#i’m afraid this isn’t coming off as sincere

[litrallytyrus]

There are so many beautiful ways to write the same 1 story And i’m not even talking about writing the same trope a million times i’m saying there are 1 million incredible ways i can write this random one shot, this 30 chaptered structured series about a niche ship no one else cares about, this 15k words fic with no forethought just Vibez …… How can i choose just one what if i use the wrong word What if there is a better way to write the most important piece of literature in the world (5k long distance fluff reunion fic)

[reverie-starlight]

{one moment - m. atsumu}

this was supposed to be a little one off ramble post, but ofc I couldn’t just leave it at that. it needed its own fic.

gn!reader, no physical descriptions, FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF!!!!! head over heels, falling in love. I realized that I almost never write fics where the relationship isn’t already years in/established, so this was a nice change of pace. there’s not much dialogue in this one, it’s more descriptive. trying a new format as well.

whenever you thought back to the early stages of falling in love with atsumu, there was always one moment in particular that stood out as the moment you knew you were done for. the moment you realized that however your relationship with atsumu was meant to unfold- for better or for worse- you were absolutely screwed.

the two of you are sitting in the café at the halfway point between where he practices with the jackals and your university campus. the very same café where you happened to nurture your friendship into more for months before he finally asked you out.

you’re on a date, only your third or fourth officially as two people who are dating, and conversation is flowing. it always does with him, you’ve come to realize. he doesn’t let silence linger between topics, but he doesn’t force it away either. any lulls you come across feel… comfortable.

he feels comfortable- you like spending time with him, he’s good company. and he’s never boring, that’s for sure.

“so,” he starts before taking a sip of his coffee. “how were your classes today?”

you shrug your shoulders. “not that entertaining, I’m afraid. I’m sorry, I should’ve known better than to come unprepared,” you joke. “I guess I didn’t learn anything interesting enough today.”

normally when you meet after class, he asks you to teach him one thing you remember covering in your lectures. something he apparently used to do when his brother was enrolled in a business course, you recall.

he points a piece of croissant at you. “I’ll forgive ya this time, sweetheart, but you’re on thin ice.”

a smile creeps up on your lips at his use of the nickname, and he pretends not to notice, letting you pass it off as a reaction to his ‘threat’ instead. “how was practice?”

he beams with pride. “it was great, he speaks with such enthusiasm that it’s hard to focus on his words. you’re more interested in how he lights up talking about his passion than the actual specifics of his improved serves right now.

you hope he looks like that talking about you one day.

“I’m happy to hear it, ‘tsum,” you say sincerely when he’s done with his rambling.

conversation continues for a bit longer before it happens. you don’t even remember what was said leading up to this moment, but you hope you do one day so that you can repeat it and get the same reaction.

it’s just like a scene from a movie- he pauses to take in whatever you’ve just said before throwing his head back and laughing like you’ve never heard him laugh before.

the sunset peeks between the buildings outside and hits him through the café window at the perfect angle. the soft light that bathes him in such warmth, mixed with the sound of his laugh almost makes you believe he’s emitting it himself. his eyes are closed, his shoulders are shaking and he’s just glowing.

you actually need to stop and catch your breath while you watch him because he’s gorgeous. you’ve always known it, it’s a hard quality to miss, but now you feel it, too. the full effects of miya atsumu.

your heart beats out of your chest, your hands shake as you press them to your butterfly-filled stomach-

and then you realize that no matter how this… thing with atsumu progresses…

you’re absolutely screwed.

and just as he stops laughing, the light moves away from his face. you’re still not entirely sure it wasn’t just him glowing, but you’ll leave that investigation for another time.

he looks at you for a moment as he settles down and you do your best to hold his gaze without giving away your admiration.

eventually the sun positions itself in a way that makes you squint, so you busy yourself with sweeping up some of the table’s crumbs into your palm and transferring them to your empty plate.

atsumu’s eyes have yet to leave your face and it’s making you more nervous than you've ever needed to be around him.

the intimidating thought that he might be admiring you in the sun the way you had been doing to him moments ago runs through your mind.

this is the longest moment of silence you’ve ever had with him, and of course it’s still not awkward. it’s just… heavier. like you’ve both come to some sort of realization and don’t know how to approach it.

but of course, in typical atsumu fashion, he jumps headfirst into the deep end. he doesn’t seem to be afraid of anything. an admirable quality.

if he weren’t already an established volleyball player, you think he’d make a fine olympic diver.

“do you…” you snap your head up when he starts to say something, but he stops and seems to think something over.

he tries again. “I know we’ve been datin’ for a little bit now…”

your heart flutters in your chest and the nerves you worked so hard to suppress come racing back into your system. despite everything, you nod to encourage him to keep going.

“do ya want to make it official? can we… would ya let me be yer boyfriend?” his voice wavers a bit and you learn that his accent grows a bit thicker when he’s nervous.

you freeze, needing to take in the fact that he’s nervous and seemingly over you.

and then you take in his words, realizing he’s waiting for a response. the ball is in your court.

despite sitting on a throne settled upon a pile of your stacked up fears of this ending poorly, you’d be a fool to mess it up. you’d be crazy to miss out on something wonderful because you’re busy focusing on the probable non-existent negative outcome.

so the only answer you could have possibly given him in that moment leaves your lips, accompanied with a bright smile as the pile is reduced to ashes. “yes, I would love that.”

you did learn something today, something more valuable than you could ever learn in one of your classes- how one moment can change everything.

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

I’m actually lowkey proud of this one!! it’s a bit different, but I think it’s cute :3

hope you enjoyed!!

tagging: @emmyrosee @dira333 @6okuto

[scoonsalicious]

5.4 Major*

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, explicit sexual content (hand stuff, fingering) Minors GTFO: I don't serve your kind here.

Word Count: 900

Previously On...: Lily knows Bucky's been lying to her, and she's surmised he's on a date. That's got to end.

A/N: Posting a little early today to make up for yesterday being so late!

I've decided to postpone my break by a few days, so I will give you Chapter 6 in its entirety before I take my mini-hiatus. It's only three parts long, so I will start my break on Thursday, 5/16 and resume posting on Thursday, 5/23. It's a better place in the story to leave you, a little bit more dramatic than at the end of this chapter, like I had originally planned, lol. It felt off leaving you all here.

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

You flopped your body down onto your bedsheets with a giggle. “Full marks, Sergeant,” you gasped between panting breaths. “Once again.” It was all the two of you could do to get back to your apartment without ripping each other’s clothes off.

Bucky laughed and came to lay down alongside you, propping his head up on his vibranium arm. Leaning over, he bent down to kiss you. “I couldn’t have done it without you, doll” he said with a grin, but then his face grew serious. “Seriously. It’s never been like this with other girls.”

You blushed and playfully pushed at his rock hard shoulder. “Come on, Bucky,” you said with a laugh. “You’ve already got me naked and exactly where you want me; you don’t need to sweet talk me.”

Bucky placed a hand on your sweat-slicked hip, gently turning you to your side so you were facing him. “I’m not,” he told you, searching your eyes with the utmost sincerity in his expression. He pushed back a strand of damp hair away from your face. “I’ve been with… well, a fair number of girls over the years.” At the raise of your eyebrow, he held his flesh hand up defensively. “What? I’m 105 years old, doll. I’ve been around the block.” You couldn’t hold back your laugh at that, and he kissed your nose before continuing: 

“Like I said, a fair number of girls. And none of them, not a single one, ever made me feel the way I have when I’m with you.” He cupped your cheek in his hand and you felt your cheeks flame in a blush. “Come on, sugar. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it, too. That this,” he took his hand off your cheek to motion between your two bodies, “isn’t something special.”

“It’s been a little over a day, Bucky,” you chastised him gently with a smile, afraid to admit that you, too, felt this was something unique. “Maybe thirty hours?” Thirty hours in which the two of you had somehow managed to have sex eight times, not that you were counting. You couldn’t believe how quickly he was able to get it up again after he came, but he’d assured you that was his favorite side effect of the serum that had made him a super soldier. It had quickly become your favorite, too.

Bucky’s face fell, and you realized that he wasn’t going to judge you if you told him the truth, because he felt it just the same. “The best thirty hours of my life,” you clarified, tucking your fingers under his chin so you could bring his gaze back up to yours. “And yes, I feel it, too. It’s never been like this before. Not with anyone else.”

“Not even with your ex-husband?” Bucky asked with a playful smirk.

“Especially not with Conner,” you told him with a roll of your eyes. “Took me years to teach that man where my clit was, and even on his best days, he still needed a map.”

“Oh, you mean this, right here?” Bucky deftly slid his hand between your thighs, finding your hub of nerves almost instinctively and began to lightly trace it with his finger, sending an electric tingle through your body. 

“Fuck, yes,” you exhaled, reaching up to grab Bucky’s shoulder for support as he increased the pressure. He moved his metal arm from under his head and slid it behind your shoulders as he pulled you flush with his chest.

“I got you, sweet girl,” he murmured into your hair as he moved his fingers faster against you, occasionally dipping them down to your entrance to collect some of your slick for lubrication. You hitched a leg up over his hip to allow him better access to your core. 

“Jesus, Bucky,” you moaned, feeling yourself building to the crescendo. Taking your hand off his shoulder, you grabbed his wrist, guiding his movements so you could grind your desperate cunt against his hand.

“Do you want my fingers, sugar?” Bucky panted. You looked up at him to find his gaze locked on where his hand had vanished between your thighs, his pupils completely blown from lust. “Do you want me to fuck you with my fingers until you squirt all over me?”

You couldn’t even get out a coherent word, just a pathetic whine that turned into a near scream when Bucky plunged three of his digits into you. The air was full of the frantic sounds of your combined breathing, along with the rapid squelch of his fingers driving in and out of your cunt with a speed you didn’t know was humanly possible. It felt like he was hitting every part of you, even parts you didn’t know existed until now. Every time with Bucky felt that way.

“How you doing, sugar?” Bucky asked as he continued to drive his fingers home. “You okay?”

You nodded and grunted in the affirmative, loving how he always checked in on you. You were so much more than okay. You were transcendent. 

Soon, you felt that intense, unfamiliar build up that only he had been able to pull out of you once before, on the living room floor. The pleasure was so intense, you couldn’t see straight and you were exploding all over again, clinging to Bucky for dear life as you screamed his name. 

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

[starlost-mochi-x]

how skz loves you - hyung line

pairing: ot8 hyung line x reader

summary: how skz hyung line would love you.

genre: fluff, non-idol! au, crack

a/n: want the maknaes ?

bang chan ♡

chan shows his love through constant care and attention. He always checks in on you, sending messages to make sure you’re okay, even when he's busy. He remembers the little things, like your favorite snacks or the way you like your coffee (if you drink it, ofc), and makes sure to have them ready for you. Chan is the type to notice when you’re feeling down before you even say anything, offering a warm hug or a quiet moment together to help you feel better. He loves to leave little notes or texts reminding you of how much you mean to him, often signing off with a simple "I’m here for you." Whether it’s making sure you’re bundled up before heading out into the cold or staying up late just to talk, Chan’s love is steady, reassuring, and always present in the smallest gestures <3

lee know ♡

his love is shown through his subtle, yet deeply thoughtful actions. He’s not always the most verbal about his feelings, but his love is evident in the way he takes care of you. He might quietly do things like make your bed in the morning or prepare your favorite meal without being asked. He’s also incredibly protective, always walking on the side of the street closest to the road or holding your hand in crowded places to keep you close. Minho also loves to surprise you with small, meaningful gifts—like a keychain from a place you mentioned wanting to visit or a plushie that reminds him of you. His teasing is also a sign of his affection, using humor and playfulness to make you smile. When you’re together, he’s always making sure you’re comfortable, from adjusting your pillow to turning off the lights when you’re too tired to move <3

changbin ♡

changbin expresses his love through a blend of playfulness and sincerity. He loves to make you laugh, always coming up with silly jokes or playful banter to brighten your day. His love language is often physical; he enjoys holding your hand, giving you tight hugs, or playfully wrestling with you just to hear you laugh. But beyond the jokes, Changbin is incredibly attentive—he notices when you’re stressed and will do his best to cheer you up, whether that’s through a spontaneous snack run or an impromptu dance party in the living room. He also loves to show off in small ways, like lifting heavy things for you or flexing his muscles jokingly, just to see your reaction. Despite his tough exterior, he’s soft at heart and isn’t afraid to let you see that side of him, always making sure you know just how much he cares <3

hyunjin ♡

Hyunjin’s love is shown through his artistic, romantic gestures. He’s the type to leave you beautiful drawings or poems, expressing his feelings in creative ways. He loves to take you on impromptu dates to art galleries, cozy cafes, or scenic spots where you can talk and enjoy each other’s company. Hyunjin is incredibly affectionate, often brushing your hair out of your face or holding your hand in a gentle, comforting way. He’s also very in tune with your emotions, offering a comforting presence when you’re feeling low. Hyunjin loves to spoil you with little surprises, like a bouquet of flowers just because he was thinking of you, or a handmade bracelet that he spent hours perfecting. His love is shown in the way he looks at you—his eyes filled with admiration and affection, as if you’re the most precious, beautiful thing in his whole entire world <3

a/n: comment for the maknae line version ♡

[heraldofpassion]

Annabeth's Joy

Hi folks!

This here is my first ever birth fic that I write and share!

I’d love your honest opinion and criticism, but please keep in mind I’m new at this, that English isn’t my first language, and that I’m a virgin who knows nothing of sex.

That said, I sincerely hope you all enjoy, and hope it will make you feel hot and bothered ;).

Take care

Herald of Passion

Tags: Pregnancy kink, labor kink, birth kink, sex, sex in labor, orgasmic birth, threesome

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

Annabeth was the sexiest girl of our year in college. It became even more true when she got pregnant.

No one knew who knocked her up, but everyone had their own theory. The football captain, the English teacher, pretty much anyone with looks and charisma. But I was going to learn two very important things about Annabeth: she didn’t care about status, and I didn’t care who got her pregnant; I only wished it was me.

We had biology together, and soon got to talking. She and her friend Melanie were inseparable but made place for me at their table. I was the new guy in this college, and they wanted to learn more about me.

How to describe Annabeth? Well, she was stunning, with long flowing brown hair falling down her back, a perfectly chiseled face and piercing eyes. She had pretty big breasts, barely covered by her crop top, her nipples sometimes pointing out. That girl wasn’t afraid of her body and sexuality and encouraged others to do the same.

Every time we were sitting next to each other, she would laugh and touch my arm, and look at me with interest when asking me about my girlfriends and experiences. She almost couldn’t believe I was a virgin.

“Aww sweetie. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find a girl to fuck you soon.” She told me with a wink, while my cheeks started to burn. I was already imagining bending her over the desk, caressing her growing belly and kissing her neck, our moans mixing as we reach climax.

…

A few months later, she invited me to a fun evening with her friends. We were maybe a dozen, chatting, partying, having fun, and soon, most of them left or were too drunk to stay awake, leaving only me, Annabeth, and Mel who didn’t drink (Anna for obvious reason).

Speaking of obvious, Anna came back to us in a short bikini, clearly dating from before getting pregnant. Her belly was coming out so large in front of her, and her breasts were barely contained by her bra. She told us to get into our swimwear and to join her in the pool, turning around to go outside, my eyes fixed on her perfect ass and rolling hips. Mel gave me an amused look, before taking off her clothes, leaving herself in her bra and panties, before jumping in the water. A bit more self-conscious, but not wanting to miss this opportunity, I got into my underwear too and got into the pool.

There, we chatted and swam for most of the night. I hoped my erection wasn’t too apparent, but the girls’ cheeky look and shared laughs told me it probably wasn’t. I decided to follow Anna’s lack of shame, and simply took off my swimsuit, leaving myself naked. Anna whistled and winked and didn’t make a joke about it. She really was the best girl ever.

…

People were following Anna’s growth and development, and she wasn’t shy with telling everyone about her progress, which meant everyone knew she had been overdue for a week at the point of our last biology session.

“Great news everyone!” exclaimed miss Berkeley as she stood in front of us, a large couch covered with soft covers between us and her. “This year, for our final project, you will assist to a live birth and then write an essay about what the experience. For this, we are very lucky to have Annabeth with us, who graciously offered her birth as a class project.”

Anna smiled and waddled to the front of the room while everyone looked at her. She finally let out a sigh and groan, probably having held them all day at this point. She turned toward Mel and me.

“Will you help send me into actual labor, and then birth my baby?” She asked in her sweet tone as a contraction took her, gripping onto the desk.

We didn’t answer, but I looked at Mel, and we were in harmony. We joined her in front of everyone and started kissing her. Mel and she exchanged a deep and passionate kiss, while I was caressing her big overdue belly. My cock was already making a bulge in my pants, but I wanted to focus on Anna for now. I freed Anna’s breasts from her tank top and placed my lips around her nipple, while Mel took the other. Anna had already started lactating, as she had showed us before, but drinking her milk was ten times better then I could have imagined. Annabeth was moaning and panting, caressing my hair and pulling us closer.

She sat on the desk and spread her legs, revealing her lack of panties. Her pussy lips, wet and puffy, were already soaked with her pleasure. “Lick me, please….” She almost whispered, as she threw her head back to endure another contraction.

I smiled and obliged, my tongue gently sliding between her folds as she moaned, before exchanging a steamy kiss with Mel. They were clearly both liking it, since they took off their clothes and started to caress their breasts, rubbing their nipples between kisses.

While that was happening, I was licking Anna’s lips and circling her clit with my fingers. I could feel her shake from pleasure, but also the pressure and pain building inside of her. My cock was throbbing in my pants, and I just wanted to fuck her and feel her water breaks all over me.

Anna placed her legs over my shoulders and pulled me closer. Mel was gently pulling on her nipples, milk leaking out like faucets over Anna’s contracting belly.

“Ah… Ah… God please… please fuck me… both of you… Ah… make me cum!” Anna panted, jerking her hips to find my mouth.

I placed the tip of my cock between her pussy lips while Mel sat over her face, her hands fondling Anna’s heavy milk-filled breasts. We exchanged a look, and I slid all the way inside in one stroke, sharing a moan with the girls. My first time having sex, with the sexiest girl, actively in labor! I started to move in and out, while Mel and Anna were teasing and touching each other like there was no tomorrow. I could feel Annas contractions as I fucked her, her birth canal pulsing around me as she was slowly dilating, her cervix opening to let her give birth.

Anna was moaning, grunting, and panting, not caring about our classmates watching her at her most vulnerable which, in my mind, was also at her peak of beauty and sensuality.

“You’re so bea… fuck… beautiful Anna!” I groan, before jerking my hips forward again, grinding against her clit, both of us seeking our pleasure.

“…Gonna cum… gonna cum…” she whispered back as both Mel and I caress her large pregnant belly, covered by a sheen of sweat and milk.

“Cum for us darling, let that pregnant pussy of yours gush for all to see…” Mel moaned in Anna’s ear, loud enough for me to understand. Those words were enough to push us all over the edge, cumming and screaming our respective orgasm. Mel grabbed onto Anna’s tits and tried to close her legs, shaking from head to toe, while I was emptying the biggest load of my life deep in our pregnant friend’s pussy, my body jerking on its own, seemingly trying to impregnate the girl actively giving birth. As for Annabeth, she was screaming her heart out, not caring about volume, her cries of pain, discomfort, and sheer pleasure mixing together as her water broke like a floodgate, drenching me in squirt and amniotic fluid.

“Oh god… oh god… my water broke… did my water really break?” She asked, still a bit out of breath, trying to look at me over her pregnant belly, Mel having jumped off her face.

I looked at her and raised an eyebrow with humor, my waist and torso still wet, cock softening slowly, but staying aloft for now.

“Yeah, I think your water broke. Do you need to change position?”

“Maybe… I’ll try standing UPPP!” She shouted, her legs wanting to give out, but Mel and I were quick enough to grab her arms. Anna dropped to a squat, her slit starting to bulge out and part.

“I feel like pushing… fuck! Fuck I need to push!” She shouted, her belly hardening as a contraction wracked her body. Her face scrunched up and she pushed, her lips moving further and further apart under the amazed looks of me and the rest of the class. With me not actively fucking Anna, I was able to split my focus and look at my classmates. Those that weren’t fucking each other or touching themselves were among the minority. The room was filled with shed clothes and moans of pleasure. Anna’s moaning brought me back to the present as she squatted lower, the head peaking out of her pussy. Her nipples were still leaking, ready to feed her baby, but Mel latched onto one of them, while I took the other into my mouth. We drank her sweet-tasting milk as she pushed her baby out, the head now crowning between her legs.

“Fuck it feels good! Keep going… keep going I’m gonna… cuuuuuuuum!” Anna groaned as she squirted the head out, a gush of fluid following her baby making its appearance into the world.

“You’re so hot mama, you’re doing so good. Almost there, ok?” Mel whispered while stroking the future mother’s hair and kissing her neck.

Anna almost purred at the touch, and wrapped her arms around me, squatting low, forcing me down with her. My arms were massaging her hips and offering counterpressure, her belly moving against me.

“Need to push… need to push… need to push…” She was repeating, almost in a trance. Even with her body covered in sweat and her hair sticking to her face, she was the most beautiful women I’d ever seen.

“Do it love, push your baby out. We all believe in you. I know you can.” I told her, kissing her neck and shoulder, before she pressed her lips against mine.

We kissed for what felt like an eternity, before she moaned louder into my mouth, her body shook again, and she finally gave birth into my waiting hands, who started to cry. Mel supported and helped Anna sit down, and I gave her the baby she pushed out with so much effort and grace. She started to nurse, exhausted, but beaming. Motherhood suited her so well.

Miss Bekerley, trying to readjust her skirt, soaked through with her juices, cleared her throat.

“Good job Anna, and congratulations on your bundle of joy! That was… quite a presentation. How will you call her?”

She turned to look at Mel and I, smiling softly, before turning to our newborn daughter.

“Like you said… Joy.”

[bullet-prooflove]

Second Fiddle: Dwayne Pride x Reader (feat: Douglas Hamilton)

Tagging: @kmc1989@mandy426@keyweegirlie@luckyladycreator2 @dizzybee03

Ro - Dwayne starts to see you in a different light.

Roses - Dwayne realises your being courted by another man.

Waiting - Dwayne can't stand to see you with another man.

The Storm - Dwayne and you take shelter together during a hurricane.

Crescendo (NSFW) - You and Dwayne spend the night together during the hurricane.

Room At The End of The World - You explain what happened to LaSalle.

Douglas is waiting for you with a glass of whiskey and a concerned expression when you turn up at his place later that evening. A secondary storm is already in effect, the rain pitter pattering against the windows as you pull down your hood and step inside.

“Aurora…” He murmurs, setting his whiskey glass down on the sideboard before wrapping his arm around you and drawing you close. The water from the NCIS windbreaker you’re wearing  soaks through his white sweater as his lips brush over your hairline “I was so worried.”

Guilt twists in your stomach because you know he’s being sincere, it’s was in the sound of his voice in every single one of those voicemails he left.

“I know we’re not in a great place at the moment, but please just let me know that you’re ok, that you got somewhere safe.”

You’d text him back after your phone had charged, let him know that you’d survived. Now you’re here in his home because this thing between the two of you it’s been dying since the evening you left him at the Mayor’s Ball for Dwayne.

I needed you last night and you weren’t there, he’d told you when you met up for dinner the next day. It feels like I’m not a priority for you.

It cuts both ways Douglas, you’d reminded him as you toyed with your wine glass because the truth is you haven’t been the focus of his attention for a while now, there always seems to be something else pulling him away.

He sighs then because you’re both right. In between his job and the irregular hours you keep, there isn’t much space left for either one of you in this relationship.

Maybe we should cool things down a little, he’d said quietly. Take some time to reevaluate what we want from one another.

It’s a week later you decide to end it because the truth is you don’t love Douglas and it’s unfair for you to hope that things will just click into place when you know that you’re in love with another man. That’s why you were at his office the night the hurricane siren went off, to break things off with him. Only you never got to have that conversation.

“Come inside.” He whispers, his forehead coming to rest upon yours. “Let me pour you one of these, warm you up.”

“I’m not staying.” You say as you pull away tucking your hands into the pockets of your windbreaker.

“Oh.” He says as he steps back and studies your demeanour. He’s become an expert at reading body language over the years, he knows exactly what’s coming.

“Douglas…” You begin but he shakes his head to cut you off.

“Let’s not do this, the whole it’s not me it’s you thing.” He says wearily as he picks up his whiskey glass again. “It’s been a hell of a day and, I don’t have mental bandwidth to pretend we both don’t know what this is really about…”

“Douglas, I’m sorry…”

“It’s Pride isn’t it?” He says, his gaze meeting yours. “You’re in love with him.”

You don’t say anything, you don’t have to, it’s written all over your face.

“Right.” He says, throwing back his head and draining his whiskey glass. “I was nothing more than a distraction, a way to forget about the man you couldn’t have.”

Your cheeks flush with shame because he’s right. Douglas was outgoing, fun and you left yourself get swept away in his charisma. When you were with him, you weren’t thinking about Dwayne and the complexity of that situation. You were just enjoying the moment, the fact that you were with someone who wasn’t afraid to express how much they wanted you.

“Douglas...” You say again and he raises his hand to stop you because he doesn’t need to hear anymore. He’s done playing second fiddle to Pride and he doesn’t have it in him to try and make you feel better over this whole thing. He’s too hurt, too exhausted. He just wants to climb into the bottom of his whiskey bottle and drink himself to sleep.

“Go.” He says, his voice completely devoid of emotion as he opens the door to the storm raging outside. “Please just go.”

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[simlit]

Chosen of the Sun | | dawn // forty-five

| @catamano

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ELION: Not at all. I’m simply accustomed to powerful women. Indeed, hierarchal structure is one of the few things in this world I enjoy. I can respect authority spoken by someone who knows firmly what they want; A commander that isn’t afraid to give commands. EIRA: But you don’t respect mine. ELION: That’s hardly the case. I respect you a great deal. But I also enjoy you greatly in other ways, so I’m inclined not to listen. It’s quite the paradox. A part of me does feel quite poorly. I’m just being ripped apart on the inside by my own internal dilemma— EIRA: Can’t you take anything seriously?! ELION: Yes. Yes I can. And I do. I’d like to get to know you. EIRA: Why? ELION: You ask me to be serious, then I will give you a very serious answer. I once loved a woman like you. You remind me of her in the most achingly beautiful way. It’s painful. And I want to feel it more. EIRA: …So it is a kink. ELION: Only partially. EIRA: laughs Ridiculous. Did she love you back? ELION: For a while. EIRA: Shocking. Let me guess, you drove her away? ELION: Not at all. I lost her. EIRA: Oh. She… I’m… sorry. ELION: She didn’t die, if that’s what you think. At least, not in that way. No, I imagine she lives, still. But the woman she once was… Death is simple, you see. We grieve in the face of it. And grief has a name and a shape. It’s understood. There are far worse things than dying. To carry on when there’s nothing left of us… That is suffering of another sort, entirely.  EIRA: And I remind you of this? Shouldn’t you resent me? ELION: Not at all. I’m reminded of the fondest memories. You see, like you, she hailed from the mountain regions; One of the snow-touched elves of the north. I wondered if you might have had elvenblood yourself. That striking color of your hair… EIRA: I’m no elf. Just unlucky. ELION: Unlucky? EIRA: My parents were perfectly plain and human, in a village of other perfectly plain humans. I imagine that’s why they threw me out when I was barely strong enough to open my eyes. I’ve been putting people off since I was an infant. So forgive me if your advances don’t exactly stir my pot. ELION: Then, my apologies. I should not have expected you to respond the same. She was, I suppose, a particular case. EIRA: How did you… meet? ELION: Very accidentally. We met during one of my assignments long ago. She was no stranger to battle; A ranger, and better with a blade than I. They say poison is a maiden’s murder weapon, but she preferred a more direct approach, and I’d never been beaten so badly. EIRA: You were sent to kill her? ELION: No, I was sent to kill her client. And I did kill him, but she certainly didn’t make it easy for me. EIRA: Well, that’s a story if I’ve ever heard one. ELION: I have many. I expect you do, too. We could exchange them sometime. I can be quite civil when I need to. Dinner, drinks, I’ll even wear my hair up. EIRA: Tch. Do I look like the type to be wined and dined? ELION: I hoped not. EIRA: Then you weren’t wrong. But I’m no one’s replacement. ELION: I would never think to replace her. But then, seeing you, I considered maybe I ought to finally move on. EIRA: Find someone else. ELION: Ah, well. Suppose I should. I’m happy to accept when I’m defeated. But you must at least give me credit for trying. For what it’s worth, I was sincere. EIRA: … ELION: About what I said before… the trials… do be careful and look after yourself. EIRA: I— ELION: Yes, I know. You’re strong. And more formidable people than you have been ground to dust in those games. Even if you do survive… I hope that when you come out on the other side, you’ll still remember just how strong you were.

[a-mossy-amethyst]

if trans stuff/gnc stuff is up your alley i am very fond of the post-coma name scene. What if John had decided that instead of being John, he wanted to be Jane? I enjoy the softness and humanity of it all.

Jane Doe rights!

Some of the dialogue is from episode 5 as this is meant to be an alternative version of the name scene

“So, what have I missed?” Arthur asks.

The entity pieces together what to tell him first. He’s been in a coma for a month, and it feels like so much and so little has happened at the same time.

Their focus should be on Amanda Cummings. Arthur was already talking about her before it cut him off.

But the entity spent a month alone with no one but a kind nurse to keep it company. And the name she, without realizing, gave it has been stirring at something in its mind.

It decides to pry open the topic gently. “For one thing, they don’t know who you are.”

“No?”

“No. I thought maybe they would piece together the missing driver from the car accident a ways away from here.” It pauses. “... You’ve been John Doe for the past weeks.”

“Oh.”

“It’s…” How does it explain?

“What?” Arthur asks.

“It’s actually interesting,” it says, stalling for time.

“Well, how so?” he prompts the entity to explain.

“The nurses, one in particular… she comes in to check. She always says, ‘Good morning, John,’ and, uh…” it trails off.

“What about it?”

The entity flexes its hand, testing the joints. It’s stiff. At first, it used to drum its fingers against the bed to entertain itself, but after so long it started drifting away from this body. The only times it came back to it was when Lilly visited, and it avoided moving so she didn’t freak out.

Having a name sounded nice. But not necessarily that one. Part of it wanted to keep it for Lilly’s sake, but it doesn’t quite fit. Like a puzzle piece that matches its color scheme and looks like it should be a part of it, but just doesn’t have a spot for itself.

The entity was grateful for Lilly giving it a name. It just wishes it was one it liked more.

“Well, I like having a name.”

“What do you mean?” Arthur moves his limbs one at a time, probably testing them like the entity did its hand. “You want to be called John?”

“No. I want to be called… something.” It didn’t know.

“Okay…” Arthur says slowly. “Did you not like John?”

“I guess not.”

“How about other ‘j’ names? James, Jack, even just Jay-”

“No, no, you don’t understand,” it snaps, because none of those are right.

“Alright, so not ‘j’. Um… what about Robert? Or Nathan, or Alexander?”

The entity huffs. “You aren’t getting it.”

“No, I’m afraid I’m not,” Arthur retorts. “You said you wanted a name, but not John. I’m sorry I can’t list every name in existence on the spot. I just woke up from a coma, as you said. I’m still adjusting.”

It sighs. “Sorry, Arthur,” it says sincerely. It doesn’t mean to upset him so quickly, but he just isn’t getting it.

How does it explain better? It’s not that the names Arthur listed were particularly bad, they just weren’t right. Not like…

“I like ‘Lilly’ more than I like ‘Arthur’.”

Arthur stills. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

The entity groans. “I’m trying to explain.”

“You’re not doing a very good job of it, then. I feel rather insulted. Is ‘Arthur’ so bad a name?”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Then what did you mean? I can hardly be called Lilly, that’s a woman’s–” he abruptly cuts himself off.

“What?” it snaps.

“Oh.”

“Just spit it out, for God's sake!”

“Ah, well, it's just…”

“Jesus Christ, Arthur, what–”

“Would you… prefer a woman's name?” Arthur tentatively asks.

The entity pauses. Was that the problem? That “John” was too masculine for whatever it was?

“Like what?”

“Oh- um- John Doe is the name for unidentified males, and the female version is Jane Doe, so what about Jane?”

The entity twirls the name around in its mind. Jane Doe. It would still be an homage to Lilly, and, more importantly…

It felt right.

“Jane.”

“Y-yes,” Arthur nods, Jane’s vision bouncing with the movement. I'm sorry if I'm wrong, it was just a thought, ignore me–”

“No!” it cuts him off. “Jane is good. My name… is Jane Doe.”

Arthur sighs in relief. “It's a nice name. I'm glad I can call you something. Does that mean you're a she, then?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Jane is a woman's name, so I thought you'd go by 'she’ as well.

“… Was I wrong?”

Jane hesitates. It doesn't sound like a bad idea.

“No, I think it's fine.”

“Right. Okay. Thank you for telling me.”

Jane thinks if she had a body, she'd be smiling right now. “Thank you for helping.”

[jamdoughnutmagician]

A Slice of Life (Waitress AU) part 7-Final Chapter.

Doctor!Steve Harrington x Waitress!Reader

<- Previous part

Word Count:4,279 (sorry it's a long one.)

Authour's Note: Thank you so much to everyone and anyone who read and enjoyed this silly little series 💖 Big love to all of you who supported me as I was writing this! You guys are the absolute best.

*dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist // Steve Harrington Masterlist

Dear Baby, somewhere in the space in-between the pie baking, and Billy eating it later that night began the most open and honest conversation I’d ever had with anyone over the phone. I’d spend whatever little time I could squirrel away from Billy talking to Steve. Talking to him about my mom and how much she loved me, about how sad she would have been to see my life turn out the way that it has, about Billy and how much he’d changed after we got married, how he became someone I feared. About how lonely it can be to be a woman so poor and afraid all the time. Talking to Steve so openly and honestly gave me the breathing space I needed. To clear my head and lift the burden from my chest, to say things to someone and have them matter for once. 

You sat comfortably in Steve’s lap, your bump rounding out between your bodies as he reclined back in his office’s chair, it was the one place you two could be together, a quiet safe haven from the rest of the world.

His large hand runs a gentle, caressing touch on your exposed thigh, the skirt of your dress having shifted the moment you sat down in his lap. 

You tangle your fingers in the lengths of shaggy hairs that curl around his neck, absent-mindedly twirling the soft strands between your fingers.

“I’ve never met anyone like you, Steve Harrington.” you smile.

And it was true, you’d been with Billy for longer than you’d been without him, and in that time he’d never been as gentle to you as how Steve treated you. With Billy you often felt as though he walked around with you slung under his arm as if you were some kind of trophy to be shown off, as if you were the prize, and he was the winner.

“I have a little something for you. A present.” Steve says, almost a little shyly.

“I love ‘little somethings’. What did you get me?” you beam excitedly. “Wait, I hope this isn’t some kind of thing where you say it’s a present for me, but really it’s a present for the baby.” 

“No, no, this is just for you, I promise.” he says with a reassuring smile as he hands you over your present. “I’m sorry I didn’t really have time to wrap it any better than this.”

It’s a beautifully decorative ceramic pie dish. It’s soft yellow, with a white inside and small hand-painted wild flowers.  Affectionately tacked onto the dish is a pink gift-wrap bow and a gift tag, and as you turn over the gift tag, there in scrawly doctor’s handwriting is a little message, ‘for my favourite baker.’

He watches you as you turn the dish over in your hands, unable to stop the wide spread of your smile from taking over your face.

“I saw it in the market downtown and it made me think of you, thought you’d like it.”

“Steve, I love it. It’s the most beautiful pie dish I’ve ever seen.” You smile, but your smile falters for a quick second, your eyes suddenly looking sad.. “Steve, I can’t accept this, I can’t buy you anything back.” 

“I don’t want you to buy me anything, it’s a gift. From me to you.”

“Why did you get this for me, Steve?”

“Because I find myself absolutely falling head over heels for you..” he says with every ounce of sincerity in his voice.

If he was about to say anything else you’d never hear it because you immediately press your lips against his in a desperately feverish kiss. Holding his face in your hands as you lean in close  

You’re cleaning up the tables as the last few straggling customers push their way out of the diner’s door, collecting glasses and empty plates on a tray.

As you round your way across the diner’s floor you come over to the one table that still has someone sitting there, although it is Joyce’s diner, so she’s more than welcome to sit at her table for as long as she so wishes.

“Been another busy day today, huh?” she smiles as she downs the last few sips of coffee from her mug.

“Yeah, but we can’t complain now can we? Being busy is good for business, that’s what you always say, isn’t it Joyce.”

“That’s right my dear.” she smiles warmly at you. “Seems like only yesterday that I was buying this old, run-down shack of a diner. I’d been young and stupid, a single mom with two young kids, but I had big dreams of turning this place into something good. Something that people from all over the world would come to visit.”

You offer her a kind nod of your head as you listen to her.

“..And with Jonathan living three states away in New York and Will getting accepted at a college in Manhattan there’s very little that’s keeping me here these days. I’m leaving town at the end of the month. You’re actually the first person outside of my family that I’ve told.”

“Joyce, you can’t just up and leave this place! You’ve worked so hard to see it flourish, you can’t go now!”

She smiles, looking down at the discarded napkin on her table, before turning back to look at you.

“You remind me a lot of my younger self,” Joyce begins, totally ignoring your previous concerns about her leaving the diner. “Totally afraid of what’s about to come, but ready to tackle things head-on, whatever they may be. You don’t even know what you’re capable of, sweetheart, you’re not just some little waitress, you’re a lot stronger and wiser than you give yourself credit for, you understand me?”

“Uh, I think so, Joyce.” you fumble quietly.

“In my lifetime I've made so many mistakes, turned the wrong corner, followed the wrong signs, but this life is giving you the chance to make the right choice, don’t let this opportunity pass you by. It’s never too late to start fresh.”

“I don’t have enough money, Joyce. Starting fresh is a luxury that I could only dream of. I’m about to have a baby, that’s certainly going to make starting fresh a whole lot harder.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know you are. I was just dreaming a little for you, that’s all.”

 You smile at Joyce and her kind words, as a comfortable silence falls between the both of you. Until the easy quietness is broken by the sound of a car’s revving engine screeching to a stop outside the diner and the quick pounding footsteps of heavy boots crunching on the gravel outside. The diner’s door flings open and in storms Billy, and as if his thundering presence wasn’t enough he snatches an empty glass off a nearby table before throwing it to the ground, the glass shattering with a tense crash.

“Y/n, I’m very upset with you. I’ll be waiting for you in the car, and I don’t like to be kept waiting, you understand?” he shouts, his gruff voice rumbling with anger. He makes his point by slamming the door behind him with a loud smack.

“You weren’t kidding. Your husband really is terrible.” Joyce scoffs, breaking the uncomfortable tension in the air.

You hug your arms around Joyce.

“Thank you, Joyce. I have to go.” you sigh, clinging to her a little tighter wishing you didn’t have to go. “I’m fine. I’ll be okay, I promise.” You reassure her, although there was a beat of silence between both of you where you weren’t quite sure if she really believed your words. You weren’t even wholly convinced you believed them yourself.

You nervously slip into the passenger seat of Billy’s camaro, gently closing the door beside you.

“Billy..” you start.

“-No! You don’t say anything. You don’t say one word to me. Not a single word, you just sit there and I’ll deal with you when we get home.” he cuts you off with a stern edge to his gruff voice.

You shrink in on yourself, wringing your hands in your lap as Billy looks over his shoulder to reverse out of the parking lot and begins speeding his way down the road.

His rough hands grip your arm as he hauls you through the front door, dragging you towards the kitchen.

“Billy stop it! You’re hurting me!!”

“Quit your whining.”

In the kitchen he cages you between his body and the countertops, reaching above you to fling open the cabinet doors where you keep all your baking supplies.

As he does the money that you had been stashing away, hiding from him, for months flutters out from behind the plates and dishes.

“What the fuck is that, huh?!” He shouts, glaring at you as he invades your space.

“M-money.” you mumble quietly, tears beginning to bubble in your lash line.

“Yeah, and it’s hidden all over the fuckin’ house too!” he fumes. “Hidden away in cabinets, in drawers, in closets. Money hidden all over MY house!

“I’m sorry.” you snivel, the tense fear burning in your chest. Months of secretly stashing away little bits here and there, saving up enough money to finally get the chance to get away from Billy, and suddenly it’s all but ripped from underneath you in a matter of moments.

“You’re hiding all this money from me? After everything I’ve done for you.”

Billy’s anger turns to almost frustrated sobs as he falls to his knees in front of you, pressing his face into your pregnant belly as he clings to your dress. It shocks you that this is the moment he lays his lips against the curve of your belly, kissing your bump over the scratchy material of your waitressing dress. For months Billy never as much as looked in your direction when you started showing, never once displaying an ounce of interest or love towards the life growing inside you.

“You’re the only thing I ever loved, Baby. You’re the only person to ever belong to me.” he cries as he hangs onto you, his deep voice wavering with emotions. You wished that you could say that you believe his performative upset, but you knew that it was nothing more than that, a performance. A sweeping display of his masculinity and insecurities.

 “I hate that you were keeping secrets from me. Why were you hiding money all over the house?” he bubbles out from where he’s still on his knees, clinging to you pathetically. “Tell me you were going to surprise me and buy me a present or something. That’s why you were hiding money from me.”

The tears flow down your cheeks, leaving the dark smudge of mascara to gather in your lashes. It takes every last ounce of energy you have to just lie to him about the money.

“Yeah, I-I was gonna use it to buy you a present.” 

He cries against your body, still holding on to you. 

“Just hold me.” he snivels 

You oblige him, rounding your arms around Billy’s shuddering frame, because what else could you do? You knew that this whole display of emotions from him was just a way for him to make you feel guilty about wanting a better life for yourself, for wanting something more than this.

You shudder out a shaky breath of your own, steadying your voice before speaking once more.

“Truth is Billy, I was saving that money for the baby.” you tell him, and at that his face comes out from being buried against your belly, his tear-rimmed, piercing blue eyes looking at you as you continue to speak. “I was going to use it to buy a crib, toys, cute little baby clothes and blankets. It’s all the money I saved up for the baby.”

You watch your husband's shoulders physically slump down with relief, that seemed to calm him down enough.

Finally he rises from his knees, and holds your face in his rough hands, kissing you like he needs it for reassurance.

“I want us to be happy together darlin’"

Dear Baby, if you want to know how we afforded your crib, I’ll tell you. Your crib was bought with the money that was supposed to buy me a new life. Every time I’m going to lay you down in that crib at night I’m going to look at you lying there and think about how close I was to getting free of this life, about how I'm stuck like a damn pin in this damn life.

You stand in your front yard, watching on as the delivery men shift the crib in its box into your house.

Billy saunters his way over to you, thumbing through the handful of notes he had in his hands.

“Guess we got a good deal on this crib, Sugar. I’ve got enough money left that I can buy us a video camera, could get a couple of shots of you looking all big and pregnant, film the birth and the baby.” Then his voice drops to a husky whisper as he leans in close to your ear “and maybe once you’ve got your figure back and all, we could make a few naughty home videos,if you know what I mean.” he winks at you salaciously and you nod your head as if it’s all you can do to stop the shudder that thought sends down your spine.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, Billy” you grimace with a fake smile.

Steve, slides the blood-press cuff up your arm and begins to squeeze the pump, tightening the material around your arm, and as you sit against the rough paper-lined bed in the doctor’s room, you desperately wish away the gnawing pit of sadness sitting deep within you.

“I wish that we could have met under different circumstances.” you tell him.

“Me too.” Steve says softly. “I would go anywhere with you. I’d drop everything in a heartbeat if it meant I could spend my time with you.”

“I just want something in my life to go the way I want it to for once.”

 Steve sees you out the door to his doctor’s surgery, his hand placed comfortably on your lower back as he ushers you down the small few steps outside the door. The things you used to take for granted, things you used to find easy; like walking, became extremely tiring as you neared your due date. Your belly was rounding out in front of you quite considerably, enough to make your gait resemble that of a waddling penguin. 

You stop for a moment on the final step to catch your breath and that’s when you feel it. The wet gush that soaks your underwear and slowly drips down your legs from underneath the skirt of your dress.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Steve asks you, his eyebrows knitting together in concern as you stand stock-still next to him.

“Dr. Harrington, I do believe my water just broke.”

You’re sitting back in the hospital bed, droplets of sweat beading on your furrowed brows as another contraction works its way through your body. Your breaths come out as uneven shudders as the dull pain in your back throbs uncomfortably.

Steve was beside you, holding your hand through it, helping you through the pain but he quickly lets your hand fall from his when a tall, curly-haired blonde man comes sauntering into your birthing room.

“Hey, Sweetcheeks.”

“Dr. Harrington, this is my husband, Billy.” you manage to huff out as the tail end of your contraction eases off.

“Oh, hello, Mr. Hargrove.” Steve stands up to shake Billy’s hand, as the two exchange pleasantries.

“Excuse me Doc, but could you get up out of that seat so I can sit next to my wife?” he grumbles out.

Steve is immediately muttering out his apologies, as Billy takes his seat and immediately leans in close to kiss you. As he leans in, there’s a faint smell of alcohol on him, not that he was drunk, you’ve seen Billy when he was drunk, this wasn’t that. He’d probably had a few sly drinks at that bar just around the block from the car dealership where he works.

“I would’ve bought you a bunch of  flowers or something, but I got held up at work. You know what the boss is like, always bustin’ my ass for something or other.” He lies. You know where he’s been, and it’s not the fact that he’s drinking when he should be working, it’s just how easy the lie falls from his lips.

“Oh, that’s fine Billy, I don’t need anything.” you brush him off, wincing as another contraction pulses through you.

Steve interrupts your less-than-happy moment with Billy to offer some doctorly advice.

“Y/n, I’m going to need you to get as much rest as you can, you’ve got a big moment coming up soon, I’ll leave you two to your privacy.” as he turns his back to give you space. In another world Steve would be the one to hold your hand and support you through your birth, to wipe your brow and kiss your cheeks, telling you that everything is going to be fine. But with Billy here, already glaring at him from your bedside, he’s in no position to want any of these things, no matter how desperately his heart wishes.

“Oh, Dr. Harrington..” you call out to him just as he’s about to leave.

“Yes?”

“I just want to make sure we’re clear on one thing.”  he gives you a nod of his head for you to continue. “I want drugs. I want massive amounts of drugs. I want the maximum legal limit of drugs.”

Steve smiles that adorably cheeky smile of his.

“Absolutely, don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get the good stuff.” he chuckles before turning towards the door. As he opens the door for himself, in walks Joyce, with a kind smile on her face as she makes her way to you.

“Joyce! I thought you were going to be leaving for New York?”

“I wasn’t about to leave without saying goodbye to my favourite waitress, now was I? Nancy told me you were having your baby, so I thought I’d drop by and give you this card.” she says, handing you over a small white envelope. “It’s just a silly card from me, you should probably open it later, when all the fuss is over.” she says, wrapping her arms around you in a warm hug.

“Thank you, Joyce, for everything, I mean.” you mutter in her ear, holding on a little tighter before she pulls away.

“You’re going to do great things, Y/n. I know you will.” and with that she leaves you with Billy by your side to grit your teeth through another sharp-shooting contraction.

Your breathing gets harder as your contractions get shorter and sharper, and you try your best to ignore Billy pushing the video camera in your face in his best attempts to capture ‘the wonders of childbirth’ as he had called it.

The sweet older nurse who had administered your epidural pulls Steve aside. 

“She’s fully dilated, it’s time for her to start pushing.” she tells him.

Steve looks over to you kindly, laying a hand on your shoulder.

“Okay, Y/n, you heard her. Now’s your time to shine.”

“Keep going Y/n! You’re almost there!” Steve encourages as he helps to deliver your baby.

“You’re squeezing my hand a bit tight there, Darlin’” Billy winces from beside you, as you grit your teeth through the labour.

You can’t help but glare at him at this moment, the droplets of sweat beading on your furrowed brow.

“Keep pushing! One more big push and baby's going to be here!” 

You bear down in your hospital bed as much as you can squeezing as hard you can, clenching muscles you never even knew you had.

“One! Two! Three!” Steve cheers and the room is suddenly filled with the tiny cries of your baby. “It’s a girl!”

“Well how about that, a baby girl.” Billy says with a gentle scoff.

“Would you like to cut the cord, Mr. Hargrove?” 

“Sure, why not?” he nods, as though he couldn’t be less interested if he tried. Fucker.

“Mrs. Hargrove, would you like to hold your daughter?” asks the nurse from beside you, where she’s holding your softly crying baby girl.

All kinds of nerves and emotions and emotions bubble up inside you, and despite it all you nod your head.

“Yes please.”

The nurse hands over the pink bundle of blankets and suddenly you're looking face to face with the most beautiful little baby girl. Her soft cries quieten immediately as soon as she’s in your arms. Her beautiful eyes are wide and curious, sparkling with life, as she looks back at you.

“Hi baby,” you smile down at her lovingly.

Suddenly with her in your arms it all clicks into place. It all just felt right to finally have your little girl softly snuggled against your chest. Everything else around fades into the background and it’s just you and her in this world together.

“Remember what I said now, don’t you?” Billy comes into your view, leaning close to your side. “You promised me that you weren’t going to love this baby more than you loved me, you remember that?” he chuckles with a light but sneering, callous undertone.

“I don’t love you, Billy.” You tell him honestly. “I haven’t loved you for years. I want a divorce.”

Billy laughs uncomfortably.

“I want you the hell out of my life, I never want you to lay so much as a finger on me ever again, I am done with you.”

“What the fuck did you just say to me? Huh, you think you’re so brave all of a sudden, is that what this is, huh?” but all of Billy’s confrontational shouting falls on deaf ears with you as Steve grabs him by the shoulders, tussling with him slightly before marching him out the delivery room. 

You smile down at the little bundle softly sleeping in your arms, proudly. 

“Hazel. That’s your name, Little baby Hazel.” 

 “Honey, you gotta wake up.” Robin nudges your shoulder, gently rousing you from your sleep.  “We’ve got to get you and your little girl up and out of here.”

“Billy’s refusing to pay, so they’re kicking you out.” Nancy says with a sorry face.

“But I can’t go home, not when Billy is still there..” you worry

“So that’s why you’re going to come live with me for a little while.” Nancy interrupts you before you can worry any further. “Take all the time you need to get back on your feet, me and Robin will be here for you and little Hazel every step of the way.” 

“Speaking of which, where is she? I need to meet my new baby niece.” Robin says already rushing over to where Hazel lay in her hospital cot in your room. “Oh darling, she is so beautiful.”

“Well, she definitely got her good looks from her mother, that’s for sure.” Nancy joins in with a laugh, cooing over Hazel who had been fast asleep through all the commotion.

You leave the two girls to bubble over who’s going to be Hazel’s new favourite aunt, and all the things that they’re going to teach her, as you reach for the white envelope on your side table. The one that Joyce had left for you. 

‘To, Y/N, my favourite waitress, the best baker and a kind friend. For a fresh start. Love, Joyce.’

Upon opening the card, a small piece of folded up paper flutters out. You unfold it and it’s what’s written on the piece of paper that has you choking back a shocked gasp.

It’s a check for $2000,000 addressed to you, along with a message written inside the card.

“You’re a smart girl, I know you’ll look after this place better than anyone. The diner is yours, now go do wonderful things, Darling.”

It’s a few years down the line, and Hazel is bouncing happily in her high-chair seat in the colourful diner, gurgling with a smile around a soft mouthful of mashed banana, as you lay out the array of pies for the day’s customers. 

Your award for winning first place at the county fair’s bake off proudly displayed on the wall behind you.

The diner is bustling with life, with more customers than ever before.

Laying down the final dish of Coconut Clouds Pie a familiar mess of shaggy hair and soft brown eyes comes up and wraps his strong arms around you, kissing your cheek and picking you up and twirling you around before setting you back down on your feet.

“I love you, Y/n. I truly do, and I’m so proud of everything you achieved. I count myself as lucky to have someone as wonderful as you in my life. There’s not a day that I'm with you that I take for granted.” Steve mutters as he kisses your lips, gently cupping your face in his hands. “I want you in my life always, you and Hazel, I mean it.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way, Doctor Harrington.” you smile teasingly leaning in to kiss him once more.

And you meant it. Life with Steve and little Hazel was everything that you had ever wanted. You had never felt more safe, secure and loved than in the arms of Steve Harrington. Your own perfectly happy little slice of life.

@keerygal @penguinsandpotterheads @mrsjellymunson @paybacksawitch @seatnights @ali-r3n

[thatswhatsushesaid]

i fell in love with jin guangyao when he threw his hands up (metaphorically) at nie mingjue during the stair debacle and went "wow you really Cannot understand me. fine. i tried. skill issue"!! i thought it was so cool how neatly he dual-wielded justified terror, justified snark, and a sincere attempt at making himself understood. i guess that's triple-wielding, actually, but you get it

you’re right, i do get it, i get it so much. 🤝🤝🤝 that moment turned me into the unhinged jgy stan i am today.

Jin GuangYao sighed, “Brother, it really was my father’s orders. I couldn’t refuse. Now, if you want me to take care of Xue Yang, what would I say to him?”

Nie MingJue, “There’s no need for explanations. Come back to me with Xue Yang’s head in your hand.”

Jin GuangYao still wanted to speak, but Nie MingJue had already lost all patience, “Meng Yao, don’t speak such pretentious words in front of me. Your whole thing stopped working on me since a long time ago!”

Within a second, a few degrees of unease flashed over Jin GuangYao’s face, as though someone with an unmentionable illness was suddenly exposed in the public. There was nowhere for him to hide.

He spoke, “My whole thing? Which whole thing? Brother, you’ve always yelled at me for calculating people and being too dishonorable. You say that you’re a proud, righteous person, that you aren’t afraid of anything, that propen men shouldn’t need to play with schemes. That’s fine. Your background is noble and your cultivation is high. But what about me? Am I the same as you? First, my cultivation isn’t as firm as yours. Ever since I was born, has anyone taught me? And second, I have no prominent background. Do you think that I’m in a steady position, here at the LanlingJin Sect? Do you think that I can rise into power the moment Jin ZiXuan dies? Jin GuangShan would rather bring another illegitimate child back than want me to succeed him! You think that I should be afraid of nothing? Well I’m afraid of everything, even other people! He whose stomach is full believes not him who is starving.”

EXR translation, pg 498 & 499

then comes the part of the text where imo jgy is 100% aware of the fact that nmj is going to hear his words and choose the worst faith interpretation of them. this feels like one last moment to give nmj a chance to prove him wrong about what he knows inevitably is about to happen, and it has been quoted and discussed so many times that i don’t think i need to do so again. but i will add this moment too, because i don’t think jgy gets enough credit for the brutal, savage humour in this line, after he gets kicked down the stairs:

Jin GuangYao only landed after rolling down more than fifty steps. He didn’t even stay on the ground for long before crawling up. With a wave of his hand, he sent away the servants and disciples who surrounded him. Dusting off his robes, he slowly raised his head to look at Nie MingJue. His eyes were quite calm, almost indifferent. Just as Nie MingJue unsheathed his saber, Lan XiChen happened to leave the palace to see what was going on, concerned after having waited for long. Seeing the situation before him, he unsheathed Shuoyue as well, “What happened, this time?”

Jin GuangYao, “Nothing. Brother, thank you for your advice.”

EXR translation, pg 500

rating: siiiiiiiiick

[heyidkyay]

Oh my god now you’ve got the image of G and Birdie with a little baby girl into my head… you can’t not write it now! I’d love to see maybe them introducing their baby girl to the rest of the band… or anything else you can come up with 🤣

I guess I'll take this pain, instead of your name | The aftermath

A little snippet:)

--

My due date was March 23rd. Which meant that George would be getting quite the birthday present (if the baby had perfect timing) and that they’d most definitely be an Aries, which were two things I couldn’t quite get behind, but something G was ecstatic over. 

Matty had been hoping the little one would arrive a little late, two weeks late to be precise, just so that he could get one over on George and have the baby share something in common with him instead. He really had been an absolute sweetheart throughout the entire pregnancy, but my God was he pushing it trying to get me to extend the absolute hell I’d endured. 

I’d gone through almost every symptom pregnancy had to offer, from day one I’d felt absolutely vile and then when my second trimester had rolled round I’d had to deal with Braxton Hicks, an undeniable appetite (I’d felt like an actual monster), and dizziness that rivalled anything I’d ever felt before. Including the time when I’d been hit by a fucking car. 

Still, all of Matty’s efforts appeared in vain now seeing as though I went into labour on February 13th, five whole weeks before I was even due. 

To say I’d shit myself would have been an absolute understatement. I was fucking terrified to give birth, let alone that early, and to make matters worse, George had been set to play a show, which meant that he’d had no idea my water had broken until I was high as a kite on fucking gas and air, and he was finally off stage. But thankfully, I’d also been at work and Delia had been the one to walk me through the whole process, we’d headed straight to hospital, due to the fact that I should not have been going into labour this prematurely, but also because she was afraid I was going to give myself a sodding aneurysm simply down to the amount I was panicking. 

But who could blame me?

Anywho, the whole thing seemed a bit small in comparison to when I finally did give birth. We’d been blessed with a tiny, little baby girl- 7 lbs 4 ounces and with a head of thick unruly hair. But before George and I could even get a look in the doctor had told me to start pushing- again.

“They’re coming along quite quickly now, just a few more deep breaths.” 

“You what?” I ask the man in scrubs settled between my legs. Baffled wasn’t even a word I’d begin to use to describe the emotions that hit me right then, having thought I’d heard him wrong until I saw the alarming look on George’s face.

“We need you to push, you can already see baby’s head.” A midwife informs me, ushering George to once again take my hand, to comfort me. He does but he’s caught in a daze. 

“But, but I just did that bit.” I say, mostly stunned, delirious almost for a moment. 

“I know, and you did wonderfully. But baby two isn’t too far behind.” She replies, smiling down at me sincerely even as her attention diverts between a handful of other people stood in the delivery room. 

Her words seem to startle G back into reality, “Baby two? As in twins?”

“Twins! What the hell do you mean, twins?” I feel dizzy once more, head darting between the nurse beside me, G, and the doctor who’s seen a little too much of my insides for my liking. I think I start mumbling then, rambling off a ton of questions, a mile a minute, to anyone and everyone who will listen. Twins. “Are you sure? Twins?”

The nurse laughs, not unkindly, then nods, “Definitely sure, even saw it for myself.”

I’m still not really pushing, too confused, too stunned to really do much, in truth. “Are you having me on? Is this a prank?”

She appears to realise G and I aren’t messing about here and I watch on, frozen, as her whole demeanour shifts before my eyes, “Yes, sweetheart, twins. You really didn’t know?”

I shake my head and am just beyond grateful that George is here with me, holding my hand so tightly that I can truly feel it start to numb- because, what?

Things seem to take a turn then, the entire atmosphere in the room drops when beeping starts up and lights start flashing worryingly. The doctor at the other end of my bed is coaching me through it again, his voice high and harried almost, and I know then that something’s wrong and that it’s all my fault.

“What’s going on?” I ask, eyes immediately snapping over towards the nurse standing beside me but she’s gone, fiddling with the oxygen machine behind my head and then the heart monitor. “G, what- what’s happening? Are they okay? The baby. Are they?”

“You need to push. The baby is losing oxygen, we need to get them out as quickly as possible.”

My heart plummets. I start to panic. It’s my fault. My fault. I’m doing it wrong. I’m to blame. It’s all my fault. I’m messing up and they’re not even really here yet. I’m doing it all wrong.

“We need you to push harder.”

“Breathe.”

“Come on, mum. We need you to really push now.”

“That’s it.”

“Birdie, it’s alright. You’re okay, love. The baby is okay. You just need to push a bit more. Just a little longer, okay?”

I feel my head move- nod?- but the room is spinning, I reckon I’m screaming too. Sobbing, even. My mind so focused on the baby I hadn’t even known I’d been housing, let alone created. My baby. 

Two babies! Two.

I let out a loud groan. Barely even aware of the careful fingers on my temple. 

“Good girl, B.” George whispers to me, lips pressed against my cheek as he brushes hair from out of my face. “You’re doing so well. So good.”

I cry harder, I push harder.

Time seems to have stilled in its entirety, the minutes won’t move, the seconds don’t count. I am lost in this moment, my mind screaming at me to just try harder. 

“And it’s a boy!” I finally hear and then I’m weeping again, crying and clinging to George before he too is dragged away from me by nurses to cut the umbilical cords. I stare up at the ceiling, unable to do much else, chest heaving, thick tears streaming down my cheeks, and all I hear is an overwhelming buzz. The kind I’d grown so used to, starting in my left ear before it soon echos in my right. Jumping, back and forth.

“A boy, Birdie. A boy and a girl.”

I blink and George is there again, hovering over me. He takes my face in his careful hands and holds me so close that we are nose to nose. I realise then he’s crying too.

“Twins.” I whisper breathlessly, every inch of me burns, but I itch to get up, to move and see them.

“Twins.” George repeats with just as much disbelief. “Twins, B. Ours.”

A baby boy, he’d told me. A tiny thing, so full of surprises. He was born smaller than his sister, an even 6 lbs and only ten minutes behind, but his eyes are unlike anything I’ve ever seen, huge and so very innocent, placed between a scattering constellation of tawny freckles that dot his cheeks and kiss his lids. 

A girl and a boy. All ours. 

I’d been taken with them both the moment I’d set my sights on them, ‘the twins' people had dubbed them. ‘Let’s go see the twins!’ ‘The twins are finally crawling!’ ‘Somebody grab a camera, the twins are being cute again!’

Never did I ever believe I’d have a family of my own, let alone a husband or these two beautiful beings that always seemed to stare back up at me with an incredible amount of innocence. It stirs something deep within me each time they do, both the thought and the very sight of them, and when their tiny little hands wrap their way around my fingers I know that I’ll never feel this type of love again. I don’t think I could even begin to describe it.

They are beautiful and they are ours, and I know from the very bottom of my heart that I will protect them until the day that I die. Because, how could I not?

How could anyone not?

[mariacallous]

Scared Shitless in Seattle didn’t know how to cope. In 2022, consumed by the dread of climate change and the shame of their sexuality, they wrote into ¡Hola Papi!, the popular online advice column. “Ultimately, you’re right to be afraid. I’m afraid,” Papi responded, lovingly and precise. “But fear isn’t the only thing.”

Like every ¡Hola Papi! column, it was unflinchingly candid, incorporating all the hallmarks readers have come to enjoy: humor and pathos, love and sincerity, the occasional food reference. If you’ve ever read one of his columns, you know that nothing is off limits for Papi: threesomes, friendship drama, what to do when you are the weekend boyfriend, energy vampires, even, yes, our sometimes shared existential doom.

Papi was born John Paul Brammer, and grew up a closeted Catholic school kid in rural Oklahoma, a town so small Brammer’s mother was his ninth-grade English teacher. He was, he confesses, “always a little bit desperate to get out” of his hometown. After college he landed in DC, where he picked up work as a blogger for “one of those content mills,” he says. “I did a lot of clickbait articles, like, ‘With One Tweet Nancy Pelosi Just Slayed Republicans’—that kind of thing. I was responsible for a lot of the junk that you saw on the internet.”

But the job had hidden benefits. “I learned what makes people click on things and how to snag people’s attention in the blurry digital sea of the internet,” Brammer says. “I figured out what a unique voice looks like.”

It eventually paid off. When an opportunity arose, in 2017, to author a column, he unleashed ¡Hola Papi! into the world. It couldn’t have happened at a better time, Brammer tells me. He was trapped in freelance purgatory, writing for half a dozen outlets but not really making a splash like he’d wanted.

“My clearest distillation of that timeline was, I'm on the M train going from Ridgewood to 30 Rock, and I am exhausted because I didn't sleep the night before because I was up talking to some Russian source over the phone about the gay purge in Chechnya and I could barely understand what they were saying through their accent, and I'm on train composing a Teen Vogue puff piece in the Notes app on my iPhone about how Kylie Jenner matched her dress with her fidget spinner, and I just want to die.”

It was during that period that a friend, who just so happened to work at Grindr, suggested he contribute to their just-launched LGBTQ+ editorial website, called Into, a cheeky reference to gay hookup app parlance. Before long, Brammer’s column established him as the Chicano Carrie Bradshaw.

Today, in addition to his column, Brammer is also an author, illustrator, and essayist. From his apartment in Brooklyn, New York, he opened up about navigating doubt, living with cynicism, and why he’s never quitting Twitter, er, X.

[poppyandzena]

This is a comment I intended to post on Z/P’s most recent video, but they’re locking down their comments now to manual approval, and my comment would’ve been censored anyway. Consider this my refutation of the points in their video:

Four points.

Spawn is a 24 year old adult. What they choose to do with the money their biological mother left them is THEIR business. Maybe you think they were blowing it on frivolous things, but it’s not your place to dictate how they should spend their money. Nevermind the fact that you charged them rent already.

When Spawn left your household, they were  5’1” and 80lbs. This piece of info was somehow missing from your video (unless it’ll be in part 2, which I’m skeptical of). At best you were negligent of your child’s health. At worst, you were actively starving them.

The way you point out how Spawn’s roommate has a “prestigious job” and how it would be a real shame if KiwiFarms went after them is absolutely disgusting. How is that specific detail relevant at all? The roommate has nothing to do with this fiasco. You’re all but prompting the KF mob with personally identifiable info to go after Spawn and their roommate. I don’t know how the hell you thought this made y’all look good.

You say that you consulted 3 lawyers, and that they say you have a credible case of defamation against Spawn, one which you will bring to them if they don’t stop talking about you. I call bullshit on this for two reasons. This feels like an attempt to intimidate Spawn into silence more than anything (Spawn deleting their blog speaks to that). First off, if you’re going to sue for damages related to losing your job, remember that you’re the one who made the decision to pick your social media presence over your job. That was on you, you could’ve kept your job (unless there’s something you’re not telling us). Second, I sincerely doubt you have the funds to keep a lawyer on retainer and to bring this lawsuit to fruition. Not to be mean, but let’s keep it real, by your own admission y’all weren’t exactly big ballers before, and now your household doesn’t have an income (unless Zena has a well paying job I’m not aware of). Looking online reveals that the average defamation lawsuit costs $20,000 - $50,000. Considering the sprinklings of info you’ve dispensed about your finances over the years I’ve been watching your channel, I doubt you have that kind of cheese to throw around. And even if you do manage to find enough standing to successfully sue your child (which just *screams* loving parent), what exactly do you hope to win? Spawn is probably financially destitute. What, you want the last $13k of that trust fund money? Come on, be real. See, this is why I don’t think y’all actually reached out to a lawyer, because any lawyer worth their salt would tell you this isn’t a case worth pursuing. Any damages you can extract from a disabled 24-year old wouldn’t even come close to covering the legal fees. It won’t get you your job back either; you willingly chose to leave, and if you felt coerced, you’d go after your employer for wrongful termination. This is an unserious legal threat in my opinion; you’re afraid that Spawn will keep singing like a canary so you want them to keep quiet.

👏

[eatheangel]

천사 ⠀ ─── ⠀⠀ the first fan meeting.

The clamor behind the set is noisy with chatter. Rowdy like a stadium of antsy fans eager to feast their eyes on the spectacle soon to come. Their unwavering gazes bouncing from one corner of the room to the next, bursting at the seams with unreleased energy, waiting to unleash all their pent up emotions.

Waiting for her. She was the spectacle after all. The remaining fragment of a puzzle left behind to appease the growing frustration. She wasn’t naive. She knew she was going to be thrown as bait. The timing wasn’t ideal, but nothing in this situation was.

A voice shouts something crude above the buzz, leading to an uproar of noise again. She closes her eyes before releasing a sigh. The silly get-up she has on suddenly feels a thousand times heavier, stiff and itchy against her skin. She feels six again with the straps of her wings slipping off her shoulders.

Someone behind her tells her she’s ready to go on the panel. Cameras are readily waiting to capture her first moments in public after the sudden disbandment, fans hungry to pick apart any emotion visible of her features. Thrust into the woods to defend herself with nothing but a pretty dress and a delicate personality crafted by overhead hands.

Breathe in, breathe out. But that’s never been anything new.

The clamor heightens to an intense wave the moment she steps foot into the open room, her expression tightly closed up as she walks up the short steps behind her manager, the rest of the team following behind her. Following the older woman’s lead, she and the rest of them bow deeply before the crowd of tentative fans and curious reporters.

Much to everyone’s surprise, her team is entirely new. Fresh faces for the new era—down even to the stylists. The faces down the line to her left are foreign to her, nameless individuals and positions alike. To her right, Son Jungeun smiles pleasantly, completely at ease.

Clearly ruffled, a voice cries out from the audience—“Isn’t this supposed to be a fan meeting? Why does this look like an interview?”

As murmurs rise from the crowd in agreement, Jungeun taps on her mic with a freshly manicured nail. Silence immediately washes over the room, to which she nods to with satisfaction.

“You’re right,” she begins, her voice clear as day. “This isn’t your ordinary fan meeting. But it is a meeting with the fans nonetheless, so have we really been any distrusting to warrant such a bold outcry?”

The silence in the room hangs heavier within the echo of her last word. Pleased with the response she gets, Jungeun continues on.

“I’m sure it is shocking to see my face alongside the rest of my team. I’m sure it is shocking to only see one out of five from your idol group. I’m sure you’ve been feeling dismayed, lied to, or as if the rug has been pulled out from underneath your feet. These are all feelings that I sympathize with greatly, and would like to issue a sincere apology on behalf of the company before continuing on with any other statements.”

To a symphony of gasps and shocked reactions, after Jungeun’s lead, every member on the panel except for Vivienne stands up to properly bow their heads.

“Please do not take your frustrations on Miss Bae.” Jungeun speaks up after a short moment after straightening up once more. “There are decisions being made that are out of her hands.”

Vivienne stares at her new manager in open disbelief, knowing but seemingly uncaring that her very face of shock will be plastered on drama pages and small news sites within the hour.

Son Jungeun is still very much the strange woman she’d been introduced to a mere three days before the appearance. She’d been just as curt and cordial as she is now, but it leaves her more uneasy than she had been prior.

“If you have any questions about plans concerning Miss Bae’s career prior to this meeting, I’m afraid we will not be discussing any of her prior activities. We will solely be discussing her career as a soloist and her future going forward. Are there any questions?”

She’s a new hire, or so she’s heard. Worked with the likes of other disbanded groups long faded from the industry’s rapidly filling roster. Very put together and takes pride in the work she does. Not a hair out of place or a wrinkle in sight. It irks her.

“How does it feel going solo now? Have you been thoroughly trained and prepared to take on a solo career?”

All eyes shift on her. The spotlight directly above her swelters just a little bit hotter than before. Her skin prickles with discomfort as she leans over to speak into her mic.

“I’m grateful to have this opportunity,” she starts, her voice wavering before it cracks slightly on the last syllable. It makes her cringe internally almost instantly. “It has not been an easy few weeks in preparation to speak to you all again, but I hope you can support me in this new venture in hopes that we can still share fond memories together.”

Vivienne gets up to bow at the waist, her hair falling in front of her face. Jungeun smiles minutely. The crowd grows increasingly confused and disgruntled.

“Do you think you are deserving of this solo career? Wouldn’t other members have benefited from this kind of opportunity?”

“I’m just grateful to have been given this opportunity.” Her cheeks ache from maintaining a relaxed smile. “The company believes in me, so I hope you can believe in me as well.”

“Have you been in touch with anyone since the disba—”

“With all due respect,” Jungeun interrupts, smile pleasantly unwavering. “We would like to keep the focus on Miss Bae alone. No questions about any of her prior activities, remember?”

The noirette nods at the fan to continue, who then fumbles for a moment before nodding slowly.

“Xiù Mingyue released an interview exposing the company's lack of support for the remaining four.” When Jungeun’s expression hardens in warning, they quickly scramble to finish, “is it true that Flowerbank’s alleged favoritism is the reason behind—”

“That will be all.” Jungeun stands up abruptly, her chair screeching against the floor. “If no one has any questions about any future plans, this meeting is now moot point. Thank you for coming.”

Taking Vivienne’s arm, Jungeun offers a curt bow to the sea of shocked people and hauls the younger after her, noise filling the room as they slowly get over the sudden outburst. Fans shout questions and obscenities after them, but Jungeun pays them no mind. When Vivienne glances back, the rest of the team follow like mindless robots.

Hushed conversations hover over her head once she’s sat backstage, but it fades to low static as her mind reels over the news.

Xiù had talked about her? It’s not like it was surprising. She had always had the more star-like quality out of the five of them. The fans loved her—from her stage presence to her cute personality to her larger than life allure. Xiù Mingyue was a star.

And yet she was chosen. Vivienne briefly wonders if the powers that be were in on a sick joke she had not a single clue about. They had to know she was the least popular in the group, the least favored, the least cheered for. What use was wasting time and money on her?

Was the charade so much more important than saving face?

She briefly entertains rushing back to the panel to say how she really feels. That the new manager makes her nervous, the new team makes her uncomfortable, and the halls are so much lonelier. That she misses the soft humming Hyejin did in their shared dorm, Dawn’s laughter, and the few times she would get along with Rani and Xiù. The solo wasn’t her choice. None of it was.

Her expression must be something pitiful for a nameless staff member to lay a half comforting hand on her shoulder. “Cheer up,” he says, offering a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. The baseball cap on his head casts a shadow that covers the upper half of his face. “Having Jungeun-ssi on your team means you’re in good hands.”

Once he leaves, she slowly smooths her thumb over where the older woman had gripped her arm to tug her along. Good hands.

COMEMNTS …

[ +1826 ] watch it come out that she’s the reason why the girls disbanded… girl YOU are the overhand help who tf even are you 😭

↳ [ +1040 ] flowerbank gotta be the most dysfunctional company.. yg and sm taking notes

[ +593 ] nobody gaf about any of the girls but her new manager fine as hell…

↳ [ +916 ] what’s killing me is that you really used your own two fingers to type this out pls seek professional help omg

[ +425 ] well they’re definitely hiding something if they’re not gonna talk abt the other girls ?? WHERE TF IS DAWN ???

[ +387 ] this is crazy glad yue and rani got out … who is this lady help

view more!

[blackacre13]

can you please continue the teacher/student au?

Part 39 is here: Part FORTY below!

“Well,” a deep voice laughed on the line. “It’s not a date night so this isn’t about the best spot for a whiskey and you refuse to take my advice on women so what do I owe the pleasure?”

Lou raised an eyebrow, but she was grinning. The brunette swatted her, but Lou had already caught sight of her blushing cheeks.

“Danny,” she hissed, through gritted teeth. “I need your help.”

“So you’ve called the superior Ocean. I’m afraid I’ll need to hear you—“

“Cut the shit,” Debbie sighed, looking at Lou with eyes full of worry. “I need your help. I need my big brother.”

“I can be at your place in twenty.”

“I fucked up,” Debbie whispered, falling against the blonde as Lou cradled her, combing through her hair. “He can ruin my life, but I won’t let him ruin hers.”

Siblings were fascinating to Lou. Especially when you could observe them at once. And entertaining, when you only knew one of them and had to take that one’s word when they described the one who you didn’t know.

The only things that Lou knew about Danny Ocean included the fact that he was attached to the hip to someone she thought Debbie had called Rusty? But that couldn’t be correct for a grown ass man. She also knew that Debbie’s initial date with her, that allegedly hadn’t truly been a date at all, but a TA welcome dinner, and the drink recommendation had also come from the older sibling. And now as Debbie opened the front door to let him in, the older Ocean immediately scooping her into a bear hug, him shooting a wink over his sister’s head at Lou, she could see his hair and eyes matched Debbie’s.

She expected Debbie to push him off with an eye-roll and a mention of getting back to business, but she clung to her brother, savoring the embrace for a long time until he spoke over her head.

“She’s not usually much of a higher,” he smirked, but he kissed her forehead before he let her go, just in time for Debbie to smack his shoulder and call him an oaf. “So this is the famous Ms. Miller. Sorry Debs has you under her spell, kid.”

Lou wasn’t sure how to respond, but Debbie was closing the door and rushing to her side immediately as if she had to defend the blonde’s honor, her hand sliding into Lou’s.

“You can cut the big brother teasing shit. This is bad,” Debbie sighed. “And whatever cradle robbing, does she call you professor in bed shit you’re planning on spewing, you can just skip. I meant it. This is big. And Lou—Lou is—“

“I know, Strawdebby,” Danny smiled, ruffling her hair before he took a seat in Debbie’s arm chair, carefully moving the stack of graded papers that currently sat there in a heap and placing them on the coffee table.

Lou tucked the nickname away for later.

“And it really is a pleasure to meet you, Lou. Sorry you got dragged into all this Becker shit when you should be partying and having fun every night. Best years of your life, right?” Danny grinned.

Debbie was pulling Lou towards the couch, sorry evident on her face.

“You think Dr. Ocean lets her TA have fun every night?” Lou grinned. She immediately regretted calling her Dr. Ocean. It was just habit when it came to separating their professional and personal relationship. But Debbie had already hinted at the name/power dynamic jokes and she didn’t want Debbie to think she was giving Danny permission to crack jokes at either of their expenses.

Regardless, he didn’t take the bait. He knew the stakes were too high.

“Tell everything,” he said instead, his face sincere. Lou and Debbie went over their history over the past few months. From Lou’s first class to her interview to her welcome dinner and beyond. Thankfully, leaving out any details that a big brother would find unsavory and would absolutely make Lou turn purple.

Debbie was practically shaking by the time they were done, and wordlessly, Lou swept her closer, letting her rest her head on Lou’s shoulder as Lou traced circles with her finger on the brunette’s slacks.

“You love her,” Danny spoke softly. It wasn’t a tease. In fact, it looked like awe and pride.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Debbie rolled her eyes. But her guard was down. Especially with Lou cradling her for support.

“Hold onto this one, Deb,” Danny smiled, his eyes traveling over to Lou. She supposed he wasn’t used to seeing Debbie this vulnerable or soft. “She’s good for you.”

“That’s the plan, Danny,” she sighed. “That’s why I need you. All the Claude bullshit. I don’t give a fuck about tenure or career or my courseload—“

“Debs,” Lou protested softly, but she waved the thought away.

“This is about her. Protecting her future,” Debbie whispered. “I love her.”

“I love you,” Debbie spoke turning to the blonde. “I hope you know I do. But as much as I love you and I love us, nothing is worth jeopardizing your future.”

Lou wanted to say that Debbie was her future. Because she was. But she also knew that both of them wanted her to keep pursuing her dreams. She knew Debbie wanted the world for her.

“Don’t even get me started about this Becker prick,” Danny grumbled. “I knew he was trouble from the start.”

“Well, what’s done is done,” Debbie hissed. “I hate that he’s a part of my history and that there’s only so much I can control in the present. But I’ll be damned if he destroys Lou’s future.”

[werdlewrites]

masterlist - ao3 - twitter @ djomamma

summary: “Look, kid,” he’s suddenly closing the space between them, towering above someone so frail and lost, looking for some sort of guidance through the haze. “I’m not afraid. Not of you, or whatever happens tomorrow. Hell, even a year from now. But, I think there are times when… you’re afraid of yourself.” Autumn remains still and unfocused. A stare locked on nothing in particular as her mind twists and pulls at the seams, digging through memories and reliving the hurt in her chest. “You don’t have t’go back. Just-just promise me you’ll think about it.” wc: 3,277 warnings: STEVE TIME, hallucinations, mentions of therapy

There’s unease and a deadly silence the moment those two glass doors fall shut at their backs. A man stands just at the edge, right before cement melds with the grass as he watches them go. A smile of success on his face, and pride. He spares a polite wave as the pair wander off, making eye contact with the officer who just barely glances over his shoulder. His stride is quick, easy to cover the ground with tall legs, yet still struggling to keep up.

Autumn moves against the harsh wind with force. Parting through the unseen with ease out of desperation to escape the grip of Hawkins Lab. It calls out to her. A taunting voice carried with every gust against her skin, but she pushed onward, not daring to look back.

The trio had ventured through the overwhelming building, following close behind their tour guide as he pointed out various spaces - near ghost-like. Rooms, where people once stayed and worked, are uprooted in panic and fleeing into the night. Their life left behind in spilled coffee on the floor and scattered papers. A life now being wiped clean to provide a fresh canvas for rebirth. Dr. Owens explains that hard work is not easy to come by, but that his small staff are reliable and efficient. He apologizes twice more for the incident beyond the walls.

“This, here, is my office.” He’s paused at an opening, allowing them to peer inside and take in the view. It’s boring, really. Just as she pictured. A desk to collect his work and a brilliant blue stress ball, misshapen from the pressure. False greenery to give life to something so dull, with certificates and achievements printed through ink strung up along the wall. In some ways, Autumn can picture her father sitting behind that desk. His wrist aching from hasty writing before slapping the folder shut to escape curious eyes.

“This is where we would meet,” he explains. “With the company of Mr. Jim Hopper, here.”

The officer stands at the girl's side in total silence, studying the man's features and searching for an ounce of ill intent. But his eyes hold sincerity as he awaits Autumn’s response. She remains quiet, merely acknowledging him with a look. Lips sealed tight from a lack of speaking and unwilling to pry them apart. Hopper anticipates some spiteful or sarcastic comment, maybe even an argument. But maybe she had given up. Total surrender as a sliver of hope stares back at her.

“I know you’re scared,” the doctor begins. “We don’t have to do this. You can turn around and go back to your life, and you’ll never see me again.” A hand lays just over his chest as a silent promise to vanish as if he never existed. “But what’s happening to you, won’t just quietly go away. It might get worse. It will get worse.”

Hopper can feel the tension grow around them, like a festering wound. He can hear the sharp intake of air as her body stiffens at his side, cowering beneath his shadow. “Sounds like this isn’t your first time.”

A look of pride and confidence shifts into a smile of sadness. Blue eyes fill with buried memories as they claw their way up to the surface, presenting their beauty and horror for only him to see. The cries of children and the rage that burned them up inside, until they became a mere shadow of themselves. Easy to mold and manipulate into the weapons they needed.

“No, it’s not.”

The car ride is silent, like the many hours prior. He won’t dare to speak and she won’t give him the courtesy of even looking his way. Her focus is locked on the passing scenery, just out the passenger window, looking for the girl. Searching for signs of her younger self in the faded grey. Winter claims and hides her away in the thinning woods. Or perhaps, she lies dormant. Finding the swift changes in her life challenging and overwhelming, seeking shelter from it all when her present self could not. Yet, she finds herself without envy of a girl she can’t fully recognize or place.

Through the silence, a familiar voice calls out for Hopper’s attention. The radio comes to life and the officer seems at his witts end, ready to rip it out from the dash. Still, he answers. Lips pressed to the mouthpiece as he mutters, “What?” Powell mentions another report coming in of a child being seen. Clothes were stolen and running through the woods on their own. For a brief moment, she wonders if it had been a hallucination at all. Maybe, she was being called out to help someone in need.

Autumn can see the way this news brings a certain level of distress. Head fallen back with shoulders sagged, a tormented look in his eyes as he studied the path ahead. She can feel it. The rip of his flesh and soul as he yearns to serve and protect, yet needing to stay by her side while she works her way through a storm conjured up to break her down. In a weakened tone, he says “It’ll be handled,” but never how or when.

Nothing else is said, nor is it needed. The pair vanished into the woods, far from any prying eyes. Inside the cabin, his discomfort is plain to see. He stands just after the threshold, gaze locked on the dirty, old wood with hands planted firmly on his hips. He fights a silent war - to stay or to go. Who would need him more? Would it make a difference?

The girl chooses for him with a heavy sigh, fingers massaging the sore space at her neck until clotted blood falls away like tainted snow. “You should go.”

Hopper has never been a man who needed or sought out permission. Not from family, not from friends or his coworkers - let alone a teenager. But her encouragement gives him a sense of peace. A small shred of relief brings the split he feels to a sudden stop, healing slowly as guilt continues to pour salt into his wounds.

“I’m kind of the reason they’re still out there, right?” Hopper can’t bring himself to answer, though something in her saddened smile tells him that he wouldn’t need to. There’s unspoken blame eating them both alive - maggots to rotten flesh. “D’you trust him?”

“I don’t trust anybody,” he replies without hesitation, and she nods along in acknowledgment. Her tired gaze cast down as she fiddles with what was left of her old jewelry. That old life had long since packed up and wiped clean from Hawkins - maybe even the entire state. “But I think…he can help. Help in ways that I can’t.” All falls to silence after that. The girl is unable to speak for fear a trembling lip will give way like a dam, releasing the floodgates she worked hard to keep strong. He can see it, even in the dark.

“Look, kid,” he’s suddenly closing the space between them, towering above someone so frail and lost, looking for some sort of guidance through the haze. “I’m not afraid. Not of you, or whatever happens tomorrow. Hell, even a year from now. But, I think there are times when… you’re afraid of yourself.” Autumn remains still and unfocused. A stare locked on nothing in particular as her mind twists and pulls at the seams, digging through memories and reliving the hurt in her chest. “You don’t have t’go back. Just-just promise me you’ll think about it.”

Autumn agrees in the silence with a nod of her head. Watching as her protector swiftly shifts into work mode, preparing to disappear into the wilderness in search of another soul to save. He promises to check in, and that he’ll bring home dinner in hopes of lifting the already heavy load from her shoulders. And with a final look to bid her farewell, he slips past the still-opened door and far from her sight. The sound of his engine fades with every second as he puts distance between them.

Now alone, the silence is deafening. Left in her own thoughts - maybe of someone else. Voices crawl over one another as they pile higher and higher. A tower of echoed pain and loneliness. It spreads and digs at the surface of her skin, enticing chipped nails to scratch along the fabric of her sweater and pull at the muscles. It builds rapidly. Seeping into her lungs until it’s suffocating - claustrophobic. Until all she can see in the dim cabin are the wicked smiles of men and creatures.

Hopper had told her to wait for him. To stay put for her physical and emotional safety. But with every tick of the clock, she sees that room. The flicker of a projection against dark wooden walls filled with pristine white. Whispers of children were just at her back when no one was there.

“Run.”

The light is fading in Hawkins by the time Autumn finally settles in. A grey sky now dusted by pink as the sun eases in for a long slumber, beckoning all to join her. But there are others that refuse her kind offer. They evade sleep like a plague, knowing what comes should they welcome it with open arms. There’s only torment in the darkness. They favor a large cup of coffee to keep the demons at bay, like her. Like the teenage girl who’s fled a suddenly crowded cabin to instead sit beneath bright lights of a diner.

It’s louder than she anticipates. Nearly turning her back on it as she passes by the windows, full of kids her age now running amuck with Winter Break in full effect. But, no one spares a glance her way. Far too enamored with their conversations to care about the lone witch of Hawkins taking a seat at the booth. Maybe in a way, she was grateful. They kept all others busy enough so she never became a distraction - a point of interest to mock and spit at.

The spaces at her sides empty one by one. Older men growing tired of the rambunctious teenagers, muttering under their breath as they leave a tip and bitterly leave the scene. And for a moment, she can breathe. Head fallen into her palms as she bounces Dr. Owens's offer back and forth in her mind.

A chance at life, though full of risks.

“It won’t be easy,” the doctor says with a heavy sigh. “You’ll probably hate me at times. But, right now, I’m offering you clarity. A chance to understand who you really are.”

“Aut?” The man's voice fades out, quickly replaced by another that holds a familiar and new warmth. Though, startling in the moment.

Steve stands just at her back with a puzzled look on his face, lips threatening to pull into a smile. “Wh-what are you doing here?” The question comes with a small chuckle, clearly confused by such a public appearance. He even spares a quick look at their surroundings in search of Hopper to stand guard.

“Having coffee,” she offers up, raising the warmed mug to better his view. “What are you doing here? Since you want t’be nosy.” She can’t avoid the grin creeping forward, though hides it behind the ceramic for another sip.

Her sarcasm pulls at unseen strings. The corners of his lips fully turn upward with amusement as he closes the space between them. The boy welcomes himself onto the empty stool, hands folded out across the surface as he studies her with care. “I’m going t’guess that this wasn’t Hop’s idea.”

“How perceptive of you,” she teased, turning her attention back toward the waitress. She’s got a pen and notepad in hand to take the new guest's order but is politely dismissed with the raise of his hand. She almost seems disappointed. “I needed a break.”

His lips part with a whispered, “Ah,” in understanding. Fingers twiddling back and forth from nerves. This new closeness was still not entirely settled in for either of them. “Livin’ with the sheriff gettin’ t’you?”

Autumn can only spare a twitch of the lip and a huffed laugh, twisting the mug back and forth in her hands. She can feel the words creep up the back of her throat, tickling at her tongue until they slip through the cracks, forcing the barrier to collapse. “He found a doctor for me. A-a therapist, I guess.”

It takes a few moments for her words to register. His mouth hung agape as the gears slowly turned until it settled in. There’s a feeling of guilt that constricts his chest for even poking at the situation - encouraging her to confess what others may have kept private. “Oh. Well-well that’s a good thing, right?” His arms cross, leaning further into the counter just to have a better look at his friend, noting the way she avoids meeting his honey eyes. “I mean, everyone needs somebody t’talk to.”

Autumn chews at her lip, gaze locked on the coffee’s oily surface and the patterns created within the sheen. She can still see him in a hazy memory. No longer smiling but instead appearing unimpressed just across a table, grip tightening around a grey mug as he commands another order.

“You nervous?” Steve begins, pulling her focus back toward him with an obvious answer in her eyes - she was terrified. “Y’know, no one can make you do anything, Aut. Believe me, I’ve tried.” The atmosphere begins to ease, and the man's face is replaced by a flash of memories where Steve pleads for her to get back on his bicycle after the fall. Where he tries to get her into his pool for the first time. It’s hard to fight away the smile. “But, maybe it wouldn’t hurt t’give it a shot. Get some things off of your chest.”

Maybe it would hurt.

Maybe it would kill her.

Maybe worse, it would unlock the deadbolt to keep darkened memories secured, letting them spill out into the light. Something evil and rotten, never retreating into the shadows now that it’s tasted freedom.

“C’mon,” the boy says with a sudden burst of energy, swiveling in his seat so his body is fully turned her way. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Yeah? And do what?” She questions with a raised brow, amusement hidden by the rim of her cup as she takes another drink.

His lips purse with brows knitted in thought, attention flickering elsewhere for a spark to guide him. In the end, he surrenders with a casual shrug. “I don’t know. Dumb teenager things? Unless,” a hand gestures toward the crowd at their backs. Voices wild and laughter loud in hopes of gaining attention. The animals had been set free from their cages, now unrestrained and free to disrupt all those around them. All in the name of fun. “Unless you want t’stay here with these idiots.”

It’s all she needs. The ceramic quickly drained of its coffee before resting just over the payment hastily laid out for her waitress. Together, the pair slip out from their seats with Steve working hard to distract her from the sudden glances of fellow students, still unable to make peace with their sudden reunion.

“I heard you and Nance had a little girl time.” He teases.

“And I heard you were playing kiss and make-up.” She wears a smile just at his back, dismissing the sudden spike of her heart rate and the momentary hazy vision. A sensation of dizziness she blames on the amount of caffeine she’s consumed.

The boy is stopped at the glass door, a dramatic roll in his eyes as he forces it open with his back, waiting for her to pass by him and out into the chilled night. It’s an action he doesn’t think twice about. Something natural, and effortless. “I forgot girls like t’gossip.”

It comes for her - for them. It washes in with ease, consuming the world in its evil. In death. Her attention is locked on the contents of her bag, checking that nothing had been left behind in the diner when she notices the ground is no longer painted in the glow of a setting sun. The light is gone - swallowed up by an eclipse as ash rains down from the sky. It dances through the air with every step, quickly coating the top of her boots and dirtying her jeans. Autumn truly sees the world, then. Buildings collapsed and pulled into the Earth by living vines.

The sky cracks with a bolt of lightning, illuminating the nothingness Hawkins had become. She reacts with a flinch, her body recoiling from the sudden shock. The rumble that soon follows is drowned out by a racing heart, echoing in her ears. She wonders if it’s all a dream - or nightmare, rather. Had she even left the cabin? Did exhaustion take over, catapulting her into a deep sleep? Had she ever walked into that diner? Maybe never getting the chance to place an order before she’s out cold, sleeping on folded arms at the booth.

Had she ever seen-

Steve.

Eyes wide and panic in her chest, she turns to find him still there - still with her. Yet he seems elsewhere. A dark gaze is locked on something in the distance, lips fallen to a flat line - completely stone-faced. Empty. For a moment, he seemed frozen in time. A reminder of what was on the other side, waiting for her. But she calls his name, and his eyes move in her direction. The corner of his lips rise into a crooked grin, and something begins to shift.

There’s no warmth to the boy standing before a now vacant building. A soul so easily seen in his eyes was now gone, replaced by something much colder. Something she can’t entirely trust. And when he takes a step toward the girl, her body reacts without thought by adding more distance. Soon, she’s off the curb and into the crumbling street, hand held out to keep him at bay. “Steve!”

The name feels foreign. Like a stray piece in a puzzle that didn’t fit no matter how hard you tried to force it. It was a distraction and further proven the moment he opens his mouth to speak. The tone is deep, with words well spoken. Not like a clumsy boy fumbling his way through life, laughing at the small misfortunes.

“It’s a tragedy, isn’t it? What they’ve done. To you. To me.”

Autumn can’t bring herself to speak. Lungs froze with the lifeless air, muscles trembling and aching from the shock. She merely watches as he continues his approach, knees locked in place, offering her up as bait.

“I know how you must feel. Lost and frightened. Just like you were all of those years ago. And now, you’re desperate.” He’s within inches of her now. His breath is unfelt as if he was only a vision. But his fingers reach out to gently push aside a fallen strand of hair, and her skin reacts to the ghostly touch. Her stomach twists with bile as she drinks in a smile that doesn’t belong to a boy she once knew.

It’s not real.

Not real.

“Willing to let them in - to let yourself truly see. But as that man pries your mind open, you need to remember who was really there for you. Who fought for you. How I could have saved you, and what we could have done.”