#when i first realized this it felt like a punch to the gut

[dronebiscuitbat]

Give me a Reason: Chapter 19 - "Best Freind"

N: U sure ur okay?

Uzi sighed as she crashed into her mattress, body feeling sore and head full of cotton balls. Tessa had just pulled out of the driveway and N was already texting her.

She wasn't sure when they'd actually become friends, maybe somewhere between ghost hunting and getting kicked in the gut she'd somehow made that connection. But she was absolutely not used to someone being this worried.

He'd incessantly asked what had happened for her to get so injured. And she'd incessantly deflected, either saying that it was nothing serious- which was bullshit, it hurt like hell. Or, at the cost of her ego- she lied and said it was an accident.

She just wasn't sure how he'd react to the truth, he'd probably be even more worried then, knowing that someone did this to her on purpose.

Or… he'd laugh at her. Because she was weak, because she'd put herself in a vulnerable position and then couldn't take a little pain an-

N: You can talk to me.

N: No pressure.

N: Just worried about you :(

The new messages stopped that train of thought. No. He wouldn't laugh. Even her chronic cynicism couldn't convince her of that.

Finally, instead of staring at his messages, she responded.

Uzi: Promise you won't say anything? Or laugh.

N: Promise

She sighed, here goes nothing…

Uzi: I got kicked in the stomach, u know how I seemed upset that I knew someone in my math class? It was them.

The reply actually took a minute to come back.

And that was because N had all of air knocked out of him at that reply. She'd been hit? Purposefully? And hard enough to give her a serious injury? Why? She was so nice! And cool!

N: Who?

Uzi: Lizzy, she's a teachers aid now, but she was in my class last year.

Uzi: It's not the first time she's thrown a punch, just caught me off gaurd this time.

Once again, N was floored, a teachers aid!?

N: I'd never laugh at you. But you should report her, she shouldn't be working with students if she thinks that's okay.

Uzi huffed through her nose, a half-laugh that was drenched in a depressing kind of acceptance.

Uzi: It's not like they'd believe me. I'm not exactly a model student.

She sat her phone down and shucked off her jacket and beanie, hissing as her side throbbed dully. This had been such a day…

Her hand instinctually reached for her stash drawer before she even realized, and in another, she was looking at it's false bottom.

As tempting as it was- and it was very tempting. Drug mixing wasn't smart even if one of them was just an over-the-counter pain reliever, and adding a bad trip on an already shitty day didn't sound fun.

So instead she wrapped herself in the biggest, comfiest shirt she could find and grabbed her laptop, maybe she could distract herself with YouTube.

N: What do you mean by that?

Oh right, she'd never mentioned the fact she'd been held back to him, whoops.

Uzi: I was held back a year. I'm 19.

N: Oh wow! You're older then me!

N: Still it can't have been that bad. Failing a class isn't a reason to not belive you.

Uzi smirked, fingers clicking on the keys of her laptop as she tried to find something to watch- settling on an analysis video of one of the shows she was watching.

Uzi: I was high in class and a teacher called the campus police.

It took nearly twenty minutes for him to respond to that.

N:Sorry, got home and had to get up to my room.

N:You were WHAT?!

N: That's a crime!

Uzi: And so is trespassing on JCJenson private property to ghost hunt.

N blushed, now laying on his bed in a grey pajama shirt and pants with dogs printed on them, he held his phone close to his face as he grumbled, she had him there, but that hadn't really felt like a crime at the time…

N: I think you're a bad influence.

N: Also you're deflecting, drugs are bad! And unhealthy!

Uzi rolled her eyes at that, he wasn't the first person to tell her that. But you know what was worse? Dealing with herself unmedicated, without her stash, her head just got fuzzier and fuzzier, and before she knew it… she'd be having a full mental meltdown at the slightest provocation. Which she hated, she never felt like herself during those…

Uzi: Probably. But you see why they won't believe me over miss perfect.

N: Yeah okay, now I'm gonna be worried tho. I don't want you being hurt.

She smiled at that, this boy was so endlessly empathetic, and thankfully, her unloading some not-so-great facts about herself didn't seem to put him off either.

Uzi: Ew, don't worry over me. That's gay.

And yet she couldn't help but make a joke over it.

N: ???

N: how?

N: how does my worry make me gay?

Uzi: It's not manly.

Uzi: Empathy is a girly emotion.

She was snickering to herself, she didn't actually believe that of course, but she could almost see his reaction to it. That stupid, confused and amused smile that he wore when she made a particularly dumb joke.

N: Guess I'm gay then.

N: Cause I'm always going to worry. You're my freind.

N:Best Freind?

Her heart fluttered full of butterflies at that. Is that what he wanted? From her? She was so convinced he'd find someone else to hang out with but here he was, asking to continue this…

Whatever this was.

Uzi: Always knew I'd end up with a gay best freind.

Uzi: u can't borrow my makeup.

N: Awww, but it would look so good on me!

Uzi thought about that for a moment, imagining N with dark eyeshadow, lipstick, and black nails, and she about choked, she wasn't sure if it was funny or weirdly attractive.

Uzi: Dude that mental image.

Uzi: It's so cursed, I about choked.

N: Blursed

N: It's Blessed and Cursed

The conversation continued, the fuzz in her head slowly dissipating even without the assistance of her stash, and it continued late into the night… up until she heard Khan pull onto the driveway at 2am.

Uzi: Oh god, it's 2am. We need to sleep.

N: I didn't realize! We're gonna be zombies…

Uzi: More of a zombie u mean?

N: Yeh. U still in pain? Are u going to sleep ohay?

N: Okay* oof, sleepy fingers.

Even while about to pass out. He was still worried…

Uzi: I'm okay, pain isn't bad. U need sleep N

N: Ok, text you tmmrow, Uzi. Goodnight.

Uzi: Night N.

[tessellated-sunl1ght]

“What did Malcolm say to get you to come here? Did he tell you to enter a dream and spy on the Traveling Salesman? Or did he maybe say something truthful, but maybe not the whole truth— not the part that mattered?”

“The Salesman doesn’t steal, but his deals are often one-sided— exploitative— as he’ll neglect to tell you pertinent information before you agree.”

[lilacjunimo]

sus ojitos :(

[jays-therapist]

I'm gonna be soooo fucking insane when I finally get to see Izumo's arc animated. Literally never gonna shut up about it. Dicing up every frame like they're nice tasty meals for my eyes to feast on. THE MOMENT i get THIS SCENE in motion--

--I will ascend past this mortal body, into a higher plane of existence. Gonna post ten rants about it each day and none of them will be coherent. God. Fuck.

[pastryfication]

an oscar x deaf reader, maybe she’s friends w someone working in mclaren and visits. the reader almost gets into an accident and oscar saves her, mad that she wasn’t paying attention and yells at her only to realize she’s deaf. he apologizes and he starts talking to her after that day.

close save | oscar piastri

pairing: oscar piastri x deaf reader note: i know close to nothing about lip reading and deafness, all info used in this is something i’ve googled, so feel free to correct me if something is wrong!! also, i’ve tried something new with writing it mostly from oscar’s perspective, so let me know if you like it xx

the midday sun beats down on the mclaren garage, casting long shadows over the bustling crew. it’s been a long morning of prep work, but oscar doesn’t mind—he thrives in the intensity, in the noise, in the hum of engines that fill his ears.

as he turns to grab a drink of water, something catches his eye. a young woman is standing just outside the garage, looking around with a distracted expression. you’re not wearing any of the usual gear or badges that indicate you’re part of the team, but there’s something familiar about you. oscar narrows his eyes, trying to place your face, when he notices something alarming—a forklift is backing up, and you’re right in its path.

without thinking, oscar drops the bottle and sprints toward you. his heart pounds as he closes the distance, yelling for you to move, but you don’t react. panic grips him as he reaches out, grabbing your arm and yanking you out of the way just in time. the forklift lumbers past, the driver oblivious to the close call.

oscar’s chest heaves as he turns to face you, adrenaline coursing through his veins. “what the hell were you thinking? you could’ve been—” he stops mid-sentence, noticing your startled expression. your eyes are widened, but not in fear of the near-miss. it’s something else.

you blink at him, your mouth moving soundlessly, and suddenly oscar realizes what’s wrong. you can’t hear him. the realization hits him like a punch to the gut, and the anger he felt a moment ago is instantly replaced by guilt. his face softens, and he steps back, his hand dropping from your arm.

“i’m- i’m sorry,” he stammers, his voice suddenly quiet, as if lowering it might somehow make up for his outburst. “i didn’t know . . .”

you tilt your head slightly, as if trying to read his lips, and oscar feels a wave of helplessness wash over him. he raises his hands, fumbling awkwardly as he tries to communicate. he doesn’t know any sign language—he’s never needed to—but he gestures toward the forklift, then back at you, hoping you understand that he was just worried.

to his relief, you nod, giving him a small, understanding smile. you point to your ear, then shake your head, confirming what he’s already guessed. you’re deaf.

oscar takes a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. he feels terrible, not just for yelling at you, but for assuming you were ignoring him when you couldn’t even hear him in the first place. “i’m sorry,” he repeats, mouthing the words more deliberately this time. he hopes you can read his lips.

you nod again, your expression kind, and motion that it’s okay. oscar feels a strange warmth in his chest at your forgiveness. he still feels like an idiot, but at least you don’t seem to hold it against him.

at that moment, lando appears from the other side of the garage, waving enthusiastically as he approaches. “hey, mate! you met jon’s sister yet?” he calls out, clearly unaware of what just happened. he jogs over, grinning broadly. “oscar, this is-”

“jon’s sister?” oscar repeats, cutting him off. the pieces fall into place—jon, lando’s personal trainer, had mentioned his sister visiting today. he hadn’t put two and two together until now. “right. i didn’t realize . . .”

lando’s grin falters as he notices the awkward tension. “oh. uh, yeah . . . she’s deaf, by the way. did i forget to mention that?”

oscar shoots him a look, but lando just shrugs, mouthing an exaggerated “sorry!” before turning back to you. “i see you’ve met oscar, then,” he says, switching to a more careful, lip-readable pace. he introduces you properly, and oscar watches as you sign something back to lando.

lando nods and translates, “she says thank you for saving her back there.”

oscar feels his face heat up a little, embarrassed but also strangely proud. “no problem,” he says, and then, after a pause, he adds, “i should’ve been more careful. i’m sorry if i scared you.”

lando relays the message, and you just smile, giving oscar a thumbs up.

over the next few hours, oscar finds himself glancing over at you more than once. he feels a strange pull, unable to tear his eyes away as you move through the garage, interacting with your brother and some of the crew, completely at ease despite the noise and chaos around you.

at one point, you catch him looking and wave. oscar waves back, feeling a bit foolish. when the day winds down and most of the team starts packing up, oscar spots you sitting on one of the low walls outside the garage, watching the track.

he hesitates for a moment, then walks over and sits down next to you, keeping a respectful distance. you look over and give him a welcoming smile, and for the first time, oscar doesn’t feel nervous. he doesn’t know how to sign, but he doesn’t need to. you sit there together, quietly watching as the sun dips lower in the sky, painting the track in shades of gold.

finally, oscar turns to you. his phone is open in his notes app, and in there he’s written: would you like to get a coffee sometime? maybe you could teach me some sign language.

you raise an eyebrow, then nod, your smile widening as you sign something to him. oscar doesn’t understand it yet, but he knows one thing: he’s definitely looking forward to learning.

[lilislegacy]

i think that when annabeth and percy move to california for college, they start having dinner with annabeth’s family once every 1-2 weeks. it’s probably a little tense at first, and annabeth is likely anxious about it. percy could either be pissed off and angry with them about how they treated her, or he could be really nice and trying to diffuse the tension to make things easier for annabeth.

but either way, i think one thing would be abundantly clear: percy is her family. not them. at least, not in the ways that matter.

mr. and mrs. chase have probably only ever seen annabeth with her walls up. never letting her guard down. she’s always tough around them, and never lets herself become trusting of them. because she has to protect herself from letting them hurt her again. as a young child, she felt unloved and resented by them enough that she preferred the cold dangerous streets to being with them. so even if their relationship begins to grow better - and i really do think it gets good eventually - she’s careful around them. she protects herself, and therefore isn’t super warm and fuzzy around them. since she’s grown up, there’s a good chance they’ve never seen her show true emotion. they’ve probably never seen a true smile from her. they’ve probably never seen her lean on someone.

but then she brings percy. they would see that the 14 year old little boy who they once met grew up into a tall, striking, intimidating young man. he has the same look in his unique sea green eyes that makes you know he’s been through horrible trauma. he’s carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. (literally). the rest of him may appear 18, but his eyes look 100 years old. he’s the first person they’ve really known who is like annabeth in that way.

and here’s the thing: percy and annabeth are a team. there’s an unbreakable bond between them. they move and fight as one. they are best friends in the whole world, and it’s clear to anyone who sees them. but they are also hopelessly in love, and that’s also clear to anyone who sees them. so imagine annabeth’s family, who’ve only ever known her to be distinctly independent and closed off, seeing her and percy holding hands. seeing them sit so close together that they’re nearly on top of each other. seeing her put her hand on his arm and kiss his cheek, or seeing him wrap his arms around her and gently kiss her forehead. and nevermind the touches, imagine them seeing her just look at him. a look full of vulnerability and adoration and complete trust. full of love and warmth and emotion. because that’s who annabeth really is. she’s emotional and sensitive and warm. but she’s always had to be someone else around her family, because in her mind, the true her wasn’t good enough for them.

but now they see her, all grown up, and with this young man by her side who is clearly her everything. and i think it would be a punch to the gut seeing them together. because it would be the first time they realize that she doesn’t think of them as her family. percy is her family, and percy alone. annabeth does not regard them - her own dad and step-mom and brothers - as her real family. percy fills that role all by himself. and it’s entirely their own fault.

[lunarmoves]

indirect continuation of this sun kiss drabble

you were being tailed for quite some time now.

you noticed by accident—a strange shadow in the corner of your eye as you made your way through the pizzaplex after hours for your nightly tasks. it was gone almost as soon as you'd turned your head to look at where it'd been. at first you figured you were just seeing things—maybe the shadows cast by the bright neon lights were playing tricks on you. maybe the late hours walking around the massive mall were making you tired.

but when you started to feel the prickle of your hairs standing straight—the burn of a gaze watching your every move—you realized exactly what you were dealing with. or rather, who.

"moon, why are you following me?" you sighed out sometime halfway through your shift, stopping in your trek to the arcade room to fix a few broken machines. hands placed on your hips, you looked up at the ceiling and tried to make out any odd shadows or faint gleams of metal. but when moon didn't want to be found, well... you could spend your entire night looking for him and you wouldn't be able to catch even the smallest of glimpses.

you waited patiently for a few moments, surveying around you in case he'd reveal himself. "moon, i know you're there." silence, complete and utter silence. you gave him another minute, then let out a huff. fine, if he wanted to mess with you tonight, whatever. it wasn't like you weren't used to it.

just as you took another step in the direction of the arcade, you heard it. the faintest, faintest jingle of a bell somewhere to your left. your head snapped in that direction, eyes moving from the polished floor of the pizzaplex to the darkest corners of the ceiling. there was a supply closet not too far from you, its door closed. you squinted at it suspiciously for a moment, then turned to make your way back t—

"boo."

you yelped—of course you fucking yelped—and swung at moon's upside-down face out of instinct more than anything. he was directly in front of you—nearly nose to nose in a way where you only really saw the redness of his eyes swallowing you whole. he dodged your punch easily, lifting himself up into the air with his wire so that your fist passed harmlessly under his dangling hat.

you exhaled harshly, your heart pounding away in your chest and your ears. it felt like you'd gotten the life sucked out of you. "you—!! gah! stop doing that!!" you huffed and straightened up to glare at him. you didn't think it was all too intimidating in his eyes.

he chuckled, a low thing that always made something in your gut feel strange, and said no more. only watched you from where he hung upside down in a pose reminiscent of a past spiderman movie. you eyed him, waiting to see if he'd say anything else. but when he didn't—his head clicking side to side ever so minutely—you frowned.

"what's wrong?" you asked bluntly. his head cocked to the left. "why have you been sulking around me all night?"

moon grumbled something indecipherable. "wasn't sulking."

"was too. what gives?" you pressed further, crossing your arms across your chest. he looked away, avoiding your gaze, and you knew something was bothering him. "you hadn't done that in a while. i thought we were past the 'stalking' part and on the, y'know, 'hanging out like friends do' part."

he only hummed shortly and turned his faceplate to look somewhere off to the side—at the door of the closed storage closet. your foot tapped against the smooth floor for a bit, waiting once more to see if he'd say anything. he didn't.

"moooon, c'mon use your big boy words." you approached him, popping back into his view so he wouldn't have any choice but to look at you. "i can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong." your words were gentle like a soft, spring breeze.

there was the slightest flicker of his optics as he glanced at your face. then he made a low sound—a groan of sorts—and seemed to struggle with saying something. your patience knew no bounds, so you were willing to wait however long it took for him to spill those pesky feelings of his. but when he only fell silent once more, you decided that this wasn't going to go anywhere.

"okay, fine"—you threw up your hands and turned on your heel so you could return to your actual job—"you don't wanna tell me, that's fine. i'll just go back to—"

you barely got a few steps away before your words were cut off by the back of your shirt being tugged on. your head craned back just in time to see moon flip himself down from his wire—landing nimbly on his feet, quiet as a mouse. and then he was dragging you towards the supply closet.

"hey! moon what—" you were crowded into the closet with little flair, tripping and stumbling over yourself no thanks to moon's tight grip on your shirt. the door closed behind you with a small snap. and suddenly you were in darkness, illuminated only by the soft glow of moon's ruby eyes. you blinked widely in the hopes of getting your vision to adjust faster.

your foot accidentally kicked a bucket somewhere to your side, sending it rattling onto the floor. it was cramped in here, especially with moon's lanky figure pressing against your front. his hands gripped tightly along your upper arms. you could feel shelves stocked with cleaning supplies pressing uncomfortably into your back. there was hardly any room to move.

you felt small—overpowered. caged in with the only exit blocked off by an unrelenting robot.

you stared up at moon with what you hoped was a flat expression, his face and upper arms just barely visible to you in this absolute void of a closet. "what are you doing." it felt like you couldn't speak any louder than a whisper for fear of breaking something you could not see.

moon's gaze trailed over your face, cataloguing every feature, before it landed on— on.... your mouth suddenly felt like it was stuffed with cotton, dry and unpleasant.

"you..." he suddenly spoke up in a quiet, raspy murmur, leaning himself down further into your space. it allowed the strain on your neck to abate slightly. "you and sun..." you slowly nodded your head, maybe as a way to encourage him to continue when it was obvious how hesitation lined his voice. "...you gave him a kiss."

your heart picked up its pace, thrumming in your ears. you did give him one some time ago—saved only from his strange pestering when the daycare's lights had switched off and you were able to escape during his painful-sounding transformation into moon. you hadn't seen him since, too rattled by his intense insistence. it made you feel... weird. "i did. and?"

"i... would also like one." the words came out in a rush—like he was forcing them out in a hurried exile.

something burned ferociously at the sides of your face and neck. you wondered if he could hear how erratic your pulse was. you hoped not.

"is that why you forced us into this dinky closet?" you whispered, refusing to let yourself sound anything but casual. like his request wasn't causing something torrential to swarm around in the pit of your stomach. you were suddenly reminded that their dual A.I.s allowed them both to see what was happening no matter who was in control. that moon had been watching sun demand a kiss from you before. and that sun was watching now.

you swallowed heavily and moon's gaze followed the bob of your throat in a manner that made you suppress a shiver.

"yes," was his simple, hushed reply. closer and closer, his face was but a hair's breadth away from your own.

your breaths bated. you closed your eyes for a short moment in a vain attempt to collect yourself. his request was simple. you didn't need to make a big deal out of it. it was just a kiss, and he was just a robot. it didn't mean anything. the words became a mantra in your head.

you exhaled, low and slow. "okay." an agreement that weighed more than you realized at that moment.

curiosity is not a sin, you reminded yourself. but yet— you were being forced to face something you knew would have repercussions. you only hoped it wouldn't be anything strong.

after bolstering yourself with as much courage as you could, you raised yourself up on your tiptoes to close that minute distance between you and moon. to press a gentle kiss to his forehead and hope that it would be enough for him.

but moon— moon had learned from sun.

and before you could realize what he was doing, he shifted himself forward in a rather fluid manner—towards you. so that your lips would land soundly in the middle of his static smile instead of where you'd intended. something leapt up in your chest.

you weren't sure what you'd expected. fireworks and confetti? the soft plushness of another person's lips pressing back against yours? had your mind been tricked into thinking it would be something familiar with his facsimile of a mouth? but no, there was just the cool solidness of a metallic smile. it was like kissing a wall—immovable and unyielding.

and yet... and yet it wasn't.

for the grip moon had on you was tight. tight tight tight. unwilling to let you go. his hands had shifted so that one pressed hotly (hotly? your hazy mind registered distantly) against the small of your back while the other wrapped around your shoulders. and he held you so fervently. like he could press you into him and meld you both into one. like he was scared to ever let you go.

and that was enough, you think, as you lose yourself not to a kiss, but to a hold. that was enough.

[strangersteddierthings]

"Look, Steve, I don't have any bad feelings towards you," Eddie says, has been saying, talking nonsense, like he and Steve weren't anything more than fuckbuddies, like he isn't breaking Steve's heart. "I used you too, y'know?"

It's then Steve rears back like he been slapped. Or punched. It feels more like a gutting. Joke's on him, he supposes. Once again, he wants more than the other person. He wanted a boyfriend, Eddie'd wanted sex. Why does he keep trying? When Steve finds his voice to speak, it comes out flat and dead and not really like a question at all. "Used me. Like you think I've used you?"

Eddie shrugs, looking for all the world like he's not bothered by that statement. "We had fun, right? So it's all fine in the end."

"Fine," Steve repeats, hollow. They're in his house but Steve feels the need to leave, to run before the reality of how unlovable he truly is sticks inside him forever.

"But I think we should stop while we're ahead," Eddie continues and Steve wonders if Eddie is listening to him at all, or just saying his piece before he goes. Can he not hear Steve's heart breaking? "I want to... I want to find someone to love."

If Eddie's previous words felt like being gutted, these ones feel like cement. Heavy and solidifying. Trapping in the truth of Ever Unlovable Steve. He doesn't even feel heartbroken anymore. Just numb. Dead inside. He should say something encouraging. Let Eddie know that all he's wanted was for Eddie to be happy and loved. But words seem impossible, so he gives one jerky nod of his head. An understanding.

"Right," Eddie says, returning the nod before turning away, towards the door, "I'll just go now. Umm, see ya later, Harrington."

Facing the horrors of the Upside Down should feel like the scariest thing he's ever done but it doesn't. Watching Eddie walk away does. Steve should be able to hold it together long enough for Eddie to leave. He's the tough one. He can hold himself together no problem-

"Why can't you love me?"

Eddie whips back around, an expression on his face like confusion and anger mixed.

It's only then that Steve realizes he spoke. He hasn't meant to. He was going to let Eddie walk away but now his voice has been freed from the cement. His heart has shut down his brain it seems because he just keeps talking, voice flat and hollow, "why can't you love me the way I love you? What is so broken and wrong within me that no one loves me back? My parents, Nancy, now you. Why can't- I thought that we were- where did I go wrong?"

"What?" Eddie asks, and the anger is gone from his face but now he just looks horrified. Which is understandable. It's horrifying to be loved by Steve Harrington. "What did you think we were?"

Boyfriends. Together. Going steady. At the very least, dating without labels. But none of those very reasonable, normal answers come out of Steve's treacherous mouth. Because Steve can't seem to be a reasonable, normal person. He's got to be too much, too soon, too clingy. So, instead, he says, "In love."

Eddie looks like he's just received the worst news of his life. In fact, he looks a little sick. "Oh fuck. Jesus Christ. I can't- I thought- Fuck!"

Steve just nods along. He hadn't actually said I love you to Nancy that night at Tina's Halloween party, but he imagines if he had, the beginning of the bullshit conversation would have sounded much the same as Eddie does now; like anger and regret, the starts and stops. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have- if you want to go, you should go."

Eddie crosses the room back to Steve in half the steps he took when he first walked away, hands reaching to grab Steve's face between them. He speaks quickly and sounds panicked now. "No, no no no. I fucked up, misunderstood. I don't know how I got it so wrong. I don't want to go. I never did."

"What?"

"I am in love with you, sweetheart. I just- I didn't know you loved me back. I thought you didn't- that we weren't..."

"I thought we were boyfriends."

"Jesus, please let me fix this. Let me stay and make it up to you. I'll be the best fucking boyfriend you've ever had."

Steve thinks if he had any shred of self-worth he might step back, make Eddie explain himself, but as it is, he steps into Eddie's space and kisses him, hands pulling him as close as he can get. He doesn't want to think about the cruel things Eddie's said, about using each other. Maybe one day they'll have to hash that out, have that conversation, but Eddie says he loves him too, and that's all Steve's wanted.

[amiableness]

Tulips BONUS part 2

THIS IS A BONUS CHAPTER TO TULIPS! HERE'S THE FIRST BONUS 🤍

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem!Reader, Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

Summary: Remus' reaction to walking in on you and Sirius.

Word Count: 564

Warnings: Slightest amount of smut & Rem being jealous (let me know if there is more)

A/N 💌 Here's the second bonus you guys asked for! As always I would love to hear from you guys, it keeps me motivated to keep writing.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

The door slams shut behind Remus, and he remains still for a moment, paralyzed by anger. Sirius was the reason you didn't show up; he should have known. Remus had waited for over an hour at the library, clinging to the hope that you might appear. As the minutes ticked by, the realization set in that you weren't coming. Yet, he stubbornly refused to accept that Sirius was to blame.

Months had passed since you and Sirius started your relationship, yet the sting of being replaced hadn't dulled. Sirius was now the closest person to you, and not him. The ache of that realization was a constant, unforgiving pain.

But more than anything, he was jealous. He envied every moment Sirius made you laugh, each kiss he pressed to your lips, and every smile you gave him that showed how much he meant to you. These everyday intimacies cut deep, reminding him of what he could have had. 

If only he had said something, everything might have turned out differently.

If he thought he had been jealous before, he had been severely mistaken. He wished more than anything that he hadn't been so consumed by thoughts of you. He was so fixated on the idea of you that he hadn't even noticed the warning sounds hidden behind his dorm door.

The image of you, pressed into the sheets, desperate to give Sirius anything he asked of you. That searing image would forever haunt his thoughts.

While he couldn’t see your face at that moment, and Godric, he desperately wished he had. He could vividly imagine the furrow in your brow, the faint smudge of lip gloss at the corner of your mouth, and the way your hair was a tangled mess, strands clinging to your sweat-covered forehead. The faint streaks of mascara traced the delicate skin beneath your eyes, marking the path of your tears.

As his imagination conjures up the most devastated version of you, he wonders: would you have looked that way for him?

Lips parted and pretty, pupils wide and dark. Hair damp with sweat and knotted.

He knows it’s fucked up. Beyond fucked up. But he can’t help but picture you sitting pretty on your knees as you look up at him, eyes wanting. Legs spread wide to allow him to hover over you, placing hot kisses along your neck and collarbone. Bent over as he rails into you from behind. You begging for more as he repeats how much he loves you over and over, eager to show you that he’ll do anything for you.

And he would, if you asked him too.

Anything for his angel.

His daydream is brutally cut short when he hears you cry out, “Sirius, fuck, I love you.” The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and everything comes crashing down around him. His heart sinks, and he realizes he needs to leave before someone notices him standing outside the door. In his defense, he wasn’t eavesdropping on purpose; he had meant to leave when his mind ran wild with the fleeting glimpse he caught of you. The urge to see you, to be close to you, had overridden his better judgment, but now he felt a wave of disgust and heartbreak wash over him.

Despite everything, Remus is devastated. He had lost the girl he could have been with, but now would never have.

[hotxcheeto]

im begging for a fic with ellie about tribbing i don't even care about the plot at this point i just an ellie fic with scissoring

━ 𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀, 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ?

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing, ex gf!ellie, angst here and there, SMUT, tribbing, kissing/make out session, lowkey toxic behavior, mentions and situations with alcohol, both ellie and reader are tipsy, party environment in the first 1/2, top!ellie, bottom!reader

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - ehhehehehehe i love olivia rodrigo so i had to bruh REQUESTS ARE OPEN NOW!

REBLOG MY WORK! I WORK HARD & IT'S APPRECIATED!!

Music bumped in the room on the other side of the wall that supported the upper cabinet that held your head. The smell of sweat, alcohol and cigarettes filled up the small kitchen to the brim while a few people laughed and chugged the concoction in the punch bowl that sat on the corner countertop.

Other than the patrons drinking themselves into a very horrible morning that was soon to come, there was a couple making out against the fridge. Bothering anyone that wanted to drink something other than what the party host called, 'the ultimate punch to the gut' that the college boys were frothing over.

You decided on something else that you'd scavenged from the liquor cabinet that had been broken into earlier in the night. The liquid a pink color, bubbling from the continued sloshing in your red solo cup that was lazily hanging from your hand.

Your head felt dizzy at all the uproar in the room, the only thing keeping your two feet flat on the ground was the girl in front of you. Chasing your gaze with her head that way with each direction you looked, her eyes weren't far behind to follow.

"I told you I'm done, Ellie. I'm sick of your shit." You slurred slightly, having swayed your hips on far too many people and had too many drinks to care about how you currently sounded.

Or looked for that matter, lipstick smudged across your lips and even had made its way off your mouth. Eye makeup mirroring the appearance of the lower half of your face and all the while your dress was halfway up your thighs from her prying and your continuous attempts to stop yourself from making a decision you'd regret.

"You're a fakeass bitch, y'know that?" You pointed at her, the manicure that she had in fact paid for practically mocking her as she grabbed your hand and pushed it down, holding it in her own.

"Don't be like that, babe." You rolled your eyes at just the sound of her voice, suddenly hearing it and comparing it to the biggest annoyance in the world. "You were like that first, or did you already discard the lap warmer you were entertaining when I walked in?"

Right, the bottle blonde with the bad roots.

"Y/n..." She dragged out your name with that excruciating tone that made you feel like you'd done something bad. "Answer me Ellie."

She opened and closed her mouth for a second, not meeting your eyes before shrugging her shoulders. The black fabric of her long sleeve button up going with, pissing you off even more as the realization set in that she'd worn your favorite of her nice shirts and even undone the top few buttons you always undid for her.

"She's one of Abby's friends, fuck Y/n, I don't even know her name I promise." You scoffed, leaning your head back on the cupboard, looking over at the drunk guys challenging each other to drink a full cup of the punch once again.

"You piss me off." You rubbed your eyes, not caring of the slight burn that your lashes caused on your irises. "I know. C'mon, I said sorry." She said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You sent me fifty-eight text messages, I don't remember there being a 'sorry' in there though." "Babe-" Ellie stopped when she realized you were in fact not paying any attention to her now, looking out the kitchen window, but it was too dark to actually see anything past the glass.

"C'mon... let's just go home, I'll give you the best apology fucking ever." The alcohol really boosted her confidence as she said this, Ellie moving to kiss up your neck as you thought, her thumb coming to wipe the smeared lipstick away.

"I promise, babe." You wanted to fall against her and give in, just how you wanted when you seen her earlier eye-fucking you from across the room. Fucking hell you were such a gullible mess.

"Ellie..." "Can't tell me you don't miss my fingers..." "Shh!"

You tried covering her mouth but it was no use as she just laughed, looking down at your pretty eyes while you tried to shut her up.

"I don't, mine work just fine, actually." Such fakeness followed those syllables, even you cringed slightly on the inside as you spoke them.

"Huh, so you're lying to me now too?"

"No..." Yes.

"You're a bad liar." She then whispered, impossible to hear her if you had not been so close to her mouth. "You're a dickhead." You then replied, giving her a smile while pulling back.

That was nothing to her, leaning forward despite your unwillingness just earlier, but something about the way you met her lips wondered if you changed your mind.

She tasted like the shitty alcohol mix those dudes were chugging along with soaked in Chapstick and the two combined creating a rush of memories that came trickling back. Those pictures soon invading your mind all the same, fingers wrapping around her belt loops before you got a chance to stop them.

And in the haze of the smoky kitchen you broke your promise to each of your friends promising you wouldn't go back. Tugging her closer and allowing her to rest her hands beneath your ass, holding the backs of your thighs to get impossibly closer.

She was your everything and nothing, the mess stuck between your floorboards that you could never fully get rid of. Ellie knew she wasn't going anywhere, she couldn't and wouldn't be replaced and it was comforting, smirking as she began pushing herself against you and hitting your hips against the counter.

"M'not-" A kiss. "-gonna fuck you-" Another kiss. "-here." You finished, her tongue invading your mouth as soon as the final breath passed your lips. "Why not?" "Seriously?" Ellie rested her forehead against your own, huffing like a child until you tapped her phone that was in her back pocket.

"You can start your apology by buying the ride home, 'kay?"

God, the things she did to see you as you were now, laid back on the bed with your dress pulled up and your head resting against her pillows. Thighs spread all for her while you stared up and watched her unbuckle her belt and unzip her jeans. Wanting nothing more than to have her between your thighs

You just looked so gorgeous in the lamplight, the yellow glow kissing your skin and she moved to kiss it as well. Wanting just as much as the inanimate object had gotten in the past few moments.

"M'gonna be so mad at myself in the morning." You grumbled playfully, Ellie watching you grin at your own prediction, returning the smile while throwing her shirt away and exposing her torso for you to run your eyes over. "But I don't even care." You concluded.

Your nail ran along the light bulge her muscles created on her arms, eyes fluttering shut while her lips made their home on your neck. Jaw becoming her favorite place to hover, smirking against your flesh when you giggled that it had tickled. Looking at the way her boxers met her lower back, little dimples just barely shadowed.

"Ellie?" She pulled back to look at you, cradling your face in her hands.

"Yeah?"

"Unzip me, I wanna feel you."

She didn't have to be told twice, helping you from your dress before tossing it to find the next morning. Your undergarments going with, swept away like they were stolen by the ocean. Your body running against hers as if you were the waves and she were the rocks, though less jagged then you'd like to admit out loud.

Her curves were softer than you remembered despite feeling them just days ago, along with her freckled skin.

"I want you." She whispered, mouth brushing against the shell of your ear.

Your friends were so gonna put you in time out.

Her boxers fell down her legs and yours wrapped around her hips, waiting for the agonizing thumping of your arousal to be put at ease. The discomfort growing while her fingers ran along your nipple, warm breath fanning your face as you both watched her hand run along your boob.

It was like the air paused along with your movements, sucking in a gasp as she played with your breast. Hand trickling down between your legs just to barely tease you.

"You wanna feel me?" You nodded at her question, moving your head up and down again and again while she lined herself up with you. Fingers lightly, just barely, brushing against your little, yet swollen, clit.

"Need to hear you say it again, Y/n."

"I wanna feel you, Ellie."

And before you knew it she was humping herself against you, not even attempting to muffle your sounds which you'd given up caring about. Grabbing at her back and holding her as close to you as possible while her clit bumped and rubbed against your own.

It felt like fireworks, despite having done this just over a million times. Burying your face in her neck while she fucked into you over and over, promising her love silently while whispering things that would make a catholic mother weep.

"Missed you so much..." You turned your head, meeting her eyes as your lips did the same. "Me or this?" You asked, a choked whimper following when she became rougher at the sound of your falsely innocent question. Her hand trapping your leg on the bed as she spread you apart.

"Both, but mainly you." She played off, her other hand softly wrapping around your neck. "I would hope." You giggled, mouth dropping agape as her pace picked up. The whole bed rocking back and forth while simultaneous creaks that were sure to piss off her neighbors for the next however long she spent on top of you.

"Oh fuck, El... fuck please..." You squeezed and clawed at her, sure to leave red marks on her pale skin for her to be teased about when she went to the gym. Cunts grinding back and forth creating a heavenly feeling you just couldn't describe, choking out noise after noise.

"El... m'gonna- fuck I- fuck..." She kissed along the column of your throat, squeezing just the slightest. "I know." From your hole to your bundle of nerves, in your slightly inebriated state it felt like too much.

Sounds you weren't aware you could make falling from your mouth, and you were sure you heard her lightly grunt. Hips stuttering as you'd begun to jerk against her pussy, letting out a yelp while you trickled into your orgasm.

A mix of both you and her dripping down your ass, but it didn't stop you from trying to meet her thrusts. Crying a bit when she slammed you back down, kissing you and then down your chest.

"Leah's gonna be so pissed at me." You huffed, staring up at the ceiling as she peeled herself off of you and fell to the side. Giving you the option of moving to lay with her or finding your way the hell out of here.

"Who cares? Come ride me." She said, sitting up against her pillows that laid against her headboard. "Seriously?' You tilted your head up to glance at her, giving her your best unimpressed expression.

"What? Can't take it back anyway."

This was a bad idea, right?

"Will you eat me out after?" You asked, tilting your head and then rolling over to make your way up to her. "If you do a good job." She said, setting her hands on your hips.

Fuck it, it's fine.

a/n: YES I KNOW THAT SHE'S MY EX BUT CAN'T TWO PEOPLE RECONNECT I ONLY SEE HER AS A FRIEND! BIGGEST LIE I EVER SAID.

REQUESTS OPEN

[giddyfatherchris]

📱✏️skz reactions — how they react/comfort you (when you’re going through a rough patch with a friend)

| including. changbin, seungmin, i.n

type. requested

warnings. none

a/n. i loved writing these honestly they gave me so much feelings lolol i only wrote it for three members (as per requested) but if getting the reactions from the other members would be something interesting pls let me knoww🤭 again, thank you so much for the request my angel love ya xxx @solisyeah

hyunjin, han & felix

bang chan & lee know

Changbin

As soon as he saw the words on the screen, his heart tightened in his chest. The sorrow he could feel from you pierced his heart. He knew how sensitive you were, and how hard you tried to make things work for everyone. To hear gossip behind your back and to learn that some of your so-called 'friends' were the source of it hurt more than you could explain. He felt so angry at those people for treating you this way it made it hard to concentrate. So, even if you didn’t ask him, he cancelled his workout, gathered his things, grabbed his keys, and headed out. 

When you heard three little knocks on your door, confusion made you tilt your head on the side with questions swiveling in your mind. In your crying and saddened haze, had you forgotten you ordered your favorite comfort snacks? You headed for the door, wrapped in a blanket, your face the only part of your anatomy visible. You cracked the door open and felt your heart skip a beat when your gaze met with the sight of Changbin, holding a plastic bag with an adorable smile on his face.

"I heard my angel was not feeling too good. Couldn't leave you alone in your apartment now, could I?" he explained with a nervous smile before sheepishly adding, "I got us some snacks."

Your eyes filled to the brim with tears as you pulled him inside and into your blanket for a hug. You nuzzled your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his subtle cologne. 

"Hey, y/n, look at me."

You reluctantly pulled away to look at him. He took like a punch to the gut the saddened look on your face. He lifted his hands to cup your cheeks and almost melted at how adorably they pushed under your eyes. 

"I'm here. It'll be okay. Let's go cuddle now." He nuzzled your nose with his own and kissed your cheek as he nudged you towards your living room.

When Changbin looked at the time on his phone for the first time of the evening, he realized it was now very late. Yu were asleep on his shoulder, looking so peaceful. You had spent the night eating the snacks he brought and talking about the shitty situation you were in. He had helped you prepare a few speeches and things to say once you would be confronted with the concerned people again. What started as stressful preparations ended with a lot of laughter as Changbin started making ridiculous impressions to help you practice. Once you both settled down, you decided to put a movie on, and not even halfway through it, you had fallen asleep, completely extenuated from the emotional turmoil. 

The young man looked at you with nothing but love in his eyes. He promised himself he would never allow anyone to hurt you if he could help it. Softly, he pushed a strand of your hair away from your face. His heart almost exploded when you softly grumbled and wiggled closer to him.

Yes, he would always be there for you, he swore as he kissed your forehead.

Seungmin

He was utterly furious, there was no other way to put it. The way your lip started shaking when he finally got you to explain the situation to him almost drove him crazy. 

He paced in his room, even after seeing you, even after you texted him and promised you were now okay. 

Since he had a schedule the next day and would need to leave early, you had met up at a cafe after work. You hadn't even sat for a second that he noticed you seemed off. You avoided meeting his eyes and lacked the usual cheery enthusiasm he pretended annoyed him. For a second, sickening fear held power over Seungmin’s body. Maybe you were here for an entirely different purpose. Maybe you were here to have a hard discussion about your relationship? He felt sick at the thought, but tried pushing it away as he pushed you for answers. Once you explained, all fear disappeared and was replaced with simmering protective rage.

You seemed to feel better after admitting you had a messy fight with some friends, and when you kissed him goodbye, you did look better. Every evidence pointed to it, but still.

He was the one who couldn't let go. Let go of the look in your eyes when you said your friends were turning against you for no apparent reason or without allowing you to discuss it. 

That's why he was still pacing in his room at 9:00 pm. That's why, at 9:10 pm, he grabbed his bags and headed for your apartment. 

You welcomed him with a happy, but confused expression. He looked so riled up, so angry. You couldn’t understand why he was having such a reaction.

"Because I love you," he blurted out, "and I don't understand why someone would willingly make you feel this way. Make you hurt like this. You've been handling this so well, and as much as I am proud of you, it also infuriates me. I wish we could punch them."

His confession made you look at him with big eyes and a slightly opened mouth. You knew he loved you, but he didn't necessarily say it as bluntly as he did now. And especially with what you were going through, it felt so good to hear. You walked over to him with a small smile and hugged him, feeling so thankful for how deeply he cared. Immediately, he wrapped his arms around your body, resting his cheek on your head. 

"I love you too, Minnie." 

He lost a breath and brought you closer. "I just don't like seeing you like this," he grumbled through your hair.

You pulled back to look at him with amused eyes, not hating this protective side of him, when you our gaze focused on the clock on the wall for a second. "Oh my god, it's almost 11:00 pm. You have a schedule tomorrow! You have to go home and rest!"

"If you think I'm going anywhere tonight, you're fooling yourself. I brought my bags and told Chan I was coming here. So, he will pick me up tomorrow."

I.N

Your voice on the phone had sounded so distant. I.N knew something was wrong when you said you couldn't hang out with him and the boys tonight. You hadn't mentioned anything in particular, but he knew about the situation you were going through with one of your friends. Every protective instinct awakened as he debated whether to leave it alone or run to you. It took about five minutes of his knee bouncing up and down relentlessly at the restaurant for Lee Know to tell him to go.

"I don't know what's going on with Y/n, but you should go." I.N looked at his hyung with unsure and questioning eyes. "Go to her," repeated Lee Know, his disinterested manner replaced with calm seriousness for once.

That's all it took for I.N to run to your apartment. He sent you a quick message to warn you of his arrival, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight he was met with when you finally opened the door. 

Your hair was messy, and you wore some of his old, wrinkly clothes. With dark circles under your eyes, you looked like a ghost of yourself. His heart tightened at the sight. 

"Innie?," you mumbled before he stormed inside, bringing you close to his chest, head resting on yours. 

Once settled on the sofa, you finally explained the whole situation. He knew there was some misunderstanding with one of your friends at work. What he didn't know was that it had evolved to devastating heights. Your 'friend' had started bad-mouthing you to everyone, trying to make it seem like you were the villain. The worst is that you had already apologized and admitted your responsibility in the situation, hoping they would do the same and it would clear up. Instead, the other person had laughed in your face and turned their back on you. 

Losing that horrible person wasn't what stressed you out. It was the fact that this was all happening at work, and they were handling it so unprofessionally. They kept turning some of your coworkers against you and tried to give you a bad reputation. You had started to feel worried about your job and doubled the amount of work you got done to thwart their undermining. Hence, the rough-looking appearance and how distant you had been.

I.N listened to it all, feeling his anger grow with each passing second. It took all in him not to suggest he visited them, but he knew you would hate that. So he kept his mouth shut, softly played with your hair, and tried to be as supportive as possible. Still, he was determined to help you at least a little and suggested you organize a meeting with your boss the next day where you could professionally explain the situation so he wouldn't get any wrong idea from the wrong people. 

Once done with preparing that, you were much calmer. Your rational boyfriend’s mind having once more proven incredibly useful. Tears had finally stopped strolling down your face, and for the first time in the evening, you looked at him with a small smile adorning your lips. 

"Were the boys mad you left in such a hurry?" you quietly asked.

"Of course not. Lee Know hyung was the one who encouraged me to go."

"And you left just like that? For me?"

His gaze settled on the uncertainty of your traits, and he felt his heart soften. "And I would do it over and over again."

The shine in your eyes took his breath away. He stroked the side of your cheek and pulled your head down so it would rest comfortably on his shoulder. "Please, whenever something like that happens, tell me. I want to be there for you. I want to support you through anything, but I can't do that if you won't tell me."

You nodded, "I'm sorry. I didn't want to bother you with my problems. Especially since you were off tonight." 

"Tssk, don't say such nonsense. I've been with these guys almost every day for the past six years, this feels like a breath of fresh air.

You chuckled and nuzzled in his neck, "I love you, jeongin."

"I love you more," he whispered before linking his lips with yours.

[dancingtotuyo]

Part I

High Infidelity | Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Summary: Tommy gets himself into more trouble than he can get out of.

Tags: Tommy x Reader, Joel x Reader, Tommy's Wife Reader, infidelity, emotional affair, slow burn (as much as you can get for 5 chapters), Tommy goes to jail, Reader has had a child

Warnings: US justice system (it don't work, probably bad understanding of how it operates), mention of drugs & weapons, alcohol consumption, let me know if I missed anything

Notes: when I planned this out, I didn’t realize I’d scheduled the first chapter to drop on Pedro’s birthday! So happy birthday to him!

Shout out to @janaispunkfor beta reading and @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for letting me scream about this endlessly and shaping this world. Finally, @saradika-graphics for sustaining our fic writers with an endless supply of dividers!

Words: 4396

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Daily Clicks for Palestine & Other resources

You’re asleep, or at least you should be except the phone is ringing and the bed is cold next to you. That’s a bad sign. It always is. 

A small grunt echoes from your gut as bare feet hit the cool hardwood floor. You can’t find the phone before it stops, buried under clothes you haven’t folded, scribbled crayon drawings, and bleary eyes. It starts back almost immediately.

“Tommy?”

“He called me.” Joel’s voice echoes through the line. “It’s bad this time.”

“How bad?”

“He asked for a lawyer.”

You press your palm to your forehead. “Shit!”

“The sitter is on her way to yours. I’m getting Sarah up now. We’ll be there in 10.”

“Thank you, Joel.”

“Of course. See you soon.”  Joel hangs up. 

You roam through the laundry basket for a clean pair of jeans and an acceptable t-shirt. You run a toothbrush through your mouth to freshen your breath. You do your best to push back all the possibilities running through your brain. 

You crack open the door to Nathaniel’s room. Your two-year-old son sleeps tightly, his mop of black curls spread out on the pillow. You want to run your hand through his curls and kiss his cheek, but he’s the world’s lightest sleeper, just like his daddy. 

The sitter is there 5 minutes later, all too familiar with this routine for your liking. Joel ushers in a bleary-eyed minutes later. He tucks her into the spare room bed. Sarah doesn’t ask questions. She’s asleep before he can kiss her head.

You move like the well-oiled machine that you are. He grabs your purse, ensuring the checkbook is there while you say a few words to the sitter. Joel hands you the small black bag and a light jacket.

Doors open before you and close without you touching them. You and Joel are riding down the highway. The windows are cracked, the breeze playing through your hair as street lights play off the windows, growing bigger and brighter as your eyes fill with tears. You chew on your thumb as the thoughts finally begin to take over.  

You’ve felt Tommy slipping these past few months. You’ve tried to ignore it, excuse it. He’s had a hard time adjusting. This is hardly the first time he’s been in jail. It feels like a weekly occurrence at this point, but he’s never needed a lawyer. He’s never been held longer than overnight. 

“Did he say what they got him for?”

“No… he asked me to come alone.”

“Fucking hell.” You run a hand over your face. Tommy’s antics are aging you prematurely. 

“He’s going to be okay.”

“Says who?” You snap. “We’ve been doing this dance for months, Joel! I know he’s having a hard time adjusting, but maybe we’ve been giving him too much room.”

Joel sighs, letting silence fall over the truck cabin. His blinker clicks as you turn into the familiar station. You wonder if the night shift is actually going to fulfill their punch card offer this time. 

Joel has barely pushed the truck into park before you’re out of the vehicle, flying through the front doors. Joel is hot on your heels, not bothering to lock his beat-up pickup. 

Your ID is already on the desk, you don’t even have to say a name. The officer at the front desk doesn’t need your license. He barely looks at it. It’s all a raging formality. They escort you to a room, not a holding cell as you’re used to.

Tommy sits at a table talking to a tired-looking public defender. His head snaps up, eyes jumping from your face to Joel’s behind you. “I told you to come alone.”

“The fuck you did Thomas James Miller!” You say before Joel can defend himself.

Tommy stands to his feet, the chair skidding back. “You’re not supposed to be here for this!”

“I’m your wife! You call me!”

“Or maybe you should be home with your child!”

“Oh, I should be home with our son? And what about you?”

“I’m not having this fight with you right now.” Tommy throws his hands in the air moving his attention to Joel who leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “You were supposed to come alone!”

“What’re you in for?” You ask, not giving Joel a chance to answer. Not that he was going to. He knows not to let Tommy deflect to him when you are around. 

Tommy sighs falling into the chair like a rag dog. Stress lines engrave themselves deep into his forehead.

“Tommy…” A pit drops in your stomach. “What did they get you with?”

“A gun-“

“Without a permit.” The Lawyer speaks for the first time. There’s a roll to Tommy’s eyes. 

“And?” 

Tommy can’t meet your eyes. He shuffles in his seat. 

“Tommy,” Joel says, voice low and gruff. It’s automatic, parental even.

“A couple grams of coke.”

“Fucking hell, Tommy.” Joel hits his head against the wall. 

“I didn’t- I never took it. I promise.”

You take a shaking breath, trying to calm your worn nerves. “So what are we looking at here?” You ask, eyes trained on the lawyer. 

You see Tommy out of your peripheral vision using his pleading puppy dog eyes on you. You square your shoulders determined not to fall for it. They’re the reason you’re in this boat in the first place. 

“Babe-“

You hold up a hand cutting him off, eyes trained on the lawyer. “What are we looking at?”

“Probably Jail time. DA’s office has been cracking down on these kinds of cases the past few months.”

“Is he getting out tonight?”

The lawyer shakes his head. “We have to wait until tomorrow for arraignment and bail.”

“Then, I’ll see you two tomorrow.” You give them a firm nod, exiting the room in a flash.

The Texas air wraps around you as you exit the stale police station. Joel’s pick-up is cool under your fingers, anchoring you to something.

This can’t be happening. You’ve felt him slipping through your fingertips for months, but you wonder if this is it if this is the moment you lose Tommy for good. 

Firm arms wrap around your waist. It’s a warmth you’ve become way too familiar with over the last couple of years. You turn around, letting your tears soak Joel’s shirt as they have so many times before. You twist his shirt in your fists as he cradles your head against his chest. There’s a slight sway in his movements, soothing your wrenching soul. 

“We’re going to get through this.”

“He had cocaine!”

Joel sighs. “I know.”

“I can’t keep doing this. It’s going to kill me.”

“Let’s get you home. Get some sleep.” Joel squeezes you and then guides you into the passenger side seat. “We have a long day tomorrow.”

“What time is-“

“Lawyer said about 11. Wants us to meet them at the courthouse at 10.”

You nod, clearing the tears. “Okay.”

The drive home is quiet. You’re used to Tommy throwing out every excuse in the book, promising he’s going to change. The silence makes you want to scream. How do you go forward? How do you explain to Nathaniel that Daddy won’t be home for a long time? Jail Time. It bounces off the walls of your brain like a gong over and over. 

You’ve done this before. Raise your son alone. Tommy was overseas when Nathaniel was born. You did the first 3 months on your own- or sort of alone. Joel and Sarah spent many nights at your and Tommy’s home those first few months helping you through the learning curve of being a new parent. If you’re completely honest, you’re still doing it alone, but now with a shell of a man to look after as well. 

Joel hands the sitter cash and she’s gone without a word. Your purse and jacket are forgotten on the chair as you collapse onto the couch, holding your head in your hands. The weight of the night threatens to finally break you. 

“Here.” The cool weight of a bottle presses against your jeans.

“Thank you.” You take it, tipping the bottle back in unison with Joel in a quiet ritual. 

“I think I’m just gonna crash on the couch tonight.”

You nod, a humorless huff leaving your chest. “Just like the good ole days, I guess.” 

Joel looks over your profile, catches the wear in your frame, the silent tears slipping from your eyes. The rattle in your chest changes from sarcastic to sorrow and then a sob slips from your lips. 

Joel sets his beer on the coffee table, arm slipping around your shoulders. He pulls your loose body into his side. For the second time that night, your face burrows into his chest. 

“Shhh, I’ve got you, Darlin’. We’ll get through this.” His voice is soft and soothing. His fingers brush softly over your head down to the back of your neck. You fall asleep like that, lulled by the steady beat of his heart. 

You wake up to the morning sun, your body stiff from sleeping on the couch against Joel. He’s up, the smell of coffee wafting toward you. You hear him talking to Sarah and Nathaniel in the kitchen. 

You stand, stretching out your sore muscles in wrinkled clothing following the promise of caffeine. Sarah and Nathaniel sit at the kitchen table with syrupy smiles. 

“Mommy!” Nathaniel yells. 

You force a sleepy smile, kissing his sticky cheek. “Morning, sweet cheeks.” You dip your finger in the syrup on his plate, licking it off your fingertip making him and Sarah laugh. “Morning, Sarah Bear.”

“Morning, Auntie,” She says. “Your clothes are wrinkled.”

Joel’s hand lands on your back and a cup of coffee lands in your hands, sending warmth through your body. The hum in your body is automatic. “Thank you.”

Joel only nods, returning his attention to the pancakes sizzling on the stovetop. You sip on the hot coffee. Joel prepared it exactly how you like it, just like he always does.

 “You hate pancakes.” 

“Yeah, but the gremlins love them.”

“That they do.” You grin, sipping on the coffee again. “Ugh, it’s infuriating the way you come into my home and make better coffee than I do.”

Joel chuckles, flipping two fluffy pancakes onto a plate. He tops them with cut-up strawberries and whipped cream handing them to you with the biggest shit-eating grin. “And pancakes.”

For a minute you forget it all, the impending arraignment, your husband in jail for unregistered weapons and drug possession, the two children sitting mere feet away. It’s just you and Joel and a stack of whipped cream-covered pancakes. Joel who held your hand through labor and helped you with midnight feedings. The man who got you through Tommy’s deployment. The one who always calls the sitter and drives you to the police station when Tommy gets himself in trouble. You and your rock. 

The shattering of glass echoes through the kitchen. “Uh-oh!”

You spin around, taking in the broken glass on the floor. Orange juice leaks over the table, dripping over the edge. You and Joel spring into action, pancakes forgotten. “Both of you stay in your seats,” You say.

Joel grabs the broom before you, sweeping up the shards, his feet already protected in his boots. You turn off the stove, keeping an eye on both children to ensure you don’t add bloodied feet to your morning agenda. 

“Sorry, Daddy,” Sarah says, keeping her feet crisscrossed beneath her. She looked up at you. “Sorry about your glass, Aunt Bonnie.”

You smile at her, handing Joel a towel to soak up the spilled juice. “It’s okay, Sarah bear. I just want you to be okay.”

She nods back, curls bouncing around her face. “I’m okay.”

You sigh, staring at the pancakes on the counter. The whipped cream has melted into a lopsided mound, half of it turned back into cream that soaks through the pancakes. You take a bite, the flavors settling nicely over your tongue even if the texture of the pancakes is slightly off. For a man who claims not to like them, Joel Miller sure knows how to make a mean pancake. 

Your mind plays back to the nickname. Not many people call you Bonnie anymore. Just a few years ago, it had been a constant. Stemming from Tommy’s group of army buddies, they declared you Bonnie for always stealing Tommy away from their group cookouts and whatnot, and Tommy was Clyde due to his propensity for getting into trouble. For whatever reason, probably just to annoy you, Tommy had introduced you to Sarah as “His Bonnie.” So that’s what she calls you. 

Joel empties the remaining shards into the trash can. Several high-pitched clinks sound off until the shards settle. Your fork stirs the whipped cream and syrup together. 

“Pancakes are usually best eaten, not played with.” Joel teases, picking his coffee up to take a sip. His fingers graze your arm as he sets it back down, returning the broom back to its rightful place.

”You don’t even like pancakes.” You furrowed your brow, taking another bite. Whipped cream marks your upper lip. You take another bite. “God, one day you have to tell me your secret.”

Joel chuckles. He leans across the counter, elbows resting against the granite much like yours. He sips on his coffee, eyes watching as you stuff another bite into your mouth. “I’ve got many secrets, Darlin.”

You laugh, mouth full of fruit and cream. “You’re an open fucking book, Miller.”

”I think I could surprise you several times over.” He chuckles. Something sparks behind his eyes like he’s actually keeping something from you. You’ll figure it out. You always do. 

“These are delicious, Joel, but if I take another bite, I’m gonna be sick.”

Joel frowns. “You feeling okay? You don’t have a fever do you?” He presses his fingers to your forehead before you can roll your eyes. 

“Anxiety.”

Joel nods. “You’ve got a little-“ He motions to his mouth.

You cock your head to the side brain not picking up on the obvious signals. He sighs in mock exasperation. Reaching forward, he wipes the whipped cream from your lip with his thumb, pressing the excess to his mouth. The moment catches you off guard, something stirring in the back of your mind as you zero in on the thumb pressed to his lips. 

“You should go get ready.” He says as if nothing happened, taking your plate. “We need to leave in an hour.”

You nod, pushing back from the counter. The weight of the day at hand keeps that moment from playing over and over again on a loop.

”Daddy,” Sarah says. “Isn’t it time for school?”

”You’re going to stay here with Nathaniel and Miss Lacy today. Your aunt and I have some things we have to do.”

”Oh,” Sarah nodded. “Uncle Tommy things?”

You stop, sharing a look with Joel. You’ve tried your best to keep Tommy’s troubles from the kids, but it’s inevitable. Sarah is almost 6 after all. She’s always been incredibly perceptive and observant. 

“Daddy?” Nathaniel asks, looking around. Your heart breaks a little bit. 

Your mind wanders. When will he get to see Tommy again? 

Joel takes the lead when you arrive at the courthouse for which you’re grateful. You’re both dressed in nice clothing. High heels clack beneath you. A tie reaches around Joel’s neck. You hold Tommy’s suit in a garment bag as a guard leads you to an office-like room. Tommy sits at a table with his layer from last night and another man you don’t recognize. They seem to be deep in a serious conversation. 

All three men turn as you enter, making you feel like you’re in the wrong place. You can’t tell if Tommy is relieved to see you or not. A pit forms in your stomach, like you’re not going to like the outcome of this meeting. 

“What’s going on?” You ask. 

The door clicks shut behind you as Joel’s scent creeps around you.

”We’re talking.” Tommy says. 

“About?” You press. 

Tommy sighs, unable to meet your eyes. “A plea deal.” 

You bite your lip, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. This is easier. It’s probably better in the long run, but you’re not ready to face the music. You prepared for court, not a plea deal. Not for Tommy to admit guilt with a stroke of a pen, not a judge in sight. 

“What’s in it?”

”Baby…” Tommy pleads like he wants to make amends right now. 

“What are you signing us up for, Tommy?”

“Two years and a half years. Probation after that.”

You inhale sharply. 

“It’s a good deal,” The man you’ve never seen says. “He’s looking at at least twice that if this goes to court, and he will be convicted if this goes to court.”

You look to Tommy’s lawyer for confirmation. He doesn’t make it obvious but gives you a solid nod. 

“You were about to sign it.” You look at your husband. It’s not a question. 

“Yeah.”

”I’d have appreciated it if you had talked to me first,” you say. 

“You’d have told me to sign it.”

You nod, barely keeping the tears at bay. “Yeah.”

The DA holds a pen out to Tommy. Tommy looks back at you for final permission. You give it, watching that expensive ass pen glides across the paper with Tommy’s chicken scratch of a signature. Your heart breaks with each stroke, crumbling a little more as he dots the I and crosses the T.  

Joel places a hand on your shoulder. The heat spreads, anchoring you to the moment, keeping you afloat as you stare down the barrel of being a single mother yet again. 

Tommy slides the paper back to the DA. He looks them over, tapping them against the table with a satisfied nod as if a family hadn’t been torn apart. 

“You have about 30 minutes before they come to get him.”

”That’s it?” You ask. “We can’t even take him ourselves?”

The DA shrugs like he’s being generous, igniting a deep hatred of him inside you. You don’t even know his name. He holds up the papers before sliding them into his briefcase. “Terms of the plea deal.”

You clutch your fists as he walks out of the room. Tommy’s lawyer slips out with him, and then Joel, leaving just you and Tommy. 

He stands and you finally realize it’s all happening again. You’ll be alone, worrying about your husband though this time for different reasons. 

“Baby, I-” He steps towards you. You don’t move offering zero indication that you register Tommy’s movements. 

He reaches for your hands, but you pull them back. “You weren’t supposed to take the Bonnie and Clyde thing seriously.” 

You fight back tears, turning so he can’t see them. “Pretty sure they both died.”

A humorless laugh leaves your body as you collapse onto a couch, holding your head in your hands. 

Tommy kneels in front of you, slowly peeling your hands from your face, taking them into his. Despite it all, you feel yourself melting into his familiar touch. It only confirms what you are beginning to fear. It doesn’t matter what Tommy does, you’ll always be here waiting for him. He is the love of your life and you would burn the world down to look into his sweet brown eyes and feel his skin against yours. 

You look at him through blurry eyes, sniffing back the congestion gathering in your sinuses. He gives you that crooked smile you love so much, and you feel better despite the weight bearing on your shoulders. The past three years have aged him ten. You suppose time has done the same to you.

Slowly, he presses his lips to your hands. “I know I fucked up. If-” He pauses, swallowing. His thumb plays with the thin gold band on your left hand. “If you’re not waiting for me when I get out I understand.”

You squeeze his hand. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Tommy snorts. “Easily? Just last week you were yelling at me for putting you through hell.”

“Yeah, well…” You run your fingers through his black curls as you sniff back your tears. “You kinda hold my heart in your hands, Tommy Miller. I don’t think I could get it back if I tried.”

He smiles at you. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his. His hands creep up your thighs as he rises to his feet. Your back collides with the plush back of the couch as your fingers tangle in his long hair. Tommy presses his tongue into your mouth, a smile growing across your face. This is the first taste of your Tommy you’ve had in months, the one you fell in love with. 

The door opens, and before Tommy can pull away, Joel’s gruff voice echoes through the room. “Prospect of going to jail really puts you two in the mood, huh?” 

Heat surges to your cheeks. You’re not sure why. You and Tommy had been caught in much more compromising positions throughout your relationship.

“Gotta get what I can while I’m still a free man.” Tommy grins at his big brother, pressing another exaggerated kiss to your lips. Joel’s eyes move to the corner of the room. Your smile feels a little more forced after that. 

Your thirty minutes fly at lightning speed. They take Tommy before you’re ready. Any energy you gain from Tommy’s affection is drained the moment he’s led out of sight. You barely catch the look he gives Joel.

”Take care of them.”

Joel nods, gripping his brother’s shoulder. There’s a silent exchange between them. “Take care of yourself.”

 A clerk goes over everything with you and Joel. You’re given a strict list of items you can drop off for Tommy at the prison. You don’t process a word, the weight of it all falling on top of you. You came to the courthouse today expecting an arraignment and bail, not to be kissing your husband goodbye for the next year and change. It feels unfair like something was taken from you. 

Joel is the one who keeps it together. He always keeps it together. He asks the questions and makes note of the important things. He secures the horde of important documents held limply in your hands. 

When the clerk says your name for a second time, or maybe a third, you’re not sure, it snaps you out of the fog. Joel’s eyes are sympathetic as he holds out a pen. His single nod tells you he has all the information in his head. You can sign. You don’t have to think. You sign as flashes of Tommy doing the same filter through your vision. 

The pen drops to the table as you push back headed straight for the nearest exit. You feel like you’re in a dream. Joel catches up, tucking everything you forgot under his arm. He grabs your elbow, steering your aimless body in the right direction. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay. He knows the answer. 

You feel like a toddler, wandering and lost, relying on Joel’s firm grip to get anywhere. He opens doors and boots you into his pickup, patting the door once it’s closed. The car is warm from the sun. You fumble with the seat belt, but Joel’s calloused hands are there, guiding your weary bones. 

The ride is silent. You basket in the warm sun, head pressed to the window with your eyes closed. The world feels so far away, but you’re extremely tuned into the heat of the sun, the rumble of the truck on the shitty roads, the blinking indicator light, and Joel’s listless tapping on the steering wheel when the vehicle draws to a stop from time to time, toeing the line between consciousness.

This is just a dream, right? You’ll wake up soon and Tommy will be behind you, drawing random patterns around your stomach hip, or thigh. The past year of your life and the past 12 hours have just been the world’s longest nightmare. That’s all. 

The truck lurches to a stop. The engine turns off with a distinct click. Your eyes blink open slowly. Your stretch out, toes curling in your dress shoes. Joel’s tie lays haphazardly on the dash. His cuffs are unbuttoned, pushed to his elbows, and the top couple of buttons of his dress shirt are undone. He still looks out of place in his dress attire, but a little more like himself. He hadn’t dressed this nicely for your and Tommy’s courthouse wedding. 

Your eyes drift out the windshield. A neon light reflects off your irises. This isn’t home. You look at Joel. “Why are we here?”

His seat belt comes undone with a click, snapping back. “We’re going to go in there and get drunk off our asses.”

”It’s the middle of the day.”

Joel raises an eyebrow at you. 

”Can we just go home?”

”No.”

”Why the fuck not?”

“Because we have a sitter all day, and you deserve a night before the weight of the world falls back on your shoulders.”

”Joel.” You want to go home and crawl in bed.

”This is three times longer than his deployment.” The statement hits you square in the chest. “You need this. Give yourself today. If you don’t do it now, you never will.”

You sigh, staring down the flickering neon in front of you. He’s right. You know he is. You might be exhausted, but it’s tempting. When was the last time you let go? Maybe that one good month you had after Tommy got back? When it was all making up for lost time and shit. 

“We’ve got a sitter for the whole day,” Joel says. “My treat.”

You inhale deeply, allowing the memories of drunken nights past to fill your brain. You can feel the thrum of alcohol already. You haven’t cut loose in a long time unless you count the nights spent at home alone drowning away the world after you’d tucked your son in for the night. 

Your fingers press the red release button of your seat belt. The metal buckle hits the window. “Fuck it. Let’s go.”

Joel smiles, dragging you inside.  

Taglist: @pamasaur @alltheotps @rizzraa @moel-jiller @misstokyo7love @justagalwhowrites @pedritosgfreal

[fruitjoos]

don’t you think you deserve it?

art donaldson x reader, patrick zweig x reader

summary: art’s playing snake between you and patrick. it’s obvious there’s a reason, so a confession is made.

warnings none

You and Patrick were in the middle of a slightly tense argument, one that had started as a lighthearted disagreement but quickly escalated. He had brought up a conversation he’d had with “a friend,” which quickly soured the mood. Patrick was feeling insecure, convinced that he wasn’t good enough for you, and no matter how hard you tried to reassure him, your words felt like they were bouncing off a wall. It wasn’t you he was listening to, it was this friend of his.

Frustrated, you asked who this so called friend was. Patrick hesitated before finally admitting it was Art. The revelation hit hard. You tried to explain that Art didn’t know what he was talking about, that Patrick needed to stop letting other people’s opinions poison his mind. But instead of understanding, it seemed like Patrick was defending Art, making excuses for why he’d take Art’s word over yours.

That was when you snapped. "If you're so willing to believe everything Art says over what I’m telling you, then maybe you two should be in a relationship instead."

The tension in the air lingered long after the argument died down, so later that evening, you set out to find Art. Unsurprisingly, you found him in the dining hall sitting with Tashi. You barely acknowledged her as you asked if you could talk to him alone. Tashi hesitated, giving Art a wary look, but eventually stood up and left the two of you alone.

Without warning, you smacked Art upside the head, fury bubbling over. “Where the hell do you get off telling Patrick he’s not good enough for me?”

Art, unfazed, rubbed the back of his head and sighed. "That’s not what I said. I told him you deserve better, and if he didn’t think he was that, that has nothing to do with me."

But his explanation did little to calm you, the damage already done.

Art’s casual tone only fueled your anger. You stepped closer, your voice trembling with emotion. "Do you realize what you've done? Patrick’s spiraling because of you. He’s questioning everything between us, and now he thinks I’m settling for him. All because of your careless words."

Art's face hardened, his usual laid-back demeanor shifting to something more serious. "I wasn’t trying to hurt him. Or you. But if he’s doubting himself that much, isn’t that something you should both face?"

"That’s not your call to make!" you shouted, fists clenched at your sides. "You don’t get to decide what’s good for our relationship. You don’t get to plant seeds of doubt in his head just because you think you know what's best for me."

Art's eyes flashed, his calm exterior cracking just a little. "I only said what everyone’s been thinking. You deserve someone who’s not afraid to be everything you need."

Your heart twisted painfully at his words, the weight of them settling in your chest like lead. You took a shaky breath, trying to hold back the storm of emotions threatening to break loose. "Why do you care so much?" The question slipped out before you could stop it, more vulnerable than you intended.

Art froze, his jaw tightening as he looked away for a moment, like he was weighing his response. Then, almost too quietly, he muttered, "Because I’ve seen him doubt himself for too long. And I’ve seen how you deserve someone who doesn’t need convincing to believe they’re enough for you."

His words hung heavy in the air between you, but there was something in his voice that made you pause. It wasn’t just about Patrick anymore, and the realization hit you like a punch to the gut.

"This is about you?" you whispered, scoffing. The accusation barely audible, but it made Art flinch like you’d struck him again.

He didn’t answer at first, his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder, avoiding yours. But the silence was answer enough. Your heart thudded painfully in your chest, the weight of the truth crashing over you. Art hadn’t just been talking as Patrick’s best friend. Somewhere along the way, this had become personal for him too.

"Art," you breathed, your voice shaking now for entirely different reasons. "You don’t—"

"I don’t what?" he cut in sharply, his eyes finally meeting yours with raw fustration. "I don’t get to care about you? I don’t get to worry that maybe, just maybe, you’re with someone who’ll never see himself as worthy of you? God, do you know how hard it is to watch that every day and say nothing?"

You stared at him, stunned into silence, as the full weight of his words hit you. This wasn’t just a friendship anymore, not for him. And maybe, you’d been ignoring it for longer than you wanted to admit.

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, but you forced them back, refusing to let them fall. "You don’t get to make this about you, Art. You don’t get to mess with Patrick’s head just because you—"

"Just because I love you?" he interrupted, the confession ripping out of him like it had been tearing him apart for far too long. The words hung between you, heavy and inescapable. There was no taking them back now.

You felt like everything crashed down in a blur of confusion, anger, and heartache. You had come here to defend your relationship with Patrick, to confront the person who had planted doubt in his mind, but now, now you didn’t even know what you were fighting for anymore.

"You’re selfish," you whispered, the hurt and betrayal clawing at your throat. "Patrick’s your best friend, and you’re doing this to him. To me."

Art looked at you with a hollow expression, the vulnerability he’d let slip quickly fading into something colder, more guarded. "Maybe I am," he admitted, his voice low. "But at least I’m honest about how I feel. Can you say the same?"

Your breath caught in your throat, his words cutting deeper than you wanted to admit. Because the truth was, you weren’t sure anymore. Not about Patrick, not about Art, and definitely not about the complicated mess of emotions swirling within you.

Without another word, you turned and walked away, leaving Art standing there in the background, his confession ringing in your ears. “Don’t talk about me with Patrick anymore.”

[bunji-enthusiast]

Pssttt, I heard you were looking for some ideas for the insomniac cat. I got a idea that's been cooking fresh off the stove for you. Catnap has been taking care of a child he found still alive after hour of joy. Simply because unlike most of the kids he would always see in playcare, they weren't scared of him when they first saw him. Following this for background information. The day of the hour of joy was their first day in playcare, so they first saw him all covered in blood after the events of the hour of joy, and yet the reader just ran up to him cutely calling him a kitty as they cling to one his fluffy long legs. Giving catnap a soft spot for them, leading him to start taking care of the child. In present day catnap starts to notice how they haven't slept in days, the cat starts getting slightly concerned so he decides to use the red smoke on the reader so they would sleep. Though for the sake of the idea he isn't aware of the nightmares that the red smoke gives children, so when they start kicking and crying in their sleep the cat starts to panic slightly in his own way while trying to wake them up. Using any means he can to, once they wake up catnap just curls up around them like a fluffy protector vowing to himself in his head he won't use the red smoke on them again. I'm sorry this is long just had this idea cooking in my head for awhile, I hope your having a great day!

Trying To Dream

Note || oh this punched me in the GUT.

WC || 1,086

Sypnosis || In trying times, a cat does the best he can.

It was quite strange, since he had first found you. By no means was CatNap a stranger of caring for children, but you were uniquely different. You were just that, a child with no actual perception of the reality you had been faced with. At that, he felt a pang of guilt for suddenly plunging you into this place without any adult caretakers first and foremost. But he felt they had greatly deserved their place, to rest in the Hour Of Joy. 

When it had all taken place, he himself had rampaged alongside the other toys on his level. Even abolishing the Heretics that went against the Prototype’s rule, he simply was very thorough, cats are naturally akin to being able to notice and spot things. Not a single human soul had escaped his sight.

Yet it seemed he was practically proven wrong when you appeared in front of his very eyes, despite being covered in blood – you were enamored by CatNap.

CatNap’s tail swished and flicked about, prowling right behind his trail as he stopped suddenly in his designated tracks, hearing something out of his vision. “Kitty!” He looked down to see you running up to him, clinging to one of his elongated legs. He was confused for a moment, yet you appeared to be so adorable in his eyes.

Completely oblivious to what had occurred it seemed, you only saw CatNap. A very large kitty, but someone familiar to you. You wanted to cling to that warmth, the familiarity as you were a little nervous and scared before.

CatNap sets everything right for you, to your tiny little mind. Just a small child full of emotions, he felt so strongly in return. A tiny corner in the room of his hardened heart had grown soft, he grew soft at the sight of you. An instinctive familial urge in him to actually want to take care of you.

His head drew closer to the ground, hoping to get your attention. You giggle and smile, keeping onto his fur, instantaneously reminding him of all the children that he saw that came and went in Playcare. He wanted to protect that laughter, that absolute perfect smile of yours. 

You laugh, shuffling over to where CatNap’s head had hung, patting the area around his mouth and eyes. He wiggled and shuffled his head just a bit, hoping to at least draw some sort of reaction out of you (just so he can realize he wasn’t dreaming), “Oh, you look funny Kitty!” You grin, hands clamoring to his neck now. CatNap knew he was sure of it now, you didn’t seem to be panicking or in distress. Nothing of the sort he could indicate, you really were just happy to see him, simply it may be because of the fact he is a cat. By the way you react to him, you really liked cats, so this was an advantage on his part.

You weren’t scared of CatNap at all, that he was grateful for internally. Cause good grief, some memories of the children he had put to sleep before had left them with a bad impression of CatNap.

He didn’t want that happening with you.

CatNap’s tail stretched and stretched, wriggling its way over to you. You giggle at the funny sight, sitting down on the ground as you try to catch it, though it seems to have caught you instead. The tail wrapped around your waist, lifting you up with easing and laying you on the large purple kitty’s back.

“Ahaha! Maybe I should call you…” You pause for a moment, leaving CatNap to be silently concerned due to the length. “Stretchy kitty!” CatNap internally shrugs, leaving no room to be made as he began walking with you on his back, he was painfully aware of you as he didn’t want you falling off on accident.

CatNap in earnest has lost track of how long he had been taking care of you since you two had first met, you really had taken a liking to him.

Yet he took notice very quickly of the lack of sleep you didn’t have for the past few days, not getting the proper sleep and care a human needs can affect one detrimentally. He knows this too, remembering this from experience.

CatNap slinked through the entrance to his room, seeing that you were still at his bed doing your own things. Right now, you were drawing with crayons on a piece of parchment paper that he could find that wasn’t completely ruined. You were quite happy, content.

Your eyes seemed to be so sunken, your energy was low however. CatNap figured it was one of those days where you had a sudden burst of energy to do things. He figured he can help, CatNap knows his gas can put people to sleep.

So that is what he had absolved for, releasing the gas right around the room in your general vicinity. You had gotten so used to the feel of his presence you never looked up at him, just continuing to draw until you had felt very sleepy. Eyes closing and limbs go limp as you fell sideways, CatNap caught you with a swift movement of his tail, laying you gently on his bed.

He quickly went to find a blanket to cover you with, gently draping it over your small form. For a moment, you were silent, finally peaceful to actually get some sleep for the first time in days. Only then did CatNap have the morbid realization of what the side-effects of his Poppy Gas does.

All was peaceful for a good thirty minutes, until a cry broke him out of his nap. He looked around, then noticed your little legs and arms flailing about, not violently but noticeable enough to begin drawing concern from CatNap. He felt a pang of guilt bubble in his chest, nudging you almost roughly enough to get you to awaken. 

Your cries was something he didn’t want to hear again, his own gas caused you nightmares at the risk of just wanting you to actually get some sleep. 

“Ah, kitty!” You sniffle, rubbing your eyes as you cuddle up to CatNap. He in turn returns the sentiment, ears somehow pinned back just possibly enough to understand the emotion. CatNap folds in on both his front and hind legs, laying down completely.

From then on, there wasn’t a chance he was going to use the gas on you again. 

Not if it meant nightmares.

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

This is my first time requesting a fic so I hope I'm doing it right! I have this cute idea for a hazbin hotel fic that could honestly go for anyone!(Id prefer Lucifer, alastor or vox tho!)

Something where the reader's sin was killing a goldfish, hamster or something small as a small child without knowing any better and that's why they are sent to hell. It takes forever for the reader to remember that it happened and realize that's the only thing they could be in hell for and brings back a bunch of guilt. Whoever it's with is like- really pissed at heaven for counting that as a sin because the reader is literally the sweetest person anyone knows and was just a kid and either comforts them or tries to do something about it??

A/N: I loved this so I decided to write this for all three of them!! I just loved this so much so I felt like it needed all of them if that makes sense. I hope you enjoy and I loved this concept so thank you so much for your request!! happy reading!!

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Alastor aka RADIO DEMON

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut—an old memory, long buried and forgotten, resurfacing with a sharp pang of guilt. You had been in Hell for what felt like an eternity, surrounded by the damned and the wicked, but you had never been able to recall what sin had condemned you to this place. You weren’t like the others. You didn’t have a trail of victims or a past stained with blood. You were kind, gentle, always trying to do right by others. And yet, here you were, trapped in this eternal torment.

The memory came back slowly, piece by piece, until it all fell into place. You had been so young, just a child, maybe four or five years old. The goldfish had been a gift from your parents, a small, delicate thing that had fascinated you. You’d watched it swim in its little bowl, entranced by its shimmering scales and the way it moved through the water with such grace.

But you were a child, curious and clumsy, and you didn’t understand the fragility of life. You remembered reaching into the bowl, wanting to hold the fish, to feel its smooth scales against your skin. But when you pulled it out of the water, it had flopped in your hands, struggling for breath. You didn’t understand what was happening, didn’t realize that you were hurting it. By the time you’d put it back in the water, it was too late. The fish had floated to the surface, still and lifeless.

You’d cried, of course, but you hadn’t understood the gravity of what you’d done. You were just a child. But now, as you stood in the depths of Hell, that memory filled you with a crushing guilt. Was that it? Was that the reason you had been sent here? For something so small, so innocent, done out of ignorance and childish curiosity?

As the weight of the memory settled on you, you felt a presence behind you. The air grew thick with a sense of unease, and you knew without turning around that Alastor, the Radio Demon, was there. He had taken an interest in you from the moment you arrived in Hell, though you could never quite figure out why. Maybe it was your innocence, your kindness, that intrigued him—qualities so rare in this place.

“Ah, my dear,” Alastor’s voice purred, smooth and dripping with a dark amusement. “What is it that troubles you? You look positively distraught.”

You turned to face him, your eyes wide and filled with a deep sorrow. “I remember… I remember why I’m here,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

Alastor raised an eyebrow, his smile never faltering but his crimson eyes narrowing slightly with curiosity. “Oh? And what, pray tell, is this dreadful sin that has condemned such a sweet, innocent soul to Hell?”

You hesitated, the words sticking in your throat. It seemed so ridiculous, so absurd now that you were about to say it out loud. But the guilt gnawed at you, and you couldn’t keep it in any longer. “When I was a child… I… I killed a goldfish,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t understand. But it died because of me.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Alastor let out a soft, almost incredulous laugh. It wasn’t the cruel, mocking laugh you had expected, but something tinged with disbelief and anger—not at you, but at the situation.

“Is that it?” he asked, his tone sharp and incredulous. “That’s why you’re here? Because of some childhood mistake? A simple, innocent act of curiosity?”

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know… but that’s the only thing I can think of. That has to be it.”

Alastor’s expression darkened, his usually jovial demeanor replaced by a cold, simmering anger. “Heaven,” he spat, the word laced with venom. “What hypocrites. To send a child to Hell for something so trivial, so insignificant, is beyond cruel. It’s unjust.”

You looked at him, surprised by the intensity of his reaction. “But… but it was still wrong,” you said softly, the guilt still gnawing at you. “I took a life, even if it was just a goldfish. Maybe I deserve to be here.”

Alastor shook his head, his eyes flashing with a dangerous light. “No, my dear, you do not deserve this. You were just a child, and children are not held accountable for their innocent mistakes. You were condemned unfairly, and it infuriates me to see someone as pure as you suffer because of it.”

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently tilt your chin up so that you were looking into his eyes. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice low and firm. “You are not like the others here. You do not belong in this wretched place. If I could, I would march up to Heaven myself and demand that they right this wrong, that they acknowledge the cruelty of their judgment.”

You stared at him, shocked by the passion in his voice, the anger in his eyes. You had always seen Alastor as a being of pure malice, a demon who took pleasure in the suffering of others. But now, in this moment, he was different. He was angry for you, on your behalf, and it stirred something deep within you.

“Alastor…” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He sighed, his expression softening slightly as he looked at you. “But alas, there is little I can do to change your fate. The rules of Heaven and Hell are not easily bent, even by one as powerful as I. However,” he added, his voice taking on a softer, almost tender tone, “I can offer you something else. Comfort, companionship… protection. You may be in Hell, my dear, but I will not allow you to suffer alone.”

The offer took you by surprise, and you found yourself staring up at him, unsure of what to say. Alastor, the Radio Demon, offering comfort and companionship? It seemed almost too surreal to believe. And yet, there was something in his eyes, something genuine that made you believe he meant every word.

You nodded slowly, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

Alastor smiled, a smile that was still tinged with that ever-present darkness, but also with something warmer, something almost… kind. “You don’t need to say anything, my dear. Just know that you are not alone. Not anymore.”

With that, he pulled you into an embrace, his arms surprisingly gentle as they wrapped around you. You leaned into him, the weight of your guilt and sorrow easing just a little as you allowed yourself to be comforted. It wasn’t much, but it was enough—for now. And maybe, just maybe, with Alastor by your side, you could find a way to live with the past and the unjust fate that had brought you here.

Vox aka HEAD OF VOX TECH

You had never really understood why you were condemned to Hell. Unlike the many souls writhing in the pit, you didn’t have a string of atrocities trailing behind you. You didn’t murder, cheat, or betray. In fact, in your mortal life, you were known for being kind, caring, and overly cautious. And yet, here you were, suffering in Hell without a clue as to what had brought you here.

At first, you tried to remember, to piece together what might have happened, but every time you searched your memories, you came up empty. The only thing that ever came to mind was a stupid, childish incident—one that surely couldn’t be the reason for your damnation.

You’d been about eight years old, with a love for all things small and furry. That’s when you got your first pet, a little hamster you named Buttons. You adored Buttons, carrying him around in your hands, giving him treats, and petting his soft fur. But one day, while playing, you squeezed him a little too hard. You hadn’t meant to. You were just a child, after all, but that didn’t change what happened. Buttons stopped moving, his little body going limp in your hands. You cried for hours, not understanding what you had done, only knowing that your beloved pet was gone and that you were to blame.

You’d buried the memory, convincing yourself it was just a mistake, a tragic accident that any child might have made. But here, in Hell, it was the only thing you could think of. Could that really be it? Could you really have been damned for something so small, so innocent?

It was a thought that haunted you, gnawed at your insides until you couldn’t take it anymore. You found yourself wandering through the dark, twisted corridors of Hell, your mind lost in a storm of guilt and confusion. That’s when you felt it—eyes on you, watching, observing. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

Vox had taken an interest in you almost immediately after your arrival in Hell. It wasn’t unusual for him to be intrigued by someone new, but there was something about you that kept pulling him back. You were different from the others—gentle, kind, and most of all, innocent. That kind of innocence was a rare commodity in Hell, and Vox was drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

“Lost in thought again, aren’t we?” Vox’s voice crackled through the air, distorted slightly by the static that always seemed to surround him.

You froze, your heart skipping a beat at the sound of his voice. It wasn’t that you were afraid of him, exactly, but Vox was intimidating in a way that words couldn’t quite capture. He was larger than life, a presence that seemed to fill the room, even when he wasn’t physically there.

“I…” you started, your voice trembling slightly as you turned to face him. “I just can’t stop thinking about it. About why I’m here. I can’t remember doing anything that would deserve… this.”

Vox’s neon-lit face twisted into a smirk, though there was something darker lurking behind his glowing eyes. He tilted his head, his massive form leaning casually against a nearby wall as he continued to watch you. “You’re in Hell, darling. Everyone’s here for a reason.”

You swallowed hard, your mind racing as you tried to find the words to explain. “But that’s just it. I don’t have a reason. At least, not one that makes sense. The only thing I can think of… it’s ridiculous.”

Vox’s eyes narrowed slightly, his curiosity piqued. “Oh? Do tell. I’m all ears.”

You hesitated, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you forced yourself to speak. “When I was a kid… I had a hamster. I didn’t mean to hurt him, but I squeezed him too hard, and… and he died.” Your voice cracked as the memory resurfaced, filling you with a wave of guilt and shame. “That’s the only thing I can think of. I was just a kid, but what if that’s why I’m here? What if that’s what sent me to Hell?”

For a moment, Vox was silent, his glowing eyes fixed on you as if he were trying to process what you’d just said. Then, he let out a harsh, distorted laugh, his voice crackling with a mix of amusement and anger. “That’s it? That’s what you think got you sent to Hell? A childhood mistake? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You flinched at his laughter, feeling small and foolish under his gaze. “I know it sounds stupid,” you mumbled, looking down at the ground. “But I can’t think of anything else. Maybe Heaven saw it as some kind of cruelty or—”

“Bullshit,” Vox cut you off, his voice sharp and electric. He pushed off the wall, striding over to you with an intensity that made your heart race. “That’s not cruelty. That’s a mistake. A kid not knowing any better. If that’s really why you’re here, then Heaven is more fucked up than I thought.”

You looked up at him, surprise flickering in your eyes. You’d never heard him speak like this before—so angry, so protective. “But… what if that’s all it takes?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. “What if that’s enough to damn someone?”

Vox’s eyes blazed with a fierce light, his hand reaching out to grab your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Listen to me, sweetheart,” he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “You don’t belong here. You’re not like the rest of these damned souls. You’re… different. Innocent. And if some bullshit technicality is what sent you here, then Heaven’s got a lot to answer for.”

You stared up at him, your heart pounding in your chest as his words sank in. He was right—deep down, you knew he was right. You didn’t belong in Hell. But the guilt, the overwhelming sense of responsibility for that long-ago mistake, was hard to shake.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I can’t change the past, and I can’t go back. I’m stuck here, no matter what.”

Vox’s grip on your chin softened, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. “Maybe you can’t go back, but that doesn’t mean you have to suffer for it. You’re in Hell, yeah, but that doesn’t mean you have to be miserable. You’ve got me, don’t you?” His voice dropped to a lower, almost seductive tone as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’ll take care of you, sweetheart. I’ll make sure this place doesn’t break you.”

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, his proximity making your head spin. Despite the fearsome reputation he had, there was something about the way he spoke, the way he looked at you, that made you feel… safe. Like he really meant it when he said he would protect you.

“But what about Heaven?” you asked, your voice small and unsure. “What if they’re watching? What if they… try to punish me again?”

Vox’s eyes flashed with anger, his grip on you tightening slightly. “Let them try,” he hissed, his voice dripping with venom. “I’d like to see them come down here and explain themselves. If Heaven wants to play dirty, they’ll have to go through me first.”

You stared at him, stunned by the intensity of his words. No one had ever stood up for you like this before, especially not against something as powerful as Heaven itself. It was overwhelming, and yet… comforting. Maybe you couldn’t change the past, but with Vox by your side, maybe you could find a way to live with it.

Slowly, you nodded, a small, tentative smile forming on your lips. “Thank you, Vox. I… I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Vox’s expression softened, his hand moving to cup your cheek as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your forehead in a surprisingly tender gesture. “You don’t have to worry about that, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me now.”

As you closed your eyes, leaning into his touch, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. The guilt was still there, but it was tempered by the knowledge that you weren’t alone. Vox was with you, and he was determined to protect you, no matter what. Maybe Hell wasn’t where you belonged, but as long as you had him by your side, you knew you’d find a way to make it through.

Lucifer aka THE KING OF HELL

You sat in Lucifer’s grand office, your fingers anxiously twisting in your lap as your thoughts swirled in confusion. You had been in Hell for a while now, and yet the reason for your damnation still eluded you. It was maddening, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t pinpoint the sin that had condemned you to this fiery realm.

Lucifer watched you closely from behind his lavish desk, his sharp eyes catching every slight movement you made. He had always found you to be an enigma—so sweet, so innocent, and yet, here you were in the depths of Hell. It didn’t make sense, and that bothered him more than he cared to admit.

“Love,” Lucifer’s voice was smooth, like silk brushing against your skin, “I can practically hear the gears turning in that pretty head of yours. What troubles you so?”

You glanced up at him, your eyes reflecting the turmoil within. “I just don’t understand, Lucifer. I’ve been thinking and thinking, and I still can’t figure out what I did to end up here. It’s like… it doesn’t add up.”

Lucifer leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he studied you. “Not all sins are remembered easily,” he mused, his tone contemplative. “Some are buried deep within, forgotten or dismissed, but still weighed heavily by those who pass judgment.”

“But that’s just it,” you insisted, your voice trembling slightly. “I’ve searched through every memory, every mistake, and nothing seems big enough, bad enough, to have damned me. I was never… evil. At least, I don’t think I was.”

A slight frown tugged at Lucifer’s lips, a rare expression of displeasure crossing his usually calm demeanor. “Tell me, my love, what are the memories that you have found? The ones you believe to be insignificant?”

You hesitated, biting your lip as you gathered the courage to speak. “There’s this one thing… I was just a kid. I didn’t know any better. I had a best friend, and we were inseparable. But one day, I got jealous—stupid, childish jealousy—and I told a lie that got them in trouble. They were punished for something they didn’t do, and I never confessed. I was too scared.”

Lucifer’s gaze softened slightly as he listened, though his eyes gleamed with something darker—resentment, perhaps, but not directed at you. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk as he fixed you with an intense stare. “And you believe that is the reason you’re here? A child’s lie?”

You nodded slowly, your heart heavy with guilt. “I know it doesn’t seem like much, but… what if that’s it? What if that’s the one thing that damned me?”

A low chuckle escaped Lucifer, his voice rich with amusement, though there was an underlying edge to it. “My love, if Heaven condemns souls to Hell for such trivialities, then they are more twisted than even I had thought.” His smile turned cold, a bitterness seeping into his tone. “It seems they are as quick to punish as they are to pretend their hands are clean.”

You looked at him, confusion and a flicker of hope warring within you. “But… what if they’re right? What if that lie was enough?”

Lucifer stood, his presence towering over you as he moved around the desk to stand by your side. He reached out, gently lifting your chin so that you were forced to look up at him. His touch was surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to the power and authority he radiated.

“They are not right,” he said firmly, his eyes boring into yours. “You were a child. A child who made a mistake. That is not evil, nor is it worthy of damnation. You do not belong here for something so minor, so human.”

His words washed over you like a balm, easing the knot of anxiety that had taken root in your chest. “Then why am I here?” you whispered, your voice filled with desperation. “What could I have done?”

Lucifer’s expression softened, and he let out a sigh, his hand moving to cup your cheek. “The truth, my love, is that sometimes the reasons for being here are not fair. Sometimes, they are born of Heaven’s need to appear just, even when they are far from it. You may be here because of a mistake, but that does not mean you deserve to suffer.”

You leaned into his touch, finding comfort in his words, even as they stirred a deep sadness within you. “It doesn’t feel fair,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I feel like I’ve been punished for something I didn’t even understand.”

Lucifer’s eyes flashed with anger, though it was clear his ire was not directed at you. “It is not fair,” he agreed, his tone laced with resentment. “Heaven is quick to cast out those who do not fit their mold, regardless of whether they deserve it. They hide behind their righteousness, but in truth, they are no less flawed than the souls they condemn.”

You looked up at him, your heart aching at the pain and anger in his voice. “You… you sound like you’ve experienced this before. Like you’ve seen how unfair it can be.”

Lucifer’s gaze darkened, his lips curling into a bitter smile. “I have seen it many times, love. More than you can imagine. Heaven is not the paradise they would have you believe. It is a place of judgment, of exclusion, and for those who do not conform, it is a place of damnation.”

He paused, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “But you do not have to face this alone. You have me, and I will ensure that Hell is not the torment they intended for you. You will find peace here, with me.”

Your breath hitched as his words sunk in, the weight of your situation lightening just a little under his promise. “Thank you, Lucifer,” you murmured, your voice trembling with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Lucifer’s expression softened further, and for a moment, the cold, calculating ruler of Hell was replaced by someone almost… human. “You will never have to find out,” he whispered, his voice tender as he closed the distance between you, his lips brushing gently against yours.

The kiss was soft, almost hesitant, as if he were afraid of breaking you with the intensity of his emotions. But there was a warmth there, a reassurance that you weren’t alone, that you were safe with him. As he pulled back, his eyes met yours, and you could see the depth of his feelings—his resentment toward Heaven, his protectiveness over you, and something else, something deeper that he kept hidden behind his regal facade.

“Rest now, my love,” Lucifer murmured, his hand lingering on your cheek as he straightened up. “You have been through enough. Let me shoulder the burden of your past. You belong here with me, and I will not allow Heaven’s judgment to take you from me.”

You nodded, a sense of calm settling over you as you allowed yourself to trust in his words. For the first time since you arrived in Hell, you felt like you weren’t alone, like you had someone who truly understood the injustice of your situation. And as you looked up at Lucifer, you knew that, despite everything, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[eilishsmuse]

i hate that i can’t love you

— billie eilish x fem!reader

context. you realize the casual hookups that you’ve been having with billie are much more than meets the eye. how will you tell her when her pleasure is all she’s ever focused on and not your feelings?

cw. swearing, partial explicit content, toxic ‘relationship’, billie does not care for readers feelings, arguing, verbal fighting, thrown away feelings

soundtrack. growing pains – ethel cain

extension. comfortable silence is so overrated

"Fuck—I've been waiting for you all day," Billie mumbles against your lips, hands gripping at your waist and pulling you into her room.

You pulled away from the kiss momentarily, letting your eyes scan the room.

The room where everything started. Where you first signed the NDA to never speak about this to a single soul. Also where you agreed to never catch feelings.

"C’mon, I have a meeting in an hour." She murmurs as she disregarded the way your eyes frantically scattered across the room, eyes hooded as she clambers over you, pushing you onto the bed. Her lips are quirked into a smirk, like she knows she has you wrapped around her finger.

Your heart beats rapidly at Billie’s harsh touch, your body practically falling apart in her hands. Your mind racing with thoughts of lust, greed, fear, and despair. Knowing this was just another hookup like any other one to her, heart swelling with dismay and unsureness.

Billie swings a leg over your hips as she straddles your waist. Her hands slip beneath your top, cold metal rings splayed over your skin as she moves up.

Her lips move from your own to your jawline. Tongue, lips, teeth, the sensation makes you shudder. She’s leaving marks. On purpose.

"You love this, don’t you?" Her voice is a breathy whisper, her hips shifting against you as she nips on your ear. Sharp and stinging.

“Yes,” You whisper immediately, scared, almost as if she was going to hurt you.

Liar. Your mind scolded. Receiving a pang in your heart for lying. Another pang shoots through your body. Your hands start to shake ever so slightly.

A pleased rumble vibrates in the back of Billie’s throat at your immediate response. Her hands splay further up your ribs, fingertips digging into your skin.

"And all the others?" Billie murmurs, trailing her lips down your now-marked neck, tongue swiping over the indents her teeth had left behind on your pulse. She's going for the spot that always makes your breath catch in your throat. "You like them too."

“Billie,” You say barely above a whisper, your shaky hands griping at her triceps. Your throat started to tighten up at all the emotions rushing throughout your body. Your heart was practically beating out your chest, your neck moistened with sweat.

Eyes hazy. Head pulsing.

Billie lifts her head so that her eyes meet your own, blue locking with y/e/c. She pauses her ministrations, fingers pausing on the curve of your stomach.

"What's wrong?" She asks, a flicker of irritation flashing in her eyes.

Billie knows this feeling. The sharp inhale of breath, the trembling hands, the sweat. The way your body tightens under her own.

"Don't tell me you’re gonna get all twitchy on me again?" The frown on her face is disapproving. Frustration clear.

Her verbal frustration only sent signals to your brain. She wasn’t going to to put up with your feelings. The ones you promised not to catch no matter what. Your throat tightened even more. Your eyes started to burn. And your skin started to flush.

As Billie leaned back to look at you, you immediately felt judged and embarrassed. Her blue eyes narrowing in a mix of disbelief and anger. Mad at the fact you weren’t going to give her what she wanted.

It's like being punched in the gut, seeing your expression—the redness of your face, the shine in your eyes, the way you flinch at her tone. Billie hates feeling this way.

She also hates the way you avoid her eyes, staring at the ceiling instead.

"Fuck." She curses quietly, shifting her weight so that her weight is off you. Now she's just straddling your thighs.

"We—" Billie lets out a sound of frustration, clenching her fist in the sheets. "We've talked about this—"

“I’m sorry,” You confess as you refused to look at Billie, your hands going to your face to wipe the small tears that were slowly cascading down your cheeks. The feeling of her still on your body was sending mixed emotions to your head.

You loved the way she took care of you in this room. You just wished she took care of you.

"Stop it."

Billie takes hold of your wrists gently, tugging your hands away from your face before pinning your wrists to the mattress. She leans over you, blue eyes roaming over your face. Searching.

There's an uneasy expression on her own. One you see only on rare occasions.

"You're acting like a child again." She frowns, voice taking on an annoyed edge.

The words send a newly created emotion throughout your body. Your hands immediately force hers off yours and you sit up, her body’s still on you.

“Fuck you.”

Your face contorts into a betrayed and confused look. Your face still flushed. Tears still flowing, slowly — but surely down your face. Your voice now wavered and cracked.

"Oh, don’t get defensive with me—"

Billie’s tone, once harsh, is now defensive as well. A part of her is irritated by your outburst, the other part is surprised by it. A mixture of emotions flick over her face. Confusion. Irritation. Guilt? It's all there, flashing over her expression before settling back into the same disapproving look.

"You know I—"

She cuts herself off, jaw clenching. Her eyes flicker between yours.

Billie’s frustrated, and you can tell she’s trying her best to keep it together. The vein at the side of her neck is pulsing, the muscle flexing as she swallows hard.

“What do you want from me? To treat you like a damn baby?”

Billie’s fingers flex on your wrists, tightening. Her thighs press against the sides of your hips.

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” You spat out between your teeth, your body finally having the courage to get her off you and stand up off the bed. Your top still wrinkled from the way Billie gripped and pulled at it. Neck still wet with her kisses. Hair still tousled and messy.

Billie sat still as you pulled yourself out from under her, watching you with a mixture of agitation and bewilderment. She followed you off the bed, her eyes dark.

“What the fuck do you mean?” Billie snapped back, her hands clenching and unclenching around air. She wanted to grab you, pull you back until you were beneath her again.

Billie’s anger flared up as she took a step forward, eyes narrowing. “You’re the one being all emotional and weird about this!”

Your eyebrows furrowed in a fit of disgust, “So ask why!”

Your voice started to crack and your throat closed even tighter, making it hurt to even speak. “Ask why I feel like this! Don’t just fucking do that thing you always do!”

“What thing?! I’m just trying to make you feel good!”

Billie’s voice raised, the irritation in her tone evident. She rolled her eyes, running a hand through her hair in a fit of frustration.

“We both agreed to keep this uncomplicated. Casual.” She clenched her jaw, taking a short, shaky breath. “This shouldn’t be turning into a damn therapy session.”

“See! That’s exactly fucking it! You’re too caught up to feed your fucking ego and just disregard others people’s feelings!”

Your voice raised and cracked as you argued with her. Your chest rose up and down rapidly with your heavy breathing and beating heart. Raising your hands in the air to prove your point. Eyes still red with tears.

“I’m just meeting your expectations!”

Billie retorted, taking a step closer with a growl of frustration as her own eyes hardened. Her hands clenched and unclenched, fingers itching to reach out and grab you. She bit the inside of her cheek instead, teeth grinding on skin.

You’re driving her crazy with this.

“We’re just here to blow off some steam—I don’t know why you’re getting so damn emotional!”

“Because I like you!”

You shouted, silence immediately followed after. Your breathing came to a stop and it began to slow, almost as if a brick was being pulled off your chest. Your face flushed again and you gave Billie a sad, apologetic look. Your hands tucking hair behind your ear hurriedly.

“I fucked up our agreement Bils,” you whispered gently, “I’m only fucking human.”

Like.

The word rings in Billie’s ears as she freezes. All the anger and frustration bleeds out of her like a deflating balloon. The way you’re looking at her now, so open and soft…God, she wants to throw you on the bed and never let you leave. But then she’d be betraying you.

You’re the first person who made her feel wanted. Not just desired.

She swallows the lump in her throat, her eyes flickering around the room before landing back on you.

“No,” Billie’s shaking her head without thinking, eyes darting over your face.

The crush, the emotions: it’s all been part of the agreement. This is not supposed to be serious. No feelings. Casual sex.

Yet her heart hurts at your words and it’s only making her angrier.

“You don’t like me,” Billie’s voice comes out tight, her throat squeezing the words out as she clenches her jaw. “You’re just in shock and emotional.”

A scoff skips past your lips and you suck your teeth as you shook your head at Billie, eyes hooded and puffy.

“This is exactly what I mean.”

You noticed your voice raise again, taking a small breath to calm your nerves. Closing your eyes for a couple seconds and opening them back up to see Billie’s blue ones.

“You don’t let people care for you the way you need to be cared for. You let all your past relationships with all the shitty people you’ve been with get in the way of your feelings. I get it! You were hurting! But other people’s feelings need to be accounted for too. Because now you’re just ending up like the rest of them.”

As your final words leave your lips, you immediately feel your body sharply intake a breath automatically.

Shit.

Billie felt like she’d been slapped in the face.

That’s worse than being slapped physically, actually. Your words were like knives, carving out all the reasons she doesn’t allow people to get close to her.

The fact that you’re the one saying it stabs her directly in the heart.

She can’t hold your gaze anymore. Billie swallows hard and looks away, chest constricting. You’ve struck a very sensitive spot.

“I…”

Billie’s voice starts to shake as she feels the prick of tears behind her eyes. Her vision starts to blur, and she shakes her head rapidly, trying to will them away.

Why do you do this to her? Make her feel so exposed?

“I don’t—I can’t…”

Billie doesn’t know how to respond. She wants to deny your words, scream them at you. Anything to get herself out of the open, vulnerable position you’ve trapped her in.

As Billie struggled upon finding her words you realized you had went too far. You’d used the secrets she’d tell me after the best moments in this very bedroom against her. Your sad eyes stayed on your face and you shook your head at your sentence.

“I’m sorry Billie, I’m so sorry.”

The tone in your voice was now softened and gentle. You tucked a hair behind your ear and looked to Cate for any facial expressions.

Billie’s mind is at war with itself.

You’re sorry, but she doesn’t accept your words as an apology. Yes, you’ve used the things she’s told you during your vulnerable moments against her. All for expressing the emotions she’s kept bottled up for years...

Her eyes burn with unshed tears. She feels her lower lip start to tremble as she clenches her jaw tighter.

Billie hated being so damn weak.

“Why do you do this to me?”

Billie finally speaks, her voice rough and breaking. Her blue eyes meet yours, and it feels hard to swallow around the lump in her throat.

“I told you—the rules. Casual.”

She repeats the word, as if trying to convince herself of it.

You close your eyes for a second and take a deep breath in, nodding at her statement, knowing she was right. It was foolish for you to fall for her considering her fame and popularity. Of course she wasn’t gonna pay any mind to you.

“You’re right. And you have a right to be mad. I’m sorry.”

Billie is mad.

She’s mad at you, but she's even madder at herself. Why can't she just be normal? Be the way everyone expects her to be?

Billie swallows, taking a step closer to you. Her expression softens, eyes dropping to the floor as she fidgets with her hands.

“You...you can't fall in love with me.” Billie’s voice is almost a whisper.

“I know. I know.”

Quiet and regretful are the way the words leave your mouth. You let out one final deep breath and meet her blue teary-eyes. The same eyes that looked into yours in such passionate and vulnerable moments. The same moments that made you think she’d actually have some sort of love for you.

God, you look so sad and regretful, and it makes Billie’s heart ache. She wants to wrap her arms around you and hold you tightly, tell you everything’s okay...but it’s not okay.

She can’t give you anything more than what you currently have.

Billie takes another step closer to you, standing directly in front of you. She opens her mouth, then closes it. She opens it again.

“We can’t do this anymore.”

The words that left Billie’s mouth were more than enough to send you out the door with a simple ‘Okay’.

Billie didn’t try to stop you.

Billie didn’t call after you.

Billie showed no sign that she loved you back. And now you felt like a fool.

‧₊˚✩彡

fer speaks!!!

lmk if i should do a part two to this… i really want to