs]

Plagas Leon | Pt 2

The long awaited part 2 is here. There's no smut just a hot, heavy make out session during the end. Credits to @certifieddeadgirl for the lovely plot.

Part 1 is here

Taglist: @certifieddeadgirl @peachyealfie @honeysoakedbandages (The people that wanted a part 2 here you go)

After Leon had stuck that incredibly long needle in your neck knocking you out almost instantly you thought you'd never wake up.

So when your eyelids slowly peeled apart you were incredibly confused when you saw light. It was just an ordinary light, an LED one to be specific, but you felt at peace. Was this heaven? Had you actually made it to the ethereal place? You weren't particularly religious but that was about to change if you were really in heaven.

Your thoughts were halted when you heard a soft voice call your name, your hand felt a warmth as another was clasped onto it. Looking down at the hand, you craned your head up to match the face. Ingrid? Ingrid Hunnigan? What was she doing here in heaven, she definitely didn't die, she wasn't physically on the mission you had ventured on with Leon. Leon, where was he?

But that's when it hit you, sitting up slowly observing your close surroundings. A hospital? The air smells like Lemon disinfectant and you looked down at your green attire of scrubs. The tubes attached to your body made your eyes go wide, your heart rate shown on the monitor increasing. You clutched at one of the tubes, ready to rip it off with force if you had to but Hunnigan's hand stopped you.

“Don't.” She said it sternly but it also had a soft calming nature to it, which made you almost immediately relax your tense shoulders.

“Where- where am I?” You managed to squeak out, your own voice surprised you. Sounding extremely hoarse like you'd been screaming your lungs out for a whole hour.

“Your home.” She replied coolly. “Thankfully we were able to save you, Ashley- and Leon.”

“Leon? Where Is he?” You sounded demanding, but you were just scared you wanted to know he was safe.

Her light chuckles turned your demand into confusion. “You really do care for him don't you?” Her half grin threw you off a little.

“Of course I care for him, Ingrid, he's my partner.”

“But you care more than a partner, It's quite obvious.”

You stayed silent at that, changing the subject once more. “What about the plagas? Los Illuminados?”

“We were able to get you two to a secluded lab up North not far from this place.” She gestured to the hospital. “And you were cured in the nick of time, but as for the cult- they were taken down is all you need to know for now”

Hunnigan's words had struck a nerve in you. Flashes of being strapped to a chair strung through your frazzled mind. The pain. The pain hurt incredulously, it was almost mind numbing and that's all you could really remember.

“Ingrid- how long have I been here for?”

She looked at you sympathetically. “Almost a whole week.”

That had alarm bells ringing in your head, no way have you still got your job after this.

“Don't worry you're still employed if that's what you're wondering.” She really was a mind reader, but relief flooded through you once you knew that.

You were discharged before Leon was. But everyday you'd visit his room, hold his cool hand and talk about your day and what you did. You talked about what you wanted to do with him once he awoke from his slumber. You called it a slumber, but it really was a coma. Some days you couldn't help yourself but weep at the sight of his limp body wishing he would wake up sooner. Staying way past visiting hours and being dragged out by the nurses.

Leon's recovery was bound to take a lot more time than yours did. He was exposed to the parasite longer, and almost became one of those horrible nightmarish creatures that had you shuddering at the thought.

Leon had kissed you. He'd touched you so intimately. It honestly surprised you how much you remembered from that fateful night. The citrus scent of his, the softness of his hair, and you wanted to tell him you loved him so badly you'd do anything for him. Maybe he wasn't fully himself, but he'd admitted to liking you although not saying the three words verbally.

The day Leon awoke was an immediate surprise. No one was sure when exactly he would wake up, it was God's blessing you could call it. You happened to be the first one to know, gasping as his baby blue eyes blinked open. A soft groan emitted from his pink lips, and you couldn't help but hug him.

“Woah, slow down there girl I'm still sore.” Leon laughed at your enthusiasm, placing his weak arms around your frail body. You gently shook in his hold salty tears dripping down your cheeks as you sighed.

“I thought I lost you, I can't lose you I can't.” His hand began to stroke through your scraggly hair. Not even combed as you just couldn't have any motivation entering your broken body.

“You're not losing me baby, I'm right here.” Baby? The pet name made you cuddle into his chest, smelling his natural scent.

“Shh It's okay now, you don't need to cry.” Hushing you, Leon held you in his grasp.

A few days went by and Leon turned back into the Leon you had known before the catastrophe in Spain. And something had occurred that still gave you butterflies to this day.

Leon stood outside your apartment block holding a bouquet of flowers in his hands, a lopsided grin protruding on his angelic face. Rushing down the stairs and out the door to see just what this was, he stopped you from speaking.

“I've- liked you for the longest time and because of what happened in Spain I thought It was important to confess how I feel about you. I'm in love with you, and I want to be with you If you'll take me.” The ending was such a cheeky Leon move, and you punched his shoulder gently.

“Of course I'll take you, I love you. Do you know that?”

“I know that.” His forehead pressed against your own as he wrapped his muscular arms around your midriff.

After having a cute first little date with your new boyfriend, you found yourself in the back of his car. Straddling his thighs and pulling him as close as physically possible, mouths intertwined him whispering sweet nothings into your ear about what he wanted to do to you. He reminded you of the passionate night you shared back in Spain, it was traumatic but the sex- was great. Leon would never physically be that strong again, but something about him trying turned you on. The rest of the night was nothing but sweet love making with the man that you cherished, and for once you finally felt at peace a calm tranquil feeling seeping itself into your skin and bones.

[coeurcanelle]

☆Baby, the stars shine bright☆pt1

pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4,pt5

inspired by the 'kamikaze girls',♡ always had unconditional love for lolita fashion and nothing else but when she met ellie,an auburn haired girl whos part of a gang with a dad's fashion sense ,her love for clothes begins to compete with her growing feelings for ellie

strangers to friends to lovers,love-hate friendship,ellie is into reader♡ but reader♡ shows no interest (in the beginning),opposite aesthetics,early 2000s

fluff,wlw

Frilly pink dresses,strawberry cakes,sunny days,classical music and tea times made you the happiest being alive but again,your happiness only relied on external things because deep inside you felt rotten. But at least it was better than feeling totally empty right?

Everytime you felt horrible about yourself you'd think of your parents. 

Your dad was rejected by his gang because he could never hold a gun properly (he would cry in vain after shooting someone) and your mother heartlessly cheated on your dad with her gynecologist right after you were born.

Your mom had crossed boundaries and you assumed it was hereditary when you started to gaslight your dad for money so you could build your dream closet.

"My best friend is in the terminal stage of this very rare, deadly disease."

You looked away, pretending to drop tears, not just because of the act but also because guilt was slowly enveloping you. You continued with your fake emotional tone, "She's so young, but she looks so tired and sick. Fortunately, the doctors found a cure."

This statement made your father stop crying and cover his mouth in surprise. He believed every single word coming out of your mouth.

"And they have to perform a surgery that will cost-" It was like a reflex; your dad burst into tears again before handing you 2000 bucks. It wasn't to save your imaginary friend from the disease but to fuel your will to live. You covered your smile with your hand before taking the money and thanking your dad, already imagining the kind of dress you would buy.

The next day, you woke up before your alarm went off, not wasting a second to go to your favorite place.

You walked all the way from home, which was in the middle of nowhere in the countryside, to the train station.

You wished you lived in Tokyo because then you wouldn't have to add the cost of the train ticket to your expenses, allowing you to spend all your money on dresses. But going there once every month prevented you from emptying your wallet every day, so it wasn't all bad.

Relief hit you when you arrived at the train station early. You took a seat, but then you heard people screaming and arguing from afar.

It was your dad doing his 'new' job after leaving his gang. You thought you were good at gaslighting him, but he was certainly better. He was selling fake luxury brand clothes to a group of oblivious people, arguing with him to get a 90% discount. No matter how stubborn you are, you don't think you could ever fool an entire group of people. It made you wonder how your dad believed all of your made-up stories in the first place.

Little did you know, the dress you bought that day would be the last one you bought with your father's money. Karma got both you and your father, almost bankrupting him. The old gang your father was in denounced his actions, leaving him with no job and no money to fund your wardrobe.

When you looked at the fake luxury clothes in your hands, you wondered how people even fell for this. It was just basic white t-shirts with a brand name; not even your alter ego could like this.

But to your biggest surprise, the scam your father had pulled off hadn't reached everyone's ears. Luckily, you soon received a letter that looked like it was written by an 8-year-old:

"Hi, I saw your big tracksuits when I was walking by the city, but there were too many people buying everything. I was wondering if you still have some left for me. Wait for me at your house at 8 am."

And so you did. You stood at your front door, waiting for the child to arrive. You convinced your father to keep his fake clothes for whatever reason, so you could continue what he was doing in secret.

All you had to do was sell fake luxury clothes to afford your dream ones. With no gang to ever snitch on you, you could set your own prices and stop depending on your dad's money.

You spotted a motocycle and squinted your eyes when the person riding drove towards your home

Was it one of the childs parents ?

The person drove closer blowing some dust before parking their motocycle next to your home, they didnt even wear a helmet for security

You realised she was a girl when the dust disappeared but she didnt look like a mother at all

You didnt realise you were staring that long until the auburn girl came up to you and told you to stop

"hey, I told you im looking for the seller where is he ?" her deep commanding voice made you remind the letter, it wasnt an actual child's writing,she was just writing like a child !

"he's not here, but I'm taking his role,"you said the auburn girl looked you up and down inspecting your elegant lolita dress.She was blocking the sun, so you couldn't clearly see her facial features.

"are you messing with me?" You could see her features better when her face got closer to yours, attempting to intimidate you. She didn't believe you, even though she had no idea those clothes were fake. She turned her face away to spit on the ground, and you noticed golden writing on her large jacket's sleeve.

This girl was definitely part of a gang, you thought.

"stop spitting," you retorted in disagreement with her behavior. It was obvious she was doing all this to let people know she's not playing around, but still...

She raised an eyebrow at you, a bit surprised. But before she could do or say anything, you carelessly opened the front door of your home, which was about to turn into a place of business.

[octuscle]

Hey, i’m 20 year old and i’m completly jacked because at a young age, i started going to the gym (I’m 225 lbs). My neighbour is a 50 year old man, and he is really fat. Secretly Recently, saw him, and he lost some weight, and i, on the other hand, gained a little bit because of college, and he said to me “are you trying to catch up my belly?”. That was the momment i thought i want him to get jacked and for me to get fat, and i want him to tease me about it. So i want you to create a story around it, me getting progressivly fatter and getting tease and humilliated by him, amd him getting skinnier and eventually more jacked than i am.

Shit! If I looked like you, I'd be jerking off in front of the mirror all day. And you want what? To get fat? I mean, just a few days ago you were a model athlete. And you could have easily worked off those few grams on your hips. Or I could have helped you with that. But if you want it differently… What a shame!

You start to spend your evenings in front of the TV and no longer in the gym. You switch your diet to fast food and sugary drinks. And lots of beer! You love beer. Your personal hygiene also suffers. Sure, shaving your chiseled pecs was more fun than your flabby man boobs. Your skin is getting paler and paler from sitting around. At some point, your friends stop asking what's wrong with you. Who needs friends. You'll find your friends online while playing games. .

With my help, you won't need so long for your body to change according to your absurd wishes. After just one week you won't be able to zip your pants. People don't say hello to you on the street because they no longer recognize you with your soft, spongy features. And you start to curse your apartment on the third floor. When you finally get to the top of the stairs, your lungs rattle like an old alarm clock and you gasp for air, drenched in sweat.

It takes just two weeks before you're lying on the couch at your GP's. He says that he has been telling you for years that you are killing yourself in installments with too much fat and too little sports. You're about to lash out and say that until recently you were still very sporty. But your memories are suddenly different. You remember being humiliated in gym class. You remember how you never found a dance partner at the prom. About how you secretly jerked off when you heard your neighbor come home. Shit, that guy is fit as fuck.

Your GP has ordered you to exercise regularly! At least once a week for a swim. You hate sport. And swimming even more so. Getting in and out of the pool is like running the gauntlet for you. The worst thing is the shower after swimming, when your cock almost disappears under your belly.

You've just stowed everything away in your locker and are on your way to the pool. And then your pathetic little cock gets as hard as nothing else on your body. Because suddenly your neighbor is standing in your way

He kneads his bulge in his speedos. He says he's happy to see you here. You reply with a dry throat and a cracked voice that you're happy too. He says that he hopes you don't overdo it with the sport. You look good. He pats your belly. You're about to cum into your swimming trunks. Suddenly footsteps from behind. Two young, well-built swimmers come into the changing area. "Get out of the way, fatso," your neighbor grumbles at you. "And come to my house after swimming," he adds in a whisper. And exchanges fistbumps with the two athletes.

You whisper "See you soon, Daddy" so that nobody can hear. But now you have to wank first. In ordner not to cum in the pool.

[abcd-adventures]

Not an "easy read"--feel free to skip.

Friends, it has been a week. I am so. freakin. happy. to have zero plans today (other than, of course, catching up on a million chores). B even slept in until 6am. I was so grateful I'd turned my alarm off because that meant that I also slept in until 6am; I honestly cannot remember the last time I've done that. Even my mother coming out here to disrupt our quiet morning and make a jab at me about not going to church isn't going to derail this sense of peace. *eye roll. She's been sick, so I just casually asked her if she was going to church today. She responded, "Yes. Are you?" Look, man, I fully support anyone's spiritual or religious choices and practices so long as they're not harmful to others. Personally, I have never felt further away from my own sense of spirituality than I do in a church. It's not for me; I wish that didn't translate into my mother constantly in anguish about me going to hell, but what can you do. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyway, on Monday, I left work to take a friend to the psych ER for severe SI and a transfer to inpatient. Let me tell you, that process is horrific. As a therapist--and just...you know...a human--I actually cannot think of much worse for a person having a mental health crisis than to be put into what is essentially a cell in a psych ER. (And, please don't come at me to explain why they are the way they are because I do actually know all of that but my statement stands.) Thankfully, I was able to stay with my friend and eventually even able to transport them myself--SEVEN HOURS LATER--to the inpatient hospital, but everyone else was there alone. I honestly cannot imagine. While there, I got a call from CPS...nothing like that to scare ten years off of your life. They were actually calling about one of C's siblings because they needed an adult relative to release said sibling to or they were going to have to spend the night in CPS custody. I am not actually a relative, but I explained that my son is and gave them his number and then called him to prep him and talk him through the situation. Holy. Shit. Our house is already full to bursting, so I gave him money to get a hotel nearby and some essentials and dinner. Then, the SAME NIGHT, my husband had to call in a wellness check on my MIL and said, "It just feels like this is the night I'm going to hear that they've found her dead." That was not the case, but she is...not doing well, but was doing well enough to refuse EMS intervention.

I am very grateful to be able to support the people I love in facing difficult things. My friend is doing so much better already. My son is making me very proud of how he is being there for his sibling, and my husband and I are making a plan for what we can do for his mother. It is a lot, and it is heavy, but quiet days at home help. And, I would take the heaviness any day if it means that we have the privilege of being there for others.

[bloodyymaryyy]

Bumped into you

Max verstappen x reader

Request : yes

Warnings : English isn't my first language other than that none

Masterlist

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

The sun came up, the birds are chirping and singing happily, people on the street having fun, laughing, shouting at each other and talking, others are smiling and other are grumpy or having a bad day, not being in the mood for anything.

Nobody knows what is going on in people's lives or minds but they choose to go out today.

Y/n was a semi morning person that depends on the day and the weather as most people are.

Having being waken up by the alarm clock that she forgot to deseable the night before. She curses herself for not turning it off, she tried to go back to sleep but to no avail, grunting she got out of bed and she decided to be productive she did the household chores like vacuuming the floors and mopping them, washing the piles of dirty dishes

Planning to make something extravagant she got freshen up and dressed into something comfortable but presentable she headed to the nearby supermarket which she knew that would have the things that she wanted to make the dish.

Strolling from aisle to aisle looking for what she needed, she was suddenly hit by something losing a bit her footing she stumbled back a few steps.

Looking up at her "attacker" there was a man with short blonde hair, icy blue eyes, tall, she liked tall men...her daydreams.

His face showed concern and in his cheeks were rosy pink from the embarrassment of this whole situation.

Oh my god I wasn't looking at where I was going! Didn't meen to bump into you! * he said taking a few steps ahead where y/n was* are you okay miss?

Oh yeah I am okay, just watch where you are going next time please...

I am so sorry again! I hope you are okay again...miss....?

Oh y/n nice to meet you..?

Oh yeah I am Max btw

I don't want to sound like a stalker... But have we met before? You look familiar... I can't point me finger on it tho * her eyebrows knitted together tilting her head a bit to the side.

Max panicked said *oh I don't think so...?

Oh can I get a picture though? I want to show my family their future son in law... * y/n said biting her bottom lip softly looking up to his blue eyes

Uhm sure! * max replied his cheeks red suddenly getting shy

Y/n pulled out her phone and put on the camera app getting closer to him and taking a few selfie photos.

After seeing the photos if they are good then it dawned on her, from his perspective you could hit the wheel of her mind working, flinching a bit and widen her eyes.

Oh shit! Now I remember!... * she paused looked around and leaning near his face and whisper shout * Are you Max Verstappen?

You noticed that he was taken a back for being recognised by her and she acted quickly

Sorry I won't say anything! But my sister is a big fan of f1, that's why you seem familiar! * she said hitting her forehead * Sorry I will leave you to it!

She went to take her cart to search for the rest of the things she wanted but she was stopped by him saying her name.

Y/n could I get your number by any chance? You are lovely... * max said scratching the back of his neck nervously.

Sure! Give me your phone I will put it on, how is that?

They exchanged number and went home after a bit, while going home y/n texted her sister

The best sister

You won't believe who I just met!

Lil b

Omg! Who?

The best sister

Max mother fucking Verstappen!

Lil b

Really?!? Did you take any pictures?!

The best sister

Yeah

*picture attachment *

Lil b

Omg! You are so lucky dude, I wish that was me fr!

After that y/n and Max were texting back and forth, going to low-key dates for 3 almost 4 months y/n became his gf and him wanting to take her to his home race in the Netherlands giving her a paddock pace his second card of his hotel room having fun in the paddock and meeting all of his friends, laughing and joking around at their hotel rooms playing games and everything.

___________

I hope you liked it and hope its what you requested!

-🦈 anon

[overtaken-stream]

Begging for more king the wildfire smut like groveling and sobbing

I'm tearing my hair out bc I have no motivation to do anything besides play genshin and lvl up Wanderer (I am still in Inazuma and had only one interaction with the said man). Also don't think too much about what readers going to wear after this bath, I have no idea. AND THANKS FOR 50 FOLLOWERS GUYS!🥹🥹🥹

Yandere!King The Wildfire x Reader Pt3

! !NSFW! !

Warnings: female reader, invasion of privacy, non-con, bathroom, grief(???).

EVERYTHING IS FICTIONAL! I don't support these actions IRL!

The water felt suffocating against your skin, it felt heavy with the remnants of your old isle, the home you'd grown up in nothing but ash at this point, stuck onto your garb long forgotten on the stainless vanity.

The claustrophobic feeling continued to claw up on your sides as you scrubbed your skin under the watchful eye of your captor, the sponge dug into you, leaving scratch marks in its wake, and the rough exterior failed to bring you the feeling of cleansing you desperately needed, the raw burn marks on the skin made you even more anxious in the face of a monster, who used the same instruments to ruthlessly mutilate the innocent lives, whether or not you knew them didn't matter, their soulless eyes that begged for help still followed you, who saw them every time you close your eyes.

He was the same, whether or not he was under the same roof, the walls had his eyes, his ears, and the haunting aura, even as he sat just a couple of feet away from you, outside the bathtub, his eyes pierced your defenseless self until you could feel every shift they'd make, over your hips, hair and back they'd travel, sizing you up while your hands shook under the warm and dirty water, how could he... How could he humiliate you to such an extent?

(you wish you had a power of some kind, to deny him and get out of his iron grip, let alone the entire ship. His eyes looked down on you as he pulled your stubborn body into the bathroom, with one command.

``Wash up.``

What words could get through a man, a creature that merciless?)

You flinched at every move from him, your every scrub and burn did not relieve the shame and guilt that came from your spare time thoughts, even as you bled from the scrubbing, your people had it worse, so why, why did he drag you into it? what did he drag you into. What could you have possibly done to get the attention of this beast? You already have an answer, Nothing.

The dense atmosphere clogged your thought processes as you sat in the water that lost its heat. Looking down at your reflection, he continued to monitor you. You hated him, you hated how he started at you like a creature whose existence he couldn't comprehend, eyeing you like an animal with an unknown glint swimming in his blood-colored eyes, almost like he was trying to dissect a metaphor set in stone.

You could only bite your moist lips and leave a crescent-shaped mark on your thighs while hearing his footsteps close the distance between your frames. The bubble of simple emotions sways beneath your skin, shaking your resolve under his shadow.

Fright, alarm, loathing, it all made you quiver.

His hand, free of his leather glove, bothers with slow and sensual touches across the canvas that you are, his silhouette is visible in the discolored water, despite not coming into it himself, and that's the last sight you see before shutting your eyes.

You can't stop his arm, long and muscular from years of experience trailing over your ribs and down your belly, into the water, Despite your knees and hands trying to push against it in vain, the limb proceeds to slither without any obstacles until it meets its destination.

Your grip loses its strength, clinging onto his muscle as you drop your head, letting your hair hide you from his unwavering gaze, Your blood boils, yet you take your anger out on your bottom lip.

His thumb hovers over your nether region, pregnant pause from him falls upon you. Has he finally decided to stop his intolerable actions against you?

The thought gets relinquished as soon as he eagerly entangles his fingers with your sex, an unexpected action leaving you breathless as he digs and digs and digs.

Your back arches off of him, trembling knees trying to find leverage as your hands once again tighten around him, though you don't open your eyes, you can almost feel the glare, an unknown emotion rolling off of him in thick waves. Your teeth aren't enough to muffle the groans and panting that escape your bloodied lips.

He rubs and rubs, fast and slow in no particular rhythm, thumb pressing against your clit, he places a pressure you were never able to on that bundle of nerves, before kneading, hard. Whimpers bounce off of the walls as your body shakes. It hates.

His fingers spread your rose apart and you've never felt more caged. More helpless and disgusted with yourself.

The tears slide down your cheeks, combining with the blood gushing out of the bitten lip and it trickles down towards the reflection of the water.

Your body contracts with the pleasure, closed eyes rolling back into your skull as your mouth hangs open, a wave of pleasure leaves you helpless, taking away the shame before it dwindles and handles the pain like a weapon, slamming into you full force as soon as his heat leaves your back, hand now out of water.

You close your knees, the tears flow like a waterfall across your face, wails that don't leave you shake your body in quiet prayer. You're scared to open your eyes. Scared to see the revolted faces of the deceased staring back at you, spewing words of shame you surely deserve.

His footsteps fade, yet his absence goes unnoticed.