#but it takes my computer 5 minutes to turn on every time

[slitherbop]

[chososdiscordkitten]

Obsessive!Choso♡ pt 5

pt 4 here

content: stalking (duhh) Choso goes home for Christmas, calls u nd texts u the whole time, brief mention of his brothers, mentions of readers lipstick n perfume, no use of y/n or pronouns, cursing (a.n) ahhhhh this one is one of my favorites. made me smile a lot. wrote this listening to 'Sextape- Deftones'

Taglist : @brokenscaredakira @adanfore @emojk777 @waytootiredforthisss @denypipa @broccocrab @sunaumei @morinuu @just-pure-trash @iluvreinah @integers @ziklope @killakungfu-wolfbitch @1arminsimp

Obsessive!Choso who actually enjoyed coming to class, now that you sit next to him. Enjoying it so much that he felt like his grades were somewhat getting better. Now that he actually had to show that he was writing down notes. Having to actually follow the presentations from the professor on his computer, knowing that you were sitting inches away from him. When you sat so far away- he didn't have to worry about taking notes, or even bother opening his computer- because you couldn't see him. ‘You are good for me. You make me want to better myself for you.’ he'd think, looking over at you writing on your computer. 

Obsessive!Choso who had anxiety that once this project was over- you'd run back to the same friends that will never make you smile the way he does. The people who peer pressured you into drinking and doing drugs- just because you wanted to fit in. ‘You'd never have to worry about that with me. I will never pressure you into doing something you don't want to do.’ 

Obsessive!Choso who was scared that once the excuse of being partners for this class was no longer usable. You'd leave him, you'd find someone else to entertain your afternoons, someone who will replace him. So scared that he’d grovel to the professor, asking for an extension. Telling you, “Somethings missing- I'll let you know once I've finished my part.” when you'd ask him if he was finished with it yet. Knowing he did that summary days ago, only having it on another doc so you wouldn't see that he finished it.

Obsessive!Choso who spent the last few classes he had left with you on the verge of tears. His heart was heavy in his chest, pocketing all the notes you had exchanged with him. Running out of space to put them, finding an old converse box and placing them inside. Using so much tape too quickly, trying his best to preserve the pieces of paper. Nights where he'd re-read them, feeling guilt for leaving you. 

Obsessive!Choso who felt like his brain was going to explode, the anxiety of turning in the assignment was too much. Knowing he would have to turn it in before winter break- right before he left you. ‘I want to trust you,’ he thought, your name in his mind as though he was speaking to you. ‘I really do. But it's not that I don't fully trust you. I don't trust the people you’ll be left with. The people without families- like you. Who will prey on you. Who will make you think they're just like you. But they're not, they're just trying to manipulate you-’ You scanned his face, knowing he was thinking of something else while you were talking. “You okay?” You asked, seeing him shake his thoughts away before answering, “Just thinking.” he replied, a pained smile on his face. “About?” You asked, wondering what he could be thinking that was so serious that his face looked almost agonized, while you spoke.

Obsessive!Choso who contemplated lying, but the need to tell the truth was far greater. “I keep thinking about you all alone here. Alone during Christmas.” He confessed, seeing you sigh. “I like being alone. I'll be okay, don't worry.” You assured, almost reaching for his hand to comfort him- but you knew that was too far, and definitely too soon. You didn't want to invade his personal space. Seeing him only return a forced smile to you, knowing he wasn't fully convinced of the idea from his silence. Seeing an opportunity to lift up the mood, you let out a laugh. “I'll call you everyday- Send you pictures every 5 minutes.” You joked, earning a smile from him. “So many pictures that you'll feel like you're still here.” you smiled, seeing him nod his head while smiling. 

Obsessive!Choso who wished you knew how badly he wanted you to actually do those things. Liking the way you tried to ease his worries. Pushing away the anxiety so he could relish the last few times he'd be able to see you. 

Obsessive!Choso who's following habit became worse. Now standing outside your house for what felt like hours. Watching the four walls that kept you from him in the cold wind, standing still when it rained. Even when it started snowing for the first time that season. ‘We’re together for the first snowfall. You know what that means right? True love will blossom between us.’ Seeing you through the curtainless window, watching you close a thin curtain- as though you felt him watching you. Now only letting him see your shadow. Smile on his face when you'd call him- your tone made it clear that you were grinning ear to ear the whole time, oblivious to the fact that he was just a few yards away from you. Seeing you pace in front of the window as he spoke to you. ‘I know you want me to make a move. But I’ll wait. I will wait till the moment you feel the same way I do.’ He'd think, listening to you speak. 

Obsessive!Choso who thanked whatever celestial being that was out there, for making the lights on the sidewalk go out. Watching your house without fear of someone seeing him. ‘For now-I will love you from a distance,’ he professed, a grin on his face when he thought of your name. ‘I will wait for you.’ 

Obsessive!Choso who turned in the assignment a day before he left. He was pushing it- but he did it for a reason. He did it for you, to make sure you wouldn't give up on him.

Obsessive!Choso who was about to leave- but he needed to see you, just one more time. Walking around campus trying to find you. Checking his phone seeing his plane was leaving in an hour and a half. Seeing you inside the campus cafe- book in your hand. Break had already started, the campus was almost empty, but seeing you doing what you told him you'd do. Catching up on the books you started, but never finished. ‘Even if you didn't know I was looking at you- you look effortless.’ he thought, walking towards the doors of the shop. 

Obsessive!Choso who opens the door and sees you look up at him. Smiling and mouthing a ‘hi’ at him. Walking to the small table you sat at. Not knowing what to say, shaking his head, seeing your face turn in confusion. He was just standing there- not pulling out the chair to sit. “I was- I was about to leave.” He smiled, pulling the chair across from you, rings clashing against the wooden back.

Obsessive!Choso who sat down and seemed fidgety, compared to the chivalric aura he usually kept. “And you decided you needed one last shitty coffee before leaving. Smart.” You smiled, joking in hopes he'd loosen up a little. “No-” he smiled, softening his expression. Seeing you place your book down, making sure to remember the title. He wanted to say a million things, tell you how he needed to see you. He needed to say goodbye. As though he was your friend of 10 years leaving to fight in a war, feeling like if he left you; he would never see you again. “I wanted-” He started, closing his eyes and fidgeting with his hands. “I wanted to say ‘goodbye’ to you, before I left.” Seeing you fight off a smile, your eyes blinking rapidly at his words. “That's sweet of you.” You smiled, tilting your head and seeing him look up. 

Obsessive!Choso who felt his cheeks warm at your words. “What time’s your flight?” You asked, picking up your coffee and taking a sip. “In an hour.” He exhaled, seeing you widen your eyes. “What are you still doing here? You're going to be late!” you exclaimed with a smile. ‘I know, I know. I still have to go get my bags, and call an uber to take me across town.’ He thought, hearing you say the same things he was thinking, calling your name in his mind, ‘But I don't care. I will buy another one, I will spend another fortune on a useless ticket home. I needed to see you.’ 

Obsessive!Choso who was practically pushed out the doors of the shop, standing in front of him with a look on your face as though you were waiting for something. “I'll call you.” You mumbled, looking into his eyes for the very first time. “I’ll answer.” He replied, hesitating to take a step back before walking away, looking back and seeing you wave goodbye at him through the windows. Closing his eyes, feeling his feet want to turn around, looking back once more. Already sitting back in the chair you were in when he first walked in. ‘Wait for me.’ he thought, speed walking back to his apartment.

Obsessive!Choso ran through the airport, being 15 minutes late- but he made it. Standing in the line to board the plane, looking over to a small gift shop. Seeing the cover of the book you were reading- running over and buying it as the line moved. Almost 30 dollars, but fuck. You were worth it.

Obsessive!Choso who got home to his brothers, he was happy to see them but something was missing. You were missing, spending the first night in his bed picturing you here with him. Being nice to his brothers, joking with them. Waiting for you to call him, or text him. But radio silence. Nothing. It made his head hurt, trying to fight off the thoughts of you being kidnapped. With his luck, the first night he was away from you, you probably would. Knowing how careless you were while walking home, how you didn't take any safety measures like carrying pepper spray or making sure to not take the same route home. ‘I will always make sure you're safe. Make sure you have black out curtains, make sure you don't have to walk home alone.’ Hands behind his head while looking up to the ceiling. ‘And as much as you'd fight me on this- make sure you won't walk around with your earphones in.’ The chances of someone coming up behind you and pressing a chloroform rag to your face were too great. Choso was sure that once he could, he would instill that fear into your head. The fear of someone hurting you, of how dangerous it was being so careless nowadays. The fear of someone taking you away from him.

Obsessive!Choso who opened instagram, clicking your account. His heart shattered. You had privated your account. Almost as though you heard his thoughts of how reckless you were about your privacy. Holding his phone in his hands, staring down at the screen with a mournful look plastered to it. Seeing a notification pop up at the top of his screen, from you. ‘You know me. You know me so well- you know exactly when I need you.’

Obsessive!Choso who screenshotted the notification, opening it and seeing you sent him a photo. Of you with a plate of food in your hand, furrowing your eyebrows playfully. ‘u home yet ?’ he read, closing his eyes and almost reciting a prayer in thanks. Seeing you in a black tank top with his favorite band printed onto it. The first photo you had ever sent him- a photo that only he had. That you took specifically for him. ‘You'd never send this to one of your friends. You showing me your shirt proves it.’ Saving the photo and typing, ‘since like 9pm’ quickly going to his settings and changing his wallpaper to the photo you just sent him. ‘why didnt u tell meeee’ you replied. You didn't give him a whole lot of time to reply before you called him, scolding him playfully. “You didn't want me to call you did you?” you asked, sarcasm making Choso smile. “I know it's late over there- I thought you were asleep.” He replied, doing the same thing he's done every time he's been on the phone with you. Picturing you standing in the same place you were when you took the photo. 

Obsessive!Choso who asked you what you were eating, “Leftover mac n cheese my roommate left.” you replied, almost disappointed with your own answer. ‘Cruel. How cruel of them to leave you with their leftovers. I will always make sure you eat a decent meal- that's right,’ he thought, saying your name. ‘I cook too. Just for you.’ He thought, hearing you let out a laugh when he asked, “Really?” in disappointment. “It was that or frozen pizza that's been there since I moved in.” You smiled. Your cheeks feeling fuzzy at his concern, “How's the reading going?” he asked, trying to ignore the sound of a glass breaking coming from the kitchen. “Meh, boring- the main character in this one I'm reading is annoying.” You shrugged, “As a matter of fact lemme read you one of the stupidest things he's said-” You smiled, opening the book and flipping the pages. “So, anyway, there I go again. Straying away from the point. Where was I?- like who published this? Makes me upset just thinking about how this guy is real.” you spoke, tossing it onto the counter and sighing. “The whole book is like that- it’s all just a mans troubles with women and enjoying hurting them- s’fucking stupid.” You heard him let out a stifled laugh, “It's not funny-” You smiled, hearing him keep laughing, “First book I want to finish and it's bullshit.” you exclaimed, hearing him settle down. “What book is it?” He asked, trying to stop his laugh. ‘I know what book it is. It's the same one you were reading in the cafe. The same one I started reading on the flight.’

Obsessive!Choso who smiled when you said the title. Closing his eyes in triumph. “Why did you get so far reading it?” he asked, knowing that the first page was shocking enough. “I thought- it was a book of someone who gets their karma back- becomes a better person- blah blah blah. But nope, apparently there's 2 more books. Of the same man, with the same troubles.” You replied, taking a bite from your plate and leaning against the counter. Furrowing your eyebrows when you fully processed his question. “How'd you know I was so far into reading it?” you asked, your tone indicated it wasn't a serious question. But it made Choso’s heart drop. “I saw how little pages you had left at the cafe.” He lied. Knowing he had read that page in the book earlier. Not fully read- more skimmed the pages.

Obsessive!Choso who felt relief when he heard you inhale. “I didn't know you noticed such small details like that.” You commented, holding the phone with your shoulder as you took another bite. Choso hummed at your response, “Anyway- don't talk to me about that book.” You grinned, hearing Choso exhale with a smile. You were about to ask him how his brothers were, starting the sentence but hearing a door slam open. “Choso- Yuuji broke moms vase!” You heard a teasing tone through the phone, “I did not!” you heard bickering, Choso mumbled a quick, “I gotta go-” placing his phone on his desk, not hanging up. Hearing Choso scold his younger brother before ending the call. Smiling at how much his tone changed when speaking to his brothers- more authoritative and demanding.

Obsessive!Choso who felt horrible for hanging up the way he did, thinking of how disrespectful it was. The argument that sparked between his brothers ran long, all of them blaming each other for breaking this vase. Which, according to Choso, was priceless. Texting you a quick, ‘sorry i didnt call u back, they just settled down.’ Seeing the message go from delivered to seen. ‘You were waiting for me?’

Obsessive!Choso whose heart felt tight when he read your reply. ‘was just abt to go to bed’ his fingers typing quickly, ‘im sorry, i'll text you in the morning?’ seeing the typing bubble pop up the minute he pressed send. ‘kk talk to u tmmrw. goodnightttt :)’ he smiled at your reply, ‘goodnight :]’ he replied, wanting to send you a <3 heart but he restrained himself.

Obsessive!Choso who texted you every morning, making you smile at his sweet ‘good morning’ texts. Knowing he'd be busy with his brothers so you didn't call him, but your phone was stuck onto your hand, replying to his texts at lightning speed. ‘call me when ur not busy okay?’ you'd ask, making Choso giggle like those words were some kind of great attempt at flirting. And he would- he'd try to. Somehow always being interrupted by his brothers- remembering why he chose a college so far away. But the 2 am calls when he'd hear your voice, quiet and sleepy. They were worth it. Knowing you'd keep yourself awake just to talk to him. The constant pinging from his phone and Choso leaving the room to call you made his brothers suspicious. Even more so when one of them caught a glimpse at his wallpaper, seeing a photo of you- taking his phone and passing it around. Teasing him and asking if he finally found a partner. 

Obsessive!Choso who died of embarrassment when he was talking to you on the phone, one of his brothers knocked loudly at his door. Jumping when he heard the youngest pound at the locked door. “Choso! Open up-” he shouted, twisting the doorknob as he heard you laugh. “Are you talking to your lover?!” he teased through the door, only earning you to laugh louder. Saying ‘Hold on’ Before muting the call, standing up and opening the door to see them huddled to hear what he was saying. A dark aura around him when he saw them, “What is wrong with you.” He stated, rather than asked, seeing them look up at him. “I needed 20 bucks…?” the youngest asked, Choso reaching into his pocket and tossing the money at him. Closing the door and locking it again. Coming back to the phone and pressing the unmute button. 

Obsessive!Choso mumbled, “Sorry.” hoping you didn't hear what just happened. Closing his eyes as you let out a small laugh, “Am i crazy or did your brother just call me your ‘lover’?” you asked, a smile evident in your tone. “You heard that?” he grimaced, hearing you laugh. “Yes. Yes, I did.” You answered, “What are you telling your brothers that they think I'm your ‘lover’, Choso?” You teased, hearing him exhale with a smile. ‘You're teasing me? Bad. This is bad.’ he thought, making his heart beat quickly in a good way, and in a bad way. Knowing that he would have to fight off your attempts at flirting with a stick. ‘So very tempting. Too tempting. But it's too soon. I want us to be good friends before I call you mine. But I am already yours. You don't have to worry about that.’

Obsessive!Choso who shut his eyes tightly, instantly regretting the words that came out of his mouth. “I haven't said a thing, but they noticed the texting. And the secret phone calls.” The silence showed him the disappointment you felt. Knowing you wanted to hear how he told them all about you. “Oh! Well I mean anyone would be suspicious of that!” you exclaimed, it got awkward. You felt embarrassed. Thinking that the attempt to make a move flew over his head, or he didn't feel the same. But all the signs? All the longing looks, all the subtle comments he’d say that made you realize he paid more attention to your words than you thought. To your actions, his eyes scan your face when you’d change the color of your lipstick, or when you'd wear a different perfume. Face full of confusion till he noticed what was different- you thought he was into you. ‘Maybe he is- and he just sucks at seeing when someone is flirting with him.’ You'd assure yourself.

Obsessive!Choso who kept saving the pictures you sent him. Of your coffee, of your poetry, of your outfits for the day, sending him a photo of the snow. Pictures of anything you could find, Choso would always smile at them. The ability of scrolling through your instagram wasn't sorely missed. Now being able to see photos of you that you took just for him. And saving every single one. Smile on your lips whenever you'd see he ‘loved an image’ before replying to your messages. 

Obsessive!Choso who was on his phone, refreshing your instagram page over and over again. Switching to his personal account, an account he made in highschool. Not even posted anything, less than 100 followers. Seeing a small red circle at the top right corner. Someone requested to follow him. Opening the notification and seeing you. Slack jawed when he saw the sight. Screenshotting quickly and accepting it. Requesting you back, seeing an incoming call flash onto the screen. “Hey.” he smiled at your words, gulping his excitement. “I was hoping you'd answer.” You continued, ‘God, you are everything to me.’ he thought.

Obsessive!Choso who felt like you were finally letting him in. “I know I told you I didn't really like social media.” You started, ‘Yes. Tell me the truth.’ he thought, picturing you in your bedroom, closing your eyes in embarrassment. “I lied a little- I just post a lot of bullshit, nd i was embarrassed you'd see that and think ‘Jesus this person is so annoyinnggg’ that's why!” You laughed, making Choso smile. “Well let me see-” he said, putting the phone on speaker and scrolling through your account, like he craved doing for the past few days. Making approving sounds as you told him to look away. 

Obsessive!Choso who called your name, grinning ear to ear, “Yes Choso?” You replied, mimicking the serious tone he called your name in. He felt it again, he felt his mouth speak before his brain could catch up. “Don’t ever worry about me finding you annoying, ever. Okay?” opening his eyes in shock at his own words. Only making you mute yourself to let out an over excited laugh, cheeks in pain from how hard you were smiling. Unmuting yourself and having the courage to say something. “Promise?” You let out, fiddling with the drawstring of your hoodie. “I promise.” He replied, making you exhale harshly. “I want to punch you in the face.” You laughed, making him laugh through his nose. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked, knowing the answer. “No. You didn't, and that's why!” You exclaimed. Rolling to lay on your stomach, shoving your face into your pillows. 

Obsessive!Choso knew that his attempts at brushing off your flirting weren't doing anything. He knew that the harder he'd try, the harder it would be to not flirt back. 

Obsessive!Choso who answered your request for a facetime, doing his hair in the bathroom. Seeing you pop up on his phone. “Heyyy” You started, furrowing your eyebrows when you saw him getting ready, “Woahhh, you got a date?” You smiled, seeing him look at you with a grimace. ‘Jealousy. Don't be possessive, I would never commit adultery. I only have eyes for you.’ he thought, scrambling with his hands before answering, “I have family photos with my brothers today. Thus-” He looked at the camera, his hands pointing to the ugly christmas sweater he was wearing. “This monstrosity.” He finished, making you laugh. Taking 3 pictures of him to tease him, but it didn't work. ‘You want pictures of me? Do you use them as your wallpaper too?’ He only smiled at the sudden flashes of white from his phone. “Send me pictures of the photos. I need to see the Kamo family in matching sweaters.” You smiled, picturing them all in the awkward style that was used in the 90’s. He squinted his eyes, already picturing your reaction when you'd see the photos. “I’ll think about it.” sarcasm filled his tone as he fought off a smile. 

Obsessive!Choso who put on his jewelry, all while you were propped up and watching him. “When do you get back again?” You asked, seeing him look at you whilst fixing his rings. “I was planning on getting back on the 6th of January. But I was thinking-” He smiled, “Of coming back on the 29th.” Picking up his phone and seeing you smile. “Good idea. Its been fucking boring out here. I forgot how many unstimulating people there were at this school.” You exhaled. ‘Say you miss me. Say it.’  

Obsessive!Choso who saw you post a photo of a book earlier. “And the reading?” he asked, putting his shoes on. “It's a little better- I picked up Gone Girl.” you exhaled, “Good choice.” He grinned, seeing you exasperate. “Controversial- I know, but I kinda see myself in the main character?” You confessed, making a chill run down his spine. “Not the whole- murdering and framing someone for crimes-” you laughed, hearing his silence. “I mean in the way she thinks, the way she connects things. It's intriguing.” You clarified. Making him smile, “It was a very good book. The movie too.” He smiled, picturing you being as insane as the main character, “God I loved the movie.” You trailed off. ‘This was fate. Are you telling me you feel the same way I do? In your own way- but still.’ 

Obsessive!Choso who saw you started posting two plates on a table in a restaurant. Wondering who you could be with. ‘All your friends are out of town, roommates too. Who are you with?’ wanting to ask you, but that wasn't his place. Not just yet. But that didn't stop him from scouring your following list, going through your tags. Trying to find who this person you were with was. But not even a hint was dropped.

Obsessive!Choso who sent you the photos of his family, as awkward as you pictured them. Noticing there weren't any parents, just him and his younger brothers. Calling him immediately and laughing, “Choso- you all look adorable.” You laughed, making him blush. “This is my new laptop wallpaper, I love these pictures.” You smiled, “Nope, that's not necessary.” Choso smiled, his tone full of embarrassment., But also feeling his chest warm. ‘Making me your screensaver, and telling me you love the pictures I'm in? Can we get married already?’

Obsessive!Choso who received a picture of your laptop, you acted on your words. The photo was your screensaver, not just on your computer- but on your phone as well. Your attempts to tease him only made him think that you love him as much as he did. And that's all you did, feed into his delusions and only fuel the fire that was burning inside of him since the first day he saw you. You felt like this break with him being gone was necessary. Necessary to step back and see how you really feel for him. Remembering you've only been friends with him for- if you were being generous, was a month and a half. True, you found him intriguing before you became friends. But you didn't want to risk it. Ruin a friendship with someone like him. Slowly reeling in the line you had thrown at him, becoming open to the idea of him being just a friend. 

Obsessive!Choso was on the flight home, a week earlier than he had planned- but Christmas was over. And he didn't want to be away from you any longer. Leaving his bags at his apartment before walking onto campus, small piles of snow around the doors of the coffee shop. realizing how much it really snowed. Reaching his hand for the door knob but pulling away when he hears his name being called. Turning around to see you, speed walking to him. The big coat you wore made you look like a walking marshmallow. Smiling when he saw your face, thinking of how much he longed to see you. The pixelated facetimes and photos you sent him not coming close to showing how beautiful you looked face to face. 

Obsessive!Choso who blinked and somehow opened his eyes to see the top of your head, your cheek pressed to his chest. Your arms around him, hands hesitating to hug you back at the shock. Feeling his hands rest on your puffy jacket, almost nervous to touch you. Nestling your face to his chest and murmuring “Missed you.” Pulling away and looking up at him with a smile, cold weather making his nose pinkish. “I missed you too.” He smiled, almost gulping for breath. Seeing you take a step back, smile on your face. Opening your mouth to say something, “There you are, I was wondering where you ran off to.” you were interrupted. A man coming up behind you, hand on your waist- almost pulling you away from Choso. Watching you lean into his touch- 'Um?' calling your name in his head, almost in anger. ‘Who the fuck is this?’ Seeing you smile while looking over at him. 

Obsessive!Choso who hid his irritation well, jaw clenched and eyebrows threatening to furrow. Seeing you scramble for words, “How rude of me- This is my good friend Choso I was telling you about.” You smiled, looking at the man who looked Choso up and down. Just with that, Choso knew this guy was using you. Just by looking at him. ‘I didn't know you were into pretty boys, older too.’ he thought, watching your eyes sparkle when you looked over at him. “And this- This is my… friend, Theo.” You beamed. ‘You didn't wait for me. But you also didn't give up on me completely. The hesitation at calling him your 'friend' tells me that.’ silence filling the air as you smiled, waiting for them to greet each other. “We were about to go to dinner, do you want to join us, Choso?” You asked. Seeing your 'friend' look over to you with a certain look on his face you only see in men who were expecting something more from a person. Sickeningly sweet smile on Choso's face when he heard 'Theo' speak, “He just got off a flight babe-” He started. ‘Babe. Babe? What an uncreative and unimaginative thing to call you, no wonder you invited me. He must not make you laugh, but that's what I'm here for. I'm here to make you see that this 'Theo' is nothing but a place holder. A place holder for me.'

-

pt 6 here

LET ME KNOW IF U WANNA BE TAGGED PLS ITS MY FAVORITE PART ( if u wanna be tagged without commenting pls just say sum like 'tag me continually' i don't wanna @ someone who doesn't wanna be @ ykno?

IM SORRY I ADDED ANOTHER MAN BUT PLS BE PATIENT I HAVE PLANS FOR THIS.......I wrote this today and was blushing and kicking my feet the whole time. Started at 12 pm, and finished at 3 am. I love doing this. alr writing the next part hehe

[naamahdarling]

Years and years ago I was at a Walmart in the middle of the night and a couple had almost gotten through checking out an enormous cart of baby stuff when the computer system crashed and they had to go to the back of the long long line I was already in and they looked so tired at the idea of doing it all again. I turned around and saw that they had the baby WITH THEM.

No no no I was not having that.

I called them up and insisted they take my place in line so they could get home. They were so relieved I thought the mom might cry. I stayed there to talk to them as a buffer between them and the people behind us in case anyone got kind of mad that my two items had turned into like 50, but nobody did.

I was dumbfounded when the mother full-on handed me the baby to hold. Like "There is no other way to show gratitude so I will give you a few minutes of holding the most precious thing in the world to me." The baby was very new? I know nothing about babies, I've held maybe 5. But I remember the mom telling me how old the baby was and me thinking someone shouldn't have to be up and around so super soon after giving birth, so probably only a couple of weeks old. And the baby was so, so sleepy and so small, not crying, just nodding off, and she was so incredibly perfect in every way. I was holding a whole-ass human being I had never met and she was asleep and not even looking at me, but I was looking at her? Wild. Then they were done and I gave the baby back and wished them well and moved to the back of the line and that was that.

And I say all this not because I did a good thing and want to be told I am good or whatever, I think lots of people would have done the same if they had noticed this happening, but because I think about that baby so often. At least once a month. I don't know why.

And I have spent most of the time since then trying but unable to remember her name. Tonight I finally remembered it, and I just really really hope Dakota Riley is doing okay.

It's weird what sticks with you. It really really is.

[cookiescribble]

Show Me How To Be Whole Again

A/N: hi everyone! This is the fic I've been working on for eight months 😮‍💨. I hope it came out as well as I hoped it would 😅 - mod angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: When Spencer is abducted, you rush to the team to make sure you're there when they find him. After you get home, Spencer's behavior starts to get more and more concerning, and you're desperate for answers. (based on 2x15 and the aftermath of that episode)

Word Count: 7.1k

CW: Mentions of abduction, violence, drug addiction, withdrawal, arguing. some angst in the middle but i am incapable of writing something without a happy ending.

~~~~~

The call came early in the morning. They said they called you as soon as they could. 

If you were thinking rationally, or if you could stand being alone for 5 minutes after hearing the news, maybe you would’ve stayed home. But you couldn’t stay put knowing Spencer was in trouble. 

You quickly threw a few days’ worth of clothes in a carry-on bag and took the first flight out of the nearest airport. You were trying so hard to keep yourself together and not break down crying on a crowded airplane, but the thoughts just kept rushing in your head. You were so worried about him. 

When you landed, you called the team and told them you were going to the police station and you were going to stay there until they found him. You wouldn’t let anyone argue with you. You wouldn’t be able to calm down until they found him anyway, so being anywhere else didn’t make sense. 

You didn’t really think of what you’d do when you got there. You’d just been on autopilot since you got the call. You were hoping someone would meet you there. 

When you frantically burst through the doors of the police station, JJ was standing there waiting for you. You dropped your bag and hugged her tight. 

“It was my fault,” she choked out, sobbing. “We were together and… we split up… I shouldn’t have split up…”

You shook your head vigorously. “No, no, you’re not the one who abducted him. It’s not your fault.” You were also sobbing now. You tried taking deep breaths to calm yourself, but all you could think about was what could possibly be happening to Spencer right now. 

You calmed down enough to ask, “Where is everybody else?”

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath herself. “We set up at the unsub’s house. He took Spence to a secondary location, and Garcia set up there to get to his computers.” She looked down. “I really should be getting back there.”

You nodded while she talked. “I’m coming with you,” you announced. 

She looked at you, concerned. “We can’t risk you-“

You cut her off. “I am coming with you. I’m staying with you until we find him,” you stated forcefully. 

She didn’t argue further. She could see the desperation in your eyes, you’re sure. Even someone who didn’t analyze behavior for a living could see that. “Alright. Let’s go.”

…

You arrived at the house. You couldn’t tell how long the car ride took; every second felt like an hour. 

When everybody saw you, they took turns giving you a hug. You could tell they were concerned that you were here, but they could see how devastated you were. You think they understood. 

You hung around while they all did their jobs and tried to find Spencer. You sat next to Penelope and watched as she tried to do whatever she could to help find him. 

Time passed. The team was coming in and out of the room as they needed to. Derek was probably in here the most, giving his moral support to Penelope. 

Suddenly, the monitors in front of you lit up. 

“What‘s happening?” Derek asked. 

“I… don’t know,” Penelope answered. 

Your heart dropped as an image popped up on the screen. 

It was Spencer. He was sitting in a chair, his hands tied together. He was wearing the clothes you watched him pack on the morning you last saw him. 

He looked so scared. 

“Guys! Get in here!” you heard Derek yell. 

You couldn’t look away from the screen. 

The rest of the team rushed in, faces dropping as they saw what was happening. 

Someone was talking in the background of the stream. You couldn’t hear them. Your heart was thumping so hard you could hear it in your ears. Spencer was replying to whatever they were saying. Through your loud heartbeat, you could hear his trembling voice. Your eyes started to water. 

After a few moments, you heard someone near you say something and suddenly you were being pulled away from the screen and into another room. 

When you realized what was happening, you looked up to see Hotch holding your shoulders, pushing you away from the horrific scene unfolding on the monitors. 

You started sobbing. “I have to see him,” you tried to say, but your voice was cracking. 

“No. You saw that he’s alive. That’s all you need to see.” he said firmly. He was protecting you from seeing something that would truly break you. 

You couldn’t argue. What you saw shook you to your very core; you couldn’t go back in there. You squeezed your eyes shut and nodded. “You’re going to find him and bring him back safe.” It wasn’t a question. You knew they’d find him. They had to. 

You took a step back, telling Hotch he could go back to the team in the other room, and that you were okay out here.

You sat at a table, laying your head down and covering it with your arms. You had started crying, and you couldn’t stop. How could they do this to him? He’s never done anything to hurt anybody. All he does is help people. How could someone look at him and feel anything other than warmth, comfort, and love?

You heard footsteps come into the room. The girls came in and sat around you. You picked your head up to look at them, your eyes already swollen from crying so much. 

“What happened?” you asked frantically. Your heart was racing again. 

“He’s okay,” Emily said quickly. “He’s alive. The unsub… made him choose a victim to keep alive, but there’s going to be more victims… and then the camera cut off.” She took a deep breath. “It looked like making that decision let him live.”

You buried your face in your hands. This was so cruel. you knew he dealt with bad people every day, but… this was so heartbreaking. How could someone feel so little remorse for other human beings that they force an innocent person to decide someone’s fate?

You took deep breaths to try not to cry again. “I can tell he’s in so much pain right now… He’s going to blame himself for all those people’s deaths. The guilt is going to eat him up inside. He’ll feel horrible even if he does make it out of this.”

Everyone took turns patting your back to reassure you. “He is going to make it out of this. He’ll be home soon.”

You nodded, forcing yourself to believe it. You had to believe it. If you didn’t believe it… you would break down more than you ever have before. 

…

You stayed in that room for what felt like an eternity. The team took turns keeping you company when they weren’t busy. They gave you vague updates to let you know that Spencer was still alive. They didn’t tell you details of what they saw. You didn’t ask. Seeing the somber looks on their faces told you all you needed to know.

Eventually, everyone came rushing out of the room, putting on their coats and practically running out the door. Penelope came to sit with you, her eyes wide and full of hope. “They found where he is. They’re going to him now.” She hugged you tightly. “He’s going to be okay.”

Tears leaked out of your eyes again. This time they were happy tears. The immense rush of relief you felt was enough to render you speechless for a while, until you finally choked out, “They’re going to call us when he’s safe?” She nodded eagerly and you let out a huge sigh of relief. 

The wait felt like forever. You were still nervous. What if they don’t get to him in time? What if they’re just barely too late?

Finally, finally Penelope’s phone rang. She answered quickly, nodding at what she was hearing. Eventually she hung up and looked at you, smiling. “He’s with them now. The unsub is dead. They’re rushing an ambulance but his injuries seem minor considering… what’s been happening.”

You closed your eyes and took another big sigh of relief. “I’m going to meet the ambulance there,” you declared.

Penelope looked at you quizzically. “I don’t know if-“

“You said the unsub is dead,” you cut her off. “There’s no more danger. I’m going to him.” You saw keys to one of the FBI vehicles that was left over since they had multiple people to a van. You picked them up and tossed them to Penelope. “You know their coordinates. You drive.”

She caught the keys and nodded at you, unable to argue with your logic. You both rushed out to the van and sped over to the location. 

You saw the ambulance as you arrived there. You barely waited for Penelope to put the car in park before you were running out the door to where the ambulance had parked. 

You saw Spencer sitting at the edge of the back of the ambulance with a first aid blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He was beaten up, but he was still conscious and alert. You were relieved his injuries weren’t worse. 

“Spencer!” you shouted as you ran towards him. He looked your way, his eyes widening as he saw you. 

You threw your arms around his shoulders when you reached him. His shock quickly turned to something softer as he relaxed into your arms, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

You nestled your face into his neck for a few moments, unable to stop your sobs of joy. “Oh, sweetie…” you cooed into his ear. 

He moved so his forehead was touching yours. Tears were streaking down his face. “I’m sorry…” he started. 

You shook your head vigorously. “No apologies. You’re okay now.” You kissed him on the forehead gently and threaded your fingers in his hair “Everything’s going to be okay.”

He nodded and tightened his grip on you, kissing you firmly. He kissed you for a long time before finally pulling away, resting his forehead on yours. “I love you,” he whispered.

You smiled warmly, whispering back to him. “I love you, too.”

You stayed like that for a few moments before everyone started pushing Spencer to get in the ambulance so he could go to the hospital. You rode with him, of course. You held his hand the whole way there. 

He wasn’t in the hospital for too long. They were able to treat his wounds relatively easily. The team waited in the waiting room while you followed him into the examination room. 

When you came back to the waiting room, hand in hand, everyone rushed to greet you before you all headed to the jet. 

You sat in the corner of the couch to the side of the other seats, motioning for Spencer to lay his head in your lap. He followed eagerly, curling up on his side and nestling his head in your lap. 

You ran your fingers through his curls as he began to fall asleep. He must’ve been exhausted. You couldn’t imagine him sleeping during any of that. 

You stayed like that the whole ride home, him asleep and you petting his hair softly. 

You gently woke him up when you landed. “C’mon, baby. We’re going home.”

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. You kissed his cheek before standing up, taking his hand as you went to the parking lot. He obviously wasn’t in any condition to drive, so he handed you the keys to his car and let you drive home. You insisted on stopping and getting some food on the way back. He said he didn’t feel hungry, but once he started eating, it seemed like he’d never stop. He must’ve been starving.

When you walked into your apartment, he grabbed you and hugged you tightly to his chest. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, relaxing into him. 

“I missed you so much.” He was crying again, sniffling softly. “I thought about you every waking moment. I knew I had to make it through because you were waiting for me.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead, closing his eyes and savoring the moment. 

“I missed you too,” you said quietly, looking into his eyes with a soft expression. “I knew you were going to make it back.” You hugged him tight again. “I didn’t see everything. The team… made sure I didn’t see anything that was going to hurt me.”

He nodded, leaning down to stroke your cheek gently with his thumb. “I’m glad you didn’t have to see me like that.” He touched his forehead to yours. “What matters now is that I’m here with you.” He kissed you slowly, pushing your hair out of your face. 

You kissed for a long time, slowly making your way to your bedroom. You smiled up at him after a while. “As much as I would love to continue this…” You gestured to the bed. “You need to sleep.”

As if to prove your point, he let out a quiet yawn. You smiled as he sat down at the edge of the bed. You grabbed his pajamas from the drawer and helped him get changed and settled into bed. 

He lay his head on your chest and you stroked his hair gently, just like you did the whole way home. “Go to sleep, baby,” you whispered as his eyes closed. After a moment you heard his breathing slow as he fell asleep. 

“Goodnight,” you whispered, kissing the top of his head before relaxing to fall asleep yourself.   

…

After that night, things got… bad. 

Spencer wasn’t acting like himself anymore. He was… distant. Cold. He had never acted this way towards you before. Or anyone, for that matter. 

You had never had a problem with intimacy before, but suddenly he refused to touch you. Any time you would reach for his hand, or try to put your arm around him, he’d just shrug you off of him and move away from you. It always ended in you mumbling an apology and putting some space between you. 

He never explained why he didn’t want you to touch him. In fact, he didn’t talk a whole lot anymore. You often sat in silence, completely apart from each other. You always used to be able to count on him to fill these silences, but now he just stayed quiet. 

When he did talk, he was a lot more cold to you than he used to be. You had never fought before, but now it felt like any time he talked it was to argue with you about something. It felt like he was always angry lately. 

He didn’t even like to sleep in the same bed as you anymore. Most nights, if not every night, he slept on the couch. You started begging him, telling him that you would never cross over your side of the bed, but he shrugged you off saying he just needed to be alone.

All of this was really taking a toll on you. You tried not to show it, because you knew he was going through a hard time, so you only let your feelings out in places you could be alone. Which meant you spent a lot of time crying in the bathroom.

This went on for months. You thought that, surely, he had to tell you what was going on eventually. He had never hidden anything from you before, so you didn’t really know what to do, or how to handle this. You didn’t want to push him into talking about things he didn’t want to talk about, but something was very clearly wrong. 

After a particularly bad argument one night, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to go to someone about this. For Spencer’s sake.

The next morning, you set an extra early alarm, quietly getting dressed and tiptoeing past Spencer, who was asleep on the couch, and silently leaving your apartment. 

As you got in your car and started driving, you started arguing with yourself in your head. Part of your brain was trying to say that this wasn’t going to help, and that this was just like being a little kid and tattling to a teacher. But the emotional part of your brain was saying that just telling anyone would be able to help Spencer. And that little shred of hope was all it took to convince you to do this.

You shoved open the doors to the BAU, hoping that Spencer’s stories about his boss barely leaving his office were true. When you looked around, you saw an office with a light on, making you breathe a sigh of relief.

You bound up the stairs, knocking on the office door, a little more forcefully than you had intended. Hopefully it would help get your emotions across.

“Come in,” a familiar voice ordered. 

You took a deep breath before opening the door, seeing Hotch sitting at his desk with a bunch of paperwork in front of him. You wondered just how much paperwork this job required, and if he was always here hours before everyone else.

He looked surprised to see you. He would probably be surprised to see anyone at this early hour, but considering you don’t even work for him, he probably wouldn’t have even considered the possibility of you coming here. “Is there something I can help you with?” He asked. 

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. You didn’t really think this far; you just figured that surely someone who works so closely with Spencer had to know something, especially since he was a profiler. 

You thought about everything that had happened in the last few months, trying to find the right words to properly articulate your concerns. But all the thoughts about Spencer pushing you away and refusing your affection, mixed with remembering what your relationship was like before that fateful night of his abduction, overwhelmed your mind so much that you just couldn’t stop your emotions flowing out. Tears welled in your eyes before starting to streak down your face. Here you were, in Hotch’s office, completely unannounced and uninvited, and you were just standing there crying.

After a few moments of crying, and of Hotch looking very concerned at this scene playing out before him, you decided it didn’t matter that you couldn’t form the perfect words. You just needed to say something. 

Through choked sobs, you finally managed to blurt out, “What’s wrong with Spencer?”

Hotch looked at you, his expression as unreadable as always. “What do you mean?”

You took a deep breath, too emotional to think about how you shouldn’t be saying all of this to your boyfriend’s boss. The words just started coming out in a rush. “Something’s wrong. We had never had a single argument before, and now the only time he ever talks to me is to pick a fight. He’s never present, he barely speaks, which I’m sure I don’t have to tell you is very strange behavior for Spencer. He never smiles anymore, he won’t let me touch him anymore, he won’t sleep in our bed anymore, he only sleeps on the couch…” 

You covered your eyes with your hands, trying to stop the tears from coming out. Finally, after some shaky breaths, you finished by saying, “I just wanted to know if there’s anything you could tell me about this. If you know why he’s acting this way. If there’s something he’s not telling me.”

Hotch hesitated before gesturing to a chair in front of his desk. “Do you want to take a seat?”

You looked at the chair, and you noticed you were shaking. You nodded, and sat down in the chair, trying to calm down. But you couldn’t help being extremely restless, your leg bouncing rapidly while you sat.

Hotch leaned forward, moving some paperwork out of the way and placing his hands on his desk. His expression was slightly softened. “Working in this field, you go through a lot of traumatic things. Reid’s abduction was one of the worst things an agent can go through.” His voice was low and steady, which was a welcome contrast to how frantic your own words had come out. “Anyone would struggle after that.”

You sighed. “I know, but-”

He raised his hand to cut you off. “That being said, we’ve all been able to tell that Reid has been a little off.” He saw you raise your eyebrow and added, “Okay, a lot off.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “We have some… theories, but we can’t know for sure what’s happening with him unless he tells us. And since he’s already struggling, we didn’t want to make it worse, especially since he’s technically just a subordinate or coworker. But if he’s not telling you either…” He looked at you sympathetically. “I’ll try to talk to him.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “... Thank you. Thank you so much. I’m so sorry I came here out of the blue.” You stood up, taking a step forward as if you were going to hug him, but for once your rational thoughts took over and you stayed where you were.

He stood up after you. “You’re welcome. It couldn’t have been easy to come here and talk about this.” He reached out to shake your hand, and when you shook his hand back he put his other hand over yours and spoke softly to you. “I’m going to try to get through to him. I promise.”

His gentle hands and soft-spoken words were enough to reassure you, at least for now. You nodded, thanking him again before leaving his office. You were able to leave with a lot more composure than you came here with.

It was getting late by the time you left Hotch’s office, and there were a lot more people here now. As you came down the stairs, you looked up to see Spencer staring at you. He wasn’t angry, thankfully, but he looked… kind of dumbfounded. Which made sense. You had no reason to be here at all, let alone a reason to be talking to his boss.

As you walked towards him to get to the door to leave, he turned to you. “Hey…” he started, his voice soft.

You didn’t know what to say, his soft voice sounding nothing like what you’ve been hearing these past few months. So you just kind of waved to him awkwardly, pointing to your watch to indicate that you had to get to work, and you left the BAU. 

When you got back in your car, you took a few minutes to process everything that had happened. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to convince yourself that everything was okay. You believed Hotch when he said he’d help. It felt like Spencer was in capable hands.

…

Later that day, you had been in the bathroom when Spencer came home, and you didn’t hear the door open and close. When you came out, you saw him standing awkwardly in the front of your apartment. It made you jump a little bit. “Hi… I didn’t know you were home,” you muttered awkwardly.

He stood there looking at you, his eyes moving a little as if he was thinking of what to say. After a few moments, instead of saying anything, he walked over to you and hugged you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist.

You just froze for a moment, not sure how to react. But he kept his tight hold on you, as if you were the only thing keeping him up right now, and you finally started to hug him back just as tightly. You both just stood like that for a few minutes, holding each other.

Finally, he spoke up. His voice was soft, barely a whisper, and he sounded so fragile. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He was starting to cry now, making soft sobbing sounds into your shoulder.

Hearing him cry broke something in you, and shortly you were also in tears. “Oh, Spence…” You squeezed him a little tighter, rubbing soothing circles on his back. “It’s okay…”

He sniffled and shook his head, pulling back a little so he could look you in the eyes. “My behavior has been abhorrent lately. I’ve been struggling, and I’ve been bottling everything up. I didn’t realize just how much this was hurting you.” He took a deep breath, trying to keep up with his thoughts. “I guess I figured, if I didn’t tell you about my problems, then they couldn’t affect you. But I was wrong. It just made it worse.”

You looked at him sadly, one of your hands moving to gently stroke his hair. “You can always come to me with anything. I’ll always try to help you. You know that.”

Some more tears started falling down his cheeks, and you started to wipe them away with your thumb. “I guess I felt like… I didn’t deserve the help.” He took a few shaky breaths as he tried to calm down. “Like I didn’t deserve you being so nice to me.”

“Spencer…” you started, trying to make your voice sound as soothing as possible. “What’s wrong? What’s so bad that you can’t tell me?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. “I… I don’t know if I can talk about it yet. But I promise I’ll tell you soon.” He looked at you determinedly. “Until then, I promise I’m going to try to be better to you.” As if to prove his point, he grabbed your face and captured your lips in a soft kiss, making your heart flutter.

After years of dating, you didn’t think you’d feel that flustered, shy feeling of butterflies in your stomach again. But, after these past few months of having no physical contact, this kiss almost felt like it was your first kiss all over again.

You couldn’t help but hold the back of his head to try to bring his face even closer to yours. You were craving his touch, and you needed his affection. On the off chance that this was a one-time thing, and that he would start to distance himself again after this, you figured you had to make it last.

He showed no signs of letting up, though, moving you both so you were laying on the couch, with him hovering over you. His lips never left yours the whole time, and his hands were moving around your face as if he was trying to remember what it felt like. 

He broke the kiss to look at you, before closing his eyes. His hands trailed from your face down to your neck, moving slightly under your shirt to your shoulders. He wasn’t just touching you, he was feeling you. As if feeling your skin would jog his memory of you. His breathing was soft and even as his hands moved down to your hips, his fingers gentle and slow on your waist as he started to lift your shirt up. 

Your breath hitched when you felt cold air suddenly hit your stomach. “Spence…” you spoke quietly, a soft blush on your face. 

He looked at you, his voice quick and reassuring. “I don’t want to do anything like… that. It would be a little too much for me right now.” He quickly flashed you that awkward little smile he had sometimes. “I just want to see you, to feel you.” His voice went a little quieter when he added, “I missed you.”

You looked at him sadly, reaching up to touch his face. “I missed you, too.” You leaned in to kiss him again. “I missed you so much.”

The soft, slow kissing resumed, and Spencer very carefully pulled your shirt over your head, his hands gently gliding over the newly exposed skin. You let out a dreamy sigh. You hadn’t realized just how touch starved you had been over these past few months. This is exactly what you had been needing. 

You just stayed on the couch like that for a while, his lips and hands on you, the gentlest of touches. After a little while longer, you started to unbutton his shirt, because you wanted to do the same to him.

He completely froze, sucking in a breath. You immediately pulled your hands away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” You trailed off, worried that you just ruined any progress that had been made tonight. 

He shook his head, sitting up and pulling you up with him. “It’s okay, I just… I don’t want you to see me with my shirt off.” He looked at you with pleading eyes, as if he was begging you not to ask about it. 

You hesitated, but instead of asking about it you tried to be a little more lighthearted. “I’ve seen you without a shirt plenty of times, Spencer.” 

He gave you a slight smile before the worried look came back to his face. “I just…” he started, “I can’t right now. Please understand.”

You nodded, taking his hand and giving it a slight squeeze. “I understand.” You stroked his hand gently with your thumb. “I’m not going to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. You can trust me.”

He squeezed your hand back, giving you another little smile. “I know you won’t. I do trust you.” He let out a little yawn and started to rub his eyes. 

You looked at the clock, not realizing how late it had gotten. “Come on, let’s go to bed.” You leaned over to kiss his forehead. “You should get some sleep.”

You worried he would still insist on sleeping on the couch, but he just nodded, his hand still tightly holding yours as you both stood up and walked to your bedroom. He grabbed his pajamas and headed to the bathroom to change.

You sat on the bed and watched him for a few moments before he closed the door. You started to get dressed yourself, wondering what this problem was about. He had been a little shy around you when you two first started getting intimate, but you thought he had gotten over that. Had these past few months apart made the shyness come back?

Your thoughts were interrupted by Spencer coming back into the room. You stood up so he could get in bed. He looked so tired; you could see just how bad the dark circles under his eyes were.

He crawled under the covers, curling up and closing his eyes. You got in the other side of the bed, gently rubbing his back to soothe him. You didn’t want to push any boundaries, so you pulled away after just a moment.

He turned around, looking at you with those big eyes of his, and grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together. He closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath, as if soothed by your touch. You smiled softly. He looked more peaceful than you had seen him in a long time. It made it easier to close your eyes and relax.

It was silent for a while, and you thought he had fallen asleep. But then, you heard him speak very softly. “I love you.”

You opened your eyes to see him looking back at you. You squeezed his hand gently. “I love you too.” You leaned in and kissed his forehead, making him smile. “Get some sleep. I can tell you need it,” you whispered.

He nodded and closed his eyes again, moving a little closer to you before wrapping his arms around you and nestling his head in your neck. You hesitated for a moment in shock before cradling him in your arms. You kissed the top of his head. “Goodnight, baby,” you whispered to him. Soon, you could hear his breathing soften, and you just listened to the quiet sounds of him sleeping for a few more moments before falling asleep yourself.

…

Things didn’t magically get better after that, but they did improve. 

Spencer went back to sleeping in your bed, though he seemed to have a hard time sleeping nowadays. He was always tossing and turning, and you usually woke up in the middle of the night to either try to soothe him to sleep or to keep him company when he couldn’t sleep. 

There was a lot more talking, and a lot less fighting. You could have more comfortable conversations, and he would politely tell you when he didn’t feel like talking. It was a lot better than him yelling at you to leave him alone. 

There was still some arguing, but usually only when you were trying to get him to eat. He was always saying he wasn’t hungry, and you had to try to push to get him to eat, saying he needed some kind of nutrition. Sometimes he would snap at you, saying he would eat if he was hungry and that he didn’t push you when you didn’t want to eat. He’d always apologize, though, and try his best to explain that he was either feeling nauseous or he just didn’t have much of an appetite anymore. It seemed to get a little better after a few days.

He didn’t mind a little more physical contact. He wasn’t always up for it, but he didn’t seem to mind it as much. It was always trial and error, almost like trying to pet a skittish cat. You’d start by putting a gentle hand on his, and he’d tense up for a second, and he’d either pull away and explain he didn’t want to be touched, or he’d take your hand and hold it gently. A big improvement. It was just little touches: holding hands, an arm around his shoulder, a hug… it never went past that.

He didn’t talk about what it was that was bothering him at first, but you trusted that he would tell you when he was ready. After about a week, he was finally ready to talk about it.

…

You both were sitting on the couch, in one of your quiet moments. You were reading a book, like you usually did when Spencer felt like being quiet. The silences were starting to get more comfortable, making it easier to just do quiet activities next to each other.

After a few minutes, Spencer cleared his throat, making you look over at him. You bookmarked the page you were on and turned to him. “What is it?”

He hesitated, as if he wasn’t sure how to start this conversation. He closed his eyes for a moment to put his thoughts together, before opening them again to look at you. He spoke very softly.

“When I was…” he started, swallowing and taking a deep breath to compose himself before continuing, “... When I was abducted for those few days back in February, a lot happened. The man who took me had dissociative identity disorder, and dealing with all his personalities was difficult. But there was one of his personalities that was… nicer than the others. More helpful than harmful.” He closed his eyes again, and you knew this was really hard for him to talk about. You placed a gentle hand over his, and he let out a breath, grabbing your hand and giving it a squeeze. He continued on, his voice still soft and sad.

“Unfortunately, one of the ways that he helped me was to… give me something to help numb the pain the others were causing.” He closed his eyes again, and he slowly rolled up his sleeves for you to see his arms.

You stared in shock. His arms were covered in needle marks. You covered your mouth. “Oh, Spencer…” You looked back up at his face, but his eyes were squeezed shut, as if he didn’t want to face this. You squeezed his hand to let him know you were here to support him.

“He would come to me saying Dilaudid helped with the pain, and after a few times, it started to feel… good.” He took another deep breath, his eyes still closed. “After he died, I took the bottles he still had. And when things started getting hard to handle… all the flashbacks and memories of what happened to me, I just needed to numb myself. And it worked, for a while. But eventually, I just… couldn’t stop.”

“Spencer…” you started, your voice gentle. “You could’ve come to me, I could’ve tried to help you-”

“I didn’t want that,” he cut you off. “I tried to convince myself that what I was doing wasn’t wrong. That it was just medicine that was helping me. But, obviously, I knew that wasn’t the truth. And I knew that if I told anyone about it, they would say I needed help. But I didn’t want help. I just wanted to live in this unrealistic world where everything I was doing was fine.” He finally opened his eyes to look at you. “That’s why I was lashing out. I didn’t want anyone to help me, and I also felt like I didn’t deserve anyone being nice to me.”

He looked at you very seriously. “I thought, if I didn’t tell you any of this, it couldn’t hurt you. I know how sensitive you are to other people’s emotions and problems, so I figured if I didn’t tell you, you couldn’t worry about me. Obviously, I was wrong, and that was a naive way of thinking.” He reached out and gently touched your face. “When I saw you at the BAU, I knew it was because you were worried about me, and I saw that you looked like you had been crying. And it just snapped me out of this false reality I had created for myself. And that’s when I came home and apologized, because I knew I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t keep hurting you.”

You listened to him silently while he talked, letting him get out everything he needed to say before responding. “Why didn’t you tell me that day? Or the few days after that? Why did you wait until now?”

He nodded as if he was waiting for this question. “I read that withdrawal symptoms peak within 12-48 hours, and that it usually takes 5-7 days for the symptoms to resolve. So I wanted to wait out those 7 days just to make sure.”

You gave him a sad look. “But if I knew you were having withdrawal symptoms, I could have helped you. I really wish you would have told me.”

He sighed. “I wanted to do it on my own. To prove to myself that I could do it. That I wasn’t just going to quit halfway through and relapse.”

You nodded sympathetically. “Well, I’m really glad you told me now. We can get through this together.” You gave his hand a little pat. “You know this isn’t the end of it, right? It’s not just over when withdrawal symptoms stop. You still need to work out these issues that made you start this in the first place.”

He nodded. “I know. I want to try to get help now. I… I think I’m ready. I want to look into going to therapy, and maybe some support groups if I need them.” He squeezed your hand again. “I know I can make it through this, because I know you’ll be by my side.”

You smiled softly at him. “I’ll always be by your side.” Your hand trailed up his arms, looking back at the needle marks. “Do they… hurt?” you asked softly.

He shrugged. “Only when they first appear. They don’t hurt right now.”

You nodded, and you gently touched the marks on his arm. You looked at him, and you slowly brought his arm up so you could give every little mark a gentle kiss, to let him know that everything was going to get better soon.

He looked at you with big, loving eyes, and he started tearing up a bit. He pulled you in for a tight hug, sniffling as he buried his face in your neck. “I love you so much,” he said with a shaky voice.

You held him tight, rubbing his back to comfort him. “I love you too, Spence. Everything is going to be okay.” Your voice was calm and soothing. “I’m here now.”

…

Things started to get much better after that. Spencer was way more comfortable telling you when things were feeling more difficult than usual. Typically, it would be when he came home from a particularly emotional case. You were always there to hold him and to soothe him. There was no more aversion to your touch or need for extended silences. He felt comfortable in your arms, and he knew he could talk to you when something was bothering him.

He started seeing a therapist, and you always went there with him. Usually, you just sat outside the office for his sessions so he could have the one-on-one help he needed. Sometimes, if he was having a particularly rough week, he would bring you in with him for extra support. And you were always there when he needed you.

It took a bit of time, but you learned how to help with whatever he needed you for. If he needed a distraction, you could always come up with some activity to get his mind off of things. You played a lot of board games, and started learning to bake so you could just pull out a new recipe to try and he could focus on getting everything just right. When he just needed someone to listen to him, or a shoulder to cry on, you didn’t mind being that person for him. And sometimes he just wanted to be held, saying that the physical touch grounded him. You were always happy to hold him. 

Over time, things got easier and easier to deal with. Eventually, things seemed to be fully back to normal. You both knew that this was always going to be a struggle that could come back, but you knew how to handle it now, and you were certain that you could get through any struggle that ever tried to get in your way.

[think-like-a-poet]

for your song x f1 oneshots can you do “hold my girl” by george ezra with oscar? 🙂

Hold my girl/Oscar Piastri

A/N: Hope this is kinda what you wanted.

Song x driver masterlist

-

~I've got time, I've got love

Got confidence you'll rise above

Give me a minute to hold my girl~

Oscar had seen you turning into a quiet, sleepy person, instead of the happy you. Your studies had been taking a toll on you lately and you didn't know how to catch up on the missed work. Dark circles have formed underneath your eyes from the lack of sleep. You eat and drink less, forgetting about it while you were buried into the books.

Oscar hated seeing you like this. You loved attending a race,supporting Oscar inside the Mclaren garage, but that did mean missing a lecture and time to do school work. He hated himself for making you feel this way. He thinks it is selfish for him to ask you to be there when you have your own stuff, even though you agreed to it.

Every time he asked you if you were okay, you would say yes. Even though he knew you weren't. He tried to have you take a break from it, eat a good meal and get enough sleep, but he couldn't make you.

When he was away he always had a bad feeling. He couldn't force you to drink that one glass or give you a fruit bowl. You were alone and probably still in the same clothes as when he left

"I am going to bed, are you coming too?" Oscar said as he leaned against the doorway. You sat in front of the computer, reading an articol about god knows what, not looking up. He made his way towards you and rested his hands on your shoulders, making you jump. "Sorry, I thought you knew i was here."

You smile weakly, "Don't worry. Did you say something?"

He placed a kiss on your head, "I am going to bed, are you coming too?"

Your eyes widen as you look at the time, was it already that late. "I have to finish this, and I will come. You don't have to waite for me." You look at him as the Australian lets out a sigh.

"Alright, but don't make it too late. You need some sleep to make that brain work." Osar walks away towards the bedroom as you return to your studies.

As his head hit the pillow, Oscar already knew he wasn't going to sleep. Not without knowing you were there too. Oscar sat a timer on his phone for 30 minutes and grabbed a book. He will get you when the timer is done.

Flipping through the pages felt like eternity without your next to him. His mind couldn't make out to words, too tired to think. He looked at the time and saw that it had only 5 minutes left. He paused it and got out of the bed.

You were still seated in the same place as a half hour ago. How couldn'the bright screen not hurt your eyes?

"You are coming to bed."Oscar stated as he walked up to your again.

"I am not done yet,"You protested, but he turned of the computer and picked you up.

"Oscar, put me down. I have to finish it." He places you and the bed.

"Please, tell me what has been on your mind. Because I hate seeing you like this and ruining yourself. The room is silent even though you are here." He says as tears formed in his eyes. You sat silently on the bed, not knowing what to say to him. " I want to help you, but you have to tell me about everything that you are going trough."

"I am sorry" you breakdown and Oscar was quick to sit next to you and hold you. "I am just so worked up into studies and I want to pass my finals. "

In the last weeks it wasn' t often that Oscar and you were asleep at the same time, ate at the same time or were in the same room. You went to bed late, and woke up early, while he was out for a run. You grabbed some yoghurt and went back to your books and when Oscar came home he had to eat alone.

He strokes your hair, "Don't be sorry. I understand your school is important, but you need sleep to function. Those 2 hours a day aren't enough, and It hurt seeing you trough it away without realizing."

"It is really hard with you being away and I don't even realize that the day is over and the sun is setting. Just because my computer was empty, I went to bed." you slur over your words a bit.

"It is okay. I just hope you are willing to take car of yourself more. Lets get you to bed and have some sleep" he says as stands up and shakes your pillow. you smile at him as you lay in bed. As soon as your face hits the pillow you let out a yawn.

Oscar went to turn the lights of, before joining you. As you lay there next to him, he wrapped his arms around you. He didn't want you to leave. The next morning you would wake up in the same positions, Oscar holding you in his arms.

[cuubism]

Computation

part 7 of Complex Mathematics

(aka Dream vs Technology -- Technology: 1, Dream: 0)

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

Wednesday, 3:54am

Hob. what is the wifi password?

3:56am: why are you texting me when I’m in the same house?

3:57am: I did not want to wake you up.

4:00am: ……….

4:01am: Ah.

4:03am: it’s 12345. which is terrible security by the way

4:04am: how do i know this and you don’t? we’re in YOUR flat

4:05am: Computers are your friends, not mine.

4:10am: It does not like the password.

4:12am: alright i’m getting up

Dream creeps back into the living room, holding a cup of tea, as Hob’s tinkering with the router. Turns out it needed to be completely reset before he could reconnect it to Dream’s laptop. Not that this is that hard, but for some reason Hob doesn’t understand, technology is simply out of Dream’s grasp. Head in the clouds, too smart for basic computer skills, etc etc.

“A peace offering,” Dream says, placing the tea on the coffee table. He perches on the couch beside where Hob’s leaning over the router on its spot on the bookshelf.

“I’m not mad at you,” Hob says. He pats the router as its indicator lights finally turn green again. “I will take tea, though.”

“I woke you,” Dream says softly.

“You’ve woken me before, you will again,” Hob says with equanimity. Their sleep schedules are out of alignment, it tends to happen.

It’s the wrong thing to say, though. Dream cringes, hands folding in his lap. “I should be able to handle such things.”

“It’s just the wifi.” Hob finally finishes reconnecting Dream’s laptop and turns properly towards him. Dream still looks guilty about it. Sometimes Hob misses the time before they were dating, when Dream would bristle at him instead of caving. Just because he doesn’t like seeing Dream feel bad.

He takes the cup of tea and places it in Dream’s hands instead, briefly wrapping their hands around each other. “It’s okay,” he repeats. Possibly they should have a longer conversation about it, but Hob’s not emotionally awake enough for it.

Instead, he gets up and heads for the kitchen to put on some coffee. He needs something with more caffeine in it than tea.

“What are you doing?” Dream asks.

“Might as well get something done while my brain is online,” Hob says. He goes to fetch his own laptop from Dream’s bedroom. Lord knows it’ll need to get reconnected to the glitchy wifi again, anyway.

~~

Friday, 2:05pm

Hob.

2:06pm: ?

2:07pm: The wifi is angry again.

2:09pm: did you antagonize it?

2:09pm: hang on did you just wake up now?

2:10pm: I cannot comment.

2:12pm: I assume you have been hard at work in the library since six.

2:14pm: more like hardly working in the library. i did make an app that gives you a gold star every time you do the laundry

2:16pm: Will that assist in your routines?

2:17pm: probably not but it’ll be fun for 5 minutes

2:17pm: wifi password’s still 12345

2:18pm: maybe I should make an app for that instead…

2:20pm: I do not think it would help.

2:30pm: …You are not trying to make said app, are you?

2:34pm: nope just realized I’m late for a class and had to scramble out of there. I’ll be back later can do couples counseling for you and wifi then?

2:35pm: Very well.

For a while after putting down his phone, Dream stares at the wifi router in vexation, as if that will possibly make the angry red lights turn green again. He doesn’t know what he’s done wrong. He knows even less what to do to fix it.

He needs the wifi operational to keep generating these fractals. He supposes he could go to the library and use university wifi, but that requires going out in public, which is preferably avoided, at least while he’s trying to work. So he will have to do something else until Hob gets back from class.

He recalls what Hob had said. That instead of working on his dissertation he had made an entire phone app about laundry. He had said it so casually, like it was a doodle to pass the time. Dream can use apps—barely—but he cannot begin to fathom how he would go about making one. Hob does not understand how even in his procrastination he is exceptional.

Well. This is something that Dream can do. Hob hates doing laundry—hence the app-based reward system—but Dream doesn’t mind. He finds it meditative. He will have to be more precise about fabric care instructions now, as while his own clothes rarely range beyond grey, black, and dark blue, Hob actually wears colors which might bleed into each other.

He puts on his headphones with some music, gathers up the laundry from the bedroom, and goes about his routine.

When Hob gets back, Dream has finished hanging the laundry to dry and returned to his contemplation of the router, this time still with his headphones playing. He’s lost in thought, and doesn’t notice Hob’s come in until his hand lands on Dream’s shoulder. Normally a sudden touch when he’s thinking would make him jump, but he’s become used to Hob.

“Trying to solve your marital problems through telepathy?” Hob asks.

“We were never married,” Dream says. “Indeed we are enemies.”

Hob laughs. He kisses Dream on the cheek, then kneels in front of the router. “You have to stop tormenting my boyfriend,” he tells it. It only blinks back at him innocently.

Hob can be very silly at times. “I do not think arguing with the inanimate object will help,” Dream says.

“You never know.” Hob takes the router down and sets about unplugging all the cables. Dream still doesn’t know what any of them precisely do, nor how wifi works. It may as well be magic.  

Hob has it fixed within minutes, of course. Far more effective than Dream’s intense staring. He gets Dream’s laptop reconnected, and Dream is finally able to start generating his fractal. “Thank you,” he says.

“Anything for my love,” says Hob, getting to his feet again. “Guessing you want some time to yourself now to work on this?”

“Yes,” says Dream, with some guilt. Hob has come home to help him only for him to immediately bury himself in his work again. But yes, he does want to make progress on this at last.

“Well, good,” says Hob, and Dream turns to him in surprise. “Because I’m due for a nap.”

Dream still hasn’t formulated a response to this by the time Hob’s disappeared into his bedroom. Strange, that their routines can be so opposite and still meld together so well.

Hob pokes his head back out into the hall. “Did you do the laundry?”

“Yes,” says Dream.

“I could kiss you,” Hob declares, then blows one to him before disappearing back into the bedroom.

Dream presses his hand to his cheek, as if to touch a kiss that had really landed there. Smiles to himself. Then goes back to his fractal.

~~

Monday, 5:02pm

Hob.

5:03pm: Wifi?

5:04pm: …Yes.

Thursday, 9:50pm

…..Hob.

9:50pm: I’m sitting right next to you.

9:51pm: ….

9:51pm: I’m just gonna get you a new router. This thing’s got problems.

9:52pm: I think it is I who has the problems.

9:52pm: That too.

Saturday, 6:00pm

Hob.

6:00pm: Is it broken AGAIN??

6:01pm: No. I got dinner.

6:02pm: Oh!

6:02pm: Fuck I’m starving.

6:03pm: Coming back from class now.

6:03pm: Don’t touch the router it’s in a fragile mental state.

6:04pm: Aren’t we all.

~~

Thursday, 3:50pm

This time, it is the wifi in Hob’s flat that is stymieing Dream. He does not think it is broken. Hob has merely changed the password, as he’s much more diligent about internet security than Dream, and then forgotten to tell Dream what it is. Or, more likely, correctly assumed Dream would have to ask him again anyway.

He briefly contemplates trying to deduce the password, but it is likely an incomprehensible string of characters that Hob would claim is ideal security precisely because of the impossibility of deducing it.

He refuses to text Hob about it again. Hob has a class to teach soon—Dream has his schedule memorized—Dream does not want to distract him. Though speaking of…

3:50pm: You have a class in ten minutes.

3:51pm: FUCK

3:51pm: I got distracted

3:53pm: Now… running

3:54pm: You are not near the building, are you.

3:55pm: NOPE

Dream smiles to himself, thinking of Hob sprinting across campus. It happens often. Hob is good at many things, but time management is not one of them. This is why Dream knows his schedule.

He does feel… a bit silly, though. He should be better at this, should he not? Less bothersome to Hob over small things that he should be able to handle.

Normally he would go back to his work to distract himself from these thoughts, but he still can’t work on his fractals without being able to connect remotely to the university computers, which are more powerful than his own. This is something Hob had also set up for him, because Dream had not been able to make any sense of the instructions he had been given for remote login, and the like.

Sighing, he instead takes his sketchbook out of his bag. It’s been a while since he’s made any time for drawing. But he had started looking at fractals in the first place to better understand patterns in art, to understand resonances between what occurred in nature and what was projected by mathematics. And drawing used to soothe him.

So he starts drawing, sketching the fractal he has been generating—to the extant that he can with the imprecise instrument of his pen. Even in infinite impossible digital form, the branching spirals eventually become too small for him to see, though he knows they continue on in perfect replication forever, smaller and smaller until they disappear into atoms. He cannot recreate that level of detail by hand. But he tries.

By the time he gets another text back from Hob, an hour later, he’s moved to the floor to have more space. He’s found a bigger piece of scrap paper and is drawing the fractal again, in more detail this time, color-coding the different shapes, free-handing where he should probably use a ruler for more precision. He has achieved several more levels of replication than before, but it is still not right. He can’t get it right. If he could only use the stupid computer system he could get it right.

Finally he looks at his phone, several minutes after the text alert pinged.

Thanks love 😘

Unexpectedly, it makes him tear up. Always this happens to him. He does not realize how frustrated he has become with himself until it is too late.

Of course, to only make matters worse, he is still sitting hunched on the floor, pen clasped tight in his hand, teeth clenched so hard it’s hurting his jaw, when Hob comes through the door. He must have texted not far from home.

“Hey, love,” Hob’s already saying as he comes through the door, “meant to stop and grab dinner but I totally forgot— I’m sure I have something here, though— Dream?”

Dream hasn’t moved from the floor, or responded. Hob puts down his bag and comes over to him. He looks down at the fractal, which is still incomplete. “Did you draw that?”

“Obviously,” Dream bites. The pen is still in his hand. He drops it, scraping a hand through his hair. Great. Now he’s snapping at Hob, too.

Hob sits down on the floor beside him. He studies the fractal. Then points to one of the shapes that Dream’s colored in red. “That’s supposed to be purple.”

Dream stares at the fractal. Hob is right, it is meant to be purple. According to the way Dream had color-coded it digitally. He looks at Hob. “How do you know that?”

“I’ve watched you fiddling with it enough. We set it up on your laptop, remember?”

Yes. Dream remembers. He remembers how Hob had helped him.

“Wifi giving you troubles again?” Hob asks, looking from the drawing, to Dream’s laptop, which is sleeping on the couch.

Dream nods, then saws quietly, “Are you not… frustrated with me? Annoyed?”

Hob doesn’t need to ask what he means. “Sometimes,” he says, and Dream can’t help his flinch. “So?”

“So?”

Hob shrugs. “I would have missed that class if you didn’t text me.”

Dream does not understand the relevance.

Hob looks up at him, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “Aren’t you annoyed with me?”

Perhaps he is, at times. Recently, Dream has been too absorbed in his project to feel much about it at all.

“I don’t know,” he says. “It is just how you are.”

Hob seems to think that Dream still doesn’t understand the point he’s making, and perhaps Dream doesn’t. Hob takes his hand. “Look. I’ve no idea why someone as smart as you are is constantly defeated by basic technology, but it doesn’t matter. Always having to be the one to fix the router is a small price to pay for having you in my life.”

Dream’s mouth opens, but no words come out. He… he does not know if anyone has ever put up with him with so little complaint. For truly, it is not only computer troubles. It is all the small things that stack upon each other to make him feel different and difficult.

“I find I do not like…” Dream admits tentatively, “when you must do these things. That I should be able to do.”

“You did the laundry the other day,” Hob says.

Why must he jump topics in this manner? “I do not understand.”

“Well, we don’t actually live together, you know. You have your own laundry. You don’t have to do mine, too.”

“I thought it would help you,” Dream says.

Hob just waits expectantly.

Dream looks down at his lap. “Ah. I… see.” Hob finds him frustrating at times, he had said so, but still wants to help him. He finds Hob’s admittance that Dream is frustrating to be a relief, in its way. He would only feel more on edge if Hob pretended otherwise, surely to snap later when Dream was least expecting it, as so many have done.

“Give me your arm,” Hob says then.

When Dream does, Hob pushes up his sleeve, takes one of the markers from the floor and writes on Dream’s forearm, the wifi password is I love you.

“There,” he says. “Now you won’t forget.”

Dream touches the words with a light fingertip. “This is not good internet security.”

“Oh, so you do listen my ramblings,” Hob says, laughing. Always, Dream thinks. “What, you’re going to throw out my valentine because I cut the heart out a little wonky?”

He makes as if to rub the marker off, and Dream pulls his arm protectively to his chest. Hob’s smile softens. He carefully pulls Dream forward into a hug, Dream’s arm pressed between them. Dream tucks his face into the crook of Hob’s neck. It’s one of his favorite places to hide.

“I’ll help you fix your program after we find some dinner,” Hob tells him, rubbing his back.

“I think I should give up on using computers,” Dream mumbles.

Hob chuckles. “See how you feel about it after I make you some brownies for dessert.”

Dream hums in pleasure at the thought, and Hob kisses the side of his head. And Dream touches, again, the words Hob’s written on his arm, where it’s pressed between them. And allows himself to smile.

Wednesday, 6:03pm

Dream is attempting to cook dinner. Hob doesn’t think it’s going so well. At least not if the blaring fire alarm, which Hob’s just silenced by waving a dish towel at it until the smoke dissipated, is any indication. But it does mean he’s been treated to the sight of Dream with his sleeves rolled up, delicate hands at work—and wearing an actual apron.

Having soothed the alarm, he leans against the counter so he can shamelessly ogle instead of helping.

“What are you even trying to make?” he asks, eyeing the still-smoking oven.

Dream pouts. “Only bread. It should not be so hard.”

“You didn’t wait for me to get home to watch?” He imagines the sight of Dream aggressively kneading the bread dough. It shouldn’t be a turn on, but it kind of is.

“You would make a spectacle of my misery?” Dream says, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, like he knows exactly what Hob is thinking about.

“Definitely,” Hob says, and Dream sighs, but turns to take the attempt at bread out of the oven. It’s… pretty blackened, to be honest. “Butter’ll save it, I’m sure!” Hob says cheerfully.

“Nothing will save it,” says Dream, morosely. He pulls off his oven mitt in apparent disgrace, and— Hob catches his arm.

“How has this not faded yet?”

For Hob’s writing saying the wifi password is I love you is still on his forearm.

Dream looks sheepish. “I got it tattooed.”

Hob tilts his head at him, confused. “So you could remember the wifi password?”

“So that I could remember this.” He traces his finger over, I love you.

Hob feels a blush creep across his cheeks. But it’s a pleasant feeling. “This is not even my best handwriting.”

“I know,” says Dream. He does not seem unhappy about it.

Hob takes his arm, touches the words, too. “You could have just gotten this part done.”

“I think,” Dream says slowly, touching the part that says, the wifi password is, “that this is another form of the same.”

And Hob… finds himself tearing up a little. Because it’s true. It’s so silly that Dream, certifiable maths genius, struggles so much with basic computer skills. But Hob will do any silly thing for him, because he loves him.

“Yeah,” he says, taking a shaky breath. “It is.”

“Unfortunately, you can never change the wifi password now,” says Dream, and Hob laughs wetly.

“I really can’t, can I? Terrible security. The things I’ll do for you, darling.”

“Would that include making proper bread?” Dream asks, and Hob nods, patting his arm.

“We’ll fix it, don’t worry.”

Now he’s wondering how he didn’t notice Dream getting a tattoo. Though to be fair, they haven’t seen each other as much in the past two weeks as they usually would, thanks to very inconvenient scheduling. Apparently Dream’s taken advantage of that time to do this.

“Can’t let you out of my sight for a second,” he says, as he fetches a new bread pan from the cupboard. “God knows what you’ll come back with next.”

“Be careful or I will consider that a challenge,” Dream says, and Hob pauses as way too many images flash through his mind. He shakes them off. He’ll never be able to focus on anything like that.

And Dream, the bastard, is smirking.

“Watch that look on your face or you might find that flour you’re holding dumped over your head,” Hob warns, but Dream only looks victorious, and utterly uncaring of the bag of flour he's precariously picked up.

“How will you ogle me kneading the dough that way?”

Hob swipes a dish towel from the counter and throws it at him. Dream yelps and spills the flour, which poofs up in a cloud of white landing all over his black t-shirt.

“Hob,” he complains.

“Serves you right, you dickhead,” Hob says. It only returns the smirk to Dream’s face.

“If you feel that way perhaps I’ll decide I don’t need your supervision,” he says archly.

Hob tears a piece off of Dream’s first attempt at a loaf. Or rather, breaks off a piece, which is hard as stone. He shows it to him as evidence.

Dream snatches it and shoves it into his mouth. Bites down with a crunch so horrifying Hob’s afraid he’s broken a tooth. But Dream persists, chewing it painstakingly and then swallowing, as if by force.

“Taste good?” Hob asks.

“Yes—” Dream starts to insist—then dissolves into a fit of coughing that swiftly turns into giggles. Hob loves it so much when he laughs like that. It’s so rare.

Hob laughs with him. Then frees the crumpled bag of flour from Dream’s grasp and sets it aside, brushes the flour and crumbs from his shirt. Then he takes Dream’s arm and runs his fingertip over the words again, still in awe.

He again finds himself having to clear his throat to avoid tearing up. But he manages, and says, “Let’s get you some proper, not burnt bread, yeah?”

“Please,” says Dream, a tad sheepish. “I am… very hungry.”

Hob kisses his cheek, then goes about solving that problem, too.

[seungsuki]

station cafe - romance between a soccer player and a webtoon artist (gn! reader)

warning: boring tbh (+ too many words)

note: wrote this during while my professor was yapping so hopefully it's okay

itoshi rin hated whenever his practice games were played for too long. he’d like to blame it on his teammates who couldn’t stop goofing around every minute. 

“last train for station 2 is leaving”, the loud speakers announced 

rin froze thinking he must have misheard the announcement but when it repeated again, his legs began moving without him even thinking. speed walking through the busy salespeople and students, he nearly made it to the train. he could see the gates of the train and he wanted to yell for it to not close but he didn’t. he stopped and slowed down as he watched the gates shut tight. 

the train had left for station 2

the last train 

he fished out for his phone to check the train schedule. he wasn’t too familiar with the train routes other than the one he usually took. lucky for rin, the next train for station 2 is set for 5 pm

“5 pm?”, rin mumbled to himself seeing that it was only 3:07 pm 

what was he supposed to do with all this freetime? he never gave himself that much time. he used every second to practise soccer and to be on top. to defeat his no good of an excuse brother and win the world cup. now what? it’s not like he had any friends nearby 

that’s how the younger itoshi wandered into a random cafe near the station. opening the door, he could smell the coffee bean aroma filling the room. he walked to the counter and was greeted by the cashier, who in his opinion, was overly energetic for no reason.

ordering his favourite tea and bread, rin settled at a seat beside the window of the cafe. there weren't a lot of people except for you, seated at the next table. while rin normally didn’t act like a busybody, he was curious as to what you were doing. he could see a lot of papers scattered around the table. they looked like… character designs? are you an avid fan of a series he’s never seen before?

he couldn’t help but notice how absorbed you were on your computer with a drawing tablet attached to it. oh so you’re marking papers? you did look rather young to be a teacher. well it was none of his business. he brushed away any lingering questions and silently enjoyed his tea. tuning into the latest soccer clip between bastard münchen and manshine city, rin booed both parties since he didn’t support any of them and took the time to criticise their play style 

he was watching the so-called ‘hat trick’ when a paper flew directly on his face, blocking the match. almost instantly, he heard a small worried yell and a hand reached to remove the paper that didn’t allow him to see anything. why did this remind him of a heavily scripted shojo manga? 

“i’m so so sorry! are you okay?”, a voice asked and rin looked up to see the you in front of him this time

“i’m fine”, rin replied short not wanting to engage in the conversation 

“they turned on the stand fan so my papers flew everywhere!”, you groaned 

that’s when rin looked away from his phone and looked up to you. or more specifically, the paper dancing loosely between your fingers. it definitely looked like a detailed study of a character. just how much of an avid fan are you? then again he couldn't say much himself as he was in his own obsession over soccer. seeing how hard he was staring at the paper, you moved it behind you, allowing your skirt to hide the paper 

“i’m a webtoon artist. i have a lot of papers because i came back from a small meeting”, you said taking a seat at the empty chair in front of him

“im [name]! i think i've seen you somewhere haven’t i?”, you asked going through the train of thoughts 

“i play soccer”, another short reply followed by a tsk 

“oh yeah!! aren’t you the captain for the eleven team against the national team? i watched your match on tv, you were pretty awesome”, you remembered 

even though rin didn’t want to engage in the one-sided conversation, he couldn’t help but hear more than the commentary of his discarded phone (which was turned off later on). 

itoshi rin picked up a new habit. after his everyday practice, he’d make his way to the cafe near the station. he would order his favourite tea and bread but this time, an extra iced chocolate for you. he sits in his usual seat beside the window and waits. not long he’d see the door open to see you enter. today was rather chilly so it made sense for you to wear your favourite red sweater with white stripes. scanning the room, your eyes lit up seeing a particular teal eyes locking contact with you. a comfortable walk accompanied with a small wave, you made it to your designated seat, in front of him. time would fly as the duo exchange conversations about random topics

rin never realised how he fell for you. maybe it’s the way his heart skips a beat when he sees you? or how he’s obviously less mean to you. in his eyes, you aren’t too bad. you definitely weren’t some lukewarm npc that took up his time. you was someone who he enjoyed talking too. the people around him (or more particularly his teammates) couldn’t help but wonder what made the striker less grumpy 

“someone’s in a good mood~”, a singsong shidou said slinging his arm around rin 

“right? leaving practice so soon? have a date planned?”, karasu joined in on the teasing 

“yeah i do” 

that one sentence froze the soccer players. itoshi rin going on.. date? sounded impossible to his teammates. they were dumbfounded at how rin even got a date. a familiar ringtone caught the attention of rin and he peeked his phone to see your text. he kept your ringtone different from the rest of his usual notifications. grabbing his duffle bag, itoshi rin left his obviously curious teammates to go see you at your usual spots

the cafe beside the station

© seungsuki 2024-25 -- do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission. Any characters used in my work do not belong to me, they are created by their original creator

[idwt-money]

Mercy

MDNI 18+

1.6k word Noah Sebastian x fem!reader

CW: switch!noah, breeding, breath play (ish??), aggression, begging, unprotected sex, oral sex

you were (needless to say) in a bad mood due to work. your boss was bitching in your ear all day about documents and slide shows that needed to be done and signed off before the end of the week. you had a regular 9-5 office job, yet it was the biggest pain in your ass.

you walked into your home, sighing and fighting the urge to scream at the top of your lungs. you set your purse and keys on the coffee table in the center of your living room.

you took a look around to see Noah nowhere in sight. you walked up to the room you both had designated as his recording studio. you heard soft hums of the drums coming through the computer.

you knocked on the door and you were greeted with your gentle giant. there was a significant height difference between you and Noah, it always made you giggle because no one knew that behind closed doors Noah had begged for you in almost every way you could think of.

“hi baby! how was wor- oh shit” Noah wasn't able to finish a sentence before you were dragging him to your shared bedroom.

you opened the door, pushing him back onto the bed.

he propped himself up with his elbows and watched as you stripped yourself into nothing but your bra and panties.

“i had the worst day at work, baby.” you sighed as you straddled his lap. your hands explored his bare chest. you loved how often Noah wouldn't wear a shirt around the house. it made him look like a 5 star meal. his tattoos on display and the muscles on his arms made you feel like you could fall to your knees and admire him like he was an ancient greek god.

“what happened, love?” his voice innocent and unknowing of the situation he was going to be in within the next 15 minutes.

“my fucking boss. such a fucking prick. she thinks she the shit because her daddy gave her the fucking job.” as your words got more passionate with anger, your nails started to scratch Noah's skin like claws.

with a slight hiss, Noah replied.

“i see what's happening here. need to get it out, baby?” one of his hands going to caress your hips when you smacked it away, now leaning in to whisper into his ear.

“don't fucking touch me unless i give you permission.” your words were harsh, but Noah knew you'd never have any ill intent with them when it came to your bedroom activities.

you kissed down his jaw to his lips. the kiss was messy and full of lust. Noah always let you melt away after a hard day of work with no questions asked.

pulling away from Noah's lips, a string of saliva connected you both. disregarding his heavy breathing, you kissed down his chest, leaving soft bites before reaching his shorts.

you could see the outline of his cock through them already.

you placed kisses on the outline of his cock, giggling every time you felt it twitch under your lips.

you looked up at Noah, something devious brewing in your eyes. you bit the band of his shorts, slowly dragging them down his thighs all the while keeping eye contact with him. you let your hands do the rest of the work and pulled them off of him.

you pulled his boxers down just enough for his cock to spring out of them. you took your time giving teasing licks and sucks to the tip of his cock. enjoying the sounds of desperation falling from Noah's lips.

you gave in, giving the bottom of his dick one more lick for good measure before taking him as deep into your throat as you could manage.

“oh my fucking god!” Noah cried out, his body jerking with the feeling coming onto him so fast. his knuckles were turning white as he gripped the sheets beneath him, trying his best not to grab two fist fulls of your hair and fuck your throat unmercifully.

you held him in your throat for as long as you could before you started to get dizzy from lack of air. when you pulled his cock away from you, you took deep breaths. Noah's eyes were already glazed over with the most lustful gaze.

you started to move your head up and down, the tip of his cock poking at the back of your throat everytime.

“fuck! please! please let me touch you! i fucking need to!” Noah's words were dripping with torment. you paused your actions.

“oh really? you need to?” you raised eyebrows as you wiped the spit off of your lips with your finger.

“yes! god, i could get down on my knees and fucking beg you. please just let me touch you!” it sounded as if he was on the verge of tears.

beg on his knees?

“then do it.” your voice was stern.

his eyes widened.

“wh-what..? i didn't think you'd actually like-” he was once again cut off.

“i said fucking do it.”

you stood up from your knees, waiting for Noah to get on his. it felt like 10 minutes had passed when he was finally in front of you, on his knees, crying out his begs. the tip of his cock poking out through the band of his boxers, his hair messy from squirming around on the sheets, his cheeks pink and rosey from the slight embarrassment of what he was about to do. fuck. he was so pretty.

“please, baby, please. i can't- i need to touch you. i fucking need to feel you. please! have mercy on me!”

a satisfied smirk painted itself on your lips as you watched him beg beneath you. you ran your hands through his hair, pulling his head back once your got to the back of his head.

“you can touch me.” you placed a kiss on his forehead before you took your panties off, placing your cunt in front of his mouth. he took no time diving into you, his arms around your legs pulling you closer. your eyes were sewn shut and your hand once again found its place in his hair, tugging at it in pleasure.

“fuckkkk, baby, your tongue is so fucking good. shit.” your moans were relaxed and smooth until he plunged two fingers into you whilst his tongue took care of your clit.

your moans became higher pitched and you started to grind against his mouth. Noah was 1 in a million. he knew you better than you did, he knew how to cum in a matter of seconds if he wanted to. he was just so fucking good, you weren't sure if you would ever wrap your mind around the fact he was all yours.

Noah hit just the right spot with his fingers and you felt yourself start to crumble under him.

“right there, oh god right there, baby!” your cries started to become closer and closer together before you let yourself release. if it weren't for Noah supporting you from beneath you, you would have fallen onto the floor.

as your orgasm washed over you, your legs shook and the pull you had on Noah's hair only got harder. when you came down, Noah softly pulled his fingers out of you, licking them clean and shared a kiss with you, letting you taste yourself.

somewhere in the midst of kissing, Noah picked you up, laid you on the bed and you were now in the position he was in just moments ago. he soon turned you over and you had your ass up.

Noah took it upon himself to unclip your bra. he slipped his boxers off and had no patience with pushing into you.

knowing how your day had went, Noah didn't take it easy on you. he immediately started to fuck into you, reaching for you hands and pinning them behind you with his own, leaving your face buried in the sheets.

Noah's cock pushing deep into you made you feel like you were having an out of this world experience.

Noah never failed to give you exactly what you needed. the way he fucked you made slapping sounds to echo in your ears. that mixing with his grunts and breathy moans were like ecstasy to you. it made your heart flutter and your pussy clench around his cock.

“fuck, youre so perfect for me. jesus christ” Noah was barely able to get his words out without moans interrupting him.

you didn't even try to reply, your face was buried deep in sheets and your head was too fuzzy from the treatment Noah was giving you.

Noah had helped you up, your back to his stomach and whispered filthy words into your ears.

“want me to breed you? make you full of my cum, hm?”

“fuck! yes, baby!”

Noah wrapped his hand around your neck, cutting off the blood flow, giving you a dizzy feeling.

“gonna pump you fucking full of my babies.”

you were too into the feeling of you second orgasm of the night coming onto you to even register his words.

“i'm gonna make you forget all about your shitty day at work. you feel my cock? so fucking deep isn't it?”

you answered back with a pathetic nod and “mhm” before letting your orgasm push you into bliss.

Noah pulled you in closer and kissed the side of your head and he shot strings of cum into you.

you were both gasping for air when you came down from your highs.

after cleaning yourselves up, you laid down and took the rest of the night to be together.

“thank you, handsome.” you said, giving him a kiss before laying your head on his chest.

[cas-skz]

Tutor Boy

Yunho x Fem!reader

| non-idol au | university au |

18+!!!! MDNI!! plz&thnx

After begging your tutor to help you with your last assignment, he agrees to help in return for a favor. He proves that even the most innocent looking people, aren’t so innocent.

warnings: oral, soft dom Yunho, cock holding, overstimulation, penetration, unprotected sex, some cum play, petname - good girl, fuck toy

REQUESTS ARE OPEN :]

writers note: whoanelllly this took a few days cause I could not find my flow and it was just a ton of smut but I think it came together well lmao

enjooooy lots of love

cas xx

“So far Miss, you’re failing 4 out of 5 of your classes. I’ve spoken to your teachers and if you get all your late papers and assignments in by the end of February, your grades may increase. For now, I’m going to set you up with a tutor.”

That’s how you came to meet Yunho. From a list of tutors hung up in the library.

From an outside perspective, he wasn’t the typical guy you’d be into. You ran with the party crowd, drinking and hanging out with friends almost every night.

While Yunho was quiet, reserved and kept to himself. He spent most of his free time gaming online, tutoring and doing extra curriculars.

So outside of tutoring, you barely crossed paths.

The night started when you barged into his room. Needing help with the last paper you had due.

“I’m about to do a raid with Felix” He said motioning to the computer.

“Can it wait? I need your help. I’ll do anything to make it up to you, please please please?”

Yunho had agreed and helped you finish the paper. And you, kept your promise to make it up to him.

That’s how you ended up under his desk.

“You want me to do what?!”

“Only if you agree.” Yunho smiled softly, a pink blush taking over his cheeks. “But, yeah. I want head while I play. It weirdly helps.”

He was sweet enough to tell you multiple times you didn’t have to, even went as far as saying it was stupid and he shouldn’t have said it.

But you wanted to do it.

Your head bobbed slowly as he played, his fingers working away at the mouse and keys. Every few minutes his eyes would flash to you, shyly watching as he bit his lip to hold back moans.

Felix was on the headset, you had to make sure to keep quiet.

“We’re almost there. Just need to defeat this guy.” Yunho said, somehow able to hold himself together as your tongue slid slowly around the tip of his cock.

He was much bigger than any of the other boys you had been with and made it past 5 minutes without cumming. So you took your time, working your hand and mouth to please him.

He slid forward in the chair a bit as they started the round, and you went back to work, taking his length into your mouth, all the way to the back of your throat, swallowing the seeping pre cum.

As the game got more intense, his body reacted, causing you to gag a few times as he bucked his hips. You couldn’t help but touch yourself; your entrance was already dripping wet.

Your fingers slowly pumped your entrance as you used the other to hold his cock in place, your mouth gently sucking at the tip before kissing down his shaft.

You slid your tongue back up, quietly moaning as your fingers moved to rub your clit.

“Few more hits and we got him.” Yunho said, his hand moving from the keyboard to your head. His fingers slowly tangled in your hair as he started to control your movements.

You let him move your head, sucking and swirling your tongue, spit coming out from the corners of your mouth.

It turned you on even more, your fingers started moving faster as he continued to make you take his full length.

“This is it. Last hit.”

You knew he was talking to Felix, but as his cock started to stiffen and twitch. You knew it was for you too.

His cum shot into your mouth, a soft moan finally escaping his lips as he threw the headset off.

He looked down at you, noticing the hand between your thighs. His cock twitched in your mouth before you slowly let it fall out, swallowing his load.

“You uh….” He tried to speak, but his mouth stayed slightly open as he watched you.

You up looked at him through your eyelashes, moaning softly as you sat back on your legs, a hand bend tightly between your thighs.

“Sorry. I got carried away.” You said quietly, your eyes watching him.

“No, it’s fine…Just unexpected.”

You tilted your head, “What? That you got me soaking wet from your little gaming sesh?”

His eyes were shy, a small smile pulled at his lips.

You slowly crawled form under the desk, moving Yunho back a bit as you leaned against his desk, your fingers pulling at the end of your skirt.

“You’re just…you.” Yunho said with a breathy laugh, “Just not the usual girl I’d be doing this with.”

“Cute, I was thinking the same thing.”

You leaned forward a bit, exposing your cleavage as you leaned both your hands on his arm rests. “So, shall we continue?”

He swallowed hard and nodded.

You smiled softly, walking over to him and kissing his cheek. “Just let me know if you want to stop.”

Yunho wrapped his hand around his still firm length before gently grabbing your chin to turn your face to him. “That goes for you too.”

You looked into his eyes for a long moment before kissing him deeply, your hand taking over for his to stroke his cock.

“Now, I think since I had to spend almost an hour under there…” you trailed, turning around and sitting on his lap. You lined his cock with your entrance, looking behind you for an okay signal.

Yunho nodded, placing his hands on your hips and pulling you down, you moaned in unison as your walls stretched to fit him.

“I was hoping to get a lesson on this game. It sounded interesting.”

He kissed you shoulder as you slowly moved your hips, small moans continuously escaping from your slightly gaped mouth.

His arms snuck around you, one around your waist and the other across your body and holding onto your shoulder. his lips in your ear. “This seems like more of a reward.”

You lifted your feet as he scooted back to the computer, “Did I forget to mention you’re not allowed to cum?”

Yunho laughed, “Cute.” He let his arms fall to the keyboard and rested his head on your shoulder as you leaned back into him.

He explained the game as he played, but you had distracted him with your own little game.

You rolled your hips slowly, contracting your walls around him as he explained. You rubbed your clit, moaning softly in his ear as you came on his cock. Two, three, four times.

“How are you so good at this.” You whined, your body twitching from the continuous orgasms.

Yunho placed his hand on your stomach, holding you still. “My ex was into bondage and had this weird thing with edging. Two years together, so I got pretty good at it.”

“Guess that blows my plan.” You laughed, your body relaxing in his arms.

“If it makes you feel better, you almost got me like 3 or 4 times.”

You gently smacked his arm, “It does not! You did get me 4 times.”

Yunho moved his thumb slowly across your stomach, sending waves of comfort through your body as he slowly lifted you from him, sitting you back down on his lap.

He turned you towards him, his hand moving to gently rub your thigh.

You ran a hand through your hair as you looked at him, admiring him closer than you had before. Most of the other guys you had been with didn’t bother to even talk to you after sex.

“You don’t have to stay” Yunho said quietly, his eyes falling to your legs, “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. I know a lot of guys don’t really give a shit about that, but I do.” He poked gently at the dark freckles on your leg.

“Hey,” You say, bringing his attention to you. You smiled softly, looking into his eyes, “I want to stay.” You paused for a moment, your fingers playing witn the ends of his hair.

“You know, most of the guys I’ve hooked up with aren’t usually this sweet. It’s usually in and out, gone in 20.” You said shyly.

Yunho made a grossed out face, “That’s major douchebag energy. It’s a lot more enjoyable when you’re both comfortable, and can actually please the woman.” He winked

You leaned down to kiss his cheek again, only to have his lips catch yours.

His lips worked softly against yours, his tongue slid slowly against your bottom lip before slipping inside, moving with yours.

You pulled away a bit, “Show me how you treat a woman.” You whispered.

“Gladly.”

Yunho moved you to the bed, his kisses getting a little rougher as they worked towards your neck.

You moaned as he trailed soft kisses towards your ear, sucking gently before whispering. “Let me hear those pretty moans.”

His fingers trailed slowly down your body, tingling you throughout. His knee pushed your legs apart as he settled in between.

Yunho ran his fingers along your hip before using the tip of his cock to rub slow circles around your clit.

When your body julted a bit, Yunho brought his lips to yours, stopping his fingers to gently kiss you. “Just relax. Tell me what you want.”

His fingers slowly started to move again, “more?”

You nodded and moaned a quick “yes” before relaxing into the pillow.

Yunho started to kiss his way down your body, his fingers moved from your clit, slowly towards your entrance.

Your breathing got heavier as he reached your core, eyes watching him as he gently sucked at your clit, his tongue moving in slow circles in between.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” You moaned, your hands gripping the sheets as he continued to work at your clit.

He slowly slid two fingers into your entrance, your slick coating them as he started to move his hand.

Your hips started to rock, walls clenching at his fingers as you moaned his name.

Yunho’s eyes flashed to you, sending a chill through your spine. “Please fuck me, I need more.”

He moved back up your body, his fingers still inside you as he kissed your lips. His fingers were quickly replaced by his cock, slowly stretching you out as you moaned into the kiss.

His hips started to flow easily, the sound of your wetness joining the panting of your kisses. “Such a nice pussy.” He whispered.

Your body felt electric under his touch. Every movement and kiss from him made you want even more.

You pulled your lips away from his for a moment, “Harder.”

Yunho pecked your lips before leaning up, he lifted both your legs and held them together against his chest, his hips picked up speed.

You could barely hold yourself together, he felt so big in the new position.

“Fuck Yunho, fuck I’m- ” You couldn’t get the words out at you started to peak, gasping as your body trembled.

He slowed his thrusts to a stop, gently rubbing your legs as he lowered them to both sides of his body.

He leaned down and kissed you, letting your body calm.

You can wrapped your arms around him, one hang gripping his back and the other on his cheek.

“Where do you want me to cum?” He asked in your ear, his breath getting shaky as his thrusts started again.

Your head fell back as his lips worked at your neck again, roughly kissing and nipping at your neck.

“I don’t care,” your hips started to rock, “just please don’t stop fucking me.”

Yunho smirked down at you, his hand gently gripped your jaw. “look at me.”

Your eyes fluttered opened to meet his, watering as your walls started to contract again.

He pulled out quickly, his warm cum shooting onto your stomach before he slowly pushed it back in, he thrusted a few times, deeply hitting the right spot.

“Good girl, cum on my cock.”

Your body shook, gentle waves of pleasure rolling through.

He moved his body beside your, turning your head to push his cock slowly in your mouth.

You sucked on his length, adjusting yourself a bit as he scooped the cum off your belly with two fingers, “You gonna clean up my mess?” He asked with a tilt of the head.

You nod, happily humming as he wiped it onto his cock, that you eagerly started to suck on.

He smirked down at you, his fingers gently rubbing circles on your clit.

“You’re fucking addicting, you know that?”

You let his cock fall from your mouth and crawled to your knees, meeting him at eye level. “I think having a man who knows what he’s doing helps.”

Yunho placed his hands on your hips and pulled you closer, “Guess that means I have no other choice but to keep tutoring you. I mean, if this is the thanks I’m going to get.”

Your hand rested on his chest, “You don’t have to tutor me in exchange for this.” You placed kissed along his collarbone, bitting and sucking at his skin - feeling territorial.

“Consider me your little fuck toy, Yunho.”

[anachronisims]

How to EFFECTIVELY Use Empty Standby List to Reduce Flashing and Crashing

This tutorial is for TS2. Obviously. This is virtually the last "chapter" of advice for the Pink Flashing Survey Report (still forthcoming as a single readable thing but posted in bits and pieces over the last six months). PS it's a lonnnnnnng post. Ctrl+F "tldr" for the very short version once you open the cut.

"Part 1" of the Empty Standby List ("ESL") tutorial was already written comprehensively with screenshots by Digi at her wordpress. Following Digi's tutorial will get you set up with ESL as a routine automated background task your computer runs, typically every five minutes.

@gayars set up two instances of the routine, each running every five minutes, staggered two/three minutes apart. In other words, task 1 runs at 12:00, task 2 runs at 12:03, task 1 runs at 12:05, task 2 runs at 12:08, etc. However, I found that this negatively impacted the graphical performance of my game, notably by having the ESL task window flash over the game window, which I had never seen before, nor since reverting back to a single 5-minute task routine.

Anyway. Go do Digi's tutorial if you haven't already; I'll wait.

Background on Why this Matters

So, now your computer will be wiping the standby memory every five minutes. The thing is, this won't be able to have much impact on your game unless you wait to let it wipe before you do a major loading action.

Major loading actions are, in general order of strain (most to least strenuous):

Loading a full neighborhood.

Loading a large (3x4 or bigger) populated lot.

Loading a large unpopulated lot.

Loading actual CAS, if you have a lot of non-defaulted CC.

Loading a medium (3x3) populated lot.

Loading a medium unpopulated lot.

Loading a small (2x3 or smaller) populated lot.

Loading a small unpopulated lot.

Loading CAS catalogs from within a lot (e.g. using FFS clothing tool, "Change Appearance" on the mirror, shopping for clothes/trying on clothes on a community lot).

Turning up your lot view settings (generating other lots' lot imposters within your current lot)/panning the camera around.

You should already be doing at least all medium- and large-lot loading with the Lot View Settings Juggling Method, and “uint LotSkirtIncrease” removed from your userstartup.cheat - otherwise whenever you load a lot you are compounding the strain by also having the neighborhood load at the same time.

Using Resource Monitor Effectively

If you watched the Jessa Channel tutorial on flashing, she recommended downloading a third-party RAM usage monitoring software. This is unnecessary. For purposes of reducing your crashing, all you need is the native Windows program "Resource Monitor" that she also recommends.

To open it:

Click the Windows symbol/start menu.

Begin typing "Resource Monitor."

Click Resource Monitor when it shows up.

Once it is open, get to the useful information:

Click the "Memory" tab.

Make sure the "Processes" and "Physical Memory" subs are fully open, as above.

Sort by "Commit (KB)."

Each time you reopen Resource Monitor, it should restore your last view settings, so you won't have to repeat these steps.

While Resource Monitor is still open, "Pin" it to the taskbar so it will always be readily accessible.

Right-click the icon on the taskbar.

Click "Pin to taskbar."

If it says "Unpin from taskbar" you have already done this step :)

Now comes the monitoring part. You will focus on the dark-blue "Standby" block of the bar graph on Physical Memory.

Every fifth minute, when the ESL task runs, this will flash down to 0 and then pop up to about 30-75, depending on what you are doing. It will go higher faster if you are doing stuff, obviously, and hover pretty low if your computer is just sitting still. TLDR the remainder of this tutorial: only take stress actions when Standby is below 100.

As we all know too well, TS2 has a 4gb RAM limit. The problem is, TS2 seems to count the memory that is in standby, too, not just the committed/working set. Thus, before you take a major loading action (that is going to push up to 1.5gb into Standby), you need to wait for Standby to wipe so the game doesn't accidentally think it's using more memory than it is. Got it?

This is how much RAM my game is using when my neighborhood opens, pretty closely zoomed in on any particular lot. If it is zoomed out further - like a whole city block - both committed and working set are easily over 2.2gb. When I pan around the neighborhood, it continues going up. Portions of the hood that go back out of view seem to get relegated to standby, but yes, my game has crashed just from looking too much at my neighborhood from too wide an angle. Unless I slow down and let ESL run before moving on to the next section.

Six months of diligent Resource Manager monitoring has resulted in substantial reductions of crashing and flashing on my first hood view load and first lot view load. It is not 100% guaranteed, but it cuts it back to Very Playable Levels. And when I have tested the theory by purposefully not letting ESL run before a stress point, it always flashes and/or crashes within the next couple minutes.

SO! Here's what I do when I'm launching my game.

Because of overheating concerns, I always fully shut down my computer when I'm not using it for more than an hour. If I have been playing and experience a flash or crash, I will restart before trying again. @infinitesimblr, a survey Respondent who reported virtually no flashing or crashing despite a vast CC catalog, also recommends restarting between using Bodyshop or SimPE and the full game. I have found it may make a difference with Bodyshop (which I use too rarely to make a pseudoscientific claim) but that I have found basically no impact going from SimPE to the game. YMMV.

Immediately after Windows is done loading, I open Resource Monitor and wait a few minutes. Often background updates begin running and the Standby bar goes crazy - sometimes filling up the entire available RAM - and I just let it sit and do its thing. (Usually I start the computer right before my kid's bedtime so I am not actively waiting on it or anything. Go take a shower or make a sandwich or drink some water, like you did in the old days when the game itself took 20 minutes to load.)

Once the standby bar levels out and is consistently peaking no higher than about 250mb between ESL wipes, after the next ESL wipe, I will launch the game. (Usually between logging into Windowsat the beginning of storytime and checking Resource Monitor before we go do tuck-in, it is reliably hanging out below 100 unless a big TS4 or Windows update was downloading.)

Reminder: do not delete thumbnails anymore prior to launching the game. I also have turned off RPC's clear caches option and have observed faster loading times with minimal increases in crashing.

After the neighborhood selection screen comes up, wait for ESL to run again before opening your neighborhood.

If you have continue to have more than VERY sporadic hood load flashing after taking these steps, you should try launching into a subhood if you have one, then pivoting to the main hood if that's where you're playing that session after yet another ESL wipe. If that doesn't help you simply need to thin out your hood or accept the flashing. (I ended up deleting about 25% of my deco trees and 10-15 outer-lying lots that will be re-placed in a subhood.)

After the hood is loaded, navigate to the lot you want, but DO NOT actually load that lot until ESL runs yet again. Ditto for CAS - Do not select "Create New Family" until ESL has run again.

Play should be proceed as normal at this point. You probably don't need to alt-tab back to Resource Monitor again unless your sims are going traveling or you are changing play lots.

BONUS TIP #1: You can put a shortcut to the ESL routine on your desktop and push it manually (just double click the icon) if you don't feel like waiting once the game is loaded. I have had imperfect results with this vs. just waiting the five minutes, though, because the game wants to run through some stuff and flush it. But it's an option for you to experiment with.

BONUS TIP #2: If you have a really deep clothing/hair CC catalog, try to avoid using the FFS clothing tool option where you select every outfit for the sim, and their hair and makeup, at the same time. Instead, choose individual outfits by type and use the regular mirror option to change appearance (or SimBlender has it, I think, so they can do it where they already are).

[breekento]

hello! I love your fics on Higuruma on AO3! wanted to ask if you take any requests for Prisoner!Higuruma who survives culling games and turns himself in jail, but reader regularly visits him and waits for his release ?🥹 A bit of angst but fluff at the end please 💞

thank you for being my first fic request! I probably won’t write these as long as my fics on AO3 because it would take me months lol! But these are fun writing practices for me!

(wc: 1.6k, no smut, just pain and fluff)

“How are you sleeping, doll? Are you getting everything you need?” His voice crackles through the phone.

Your fingers tremble, squeezing the phone so tightly you were surprised it didn’t crumble in your grasp. “I guess so,” you reply in a small voice.

“I don’t like the sound of that, baby.”

You knew better than to lie, he was intelligent and ever observant of every hitch or quirk in your voice. “I just miss you, Hiro,” you say shakily.

He sighs deeply on the other line. “I miss you, too, doll. More than you can ever know. You’re still coming to see me tomorrow, right? I need to see that beautiful face.”

“Of, course.” How could you forget? It has become your weekly routine. Every week, the night before your visits with Hiromi, tossing hangers draped in clothes over your head in search of the perfect outfit. Open toed, too short, mesh, crop top. At some point you would need to go shopping for appropriate clothes to visit your boyfriend in prison but for whatever reason, it felt as if you were accepting defeat.

You knew very little of Hiromi’s mysterious work-life and he liked to keep it that way. The world of sorcery was foreign to you and your knowledge was shallow. Hence, the ringing in your ears, the numb feeling on your fingertips as your brain struggled to connect the dots on that day.

“I just don’t understand why you’re doing this to me, Hiro,” your voice was raspy, tears flowing down your face as you followed him out of the door.

“I can’t tell you,” he says, cold and distant as if he were desperately trying to disconnect from the harsh world around him.

“Look,” his voice is softer. His hands cup your face, lip distorted and eyebrows twisted upward in agony. “I’ve done bad, bad things. I can’t live with myself like this. You don’t want me here.”

“B-but how do you know? You don’t know,” you fumble over your words.

“I’ll be gone for a while, doll,” his forehead pressed against yours. At that moment, it felt doable. How long? Why? What have you done? You never asked, worried that you wouldn’t accept the answer.

Years had passed and it was doable. Not short of late nights, curled under the covers, fingers searching for the smell of his cologne and hair gel. Elbow stretched as far as you could reach, hand fumbling for the zipper on the back of your dress. Shit, if Hiromi was just here. Small tasks felt big.

Sitting behind your desk, mindlessly searching through your emails as a thinly faced coworker pops her head over the cubicle. “Are you going to the office pot-luck tonight?” She beams.

“Oh,” you jump in your seat. “I have plans.”

She frowns, resting her head on the half-wall. “You never do anything.”

You shrug, looking toward your computer screen. Explaining that you’re visiting your prison boyfriend was not something you cared to delve into with a superficial level of coworker.

The clock strikes 5:00pm and you are your own version of Cinderella, tossing your purse over your shoulder and striding towards the door. Only in this story, you weren’t running away from the probability of your carriage turning into a pumpkin. You were running toward your murderer of a boyfriend, clinging to that 30 minutes of quality time.

It couldn’t have been Hiromi. Not your Hiromi. The Hiromi who stayed awake late at night, holding your body close as it ached on your monthly. The Hiromi with tender fingers that grazed your skin covered in bubbles as you leaned against his skin as warm water poured over the two of you. The Hiromi who replaced the fresh flowers on your dining table every week, knowing you loved the scent. He couldn’t have been a killer. Surely it was for a reason. Was there such a reason?

“I’m here for Hiromi Higuruma,” you say through the window.

The guard’s eyes flicker to yours. Nodding before lifting the phone to her ear. Taking your cue, you sit in the waiting chair. Your legs bounce in anxiety, it never got easier.

The door swings open, a large guard standing in the doorway. Gathering your things, you walk toward the room. The room you knew too well. The tension in the air dissipates as the tall, dark-haired man stands before you. Even in this state, he was strikingly handsome. His hair, slicked back with strands falling forward onto his brow. His lips curl into a smile, eyes twinkling at the sight of you. His orange jump-suit hangs off of his body, wrists clasped together by handcuffs.

“There she is. My beautiful girl,” he purrs as you join him at the large table. It was just the two of you, and the guards that lined the perimeter. How romantic.

In his usual gentleman fashion, he waits for you to find your seat before sitting down himself. You adjust in your seat, face heating up as you scan his face.

“I missed you,” you say bashfully under his intense gaze.

“God. You get more beautiful every time I see you.”

You lean against the table, propping your head on your hands, “When are you ever going to get out of this place?”

“Funny you should say that,” he says with a grin. Your eyes widen, lifting yourself off of the table. “I have a date.”

Your mouth dries. “A-a date?”

“Doll, I’ve been here for 6 years. In a few months, they’re letting me out early for good behavior. Well, parole,” he says with a grin.

You stand from your seat, jaw slack and eyes rapid fire scanning his expression for any sign of a joke. “Y-you’re coming home?”

His eyes soften, looking up at you with those gorgeous sleepy eyes. “I’m going home, baby.”

Every muscle in your body wanted to lunge forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and tackling him to the ground. You haven’t even touched the man in years. You opt for covering your mouth with your hand.

“Keep holding on for just a few more months, doll. I’ll be home before you know it,” his eyes are kind.

“15 minutes,” the voice from the guard echoes throughout the empty room.

“My life here is boring. Tell me about yours. How’s work? How’s the house?”

He had truly set you up for success. You stayed in his home, completely paid for and taken care of by him. You didn’t have to work but you feared insanity spending your days alone in his large house. Brushing your teeth and watching his, dry and unused black toothbrush beside yours. His loafers that sit in the doorway, unworn and clean.

“Work is boring. They had a potluck tonight. My boss somehow thinks I’m the biggest idiot in the world while also piling more on my workload,” you say. It felt silly to complain about your mundane work tasks while he lived here. But he hung on your every word, soaking in the way your lips curled and eyes creased.

“Oh and I spent hours getting rid of weeds last weekend. The second you’re out of this place, that’s your job,” you say with narrow eyes.

He chuckles, leaning forward in his seat, “It will be my pleasure, baby.”

“It’s time,” the guard says. Each week, shattering your heart little by little. You stand, unable to stop the tears welling in your eyes.

“Don’t cry, darling. Not much longer. Just stay strong for a little longer,” his voice pleads.

You nod, using balled up fists to wipe your face. You watch him stand, towering over you as the guards guide him back to the mysterious place he now lived. He turns his face to catch your eyes, face sad as he watches the human form of his heart shatter before his eyes.

The door shuts and once again you are left alone. Only a few more months. Those words propelled you, every action you performed had a meaning suddenly. When you couldn’t reach something on the top shelf, when you couldn’t lift the garbage bag over your head, when you ran out of toilet paper you thought soon he will be here.

And soon came quick enough. You stood in front of your full length mirror, adjusting your sundress that fell over your curves. Your hair was fluffy and soft, draped over your shoulders. He knew what you looked like but you needed his first sight of you to be special, breathtaking.

With shaky hands and clammy feet, you stand outside the prison. If you weren’t leaning your body weight against the car door, you probably would have fallen over. You tap your foot anxiously, any minute now.

The door creaks open, a tall, lanky man dressed in black jeans and soft white shirt, the outfit he had left on that day. Before you could tell your feet to quit, you were running, no, sprinting towards the man.

He matches your speed, arms wrapping around your body as he lifts you from the ground. You bury your face in his neck, giggling through tears that coat his white t-shirt. His muffled laughs find your ears as he spins you, holding your body tightly. It had been years since you felt his hands on your back, his breath in your ear.

“I love you, I love you,” he chants against your face. He set you down, pressing both of his hands on each side of your face. “Let me get a good up-close look at my beautiful girl.”

Your cheeks blushed red under his gaze, “Let’s go home.”

[whywhaatt]

"hey i'm bored" (isaacwhy x reader)

-

word count: 2.028

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, hand kink(kinda), degrading, light choking

a/n: this is my first fic😜 i didnt proof read it yet so hopefully i didn't misspell anything too badly

-

10 hours. 10 hours of sitting at this desk and playing on my computer. I've gone through almost every app or game that I have downloaded. I've checked every social media, watched the newest uploads of my friends, and I even read a random wikipedia article. It's around 2am now. I need to go to sleep. After turning off my computer, and taking my headset off and hanging it on the monitor, I walk towards my bed and grab my phone from my nightstand.

1:59 AM... god damn. I gotta fix my sleep schedule. Nahhh I know I won't. The lack of sleep is kicking in, it feels like 5 minutes go by of me just staring at my lock screen. Turns out it was just 30 seconds cus my phone automatically turned off. It takes me a minute to realize it, but the only reason I do is cus a notification pops up.

"wassup" - isaac💀

tf... it's 2am?!? Why is he texting me?

~

isaac: wassup

me: heyy

isaac: sorry it's late. im bored

me: bro i just laid down💀💀

isaac: can i come over? larry and tanner and annoying tf outa me rn

me: telling them you said that🗣️🗣️

isaac: bro pls. ion know if it's cus im tired but y'know how it is. i just need to get out of the house

me: yeah ion care, just let me know when you're here

isaac: bet

~

That was random, I guess Isaac's coming over now. He's been over before, but not like this. What if something happens? I'm probably just over thinking this. Am I shaved? Yeah, I'll be fine.

~

isaac: i'm here😜

isaac: weird emoji sorry

~

"Thanks for letting me come over, I needed to get out of the house" Isaac said, sitting down on my couch.

"Honestly, if I with all of those people I would have to leave all the time. So glad I live alone".

"Yeah well, I love them. It would be weird being away from them after this long of dealing with their shit." Isaac said, "So, what are we going to do"? I didn't think about that. I kinda just panicked for 10 minutes while he was driving here.

"I don't know, we could watch a movie or something?" I ask while tossing him the remote, "Move over, this isn't your apartment. I wanna sit". I sat down not too far away, but Isaac scutched closer and wrapped his free arm around me. His other hand had the remote in it, just scrolling through shit on Hulu.

"YO YOU'VE BEEN WATCHING CHAINSAW MAN"

"GOD ISAAC I HAVE NEIGHBORS"

"Oh shit sorry, I love Chainsaw Man. Have you seen me wearing that mask. I look so good in it man, look here I'll show you-". I had to cut him off.

"Isaac, I've seen the photo like 20 times. As much as I love how you look in it, I'm not looking at it again."

"Shut up and look at it" He holds my chin, forcing me to look at the picture on his phone. Damn. He is hot. I'm speechless. The fact his hand can easily grab my face like this, I wonder what else they can do. Looking up at him, my cheeks start to get hot a little bit. This eye contact is painful. I need this to go to more. My hand goes to the back of his neck, our faces slowly inching towards eachother. There's a pause, almost like we realized what is happening.

I close the distance. Just a light kiss, short and simple, but we both need more. Immediately, Isaac's hand pulls me in.

"God.. I-I need... you" I moan in between kisses. Isaac pulls back, and I whine at the loss of contact.

"What?"

"I can't tell if I'm just tired, but I need you so badly. Please Isaac." I am begging. BEGGING. For this man.

"You're so pathetic." He says right before kissing me again, this time more passionately, and his hand moving towards my neck. He squeezes softly, making sure it wasn't too much for me. I'm a moaning mess.

"Do you want to move to your bed?" Isaac questions before picking me up bridal style and carrying me towards my bedroom. My arms are wrapped around his neck while I'm looking up at him. I'm just looking at his eyes, he's so beautiful. He sets me down by the foot of me bed, so I'm standing with my arms around his neck. I always knew he was taller than me, but the height different is crazy. He looks twice my height, and he's still bending over to kiss me.

"Baby, go lay down. I'll take care of you". I almost moaned when I heard that. The things I would let this man do to me is insane, ever since I've met him the list has been getting longer and longer.

I'm laying down my bed, when suddenly my feet are pulled and my legs are dangling off the side. Isaac takes his sweet time pulling down my Nike shorts, teasing me slightly over my panties. I need him to hurry up and get straight to the point cus this is unbearable. Again, he slowly takes off my panties and just barely touches my pussy. The tiniest bit of contact makes me shiver and whine for more.

And like that, Isaac's eyes look up at me as he starts eating me out. He keeps looking and studying my every reaction until he gets the one he wants out of me. Remember when I asked what his hands could do? Well, I found out. As his tongue is focused on my clit, he slowly puts two fingers into my hole. I have to cover my mouth with my hand so I don't scream.

With his fingers thrusting in and out of me and his tongue working wonders on my clit, I know I won't last long like this. My eyes are stuck shut, with one hand over my mouth and the other holding his hair back. My thighs are practically crushing Isaac's head at this point.

"Isaac, I cant" I'm panting in between moans, "I'm so close". As I finish my sentence, everything stops. I whine and whimper, needing more stimulation.

Isaac moves from below my torso to standing at the foot of my bed. He slips his shirt over his head, leans down and puts me back into the spot I was before. Then continues to undress himself right before me. His body is gorgeous. I cant stop staring at him as he gets on top of me, kissing me softly. I can taste myself on his lips.

He breaks the kiss and slides my shirt over my head, exposing my chest. The cold air hit me all of a sudden, making me shiver for a little bit. It feels weird to be fully exposed to Isaac. The closest we've ever gotten to this is almost kissing on New Year's, but we both realized we've just had a little too much to drink and we backed off. I guess Isaac notices me thinking, cus he stops everything and looks down at me.

"Babe, you okay? You can tell me to stop at anytime, I want you to be comfortable" he says, it was the most serious he's sounded all night (well I guess morning). "We can stop if you'd like, I'm sorry I rushed all of this-"

"No keep going, I just got lost in my thought. Thank you for caring for me, Isaac." I pause my sentence to kiss his lips softly, "I'm having a good time". Isaac nodded and continued kissing my neck, leaving little marks every now and again. His hand creeped up, massaging my left breast, and his mouth making his way towards my right. When his tongue made contact with my nipple, I let out a slight moan and let my eyes close softly. My brain feels fuzzy, probably from the lack of sleep, but I love it. It feels like I'm high, but in the cringy "high on life" way.

"I have a condom in my nightstand" I blurt out, "but I'm on the pill so if you don't have anything you can go without it". His head perks up from my chest, looking almost as excited as a kid in a candy store.

"Really?" he asks excitedly. Yup, exactly like a kid. I nod my head yes and Isaac immediately moves to get himself into position. He lines himself up, looking up at me in my eyes, and slowly inserts himself into me. Both of our mouths fly open, releasing a string of moans and whines. Isaac was bigger than I expected, but he feels so good inside of me.

After a couple of second of staying still so I can get used to his size, Isaac starts to move. My hands move to hold on to Isaac's shoulders as he slowly moves in and out of me. I push his head down to kiss me to try and muffle my moans, but it barely does anything.

"Faster, please, please go faster" I beg, with our faces so close we're practically sharing breathes. His pace speeds up and my head relaxes back into the pillow. I can feel myself getting closer and closer by the second.

The room is filled with random moans or praises from either one of us, not being able to hear anything else. If Isaac didn't wake my neighbors earlier, then they're definitely awake now. Honestly, I could care less if I get a noise complaint.

"Isaac- Oh my- I'm- I'm getting close" I moan out between breathes. His hand moves from behind me to my neck, lightly choking me. My mouth flies open from the new pressure on my neck. Isaac, seeing the opportunity, takes over my mouth. Inserting his tongue and immediately dominates my mouth. I'm being so loud right now, and I don't care.

"Isaac, I'm about to- I'm 'bout to cum. Please Isaac. Oh my god please." I gasp out with the air I have.

"Do it. Cum for me, baby. You're so amazing" Isaac moans into my ear, loosening his grip on my neck a little. My nails digging so far into his back, they could leave scars. My head flies back, eyes rolling to the back of my head, and toes curl. A wave of pleasure rolls over my body as I cum with Isaac still going inside of me.

"Just a little bit more, baby, hold on for me. Please baby, you're doing so good for me." Isaac lets out as his hand lets go to steady himself on the bed, getting the pace back to how he needs it. While overstimulated, I try my best to hold tight for Isaac.

He's close. I can tell. Not too much longer, Isaac comes inside of me. All of his body weight crushed on top of me, feeling like a weighted blanket. A wave of praises came out of Isaac as he caught his breathe.

"Let's get you cleaned up"

-

After we took a very, very long and slow shower together, we laid down in bed together just cuddling.

"The house is asking where I'm at, Imma tell them I'm staying here for the night if thats okay with you" Isaac asks.

"Yeah, it's perfectly fine." I reply, "Random question, well two actually."

"Hit me."

"Okay so one: did you mean for this to end up like this? And was this technically a booty call or whatever?"

"Okay, first off I'm not liked that. But I realize it looks like it. Nah, I just wanted to hang out with you. It was just one of those late night and I'm bored situations"

"Okay, great, umm and two: what does this make us now?"

"Wow, umm.. hard question. I don't know. What do you want to be?"

"Maybe more than friends, I really like you Isaac." I confess, just staring into his eyes through the dark. He leans in and kisses me.

"Will you be with me?"

a/n: i hope you liked this:P my requests are currently open so make sure to leave some if you have any!!

[zweetpea]

Interlude: Between wind and stone.

Cw: I don’t think anything, but if I’m missing something you can leave it in the comments

As you walk along the trail you couldn’t help but feel like someone’s watching you. You shake off the feeling and keep on your way.

“You won’t be welcomed in Liyue descender.” You hear a voice call from behind you. You turn around and see Dainsleif walk towards you.

“Every freaking time.” You pout. “I was promised hot dudes and mommy milkers, and yet twice now people have been hostile towards me.”

“You should go back to whatever forsaken land you came from and leave Teyvats people alone.”

“I can’t. I don’t know how. Honestly I’d love to listen to you, I have family, friends and a promising future back home. So far everyone has been very hostile towards me. There’s really no reason for me to want to stay. Yet I still can’t leave.”

“Follow me. There’s old manuscripts in the abyss that might help you get home.”

“Why should I trust you?”

Dainsleif sighs and pulls you closer by your hips. “If you be good and listen I’ll reward you.” You blush at his actions but quickly think of a comeback.

“Can I choose the reward?” You smile slyly,  not unlike a fox bearing its teeth and taunting its prey.

“No. You get a kiss.”

“Can you at least kiss me on the lips?”

“Fine.”

“For a whole minute.” You stipulate.

“5 seconds.” He argues.

“45 seconds.”

“6 seconds.”

“Hey! Fine 44 seconds.”

“5 seconds.”

“You can’t-! Fine, how about 10 seconds?” You pout. 

“Deal.” He finally agrees. He takes your hand and takes you through the abyss. At one point he has to fend off a horde of enemies and he just picks you up and carries you bridal style.

‘Is this going to be a normal thing? People just carrying me away without my permission?’ You think as he runs through this labyrinth of halls.

Finally we get to the library he mentions and he puts me down. We walk through and search for the books and manuscripts and texts we might need. The way Dain studies the books is so mesmerizing. He gets lost in them, you disappearing from his thoughts. 

10 minutes in you hear a noise coming from down the hall so you sneak away only to find a hydro slime bouncing towards you bring you a sunsettia and some cooked fowl. The small slime stops at your feet and bounces in front of you. “Is this for me?” The spine nuzzles your leg in a sign of approval as you take the food and pet the little dear. “Thanks.”

 You walk back towards the blond and he doesn’t even look up as he remarks, “You should be more careful around them.”

“Aren’t they your people? Why are you so hostile towards them?”

“I’m not hostile, but I don’t think that you should just go around eating everything that strangers give you.”

“Newsflash: I don’t exactly have a vision, I don’t have any mora, and I don’t have a weapon. Taking handouts is the only way I’ll be able to survive.”

“You’re supposed to have powers untold.”

“Well, I don’t. I’m a college student who’s studying computer science and engineering. I got sucked in here because I found Kate Kaslana and she got pissed at me.”

“Once you get back home you can make up as much as you want. ‘Computer’ what a ridiculous word.” Dain rolls his eyes. He grabs the book he’s reading and grabs some chalk. Then he draws a circle and a slightly smaller circle inside of the original, and finally draws symbols in between the two.

“Is this a transfiguration circle?”

“Transportation circle, actually.”

“I’m really going home.” You smile. “Hey before you finish I get my kiss.” You demand.

“I suppose that’s fair.” He gets up and takes your face in his hands. He then leans down and meets his lips with yours. You close your eyes and enjoy yourself. You put your hands on his broad chest and run them over his torso. Then, as quickly as it began, it ended. 

“That was so nice.”

“Um… glad you thought so. Now time for you to go.”

“I don’t think so.” A deep gravely voice calls for the entrance. The two of you jump back in surprise and see an Abyss Herald. “You’ve foiled our plans for far too long Dainsleif. It’s our turn to get the drop on you!” He charges in, grabs you, holds you under his arm and makes a run for it through a portal. 

[isaacswhy]

horror games w/ the group

the group x gn!reader (sfw) summary: headcanons (kinda) of playing a horror game with each of the group members. requested?: no, inspired by grunk playing fnaf

Isaacwhy

He first saw the horror game on his steam front store page and decided to buy it.

When you asked him if he was going to beat if first try, he just laughed. Not a yes or a no.

As soon as he got into the game, Isaac got eerily quiet. He was normally a pretty loud person when it came to playing games, but this was your first time seeing him play horror.

When he died, Isaac let out a high-pitched yelp like a little girl. The tension in him released and he finally let out a laugh and explained just how scared he had gotten.

You offered to help play it for him when he was getting tired, which he promptly said no. He was getting focused into the game.

He finished it at an average pace, with a fair share of deaths during the run. He gave you a big grin and hugged you really hard when he won, feeling accomplished.

He posted a tweet about beating the game and took a picture of you next to the win screen. All in all, successful day.

Softwilly

You showed Nick a tweet about how hard a brand new horror game was, and that was that. He had already bought the game and installed it before you were done talking.

When you asked him if he thought he could beat it, he looked at you like you were insane. "Of course I'm gonna beat it. It's gonna be easy," he said.

He died really quickly, almost at the first point in the game in which you can die. He got pretty mad.

You gave him some consolation kisses but he was determined to beat the rest of the game flawlessly. You bet him $5 he wouldn't.

It took less then fifteen minutes for you to get your $5. He raged pretty hard, but he swore that he'd beat the game in less than five deaths.

He finished the game with just under ten, but he was pretty confident with how he did. By the next day, he was playing the game again.

Every time he improved in an area, he'd show you really proud of what he did. You gave him loads of encouragement.

BigT / Tanner

He first saw the game on a livestream of one of his friends and motioned you over to his desk. He asked you if he should play it, and you told him sure.

You nudged him and asked if he'd beat it first try. He very jokingly responded that he would do it easily, boasting his skills.

It took him a little while to die, but then after that he let down his guard and died a bunch. It turned into an unserious laugh fest with the two of you.

Every time he would make a really bad mistake and die, the two of you would bust out laughing.

Tanner took videos of the experience and posted a few to his Instagram story, but it was way funnier in the moment.

By the time he had beaten the game, it was four in the morning. The two of you cheered and celebrated, to your roommates' dismay. Oh well.

The rest of the week, the game became an inside joke and you'd end up laughing your heads off whenever it was mentioned.

Yumi

You were actually on his computer scrolling through steam when a game popped up that you found interesting. Blake was on the bed.

You called him over and had him give his opinion, and he was super into the idea of watching you get scared at a game.

Thus, you ended up getting this game and installing it. He gave you words of encouragement as you booted it up, but you were scared out of your mind.

It didn't take long for you to die and give up on the game entirely. Blake liked horror, so he was happy to step in for you.

He died way less than you expected him to. He would point out things he did to outsmart the enemies but also kept focused on the game.

When he won, he celebrated and took a picture of the two of you together, putting it on his story with the caption "just beat this game ama"

When asked about it on his stream, he said, "Oh, that? Yeah, it was pretty tough. Had Y/N at my side though, so we're chillin'. Can't have a bad time there."

Larry Croft

You and Larry were hanging out on his bed together when he saw a game on his timeline and showed you his phone.

He got up to buy the game and install it, and you stood up and sat into the chair you had next to his to watch him play games.

He decided to stream the game with you at his side, and you were more than happy to be there.

He was pretty bad, all things considered. He died way too often and in places he knew how to beat. But you were his sidekick.

When he'd get too scared or during cutscenes, Larry would reach down and hold your hand under the desk, getting close to you.

You called Isaac into the room, who became Larry's hype man in the background of the stream.

Soon enough, the whole group house had piled into Larry's room to egg him on and backseat his stream.

When he finally did beat the game, the celebration was massive and Tanner ordered pizza for the whole house.

After the stream, in bed, Larry told you, "That was really fun, but scary as shit. Thanks for being my support system."

Grunk

Grunk had been sent the horror game to play by a friend, likely Isaac. He shrugged and told you to join him.

As soon as he got in the game, Grunk told you he was going to beat the game flawlessly, with no deaths. You grinned and nodded, not believing him at all.

He kept the streak up for an impressive amount of time, over halfway through the game. It went straight to his head, and he was bragging about how well he understood the game.

When he finally did die, Grunk's ego was shattered. He looked crushed and he slid down in his chair, defeated. It took over five minutes to get him to even try again.

When he did try again, he failed over and over. It took him hours to finish the game.

As soon as he won, it was like all the disappointment left him and he jumped around his room cheering about how good he was. You laughed and celebrated him.

The next day, he would make a lot of small comments like, "That game was really tough! I did great though, didn't I?"

It was kind of annoying, but you gave him lots of encouragement and would agree with him.

[iguana-eyanna]

Took You Long Enough

Pairing: Shayne Topp x fem!reader

Summary: All of your friends are tired of you and Shayne flirting with each other even if you two claim your friends, so they have to take matters into their own hands

Requested by @winifrede , hope you like it!

You walked into work, feeling energized.

This has been your fifth year working at Smosh. You handled the writing in your first two years, then after a few cameo appearances, you became a full cast member.

You go to the kitchen first, wanting to grab a Celsius before the office meeting.

"Celsius? I'm surprised you didn't go to your regular coffee place down the street." a voice asks out loud.

You smile to yourself, turning around with your drink as you saw Shayne.

He was by the shelves, trying to find one of his snacks that he purposely hides in the back.

"Wanted to change things up a bit, but I also chose to stay sane and not jittery every 5 minutes."

Shayne laughs, giving you his signature grin.

"That reminds me, did you like that book I gave you? I know it wasn't your type of genre, but it made me think of you." He says, giving you his full attention as his snack was long forgotten.

Your eyes brighten as you dig in your bag on your side, digging to find it.

"I loved it so much! I think this has to be my top 5 books. Thank you for lending it to me." You said, offering it back to him.

"Anytime. Let me know if you want any other recs." He said. You two talked a bit more before you had to go, but what you didn't know was that a few of your friends were secretly watching you two.

"See how they flirt with each other? No wonder they have fan edits." Jackie points out from her chair. It was true, since you've been in more videos, the fans speculated how you and Shayne had great chemistry on screen and on vlogs. But Shayne always said that hasn't dated in a long time and you've been trying to see people (but haven't found anything long-term).

"I'm really surprised they haven't thought of dating each other by now. They seem really good together." Kimmy said, sighing.

"Too perfect." Damien mutters softly as he was working on his computer.

Jackie and Kimmy perk their heads up and look at their friend who hasn't realized what he said.

"Is there something you would like to share with the class?" Jackie asks, a bit too hostile.

Damien stops typing his keyboard as he realized that he made a mistake.

"I- um, don't know what you're talking about." Damien says, acting dumb.

Jackie and Kimmy get up in unison and corner Damien in his seat.

"Spill it Haas." Kimmy says, pointing her finger at her.

Damien raises his hands in the air for defense, squinting his eyes.

"Okay, okay! You got me." He says. The two girls lean in closer so no one could hear but them.

"Shayne and I were hanging out at his place and I noticed he got new books. I asked where he got them and he said he was borrowing them from her. After that, he just started rambling on and on about what they had in common. Then, he was thinking of asking her out on a date."

Jackie and Kimmy squeal almost jumping up and down.

"Wait, why hasn't Shayne asked her out yet?" Kimmy asks.

Damien sighs. "He's tried, but he's too shy when he tries asking her. I guess since he's still trading books with her, he still likes her, even if it's killing him that they're just friends.

"Well, we have to change that. And I know how..." Jackie says in an evil tone, looking at her desktop for her unfinished script for their upcoming video: Smosh Pit Theater.

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

Most of the cast was on set for shooting the fan fiction video. There was you, Jackie, Damien, Chanse, Angie, Kimmy, Courtney, and Shayne. Everyone was wearing their black turtlenecks.

You were all about to record as you explained the audience of what's to come.

"Hello everyone. Today, we will be showing a special type of Smosh Theater. Not only did some of our cast members wrote fanfiction about us, but we have a bigger budget as well!" Damien said at the camera.

Now it was Kimmy's turn to speak to the camera. "All of the budget was used on props and costumes! Our writers today are Jackie, Courtney, and Damien." they all take their individual bows.

"No one knows what the writers wrote so we are acting this out for the first time." you later explained.

"This is a serious production and we are serious actors." Shayne says with a pretentious voice.

"Without further ado, let us begin." Courtney concluded.

Since she had the floor, it was her turn first. Courtney wrote about the members surviving in a post apocalyptic world.

Then, it was Damien's turn. He wrote a fic that was about the smosh members in a spy noir setting where they tried to find out who killed their boss, Ian Hecox. You thought it was such a great script.

Finally, it was Jackie (who looked a little too giddy). She steps right up and holds a stack of papers in her hands. "This fanfiction was inspired by two of my friends, known to swap their favorite books to each other. I think it's hella cute."

You look a bit off-guard as well as Shayne, not knowing what will come next. "I was too eager to write this that it only took me a day. For our final fanfiction, I give you 'A Hidden Chapter of Our Love,' written by me."

She starts giving everyone their roles:

Shayne is the lead role, a soft-spoken bookworm

Damien was a theater kid who wants to go to Juliard

Chanse is the captain of the cheerleading team & the school bully

Courtney was the narrator *her lines will be italicized*

Kimmy was the ditzy cheerleader

Angie was the misfit, who often got in trouble

Jackie was a prestigious art student

and you, the only nice, popular cheerleader who starts to fall in love with the bookworm, Shayne

Everyone started wearing their costumes, fitting into their roles. You, Kimmy, and Chanse had pom poms, Shayne had books, Damien was wearing a black scarf with that hat from the musical Newsies, Jackie held a sketchpad, and Angie wore a leather jacket.

Everyone had a script in their hands and was ready to act out Jackie's script.

Scene 1: The Meet Up

It was the first day at Smosh High, and students were eager to have a memorable senior year.

Here we have Shayne, a shy scholarly student who wished to get out of his small town and go to his dream university.

"Just a few more months and I can get the hell out of here." Shayne said, shifting his glasses.

"Don't I know it." Damien replied.

Damien was Shayne's best friend since junior high. He was always the star of each show he's done. And like Shayne, wants to leave the bounds of his old life and rise like the phoenix he is.

They walk in the hallway to find their homeroom and accidentally bump into a group of cheerleaders.

"Watch it, nerds."

Chanse said, knocking down Shayne's books to the floor. Chanse was the most ruthless cheerleader at their high school. he often picked on people who weren't in the cheer squad or in a sport.

"Yeah, what he said." Kimmy replied.

Kimmy was your pretty cheerleader that all the students wished to have, but at times was pretty clueless. The two strutted away except for one cheerleader.

"I'm sorry about my friends." You said, kneeling down to help Shayne with his books.

That was the only nice cheerleader on the squad. She wasn't like the other girls, and had a dark secret that only two people know in this school. She can't help but notice how cute this blonde guy with his books.

You and Shayne can't help but snicker after those words.

"Don't bother, you don't want to be seen with a low life like me." Shayne said, brushing you aside.

She got up and shyly looks over her shoulder till she hears Chanse calling her to follow them to the lockers.

"I don't get why you're so mean to her, she was just trying to help." Damien says.

Shayne rolls his eyes.

"It's all just an act. Cheerleaders like her would do anything to be recognized to become prom queen."

Shayne stated as the two make their way to homeroom.

Scene 2: You Again?

Jackie and Angie were talking into their first period of AP Literature and see their friend since kindergarten come late and sit next to them.

"Well well well, the popular girl is gracing us with her presence." Angie said, pretending to bow.

"Ha ha, very funny." You said.

"You sure Chanse won't be upset when he hears you're talking with us?" Jackie asks, pretending to draw on her paper.

"No, I don't get why he told the squad we can't have any other friends outside of the team. I love you guys I want us to have the best senior year ever." You said.

Jackie and Angie aw as they all hug.

"By the way, the teacher told us that we got paired up randomly with the people in our class for the entire year. Me and Angie got paired up." Jackie says.

"And you got paired with Shayne in the back, you two will hit off since you both love-"

The cheerleader shushes Angie, looking around to see if anyone heard.

"You know you can't say my secret to the school. If word got out, I'll be done." You exaggerated.

Angie rolls her eyes as she puts her feet on the table.

"I'll meet up with Shayne but I'll see you guys after school?"

They wave goodbye while you make your way to Shayne who was reading a book.

"Whatcha reading?" You ask.

"It's called 'None of your beeswax.'" Shayne stubbornly says.

"Ouch." your friends said offscreen.

"Look, we're about to work together for the entire year. Can we try to at least tolerate each other?" you ask.

"Fine." Shayne says.

The bell rings and everyone gets out of their seats, collecting their things. The cheerleader and the bookworm decide to meet during the weekend to talk about their project.

When Shayne looks down at her seat, he sees that she left a book that she must have forgotten. He picks it up, reading the cover.

"Pride & Prejudice? Why does she have this?" He asks out loud.

What he doesn't know is that he's about to unlock your biggest secret.

Later on, the plot thickens as your character and Shayne begin flirt with each other.

"-and that's how Damien and I are banned from the local Denny's."

You laugh at his story as you tuck your hair behind your ear.

"You know, you're pretty nice when you're not rude to me."

"and you're not as stuck up as I thought you'd be." Shayne replied.

Shayne gives you a gaze, trying to figure out who is this girl.

"By the way, I've been meaning to give you back something." Shayne said, taking out your copy of Pride & Prejudice.

"Where did you get that?" you ask, dramatically.

"You left this on your desk. I thought this was for school but this wasn't on the reading list."

She takes it away from him, hugging it closely.

"Be careful! It's a hardcover." You whispered, peering down to see if it was damaged.

"You're nervous that I found a book, you're the only cheerleader in our AP Lit, are you..."

Shayne leans closer into her ear.

"A bookworm?"

You try so hard to stifle a laugh. You got back into character and look at Shayne.

"Yes, I've been hiding it since I was 12 years old."

Shayne gasps out loud, surprised. A smart cheerleader in his presence? He thought those never existed.

"Dear god." Chanse said behind the camera.

"Promise not a word goes out. Only my friends, Angie and Jackie, know. I'm just trying to get by till graduation, then I could be whoever I want to be."

"You know, I feel that. Your secret is safe with me." He says.

Scene 3: Everything falls apart

After her secret was revealed to Shayne, they start to hang out more. They trade books behind the football stands and often hid in the library, discussing the plots of each story they read.

"Wait, you like hanging out with that Shayne guy? I thought he hated your guts!" Angie says.

"His best friend is so hot, especially when he sings Santa Fe." Jackie giggles.

Damien hides his face in his hands, feeling slightly flustered.

"I thought so too, but he seems sweet. I'm happy thatI found someone who has something in common with me."

"Or rather someone you like." Jackie hinted.

"We're just friends, nothing more. Let's go, we're going to be late for class." You said, getting your bag and heading your separate ways.

What the girls didn't know was that Kimmy was in the background, hearing every word her cheerleader friend said.

"Chanse will definitely want to hear this." she said, running away to find him.

Switch to Damien and Shayne who were by the lockers, talking mindlessly.

"So prom is coming up, do you think you're going?" Damien says.

"Prom is just a stupid event where teenagers are stuck in a room all night secretly hating on each other's guts in the school's gym." Shayne says, annoyed.

"So... no." Damien asks.

"You out of all people should know that I am not going to set foot at a school dance."

"I thought you could ask that cheerleader out since you've been sneaking off after school to the library. I'm thinking of asking that girl Jackie, she's so talented, and pretty, and smart, and pretty..."

"Whoa. what makes you think I should ask her?" Shayne asks.

"You guys are like Benedick and Beatrice from Shakespeare’s finest works. You both hate each other with a passion. Then, you realize you two are meant to be."

"Yeah, meant to be..." Shayne repeats his friends words.

Towards the end of the day, Chanse and Kimmy confront there fellow cheermate.

"Look girl, we need you to focus our way to the Cheer championships. You can't be associated yourself with some geeks. It'll ruin our image." Chanse snapped.

"Yeah, what Chanse said." Kimmy said

"So drop your loser friends, or you're off the team." Chanse said, strutting away with Kimmy.

"Hey!" A voice cried out. The cheerleader turns around to see Shayne running towards her, hiding something behind his back.

"I know we shouldn't be caught talking together in public, but I wanted to ask you somethi-"

"Shayne." You stopped him.

She takes a deep breath and is about to say something that she will soon regret.

"I don't think we should carry on about us: being friends and all. You're just a bookworm and I'm a cheerleader. We shouldn't mix." You said, walking away.

Shayne takes out a bouquet of flowers and throws them to the ground.

Everyone behind the camera feels bad for his character as they aw in pity.

"Prom is a waste of time... and so does pretty girls that break your heart."

After that scene, everyone changed into their prom outfits. Once you've changed, you were going back to set but you could hear someone saying your name. You were about to ask who it was but you see Damien and Shayne with their backs toward you, oblivious that you were there.

"I think Jackie is trying to get me and her to pair up." Shayne says.

"Really? I haven't noticed." Damien lies, trying to hid Jackie's secret.

"Like the switching books concept? We've just been doing that for a couple of years, it's not that romantic."

Damien looks at his friend who was clearly in denial.

"It's just us, tell me what's wrong man."

Shayne takes a deep breath.

"What I'm scared most is the kissing scene. I just... don't want things to change between us."

You feel your heart go down in your stomach. Of course he doesn't like you like that. You were about to leave until you heard Shayne speak up.

"I'm falling hard for her. And every time I don't tell her how I feel, it's just another day of letting her go."

Damien sighs and pats his friend's back.

"You'll never know how she feels until you ask her."

They sound like they were about to leave, so you made sure you were out of sight. At that moment, you knew what to do now.

Everyone gets ready for the prom scene on set. Courtney resumes her narrative.

Scene 5: One Final Dance

It was prom night. Everyone was dressed and was excited for tonight's festivities. Damien and Shayne walk in to their school gym.

"Thanks for coming man, you know you didn't have to come." Damien says.

"Don't worry, I'm just here to make sure you don't look like a fool in front of Jackie." Shayne said.

Then comes out Jackie and Angie. Jackie was sporting a ball gown while Angie was wearing a slip dress with her signature leather jacket and converse.

"Hi Dami, you look very handsome." Jackie says, hiding her giggles.

"And you look as radiant as the sun, m'lady." Damien bowed, kissing her hand.

"Ugh. Gross guys." Angie said.

The new couple hook their arms and make their way to the dance floor.

"Forced to come here too?" Shayne asks Angie.

"Yeah, Jackie would have lost her mind if she didn't have her moral support system. Thank god I didn't have to handle her alone."

"Who else did you guys come with?" Shayne asks.

"That would be me." a voice said.

Shayne turns around and sees you in a really pretty dress.

"Wow" Shayne said, not following the script anymore.

Angie makes her way out as someone cues some slow dance music that wasn't copyrighted.

Shayne tries to look away, crossing his arms as he looks down at the script.

"Thought you didn't want to be seen with me?" He asks.

"I had a change of heart, especially when I quit the Cheer squad."

Shayne turns around, not believing her words.

"Why did you do that? Don't you want to be popular?" He asks.

"No, I don't think I ever did. I just got lost of where I belong in high school."

"And where do you want to belong?" He asks.

"In your arms."

Everyone oohs off screen as you and Shayne blush like idiots.

Shayne awkwardly places his hands around your waist as you wrap yours around his neck.

"Remember when you gave me back my book? I wanted to give you something else." You said, silently gulping.

"What did you want to give me?" Shayne shyly asks, thinking you'll just give him a kiss on the cheek.

"This." you whispered.

You lean in to Shayne and kissed his lips. Your heart was beating a thousand times per second. You pull away and look at Shayne who looked off guard.

You look scared, not knowing if this was the best idea. It wasn't until Shayne dropped his script and kissed you again, holding you tight against him. You held on too, as your script was long forgotten.

Everyone of your friends cheered on. You two couldn't tell how much time passed till you heard someone speak up.

"Uh, guys? We're still rolling." Garrett said. You and Shayne pull away, looking a bit out of breath.

"Sorry, got lost in the scene." Shayne said as you two picked up your scripts on the floors.

"Mmm hmmm" Chanse hummed as people started to break out of laughter.

After the scene was done, you all wrapped up the episode and congratulated each other on a job well done.

When you dressed back, you bump into Shayne unexpectedly.

"H-Hi." you nervously stutter.

"Hey, I was um, actually looking for you."

"Oh, what's up?" You said, already knowing what he wanted to ask.

"That kiss... it really meant a lot to me. But I, I wished we could had our first kiss after a first date."

"Shayne Topp, are you asking me out?" You asked, smiling.

"Yes, I'd love if we could go on a date together."

"Took you long enough." You said, making him chuckle.

You two went out of the studio to head to your favorite cafe down the street, walking hand in hand.

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

"All that hard work and they didn't thank us." Jackie says as Kimmy and Damien see that you two weren't around.

"I'm sure they'll say something later. For now, let them have fun." Kimmy smiled.

Damien gets a buzz from his phone and sees a text from Shayne.

He opens it and sees it's a pic with you and Shayne smiling with a message:

Thanks for the meddling, wouldn't be here without your guys' help. Will let you know how it goes.

Damien just chuckles and puts away his phone, letting his friend enjoy his first date with you as Jackie and Kimmy are already planning your wedding.

[whatsnewalycat]

Psychomanteum / Chapter 14

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC Louella (2nd POV)

Chapter 14: Wish You Were Here

Chapter Summary: Dieter takes action.

Word Count: 9.9k+

Content / Warnings: dieter pov, implications of suicidal thoughts, swearing, alcohol use, airplane, uncertainty, parker/jackie, infidelity (not our heroes), thoughts of cocaine use/relapse, opera, fame, very vague understanding of the criminal justice system excuse that pls, bribery, lotta fucking dialogue, lotta yearning and self-reflection, angst, our boy is a big sappy mess and we love him for it

Notes: Chapter title from “Wish You Were Here” by Pink Floyd. First and foremost, everything is gonna be ok, ok? I promise. Also, good news for people who like this story—since we’re nearing the end, I’m going to make it my primary writing focus for a while. Will be posting to AO3 later bc I can’t from mobile it’s a nightmare.

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— Dieter senses your absence before he even opens his eyes. 

Oftentimes you wake before him, still weaning off your internal alarm of 5:30AM EST (not-a-fucking-chance o’clock PST). When this happens, you brew some coffee and drink your morning cup in bed, passing the time by reading, or fucking around on your phone, or writing in your journal. 

Most of the time he opens his eyes and finds you deeply engrossed in one of these activities. Sometimes you’re cuddled up into his side, silently tracing patterns onto his skin. Even when you’re not in the same room when he wakes, he can still feel you, your life force brushing up against his. 

But this morning is different. 

Dieter winces at the morning light and sits up, rubbing his face before looking around the room. He clears his throat, then calls out your name. 

It echoes back to him. 

The silence that follows is eerie and distinct, its vacuousness an exclamation point that hurts his ears. 

How can nothing be so loud? 

Swinging his feet over the side of the bed,  he goes to grab his phone off the nightstand and instead finds a note with his name on it. He sits there staring at it for a minute, rubbing the layered notebook paper between his fingertips. 

The gears in his brain start to turn. 

He looks at the armchair where your suitcase has been sitting the week and a half. It’s gone. 

Understanding twists his guts bowtie. 

Denying the cardstock confrontation, Dieter puts on a robe and searches the house. 

He finds nothing. 

Each empty room accumulates buzzing and hot beneath his skin. 

He goes outside. 

The patio, the garage, the driveway, the street. 

Calling your name like a kid who lost his mom in a department store, panic building with every utterance, a desperate crescendo. 

By the time he returns to the origin point, his thoughts are stumbling over one another trying to explain what the fuck could be possibly be happening, because this can’t be real. 

It’s a joke, it’s a terrible joke that you’ll laugh about later—or, no, there was an emergency and you had to go—but wouldn’t you wake him? Wouldn’t you tell him? Maybe you went to the store and you’ll be right back. But why would you bring your suitcase? 

He snatches the paper off his nightstand and unfolds it.

—

Dee,

I need you to know this isn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. I love you as much as humanly possible, and then some. Please understand that I couldn’t make you choose. That burden shouldn’t rest on you. 

I’m sorry for ruining everything. I’m sorry for leaving like this. I’m sorry for not giving you a choice. 

I love you with everything I am. 

Until the next life, 

Lua 

PS: I stole some cash from your wallet. I’m sorry for that, too. 

—

The words don’t compute at first. 

He shakes his head and reads it again. 

And again. 

And again. 

A thousand-pound weight drops his stomach to the floor. Adrenaline pumps through his heart and turns his limbs gelatin. Blood whooshes behind his ears, and—God, he’s going to be fucking sick. 

The note wavers in his grip and the text starts to blur.

This isn’t right. 

This can’t be happening. 

He needs to talk to you right fucking now. 

Overcome with this sudden rush of panic, Dieter grabs his phone off the nightstand, ignoring the barrage of notifications littering the screen, and calls you. 

The line trills, and further away, he hears “I’ll Be Your Mirror” by The Velvet Underground and Nico play. 

He follows the noise into the kitchen, where your phone buzzes on the countertop, displaying your contact photo for him. The one where you’re both mid-laugh with red lipstick and black face paint smudged all around your faces. 

Your voicemail picks up.

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.” 

A tone signals the start of recording. Dieter clears his throat, then says, “Hey, doll. It’s me. This is probably stupid because your phone is here, but I don’t know,” he pauses to gather himself as everything around him becomes blurred by tears. When he speaks again, his voice is somehow gummy and ragged at the same time, “I don’t know what to do. You’re gone, and there’s this note and… Fuck, whatever it is, we can figure it out. Please, Louella—Lua, baby, I love you. If you hear this somehow, please call me.” 

When he hangs up, all he can do is stand there, staring at her phone. 

The air particles around him throb with this deep, dense sorrow that cracks him wide open and hollows him out. It’s heavy. Infinite. All-consuming, like loss on loss on loss on loss. 

He knows, like he just knows things, that this is what you were feeling before you left. He knows you left your phone so nobody could find you. 

Beyond that, though… It's a brick wall. He tries, although he doesn’t really understand what the fuck he’s doing, to send out some kind of a psychic ping. Sometimes he can get a sense of you this way. 

This time he gets nothing. 

He can’t hone in on anything, can’t even feel the rough edges of your life force. The string that connects your tin cans has been severed.

What the fuck does that mean? 

The not-knowing makes him anxious. His imagination starts wander deeper into the dark forest, showing him taxis and mirrors and riverbeds and— 

Your phone jumps to life. 

It starts ringing to the tune of “Take Your Mama” by Scissor Sisters, lighting up with a photo of you and Parker. 

He scrambles to grab it and answers, “Parker—”

“Dieter?”

“Is she with you? Do you know where she is?” 

“What do you mean? Isn’t she with you?” 

“No, I just woke up and she’s fucking gone and there’s this note,” he sighs and throws his hand out at his side, “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“A note, what does the note say?”

“Hang on, let me,” he tucks the phone between his ear and shoulder, rummaging through the pockets of his robe, “Here we go, ok…” 

He reads it to Parker, who remains silent for a long while afterwards. 

“Until the next life?”

The tips of his ears heat up, and he runs a hand through his hair, “Yeah.”

“Have you talked to anyone else this morning?”

“No, I just woke up,” he starts pacing the length of his kitchen island, explaining, “Last night we were talking about moving in together, having her come out here, and… I don’t know, did I fucking scare her off or something? She seemed into it, but maybe I’m wrong, maybe I was going too fast—”

“Whoa whoa whoa, ok, slow down, papi,” Parker interjects, “It’s not like that. Her apartment was raided this morning.” 

Dieter frowns, “Wait, what?” 

“Yeah, some fucking journalist went poking around, talking to her neighbors and shit, digging into stuff about Ethan, their business, all that. He brought it all to the cops and demanded they do something about it, so they got a search warrant.” 

Dieter stays quiet as his mind whirrs, trying to comprehend this information. 

Parker continues. 

“I went over there this morning, just to check in on the place, and it was fucking crawling with cops. I FaceTimed Lou and told her, then she hung up and I haven’t been able to reach her since. Figured she was talking to you, but…”

Poisoned words cycle through his head, begging to be released, but he traps them behind clamped lips. 

“I called Reese to see if he knew anything, since he bumps elbows with a lotta those criminal justice guys, you know?”

“Reese?” Dieter furrows his brow, “Married guy? I thought you were done with him.” 

“Yeah, well,” a sigh crackles in his ear, then Parker says, “Good thing I’m not. Turns out, he’s friends with the DA. He told Reese about the journalist shit, said they have a warrant out for Lou. Wanted on possession with intent to distribute and drug trafficking for the pot stuff, oh—and possession of cocaine, because apparently they found one of Ethan’s hiding spots.” 

“Fuck.” 

“I know.”

Hundreds of thoughts ricochet around his head screaming for attention. The whole goddamn dashboard is lit up and blaring WARNING WARNING WARNING—

The nausea returns. Dieter plucks a half-smoked joint from the ashtray on his countertop and lights it, then turns and slides down the cabinet onto the kitchen floor. 

He takes a few hits, waiting until the overwhelm dims a bit before whispering, “Fuck, Parker, this is bad.” 

“I know, baby, I know.” 

The skunky smoke burns his lungs as he inhales again, holding holding holding, then lets it go. 

Things start to slow down enough for him to backtrack, “Did you say a journalist?” 

“Yeah, Reese couldn’t get a name, but there was this guy outside the building this morning who was—oh, fuck.” 

“What oh fuck?” Dieter wrinkles his nose at the roach and takes one more drag before stubbing it out on the shiny hardwood floor. 

“It was that point dexter motherfucker that did your interview. That was the guy! And I was on a video call with Lou—”

Parker cuts himself off with a gasp.

I couldn’t make you choose.

“Oh fuck,” Dieter breathes, “I gotta call you back.” 

He hangs up and trades your phone for his own, rejecting an incoming call from Darlene. 

It takes him three seconds to find it. 

Dieter Bravo Girlfriend Wanted On Drug Trafficking Charges, Claims In Email to DIRT: “He Was In The Dark” 

The header presented at the top of the article is your mugshot from your previous arrest. Your eyes appear puffy and dull and hopeless. Below it, the article continues: 

Dieter Bravo’s newest girlfriend reportedly has a warrant out for her arrest in relation to drug trafficking charges. 

Early this morning, the NYPD hit Louella Friedman’s Downtown Brooklyn apartment with a search warrant. Friedman was not present at the time the warrant was executed, so no arrests have been made, but law enforcement sources tell us that she is now wanted by the state of New York on multiple drug charges. 

This is not Friedman's first run-in with the law. Just days ago, she appeared alongside Dieter Bravo for an exclusive interview with DIRT, in which she admitted to being convicted of felony drug trafficking in 2018. She stated during this interview that she has “changed a lot since then … we don’t want people to think we’re trying to hide any of this, because we’re not. We’re just trying to move forward together.”

The email we received from Friedman this morning paints a different picture: 

“As you probably know, my apartment is being raided. I need one thing to be clear: Dieter is not complicit. He didn’t know about and did not take part in my illegal activity. He was in the dark. My mistakes are my own, and I ask that the blame be placed appropriately.” 

It’s assumed that Friedman is still in the LA-area, as she and Bravo have been spotted out and about a few times this week. Before that, the pair were seen in New York, which leads us to wonder how much time the Academy Award winner actually spent in her apartment. 

Bravo himself has a notoriously checkered past with drugs, and although his antics have been subdued since the “publicity stunt” for the movie Limbo (premiering next May), it wouldn’t be considered out of character for him to become knowingly involved with a drug dealer. 

DIRT will continue reporting as this story unfolds. 

—

The first person Dieter calls is Lincoln, who answers on the second ring with a cheerful, “Good morning, Dieter!” 

“Lincoln, where the fuck are you?”

“I’m grabbing breakfast from that pla—”

“Change of plans,” Dieter leafs through the clothes hanging in his closet, “Get over here now.”

“What about—”

“Listen, I need you to get me the next flight to New York. And, uhh,” he rips a few shirts off their hangers and tosses them into the open suitcase on the floor, “Clear your schedule for at least two days. I need you to housesit.”

“Is everything alright?”

Dieter ponders the question for just a moment, long enough for a sharp ache to pierce through his chest, then says, “Hurry the fuck up, ok?”

He hangs up. 

The second person he calls is his lawyer. 

When he tells the guy about your situation, he says, “Well, it sounds like there’s enough room for deniability, I don’t think they’ll bring charges against you—”

“Yeah, no shit,” Dieter scoffs, “What about her, how could she get out of this?” 

“With all due respect, Dieter, you’re my client, not her.” 

“Come on, man. What if, you know, I was in her situation?”

On the other line, the lawyer sucks his teeth, then says, “Well, theoretically speaking, you would be looking to either turn yourself in or see if you could get the charges dropped.”

“How would one get the charges dropped?” 

“The District Attorney would need to drop them.” 

“Uh-huh,” Dieter nods and rubs his lips, then queries, “And if—you know, like you said, theoretically—if he were to be convinced to drop the charges—”

“See, that is a tight line to walk, and one must tread very carefully, you understand? Many methods people attempt to use in persuading district attorneys, for example, bribery or blackmail, get sticky quick. They offer the wrong amount of money, or don’t get enough dirt, or what have you, then they’re in a world of hurt.” 

“Well, sure. Those people don’t use their head. But if someone wanted to just… sit down and talk to him, would that automatically raise a red flag?” 

“Depends. If someone of similar notoriety as you reached out to him to set up a meeting, it might raise a red flag. But if they happened to run into each other… probably not as much.” 

“I see.” 

The front door swings open and he looks up, expecting to see Lincoln, but instead locks eyes with Darlene. She’s holding a phone to her ear and says, “Yeah, he’s here.” 

“I gotta go,” he says, then hangs up the phone and greets Darlene, “Hey.”

Her heels click-clack on the floor as she strides over, taps on the screen of her phone, and says, “Ok, Mark, you’re on speaker. Dieter’s here.”

Darlene sets the phone down on the counter and starts rummaging through the leather bag hanging off her shoulder. The phone speaks: 

“Dieter, we need to talk. Is Louella there?”

“No.” 

“Is she going back to New York?”

Not sure how to answer the question, Dieter rolls his eyes, “Is that what this is about?”

“Yeah, look, this isn’t good. I’ll cut to the chase. If you endorse her claim and cut ties, we can keep you on, but if you don’t, we gotta let you go, bud.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Darlene answers this time, “We’re serious, Dieter. The optics are terrible—”

“The fucking optics, un-fucking-believable,” he mutters, pushing off the counter to pace the kitchen. 

“Is it really unbelievable?” Darlene blinks, her scathing gaze steady on his, “Coke head dating a felon who’s wanted on drug charges? You don’t see how studios will react to that?”

He doesn’t answer. She continues. 

“If you release a statement corroborating her story, explaining how you didn’t know, and things are over between you—”

A groan of agony rises in his throat. 

“—it will work. She gave you an out, Dieter. Take it.” 

His nostrils flare. Heat rises to his face and he hisses, “You never liked her, did you?”

Darlene scoffs, “What?”

“Did you even give her a chance, or did you just write her off the second you met her? That shit weasel from DIRT is the one that set all these fucking dominos up, did you know that?”

“No, of course not—”

“Dieter,” Mark sighs, “This isn’t personal. Look at the facts. You’ve done three stints in rehab just within the past decade. Beasts of the Bubble depicted you as a drug addict—Christ, you overdosed in that hotel. You just got divorced, had a ton of bad press from that. Now you’re in this very new, very serious relationship with a widowed felon. And, what, a week after swearing she’s a law-abiding citizen, cops find enough shit in her apartment to issue a warrant for her arrest? Do you know how that makes you look? Does it sound like you’re a person anyone could trust to sign onto a project?”

Dieter presses his palms against the kitchen counter and leans over the phone, “It sounds like you’ve already made a choice, Mark. You wanna drop me as a client, just fucking do it.” 

“If you make a public statement saying you were shocked to find out that she took advantage of your vulnerable state, you’re not using, blah blah blah, this could go away relatively quickly. Most likely she’d be painted as a con woman or gold digger or something along those lines, which makes you the victim. Granted, that makes you look a bit like a sucker, but we can live with that.” 

The nausea returns. 

“I can’t,” Dieter shakes his head, “I’m sorry, but I can’t live with that. Saying that she tried to steal my money—god, not a fucking chance in hell—”

“Of course, you wouldn’t say that,” Darlene cuts in, “People might infer that, is all Mark means. You know how this works—”

“Yes, I do know how it works. And no, I can’t. I won’t. It’s all fucking bullshit, the whole thing. Darlene, you’re bullshit,” he directs his voice to the phone, “Mark, you’re fucking bullshit. Fucking… optics and public opinion and the two of you trying to stage direct my fucking life—my life. Mine. I am my own person. And I love her. I’m going to find her, and fix this, and spend the rest of my fucking life with her even if it doesn’t make sense to anyone else but us.” 

Darlene holds up her hand, “Dieter, you’re making a mistake—”

He laughs. 

It booms, dry and humorless, through the house.

She jumps in surprise at the noise, then looks at him like he’s fucking crazy. Which is fair. He sounds fucking crazy. 

But for once, he feels completely sane. 

His spine straightens flag pole and he shakes his head, “Trust me, Darlene. I’m not.” 

They sit there, staring at each other in a silent standoff. Her hazel eyes flick around his face, then drop to the phone.

“Mark, I’ll call you back.”

Darlene ends the call before Mark can respond and stomps around the dining room table to a solid oak credenza, popping the top off one of the decanters of booze. 

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I need a drink.”

“It’s 10am.” 

Whiskey sloshes into the crystal tumbler. Darlene glances over her shoulder at him, holding up the bottle in question. He sighs, which she interprets correctly as a yes, and pours a second glass. 

Dieter murmurs a thanks when she returns and hands it to him. He takes a big swallow of the liquor. Leaning back on the counter beside him, she does the same. 

“How’s she doing?” 

His stomach twists. 

He takes another swig and shrugs, then digs the note from his robe pocket and gives it to her. 

She reads it, then passes it back and empties her whiskey down her throat. 

“Fuck.”

“My thoughts exactly,” he mutters into the tumbler as he drinks the remaining booze in one large, burning gulp. 

“So you don’t know where she is?”

Dieter pinches his eyes closed, tilting his head up at the ceiling, and shakes his head, “She was gone when I woke up. Took her suitcase. Left her phone, funny enough.” 

After a brief silence, she tells him, “I didn’t know David was looking into her. Even if I did, I would never try to get her in trouble. You know that, right?” 

He shrugs. His shoulders weigh a million pounds. 

“Look,” she sighs, “Maybe I don’t see whatever it is you see in her, but I do see that you love each other.” 

“Yeah.”

“Do you think she’s turning herself in?”

He furrows his brow and looks down at the floor, shaking his head, “No.” 

Dieter breathes it in, that palpable emotion still clinging to the air. He sinks into the dense, dark feeling—blackest ink in the world—letting it carry him downstream. There’s a glimmer of something. A spark of you. 

He speaks it out loud. 

“She’s in the fucking woods now.” 

“In the woods? Dieter, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles, scrubbing his face with his hands, “I don’t fucking know. I’m scared, you know, with the note…”

He doesn’t want to say it. If he doesn’t speak it into existence, maybe it won’t be true, that you’re looking for a place to die. Like how dogs do when they’re ready, crawling off into isolation to protect their loved ones. 

Darlene stays quiet. 

He swallows hard and starts pacing the kitchen floor again, running his fingers through his hair, “If I can get the DA to drop the charges, maybe it won’t be too late. Maybe I can fix this. But I have to find her, too.“ A hot rush of frustration overtakes him. He slams his fist down on the countertop with a thud and barks, “FUCK!”

“Ok,” Darlene turns to face him, placing a hand on his arm, “It’s gonna be ok—”

“But what if it’s not?” 

Emotion clouds his vocal cords and vision, warping both into a wet, smeary mess as he says, “What if she fucking—fuck, Darlene, what if she goes through with this? I can’t do this without her. I won’t.” 

“We don’t know that this is a suicide note—”

His whole body twists up into a snarl, a guttural moan rising from his throat as the idea shreds him to bits. He shakes his head in protest, because he does, he knows that’s what this is, but he can’t fucking bear to speak its name. 

Darlene watches him unravel for a moment before taking the crystal tumblers back to the credenza for a refill. When she returns, she holds one out to him and asks, “We need a plan to track her down. Have any ideas?” 

He rolls his head on his shoulders to look at her, glancing down at the cup, “We?”

She nudges him again, so he takes it and sips while she grimaces, “If I didn’t raise hell about the interview and get David in trouble… who knows, maybe we wouldn’t be here. I doubt he was looking to write an exposé on her before that.” 

“Maybe. Maybe not,” he shrugs, “Doesn’t matter now.” 

“Still, I’m… sorry,” she stares down at her glass and swirls the amber liquid around a bit while telling him, “The contract, too. I’m sorry about that. Like Mark said, it’s not personal. It’s business.”

“I know.” 

“You’re sure, though? That you don’t want to corroborate her story?” 

“Yes, I’m sure I don’t want to throw the love of my life under the fucking bus, Darlene.” 

She holds up a hand in defense, “Ok—”

“Even if that’s what she wanted me to do, no fucking way. She’s a good fucking person and I won’t sit here and agree with people saying she’s some fucking lowlife, because she’s not—”

“Ok ok ok—Dieter, I understand. I was just making sure.” 

He huffs and takes a drink. 

An uncomfortable silence settles over them. The booze starts to course heat through Dieter’s veins, sedating his agitation, making his head swim. 

“If you’re not my publicist anymore, why the fuck are you still here?”

“Because I’m still your friend.” 

He looks over at her, meeting her hazel eyes, and senses sincerity. 

His jaw works back and forth. He takes another drink, then tells her, “I’m going to New York to meet with the DA. Lincoln should be here any minute, he’ll stay here in case she comes back while I’m gone. I’m gonna have him try to track her whereabouts, see if she left any breadcrumbs—”

“You have a meeting with the DA?” 

“Not… necessarily.” 

“Then, what—” she pinches the bridge of her nose, “I don’t wanna know, do I?” 

“Doubt it.” 

“Right,” she sighs, shakes her head, then starts pacing, “Well, if Lincoln is here, he can call around to places, but I’m assuming you don’t want him to leave the house? In case she comes back?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll help follow up. Call around, and if needed, go to the places she might be. See if I can’t track her down.” 

Hope swells in his chest. His posture softens, and he nods, “Thank you.” 

She waves him off, “You said she left her phone, right?” 

“Yeah, uhh,” he pulls it from his robe pocket and stares at the lock screen, “I felt, I dunno, weird… about going through it. So I haven’t yet.” 

Darlene holds out her manicured hand, so he gives it to her. 

“Zero two one four eight eight.” 

She types in the passcode and starts tapping around as she paces, sipping her whiskey every now and then. 

Meanwhile, Dieter finishes his drink and stares at the empty glass, wavering back and forth on whether or not to pour another. A hungry buzzing works through the tendons in his neck. There’s an old, familiar voice at the back of his head, urging him for more more more, begging, pleading for sedation, anything to make these big feelings less so. 

Booze would be great, but you have the morphine, too, or the coke, fuck—now would be the perfect time for coke. It would straighten out your thoughts. Sharpen you. It could help you, Dieter, really. Help you clear your head and get to the bottom of this fucking mess, it could be the thing that saves her—

“She made an outbound call this morning,” Darlene murmurs as she punches the number into her phone, then raises it to her ear. 

Dieter hears the faint voice from the speaker answer, “Hollywood Checker Cabs, how can I help you?” 

She snaps her fingers at Dieter and pantomimes writing. He scrambles around the kitchen trying to find paper and a writing utensil while she asks, “Hi, my friend ordered a cab early this morning and I’m trying to track where she might’ve been dropped off, can you help me with that?” 

Dieter finds a notebook on the counter. He pulls the pen from its spine and writes down your phone number and full name, then slides it over the island counter to Darlene, who nods and reads your phone number, then says, “Yeah, she called at 5:32, the pickup is—yep, that’s it, that’s her.” 

She grabs the pen and starts scribing. Every few seconds she murmurs an uh-huh or ok. 

Behind her, the door to the garage swings open and in comes Lincoln, carrying a brown paper bag and a backpack. 

Concern creases his forehead as he approaches, and drops the paper bag on the counter, whispering to Dieter, “What’s going on?”

“Shh.”

Darlene glances up at them, then back at the notebook, and nods, “That’s incredibly helpful, thank you. Appreciate it.” 

When she hangs up, she says, “The driver dropped her off at Union Station around 6:30 this morning,” then continues typing in her phone, “From there, she could’ve taken another taxi, or a bus, or a train—”

“She took a bus.”

Lincoln asks, “Who took a bus? Lua?” 

They both ignore the question. Darlene blinks up at Dieter, and before she can question him, he shrugs, “Gut feeling.” 

“Gut feeling,” she snorts, shaking her head, and tosses her phone in her bag with a sigh, “Well, I’ll drive over there and see if she’s still there. When does your flight leave?”

Dieter looks at Lincoln, who perks up and pulls out his phone, “Let’s see… A car will be here in… fifteen.” 

“I’ll call you when I know more, ok?” Darlene says as she pulls her purse up onto her shoulder. She regards Dieter for a second or two before patting him on the shoulder, “We’re gonna find her.” 

He doesn’t trust himself to verbalize the uncertainty churning in his guts, so he acknowledges the sentiment with a flaccid smile and a nod, thinking, “I fucking hope so.”

—

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.” 

“Hey, love. I’m, uhh… leaving you an update, I guess. I’m going to New York to sort this shit out, talk to some people, see what I can do. But if you get this somehow, please, baby… please come home. Ok. I love you, bye.” 

—

Suspended miles above the Midwest, with Dieter packed in a tin can alongside all the other mouth-breathing sardines, the in-flight WiFi goes out.

He tries watching a movie, but none of the information computes. His mind keeps wandering to you. What you’re doing, where you are, why you didn’t just fucking wake him up and talk to him. 

Seconds twist under his skin. 

The minutes lodge inside his throat. 

The tiny screen could be showing him fucking anything, and his demeanor wouldn’t change a drop. 

Tight-lipped. Hostile. Dead-eyed. 

That’s what he gleans, anyway, from the way people react to his presence. The downcast glances and wide berths. How the flight attendant doesn’t even try to protest when he requests four mini-bottles of vodka. 

Wincing with every swallow, Dieter drinks them and scrolls through his text history with you. It’s not uncommon for him to do this while idly passing the time alone, within the past few months especially. 

Re-reading each conversation, admiring the photos and screenshots, allowing himself to daydream about you… usually, he finds it comforting. 

This time it’s different. 

It’s steeped in the knowledge that he may never receive another message from you. 

Flipping his phone face down on the little shitty tray, he looks up at the Q*bert air vent and releases a big sigh. The thoughts of you creep back into his brain. He doesn’t shoo them away, though. It’s fucking pointless. 

Please understand that I couldn’t make you choose. That burden shouldn’t rest on you. 

A burden. 

What a load of shit. 

As if he wouldn’t let hellfire lick his bones to dust for one more earthly second with you. As if you don’t revive him every single time your lips meet his. As if he could breathe without you in the atmosphere. 

Of fucking course he would choose you. 

Over anything, really. Especially acting. Fuck, maybe that’s exactly what he needs. It’s all just stupid Hollywood bullshit anyway. Being owned by a dozen different people at any point in time. Everyone trying to get their finger in the goddamn pie. He’s tired of being a billboard first and a human second. 

The more he thinks about it, the madder he gets. He douses his stomach with vodka, thinking about the fame machine, how it chewed you up and spit you out in no time at all. 

He resents the public spotlight. His whole adolescence, he dreamed of having a successful career as an actor. He worked hard and got lucky and his dreams came to life, and now, well… he’s right back where he started. 

Watching, helpless and terrified, as the person he loves gets pummeled half to death. 

—

Dieter leans on the doorframe and gives apartment 14C three firm knocks. 

The blaring music inside cuts. Parker stomps up to the other side of the door, “Who is it?” 

“Fucking Santa Claus, who do you think?” 

A thunk sounds from the deadbolt, then Parker swings the door open, propping a hand on his hip and shaking his head, “Santa Claus? Really?”

His face is fully dragged up in the style of Jackie Lantern, with blue eyeshadow and hot pink lips and harsh contour, while the rest of him is Regular Parker, with sweatpants and a baggy Bikini Kill t-shirt. 

“Ho ho ho,” Dieter enters the cozy, dimly lit apartment and pulls him into a one-armed hug, “Good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too,” Parker mumbles as he wraps his lanky arms around Dieter and squeezes, “Wish it was under better circumstances.” 

“Me too, bud,” Dieter takes a step back and ventures into what looks like a new-age opium den. 

Incense and pot smoke cloud the air. A loom-woven tapestry, depicting a unicorn standing triumphant in a field of wildflowers, takes up almost the entire wall behind a well-worn sofa. On the opposite wall, at least 50 framed bug specimens hang on display. 

Between the deep-seated couch and the TV sits a big octagonal coffee table, its glass top all littered with books and water bottles and cannabis paraphernalia. 

Dieter, finding none of this surprising, looks around and nods, “Nice place.“

Parker bolts the door closed and turns to scan Dieter up and down, “Nice suit.”

“I hate this fucking thing,” he mutters, rolling his shoulders in a feeble attempt to make more room inside the jacket, then points to Parker’s sweatpants, “Is that what you’re wearing?”

“Shade,” Parker scoffs and starts off down the short hallway into his bedroom, “I’ll be ready in a minute, help yourself to whatever.”

“Where do you keep your liquor?”

“On top of the fridge.” 

Dieter wanders into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of whiskey from its home, then starts flipping through cabinets. When he finds the one with cups, he calls out to Parker, “Want a drink?” 

“Lord, please.”

He unscrews the cap and pours two generous servings. Before returning the bottle, he takes a pull off it. The cheap booze burns the whole way down, settling like fire in his belly. 

Parker comes stomping back into the room, clawing at the back of his blue sequin gown, “Do me a favor, love, help me zip this?”

Dieter signals for him to spin around, then guides the zipper up his bony back as Parker asks, “Any updates from your neck of the woods?”

He taps on his shoulder, giving him the all clear. 

Parker turns and leans back against the galley kitchen’s countertop opposite Dieter, who hands him a drink. 

“Yeah,” Dieter nods, takes a sip of the shitty whiskey, then explains, “Darlene was able to convince the security team at Union Station to let her review footage from this morning. At 6:30 this morning, Lua boarded a Greyhound bus that dropped her off in Fresno around 11:00. Darlene couldn’t get much over the phone from them, so she’s driving up there to raise hell, see what she can find out.” 

The words come out dull and matter-of-fact. Offline, disconnected from the treasure chest labeled LUA. 

Parker studies him, “How’re you holding up, papi, you doing ok?” 

“No.” 

He stares down into his cup and thinks he should probably say something else, but comes up with nothing. It feels both pointless and too painful. 

“Wanna talk about it?” 

“No.” 

When he glances up at Parker, and their eyes meet, he recognizes the melancholy there. His own, reflected back at him. 

He shifts a little and adds, “After we get this part over with, though, maybe we can… I don’t know, get hammered, cry about it. Drown our sorrows or whatever. If you want.” 

The corner of Parker’s hot pink lips turns up in a smirk and he chuckles, “Long as we don’t get arrested doing this stupid ass shit, I will take you up on that.” 

“We’re not gonna get arrested, I promise. He’ll take the offer.”

“And how do you know that?”

Dieter could make a reference to The Godfather here, or mention the thick wads of cash lining his Armani suit, but thinks better of it. Probably best he doesn’t know. 

Instead, he asks, “Do you trust me?” 

“You know we wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” 

“Then trust me, we’re gonna be fine. Just follow the plan.” 

Parker snorts and shakes his head, muttering something about ‘you cryptic ass motherfucker’ into his glass as he takes a sip. 

Dieter drinks, too, then tells him, “I like your dress.” 

“Thanks,” he smiles, eyes flicking to the clock on the stove, “Fuck, I gotta finish getting ready or we’re gonna be late.” 

“Can I pick out your hair?” 

Parker groans a little, feigning annoyance. He pushes off the counter and starts towards his room, “Fine, but I reserve the right to veto.” 

—

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.” 

“Hey, doll, it’s me. I’m uhh… in New York, at Parker’s place—”

“Who are you talking to?”

“I’m leaving her a message.”

“Give it, I wanna say something.”

“Just hold on—”

“Hey Miss Lou, I love you, I miss you, and let me tell you, your boy is a goddamn mess. And, um… so am I. I’m worried about you—we’re worried about you. Just… let us know you’re ok, ok?”

“Me again. We’re gonna go fix this. I love you, Louella. Please come home.” 

—

Instead of conversing en route to the Metropolitan Opera House, they pass a flask of whiskey back and forth and occasionally sing along to the music on Jackie Lantern’s “PUSSY POWER” playlist. 

Although neither of them mention it, Dieter knows they’re essentially doing the same thing. Hyping themselves up. Trying to ban the performance anxiety from their brains as they get into character. 

By the time he and Parker arrive at Metropolitan Opera House, the booze has fully assimilated into Dieter’s bloodstream. 

Thank fucking god. 

It grinds down the coarse edges of reality and allows him to slip effortlessly into a familiar skin.

Dieter Bravo: Washed-up Actor. 

Dieter Bravo: Party Monster. 

Dieter Bravo: Brazen Jackass. 

A carefully curated persona so convincing, it had him fooled for years before you coaxed the real him out of hiding. 

That guy, the real him, or whatever the fuck, is not the right man for this job. Too soft. Too emotional. Guy is a pansy, he would fucking cry or make a scene or something. 

Seriously. 

He has no jurisdiction here. 

Here, in this glitzy opera house, among the other black-tie patrons who regard him and Jackie Lantern with a kind of grotesque curiosity that guy couldn’t fucking handle. 

But, Dieter Bravo: Attention Whore? 

Eating. This. Shit. Up. 

“Literal fucking pearl clutching, ho-ly shit,” he murmurs to Jackie’s big, white blonde afro wig as they walk up the red carpeted stairs into the lobby. 

It opens up into a huge space that reminds him of a cave. 

Brightly-lit, thanks to the starburst chandeliers dripping from the ceiling like stalactites, but a cave all the same. All four stories of shining white marble look to be hollowed out over centuries. Smooth, curved staircases flowing into terraces, filled with hundreds of well-dressed people and the abstract murmur of their conversations. 

For the millionth time today, he wishes you were here. 

You would be awestruck, gazing around with starry eyes that would make him appreciate its beauty that much more. You would look at him, in that way you do, and everyone else would melt away. You would smile and make those crystal chandeliers look like bare fluorescent bulbs. Put the goddamn place to shame. 

“Whaddaya think, sugar? Get a drink?” 

He glances up at Jackie over the rim of his sunglasses and tosses his sloshy head back and forth, trying to gauge how drunk he actually is, then shrugs, “Fuck it, why not.” 

She leads the way while Dieter follows in her wake, delighting at the number of people who ogle Jackie, with her big hair and her commanding presence and her blue gown, shimmering aqua and cyan and turquoise in the light. 

Only a few people seem to notice him trailing behind her. Fewer yet glint any tell-tale signs of recognition. The little upright jolt. The furrowed brow leaping into a surprised expression. The whispered “Is that who I think it is?” to the person beside them. Or, his favorite, the scramble to grab their phone and snap a photo. 

They order drinks and find a tall table in the corner to lean against. From this vantage point, they survey the crowd for their subjects. 

“How much does your man know?”

“My man,” Jackie mutters to herself with a little scoff, glancing down at her martini, “He’s not my man. I’m just a rental.” 

Dieter peels his eyes away from the crowd to look at her, “A rental?”

“Not good enough to invest in long-term.”

His head rocks back in understanding, and he frowns, “How long have you been seeing him?”

“Off and on for two years.” 

As she says this, she looks up, flicking her eyes around the room. Then she zeroes in on something. Her posture perks to attention. That little glint of recognition. 

Dieter follows her gaze to what can only be described as the most average looking white man in Manhattan. Dusty blonde hair, athletic build, black suit. 

He would’ve completely overlooked the guy if not for the precision of Jackie’s stare. 

Well, that and the fact that you’ve gone on your fair share of angry rants about the man, which involved you showing Dieter his Instagram. This is how he also recognizes the mousy woman standing at his side. 

“He brought his wife?”

“Yeah.” 

“Have you two me—”

“Nope.” 

The sullen aura radiating off her makes Dieter tick his jaw back and forth. He looks between her and Reese, then asks, “Does he know the plan?” 

“Kind of,” she shrugs, “Bare bones, enough to maintain plausible deniability.” 

“Uh huh. How did Reese know about Mr. Lindorm’s uhhh…” 

He scrunches his face up and turns his wrist around, trying to find the right word. 

Jackie raises an eyebrow, “Proclivities?” 

“I was gonna say fetish, but sure.” 

She lands a playful smack on his arm, then sighs, “Sometimes it’s best I don’t ask.”

“Don’t ask don’t tell, good policy.” 

This earns him a side-eye with very little humor attached. Sore spot. Fuck. 

“Look,” he leans harder on the table, “All I’m saying is you could do better. No doubt about it. You uhh… I don’t know. You deserve someone who loves you so much, they would pluck the stars from the sky and craft them into a crown for you. Not someone who keeps you a secret.” 

“Craft them into a—?” She blinks at him, “Ok, papi, what the fuck’re you talking about?” 

He tries to formulate an answer, to figure out where the fuck that came from, but admits, “Fuck if I know.”

“I’m cutting you off.” 

“I am not that drunk.” 

“Better not be, cuz it’s fuckin’ showtime. Here they come.” 

“Sorry to interrupt.” 

He looks to the source, flicking his gaze up and down Reese’s neat tuxedo. 

Reese extends his hand, “I don’t believe we’ve met, but I’m Senator Reese Bernard—”

“I don’t endorse political campaigns, sorry.” 

He starts to turn back to Jackie, who mirrors the action, then Reese, right on cue, says, “Oh, no. Nothing like that, I’m just a big fan. Could I buy you and your um,” his eyes shift to Jackie, “Companion a drink? Maybe pick your brain for a bit?” 

Dieter finds himself slightly surprised with Reese’s acting ability. That is, until he remembers the man acts every single day of his life. He raises his eyebrows in question at Jackie, who holds his gaze and shrugs, “Fine by me.” 

“Alright, yeah.”

A boyish grin spreads across Reese’s face, then he turns to the little mouse of a woman behind him and murmurs something to her, jerking his head towards the bar. 

She nods and walks off as Reese joins their table, glancing between Dieter and Jackie, “Well, this is certainly a way to shake things up at the opera, huh? Kind of exciting,” he settles his gaze on Jackie, giving her a charming smile, “You look gorgeous.” 

“Thanks, love,” she tilts her head at him, batting her lashes. 

The way they look at each other, all goo-goo eyes, inspires Dieter to finish his drink. When he slams the empty glass down on the table, they both jump, snapping out of their nauseating little bubble. 

“When’s our guy supposed to be here?” 

“Ahhhh,” Reese frowns at his watch, then starts searching the lobby, “Should already be around somewhere. We always meet him and the missus over here for a drink before the show.”  

“You guys do this often?” 

He shrugs, “Every couple of weeks or so. Not really my cup of tea, or his even, but the gals love it.” 

“Cute,” Dieter mutters. 

Jackie shoots him a look, then asks Reese, “Do you really think this is gonna work?” 

“Oh, definitely, definitely. The guy is smart when it comes to law, but thinks with his dick when it comes to most everything else,” he smirks at her, “And you’re just his type.” 

In response, Dieter grunts and searches the room. His head feels weighted, brain sloshing around in the sea of alcohol he consumed throughout the day. 

Maybe he should switch to water for a while, slow down this freight train. 

Or maybe we should go in a different direction. Try to get a hold of something that will straighten us out. 

This thought overrides his entire body, blaring and hot and uncomfortable in his veins, and he wonders if that’s why it’s called an impulse. 

Wouldn’t it make you feel better? 

His leg starts to bounce. He grits his teeth and reminds himself that he promised you he wouldn’t use cocaine again. Reminds himself of what you said in return:

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Your voice in his head makes his heart flutter, while the content of your statement sits heavy in his stomach, warring with that concentrated dose of urgency buzzing through him. 

“There he is,” Jackie murmurs into her wine glass, “Over by the stairs.”

Jerking to attention like he fell asleep at the wheel, Dieter follows her laser-focused gaze to a distinguished salt-and-pepper man posing for a photo with a tall blonde woman. 

The way they stand next to each other, all rigid and precise, their perfect, practiced smiles spread wide beneath dead eyes… it strikes him as familiar. 

Middle-aged Barbie and Ken. 

A fair comparison, although she looks closer to 20 than 40. Either that or she has a stellar plastic surgeon. 

There’s something else, though. 

It’s in the way they take a big step apart when the photographer gets his shot. How they seem to be bickering at each other out the side of their faces between fake smiles. 

Anika and Dieter. 

He studies them with a morbid kind of curiosity, wondering if that’s what they would have eventually been like if they tried to make it work. If, almost a year ago, he would’ve gone home to her instead of boarding that plane to New York. 

They would’ve fought about it. Maybe they would’ve cried and had make-up sex. He probably would’ve gone to rehab, and couples counseling, and, hell, maybe they would’ve had a kid or something. Things would’ve felt real and good with her for a while. 

But it would have faded. 

After a while, he would have strayed again. He would have started getting high and fucking around all the time. He knows this like he knows you’re alive, like he just knows things, certain and right at the very core of him: He never would have found peace until he found you. 

Instinctually, he wants to say you changed him, that you made him want to be a better man. But it dawns on him, with stunning clarity, that you didn’t. You didn’t change him any more than an astronomer changes the universe when they discover a star. 

Which is to say, darling, that you just brought him into focus so he could see himself for who he really is. 

Anything else would have been a plastic, miserable cohabitation. 

As this sinks in, that hungry buzzing in his chest wanes. He understands that he can’t break his promise to you. More aptly, he won’t, because he’s not that man anymore. 

—

Sometimes things go sideways. 

For instance, sometimes the love of your life thinks that disappearing is the best solution to both save your career and evade a second felony. 

Sometimes, though… the universe aligns in your favor, and a plan goes off better than you ever could have imaged. 

Sometimes your girlfriend’s best friend’s boyfriend’s wife, who Dieter eventually learns is named Rachel, runs into her friends, Mr. and Mrs. District Attorney, on her way back from the bar and invites them to join your table. 

They introduce themselves as John and—no fucking joke—Barbara Lindorm. Just as Reese predicted, John is captivated by Jackie the second he lays eyes on her. He occupies the open space next to her and laughs at her jokes, frequently splitting off into quiet little side conversations, where Dieter hears him ask where she’s from, what she does for a living, and whether she and Dieter are dating—which is great news, because it means he has not placed him as Dieter Bravo: Louella Friedman’s Meddlesome Boyfriend. 

If Barbara notices her husband flirting, she doesn’t let it show. Dieter surmises it’s because he’s doing a bit of flirting himself, letting his gaze linger on her longer than appropriate, complimenting her dress, her hair, her nails. Not because he’s interested or anything, but rather to provide a bit of a distraction while Jackie reels in her husband. 

It’s a little fucked up, sure, but you’d understand. Think big picture, baby. The greater good or whatever. 

At one point, he sees Jackie pull out her phone and tell John, “Oh, I have to show you this picture from my last show, you’ll love this.” 

This is the move. The part where she shows him a typed out message telling him to follow her at intermission. 

Dieter calls attention to the other side of the table, asking Reese, “So, what, do you guys have regular seats or something? Since you come here so often.”

Reese sees the setup and nods, “Oh, definitely. A box, actually, they’re great seats—“ he cuts himself off with a gasp, slamming his palms down on the table, “Hold on, I’m getting a crazy idea. The other couple we usually come here with dropped out at the last minute. Do you two want their seats?” 

Dieter glances over at Barbara, meeting her demure gaze, while he hears John murmur to Jackie, “You’re right, I do love that.”

“Why the hell not,” he licks his lips and shrugs, departing from Barbara’s eyes to meet Reese’s, “Let’s keep this party rolling.” 

Reese grins, “Fantastic! Ok, do you guys wanna go now, or…?”

The lights wax and wane in brightness a few times, signaling curtain call, and Dieter smirks, “Lead the way.” 

—

While waiting for the gilded curtains to part, Dieter flips through the program for Ariadne auf Naxos, tuning out the meaningless chit chat taking place around him. 

He skims the synopsis provided, mostly just trying to look busy. One sentence catches his attention. 

Ariadne is alone in front of her cave. 

He tilts his head at it, lingering for a moment before resuming the skim. His eyes snag on the words stars vanish, then backtrack to the beginning of the sentence. 

Entranced by Ariadne’s beauty, Bacchus tells her that he would sooner see the stars vanish than give her up.

Like he did with the last line, Dieter stares at it, slightly stunned. He shifts in his seat, glancing around before leaning over the program to re-read the opera’s synopsis from the beginning. 

The passage briefly recounts the story of Ariadne, who assisted Thesus in escaping a labyrinth because she loved him. They were betrothed, and Ariadne left her family to be with him. On the trip home, Thesus abandoned her on a remote island while she was sleeping.

Ariadne woke and found herself alone on the beach. Heartbroken, she longed to die. When Bacchus arrived on the island, Ariadne first thought he was the messenger of death, then mistook him for Thesus. Bacchus explained that he was neither, he was a god. They fell in love and rose into the heavens. 

Dieter sits back in his seat and fidgets, trying to find comfort despite this goddamn suit jacket, all stiff and tight with wads of cash. Despite the painful parallels his mind keeps drawing. 

You are fucking everywhere. 

The opera. The crystal galaxy chandeliers that hang from what looks like a bright white tunnel into the afterlife. The scalloped ceiling, backlit with a warm, golden light, reminding him of goldfish scales. 

Are they signs or is he just losing his fucking mind? 

“Probably both,” he mutters to himself. 

Jackie looks up from her program at him, raising an eyebrow, “What?”

He shakes his head, nervously tugging at the whiskers that sprout from his jawline. 

Before she can prod him further, the chandeliers float up into the white abyss and all of the lights dim, then the curtains part. 

—

As soon as intermission starts, Jackie is on her feet. 

John waits one cool second before excusing himself and following her into the hall. Reese hears this and turns around in his seat, asking Barbara how she likes the show so far. As she leans forward and begins to answer him, Reese locks eyes with Dieter and gives him a wink of approval. 

Dieter nods and rises to his feet, then slips into the hall, weaving his way through the crowd.

See, when Jackie used to work catering gigs here, she got to know a member of the opera house staff who showed her a few private rooms that aren’t necessarily secret, but aren’t exactly advertised, either. They’re reserved for VIPs, when they want them, but mostly remain unoccupied during performances. 

He follows the path Jackie mapped out for him earlier today to an unlabeled door on level three. Inside, he hears a familiar giggle and knows it’s the right one. 

He pats down his suit jacket with both hands, double checking that he didn’t somehow drop all his money en route, then grabs the doorknob, twists it, and pushes the door open to reveal the smallest Victorian parlor he’s ever seen in his life. 

It contains an antique sofa, a coffee table, and an armchair in the corner, and still feels cramped. The back wall is entirely occupied by a mirror. Probably an attempt to make the room look bigger. 

On the ornate red sofa, Miss Jackie Lantern and Mister District Attorney are so busy making out, neither of them seem to notice his presence. 

Dieter makes a point of closing the door with a loud bang. John jumps up and starts scrambling away from Jackie, his face all covered in hot pink lipstick, stammering out clichés, “I can explain, this isn’t what it looks like—”

“Save it, that’s not what this is,” Dieter waves him off as he approaches the couch, unbuttoning his suit jacket. 

“What is this, then?” he looks from Dieter, who shucks off his jacket and sits down beside him, to Jackie, “A three way?” 

Jackie sticks out her bottom lip in a sympathetic manner, shaking her head. 

“This is an opportunity.”

John turns to him, narrowing his eyes, “Explain.” 

“Well, see,” Dieter tosses his jacket on the coffee table, “I’m going to give you a stupid amount of money, I mean—really, truly, a fucking obscene amount of money. In return, you’ll drop the charges against Louella Friedman.” 

He studies Dieter carefully.

“You and I both know that warrant was bullshit. Based on witness statements obtained by fucking paps, really?” Dieter clicks his tongue against his teeth and shakes his head, “That man is a gossip monger with a grudge. Zero fucking credibility. It wouldn’t hold up in court. It would be a waste of everyone’s time and money. This is an opportunity to cut through the red tape and get a little something for yourself in return.” 

John sits back, crossing his arms. He frowns at the jacket for a while, seemingly running calculations in his head, then asks, “How much?” 

“Hundred thousand.”

His eyebrows make a surprised jump. He presses his knuckles to his lips, considering this. His leg starts bouncing. He looks between Dieter and Jackie, these quick, sharp glares, “I don’t appreciate being set up like this.” 

Dieter nods in acknowledgment. Jackie just blinks at him. 

He releases a big sigh. 

Sitting up, he grabs the jacket and digs into one of the pockets, then pulls out a few $10,000 bundles. 

As he inspects them, Dieter asks, “Well?” 

“You two are good,” John chuckles, then extends his hand to Dieter, “I’ll look into her case for you, see what we can do.” 

He takes it, giving him an overly enthusiastic shake, “Good man. Thank you.”

“Louella Friedman?”

“That’s right. I, uhhh—I put her info in the front pocket.” 

“Got it.” 

Dieter stands and looks at Jackie, nodding to the door. 

“Thanks, Johnny,” she winks, then rises to her feet and starts towards the door. 

“Thank you, Jackie,” he grins at her for a second before returning to Dieter, “And thank you.” 

“My pleasure,” Dieter pulls up the sleeves on his dress shirt, “Don’t spend it all in one place.” 

John laughs at this, so Dieter feels compelled to clarify, “No, but really, the IRS might start asking questions if you do. So—don’t, ok?” 

“Oh, well, yeah—”

Dieter turns on his heel and follows Jackie out of the room, closing the door behind him. 

“Johnny?” he raises an eyebrow at her as they walk away.

“He’s kinda cute. Good kisser.”

“Thinking about adding him to your roster?”

She snorts and gives him a playful shove, “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

—

Within thirty seconds of entering the apartment, Jackie has locked herself in the bathroom with the shower running. 

Dieter collapses on the couch and slowly dismantles the remains of his suit, unknotting the bow-tie, taking off his dress shirt, wriggling out of his pants, until he’s left in boxers and an undershirt. 

Exhaustion, emotional and physical, drains any remaining adrenaline from this evening’s success from his limbs. 

Figuring it will take a while for the de-Jackiefication to take place in the bathroom, he checks his phone for updates, then decides to call and leave you a message before letting sleep take over. 

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.” 

“Hey, doll, it’s me. It is… just after midnight here in New York. Just wanted to let you know, I talked to the DA. He’s dropping the charges, because they’re bullshit, and uhhh… yeah. You can come out now, if you want. I… I miss you. All day I missed you. I wish you were here, and—listen, Lua, I get what you’re doing. You think you’re saving me or something by disappearing, but let me tell you, you are fucking not. Ok? I don’t think you understand… you save me every single day. Just by loving me. The acting, publicity, fucking—whatever, none of that fucking matters to me. I swear to god. You are—you are it for me. The end all be all. My sun, my moon, the stars, you are my whole fucking universe. You are… everything to me, Louella. I love you. I hope I see you soon.” 

[ Next Chapter ]