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nyrovi2k · 4 months

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My Obsession ¬ Simpbur Smut.

Warnings: Noncon, dubcon, smut, vaginal fingering, oral (fem receiving), vaginal penetration, Wilbur is a stalker, Wilbur is a weirdo and deems himself a pathetic one at that, panty sniffing, insinuated male masturbation, Wilbur thinks he's entitled to reader, reader is an introvert, self-degradation, panty stealing, size kink, somnophilia, reader ends up enjoying it at the end, my writing is horrible.

Word count: 5.1k

If I've missed anything please let me know!

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Wilbur Soot was no fool, in fact he was quite a smart man, with a smart sounding job and a big mouth that spouted out many unwarranted facts every so often. But with all his brains and quite frankly unnecessary knowledge, he unfortunately fell victim to something that had consumed his every waking thought. Most, if not all, days were spent in his own little world.

You.

His obsession.

He'd think about you whenever he got the spare chance. Which was most of the time considering he never really left his house unless it was for work related purposes. Or of course, again.. you.

He didn't like to dwell on his mindset for too long, he knew he was nowhere near normal. It wasn't just a simple crush after all.

He knows where you live, who your past and current relationships are, where you like to go after work most days, your mother's maiden name, where you grew up and which school and college you went to.

But who didn't do a little background check on the person they're heavily interested in? He was completely, sane, normal and in his own right to conduct research.

Every day in the office he'd find some way to be somewhere in your vicinity, by the water stand, the community kitchen for all staff to use, the breakroom, and by God he was so glad the printer was right next to your desk.

Somehow, this all went unnoticed by you. Stupid girl.

It was quite a wonder how you had completely missed this 6"6, lanky, nervous little wreck of a man around every corner you turned. Maybe it was the convivence of being stuck to one floor in the office during most of your work hours and your co-workers having similar responsibilities so it wasn't abnormal to see the same faces.

And oh what a coincidence, your break had just started.

Finishing up your last sentence on an email that was due to be reviewed and sent later that day, you quickly saved your work having completed all of the work assigned to you for the day was such a wonderful feeling. You'd just have to send that email off for reviewing and then you could request to leave early with a likely yes following shortly after.

Stretching your arms above your head, hearing the satisfying pop of your tired bones you finally stood up, wincing at the feeling in your back and legs.

Walking over to the breakroom you contemplated on going back to your desk and simply sending off the email anyways and going home earlier. Then again, you'd made a small note to yourself a while ago to socialise more frequently with your colleagues. So, instead of doing the more predominantly introverted and more comfortable option, you found yourself opening the door to the already full of chatter breakroom, finding a few people already scattered around the decently sized room.

"Oh, Y/n!" Immediately your presence was made known. Shannon, really a lovely girl, but too loud and rambunctious if that made sense.

Adorning a small smile, you walk over to where she's sat on one of the couches, a few others around. You sit down next to her, folding one leg over the other.

"Hey Shannon." You greet her back politely, glancing around at the people sat in a dysfunctional kind of circle around you, trying not to take notice of them for too long.

"I feel like we haven't spoken in ages, where do you keep wandering off to when I need you?" She pouts and leans her elbow on the back of the couch, presenting a more casual sitting position as she turns her upper body to face you.

"Oh well I um.. I tend to usually go home after finishing all of my work, so.." Tucking a stray strand of hair away from your face you offer another, albeit sheepish, smile.

"Come hang out with us more, I feel like we barely know anything about you." Comes another voice, Aaron, sat on the sofa to your left.

"Okay but speaking of work," which earns a couple of groans to which Shannon ignores, "what do you guys plan to do about that project? Or was it a presentation...?" Shannon trails off at the end of her sentence.

"Wait what?" You turn to look at her with furrowed brows as confusion takes over your face.

"Did you not get the email or something? Big boss gave us about a week to prepare this presentation due next Tuesday, supposed to be about drawing in more interest and business opportunities for the branch or something." David shrugs, "I can show you when breaks over if you want."

"Wait so did it have a particular group of people set to do this presentation or...?" You look around the group.

"Yeah, m'pretty sure it was you, me, Shannon, David, Aaron, Carly, Isiah and Wilbur." Leah shrugs as she lists off familiar names.

All except one.

You raise an eyebrow, "Who's Wilbur?"

"That really tall guy on his phone over there by the counter." Aaron nods over to just behind you, over your shoulder.

Sure enough you were able to spot him, it wasn't very hard considering he was most definitely the tallest in the room.

He was a little scruffy, but not in an off putting way. With fluffy brown hair that threatened to fall over one of his eyes. A white button up with the top button undone, the bottom untucked. A smart black blazer covered the majority of his upper half, but below some black dress pants and shiny shoes were visible.

He just looked like a normal guy.

"Oh okay." You note and linger for a moment, before turning back around to face the small group.

"So how do we go about getting done with this presentation then?" You hold back the sigh in your tone. Just when you had thought work could be done and dusted with for today, more was dropped directly in your lap.

And what was worse this work forced you to socialise more with your colleagues. More than you thought necessary.

"I say we go to your place and discuss our options." Shannon's small smirk does not go unnoticed.

"My place? W-wait why..?" Again your brows furrow and you look around, this time somewhat more nervously. You didn't particularly want all of these people occupying your living space. Your comfort space, if you will.

"Well none of us have been there before. I mean, I've seen nearly everyone in this little circle's homes, but not yours. Wanna see how Y/n L/n lives." Shannon grins as though she's said something cute, in all fairness to her she couldn't have known that even the insinuation was causing minor jitters.

"Yeah, c'mon man.. it's only fair init?" David is quick to agree, along with everyone else.

And that was how you had found yourself sat on your sofa in your own perfectly and pristinely cleaned living room. You had dusted, hoovered, wiped and de-cluttered mostly the entire house. Your room stayed relatively untouched, who would be going in there anyways?

It didn't take a lot of waiting or pacing for the group to arrive, at their own times of course. Eventually everyone was inside and had made themselves quite at home. What an extroverted bunch.

Though it was very quickly made apparent that no work would be done this evening.

Laughter, banter and inside jabs were being thrown around, little of which you really listened or payed attention to. In all honesty, you just wanted your alone time.

You'd found yourself squished in between Leah and that guy, Wilbur. You'd found some comfort in observing and inevitably learning that he too, was quite a quiet and private person.

So, you were more inclined to stay near him. At some point in the night alcohol had gotten involved, and now there were multiple drunk people lingering around your living room and kitchen.

This night seemed to be going down in a very uncomfortable blur.

"Can I know where your bathroom is?"

A quiet and somewhat deep voice happened to snap you out of your troubling thoughts. You hadn't even had a touch of alcohol.

Turning around, you come face to face with the extremely tall Wilbur, stood... kinda close.

"Oh! Yeah um.. upstairs and down the hall to the left." You give a half smile and think nothing of it.

How were you supposed to know he'd divert from his directed path completely?

Wilbur completely avoided the bathroom, he didn't even need to use it. This was just an easy and smart excuse to quickly explore the upstairs of your house with minimal chance of getting caught.

It took about two randomly opened doors before he'd found your room, immediately he was hit with the intoxicating scent of you. Your perfume, shampoo, body wash. All in one go.

His eyes scanned the expertly organised mess, from your undone sheets, to the dresser covered in personal items.

But what had really caught his eye was the laundry bin stuffed in the corner of your room

A disgusting thought crossed his mind.

He knew it was wrong, that he was a horny pathetic loser that had severe and unresolved romance related issues, but that didn't stop him from reaching into the dirty hamper and pulling out a pair of white lace panties.

Something about the whole scene was so erotic to him. So romantic.

"So wrong.." He whispers, acknowledging the fact that if he were to do what he was about to do, there would be absolutely no going back.

And so he clutched the used panties in a firm fist, slowly bringing the crotch to his nose before he inhales the scent of your past slick. His eyes roll back and he has to restrain a groan as the sweet scent hits his senses. What he wouldn't give to taste you.

"Fucking Christ..." He sighs into the material, his cock twitching in his jeans as he instinctively reaches his hand down to grab it through the rough fabric, having to control himself.

"Want.. want you so bad.. you have no idea.." It was almost a quiet whimper.

He was snapped out of his intense arousal by the sound of loud laughter coming from down the hall and downstairs.

Glancing towards the ajar bedroom door, he stuffed the panties deep into his pocket, deeming them suitable for... later use. It wasn't like he hadn't touched himself thinking about and holding an item you had last owned or touched...

So, he exited the room, leaving everything else untouched, gently closing the bedroom door behind himself, and walking down the hallway while adjusting himself in his pants as though nothing had happened.

He was smart enough to flush the toilet and pretend to wash his hands, trying to take away any possible suspicion from himself.

Coming back down to the party, his eyes immediately find you, sat relatively on your own, on your own sofa while your colleagues continued to laugh and drink. As much as he seriously wanted to, he decided not to get too close to you for the rest of the night. A horrendous plan hatching in his head.

The night drags on, and you were beginning to get more and more annoyed with the unwanted guests, but to your sheer delight and luck, David deemed it late enough and rounded up the drunks. He had been responsible enough not to drink.

"I'm so sorry for the inconvenience, Y/n. These lot just don't know when to stop." He chuckles, a little sheepish as he does a mental head check of all the people he would have to fit in his car.

"It's.. it's fine. People need to let loose every now and then init." You shrug, folding your arms under your chest as you lean on the doorway to your front door.

Watching as he does another scan of your colleagues behind his shoulder, gathered in a messy circle, he looks back over your shoulder, Wilbur looking almost passed out on your sofa behind you.

He winces and then finally looks back at you, "I'm.. I'm so sorry, but could you find another way to get Wilbur home? I would genuinely do it myself.. but I don't have any more room in my car.." He looks away as he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

Taking a moment to sigh to yourself, you give a curt nod, "Yeah sure. I'll figure something out don't worry." It was reluctant, but there wasn't much you could do in this situation. Wilbur hadn't brought any kind of car, and you had no idea where he lived anyways. And with the state he currently seemed to be in, he would be of no use in terms of directions.

"Alright well, have a good night." David gave a thin smile and a short wave before turning around and ushering everyone else into his car.

You watched as they drove off safely, they may be somewhat dicks, but that didn't mean you wanted them to get hurt or anything. You turn around and close and lock the front door.

Walking over to Wilbur, you crouch down just in front of him, "What am I actually gonna do with you..." You mumble to no one in particular. He stirs in his semi-sleep, his fluffy hair falling over his eyes as he holds a gentle frown on his face.

"Wilbur... get up. I need to sort out somewhere for you to sleep." You sigh and shake him softly. His brown eyes flutter open slowly and he turns to look at you, "Hm..?" He mumbles, sitting up a little and stretching, wobbling drunkenly as he attempted to stand. He stumbles and you scramble to half catch him.

"Careful." You mumble and hold him, one hand resting on his chest, the other on his back as you take a second to think, "Okay... spare room it is. Can you walk?"

Wilbur frowns a little, looking slightly dazed, "Walk... uh.. yeah. Yeah I can." He slurs his words a little. This man was wasted. So you gently help walk him up your stairs, taking it one at a time before finally making it to your spare room and plopping him on the bed, both of you giving a huff, you from the sheer weight of this man and him from the sudden drop.

"Uh.. I don't know what to do now, I've never really had to take care of a drunk person before.." You mention as you bite at the skin on your bottom lip. You were fairly nervous. There was a large drunk man in your home and you weren't exactly too well aquatinted with him.

"Water! I'll get some water." Thinking quick on your feet you hastily leave the room and go downstairs to the kitchen to grab him a glass of water.

Unfortunately for you, as you turned your back to leave the room, you were completely oblivious to the sly smirk that tugged on the corners of Wilbur's lips.

This was way too easy.

All it had taken was a singular opportunity and some amazing acting skills on his part.

Way too fucking easy you naïve girl.

As you come back with the water and place it on the bedside table, Wilbur groans and turns on his side, his back facing you as he pretended to be too intoxicated to properly function.

"Okay well.. get some rest I guess." You say quietly before swiftly leaving him to it, closing the door gently behind you and heading to your own room to get ready for bed.

How had you not noticed that he hardly smelt of the liquor everyone else had been drinking? Were you seriously that fucking oblivious? You'd basically handed this lacklustre plan to Wilbur on a silver platter. He barely even had to do any work.

Oh well, he wasn't complaining.

You probably just wanted him that badly.

Yeah, that must've been it.

Time ticked on and Wilbur hadn't slept for a single second, counting down the minutes on his phone, waiting just enough time for him to be completely sure that you were asleep. And then he took action, making his move as he quietly exited the room you had so graciously let him borrow. He'd return some sort of favour later on.

Creeping up to your door, the one he had mapped out in his head as he thought up this little scheme earlier when he'd first intruded your forbidden space, he opens it slowly, still being cautious and on guard.

This could all seriously go tits up if he wasn't careful.

Peering in he could see your sleeping figure from the little sliver of open door he had granted himself. There you lay, completely unaware and fast asleep, chest rising and falling calmly from under the large shirt that covered your body. From what he could see, all you were wearing was an oversized shirt, and some shorts.

Perfect.

Tip-toeing his way in, he gently shuts the door behind him and makes his way over to stand by the side of your bed, on the side you slept on.

He stood over you, just staring for a moment as he calmed his ragged and nervous breathing. He could already feel a hard on forming. God, he always seemed to get those so easily.

Wilbur's eyes scanned your body, to your one leg laying on top and out of the sheets, your bare thigh on display for him, the smooth skin was so tempting to touch and squeeze...

"God, what are you doing to me..." He whispers almost breathlessly as he swallows a lump in his throat. You were sleeping in such a vulnerable and easy position for him to be able to just.. take you.

After all of his pining and longing, surely he was owed a little reward for his unwavering loyalty...

So as his shaky hand reaches out, he doesn't think. He just acts.

His big, warm hand came to rest directly on your clothed ass, and he lets out a short breath, quickly sucking the air back into his lungs. He was finally touching you.

Wilbur gives a small squeeze to the mound of covered flesh beneath his palm, his body freezing in a cold sweat as you make a small noise in your sleep and shift ever so slightly. You couldn't wake up just yet. It would ruin everything.

Gulping down the copious amounts of saliva gathering in his mouth, he gives another squeeze, shuddering at the feeling of finally being able to fondle you in some way.

His hand gently trailed up, feeling along your hip, to your waist, and then finally he reached around and grabbed your breast through your shirt, having to hold back a moan as he came to find you had no bra on underneath.

"You fucking wanted this didn't you.. want me so bad, hm? Ready for me, aren't you.." He whispers, breathless and desperate.

He takes a few more seconds, touching, rubbing and grabbing at your unaware body, his hands having trailed up your shirt and onto bare skin, biting his lip as his breathing got hot and heavy.

Wilbur decides he's had his fun fondling and slowly and gently moves to straddle you from behind, moving your body ever so slightly, so you were laying more on your front. No struggle was given, he was a lot stronger than you, even with the dead weight of your unconscious body, which too didn't put up any kind of fight.

His crotch was pressed snuggly right against your ass, causing a shiver from him and a gentle involuntary grind. His hands stayed underneath your shirt, pressing into your body and mattress. Warm fingertips find your nipples, and he starts to rub. A gentle motion that brought him more pleasure than it should've.

Leaning his head back, he closes his eyes in near ecstasy. This was so unbelievably arousing. You laying here beneath his hands, none the wiser, pretty much allowing him to caress you.

Letting out a soft moan, his hips start to move against his will, rubbing the erection in his jeans against the curve of your ass as his fingers continued to stimulate your hardening nipples.

He couldn't take it anymore.

He was so incredibly horny.

Giving a short huff, he worked on the button and zipper on his jeans, lessening the friction and pressure on his cock, a bulge pressing through the open zipper, his black boxer briefs creating a small tent.

Again he bit his bottom lip and began to palm himself, easing the tension in his tip that leaked a little, creating a small, unseen wet patch.

"Fuck.." Wilbur hisses as he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, squeezing his index and thumb over his covered tip, feeling as a bead of precum drips and stains his underwear.

His mouth hangs slightly open as he shuts his eyes. He needed you so bad.

He moves his unoccupied hand down and to the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down just enough that he could get a look at your bare ass and glistening pussy.

His eyes widen as he takes notice of your lack of underwear beneath your shorts, "Holy shit.. you really were ready for me. Such a good girl for me..." He borderline moans as he licks his lips. Even just seeing your pussy in this state was almost enough to finish him.

God he was pathetic.

Holding back a whimper his hands come down on each cheek and spreads them, giving him a better view. He seriously had to hold back a loud groan as he stares down your holes and your clit, almost cumming in his pants prematurely.

Slowly moving down your body, he gets up close and personal with your dripping pussy. Were your nipples seriously that sensitive? He'll keep that in mind.

Brining his nose down to stuff directly into your pussy, he takes a giant inhale, his eyes fluttering as they roll back. God you smelled so much sweeter and fresher than your panties did. The real deal is always better.

He couldn't help himself and gave a curt lick to your essence, his breathing picking up as his eyes close in pure pleasure simply at your taste.

It kick started something in him as he started so suck and lick like a man starved, he inaudibly moaned and hummed against your clit his tongue licking up to then be shoved deep into your hole. Wilbur relished in the soft sighs and moans that came from above him. You were still asleep, yes, but he was making you feel so good with his inexperienced tongue.

Shaking his head with his tongue sticking out, he lapped up your juices, deciding you were wet enough to slide his middle finger into your tight hole. He finally let out a deep groan as he felt the stretch of your pussy as you slowly seemed to suck him in deeper.

He sat up and watched as his finger moved in and out rhythmically, slowly at first, and then starting up a quicker pace, his own hips gently rutting against nothing in a similar way.

Wilbur was so unbelievably desperate.

Deeming you loose enough for a second finger, his ring finger slides in next to his middle, tenderly scissoring you open, trying to get your wet muscle to untighten some more to be able to fit him in.

Hissing in another sharp breath, Wilbur picked up on the way your breathing seemed to get louder and more high pitched in your sleep.

"So fucking hot.." He whines as his other hand comes to rest on the small of your back, pumping his fingers in and out of you.

As he felt more slick leak out onto his hand, he couldn't take it anymore he felt like his dick was gonna explode.

Hastily, his fingers were pulled out of you, he sucked the sweet slick off and pulled his briefs down, just under his dick, pumping himself with the hand that had previously been inside of you.

Gasping and panting, he spread his precum around his almost purple tip, down to his shaft. With how wet you were and how hard he was, it wouldn't be difficult at all for him to penetrate.

With that thought in mind, he trailed the hand that rested on the small of your back, down to your cheek as the other hand guided his cockhead to your entrance. He spread you open for him and then eased his way in. You were just so... small compared to him.

His mouth dropping wide open as his eyelids fluttered, quick gasps of short breath filled the silence next to the wet sound of him entering you. He pushed in slowly, finally coming to a stop when your ass touched his abdomen.

Wilbur was so weak he had to take a moment just for himself. If he hadn't he was sure he would've came on the spot. Directly into you.

"It's like you were fucking made for me.. fit perfectly around my cock... just deep enough to get me all the way in. Such a good girl.. my good girl. All mine." He whispers as he lays his front flush against your back.

"Gonna stay good for me and let me feel you? I deserve this... you know I do.. I can feel how much you want me too.." He whispers right next to the shell of your ear, making a point of his words as he gives one thrust, moaning as his hips met soft skin.

"Ah.." A pleasant moan made Wilbur look up, your eyes were still closed and your brows were ever so slightly furrowed.

"Shhh.. shhhh baby. I've got you. It'll all feel good just let me-" He begins to thrust at a slow and steady pace, his tip deliciously tapping against your cervix, the veins on his cock dragging against your soft and wet walls, creating beautiful friction.

"Oh fuck.. not gonna be able to last if you're.. hah... this tight.." He chuckles into the crook of your neck, laying ghost kisses against sensitive skin.

Eventually, his thrusts picked up in speed and harshness, along with that so did his moans and groans, picking up in volume. Occasionally he'd let out little whimpers, desperate little sounds that happened when you'd accidentally tighten at his base and force his thrusts to falter briefly.

"Hah.. ah.. fuck.. so good.. can't- I- ah..!" He cries out, feeling genuine tears of pleasure gather in his eyes.

His hips repeatedly hit yours, creating a faint plap plap plap sound, he couldn't draw his eyes away from the way your ass would ripple every time he would thrust into you.

But of course, inevitably, you began to wake. He had suspected this would happen. But instead of fear and shame, all he felt was more excitement as he could finally get a bit.. rougher.

"Oh is she finally awake? Hey sweetheart.." He moans as he picks up his pace once again, getting so much faster and harder.

You feel him. Inside.

Your eyes shoot open as you hazily realise what's happening. You try and sit up with a gasp, but his weight is keeping you pinned to your bed.

Before you can even let out any words, a moan is ripped out of your open mouth. Involuntarily, you tighten around him in surprise, and his hips stutter, feeling his release oh so very close.

"W-what the fuck do you think you're doing?! Get off of me!" You yell out and weakly use all of your current strength to try and push him off, to no avail.

He keeps going and only gets faster, slamming his leaky tip into your cervix over and over again. Your eyes roll back and one arm stays behind you to try and push him off. Which was stupid because he then sits ever so slightly up, just to grab your wrist and pin it to your back.

"Holy fucking.. ah.. just take it, yeah? Take what I'm giving to you, baby.." He grunts right next to your ear as loud moans start to slip out of your mouth.

Holy shit were you actually enjoying this?

It's not like Wilbur wasn't somewhat attractive, and in all fairness, you didn't actually feel any pain. Just an overwhelming sense of pleasure. Could be due to this being your first time.

"Yeah that's it just relax... I've got you." He kisses the back of your hair and all you can do is whimper.

Christ it felt so.. good.

After some time, you started to genuinely give in, gripping the sheets and even subtly thrusting your hips back to meet him halfway, getting him in deeper.

This didn't go unnoticed.

"Oh yeah? You like that, hm? See- ah.. I told you.." He pants and groans as he feels his thrusts become more laboured and short as he nears his end.

You were approaching that peak much quicker, though.

Dropping your head onto the pillow beneath you, moaning and swearing, trying to keep your voice down, "Don't... don't fucking stop.." You gasp quietly and Wilbur hears, doing exactly as he was told.

He was beyond glad that you had accepted this.

Towards the end Wilbur's thrusts were less dragged out and harsh, instead becoming quick little ruts that was just enough to get you both off. His hands stayed gripping your waist tight enough to bruise your soft skin.

He's panting, feverishly trying to make you both cum as he's watching the white ring of your mixed liquid form a ring around the base of his cock.

"That's it.. that's it gonna- gonna cum.. where do you want me..?" He huffs harsh breaths out as he throws his head back.

You can hardly respond as your knuckles turn white with how strong your grip on the sheets is.

But you manage, "Inside.. wanna feel what it's like..!" You gasp as a certain thrust hits just right, inside of you.

"So fucking- so fucking hot..!" He whines and humps into you.

And finally, that's enough to have you both reeling. Your vision goes white for a second and silent cries leave your wide open mouth as your body trembles.

Wilbur's the exact same way, shaking as his cock twitches, spurting warm cum deep inside of your walls, there's just... so much.

It seeps out from inside of you and around his cock, Wilbur watches in awe as it happens, so content and satisfied as his seed gets emptied. A deep feeling of completion sitting in his chest.

You both sit there, him still nestled deep inside of you as you both try and catch your breaths, coming down from your intense highs.

What the fuck had just happened?

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I'm so sorry for this horrible start to my account and introduction to my rusty writing, I know that this was a terrible plot and had many plot holes but please bare with me, I hope you can forgive me and allow me to make it up to you in my next piece of work that I promise I'll write soon! TT

(This has not been edited)

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irb-pascalito-99 · 1 month

Text

Worship You

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 5.7 k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Summary: After she experiences a death in the family, Joel tries to give his girl some space to grieve. When she tells him all she wants is him, he makes sure to show her how much he cares about her.

Warnings: grief, mentions of death, mentions of driving under the influence, smut, unprotected p in v, creampie

A/N: This is an excerpt from chapter fourteen of my fic Always an Angel, Never a God. To read more of this pairing please visit a03.

By the time we finally get to Joel’s house, the sun is beginning to rise. The girls are asleep upstairs when we get in, but Tommy and Maria wait in the living room for us.

When I enter the room Tommy stands up, walks across the room, and gives me a hug. I stand with my arms at my side as he holds me for a minute.

“I’m so sorry,” Tommy says as he squeezes me. I blink a couple times, my tired eyes hurting from fighting the sleep that I need.

When Tommy pulls away he holds my shoulders and analyzes me for a moment. I can feel all the eyes in the room on me, waiting for some sort of reaction. I take a step away from Tommy so he will let go of me.

“Anyone hungry?” I ask. I walk past Maria and Tommy into the kitchen, looking at the contents of Joel’s fridge for something to cook. “I could really use some dinner, but I guess at this point maybe breakfast is the better call…”

The others follow after me as I pull the eggs out of the fridge and grab some bread, cinnamon, and sugar out of the pantry. Joel says my name softly to get my attention while I search the cabinets for some bowls.

“French toast sounds good to me, anyone else want some?” I glance over at the others. Tommy looks confused while Maria and Joel share a similar look of concern. “No?”

Joel says my name again. I pull my attention away from him, grabbing an egg and cracking it into one of the bowls I pulled out. I feel Joel walk up behind me. He grabs the second egg out of my hand before I can add it to the bowl with the other. He holds my hand still as he says my name again.

“You need to sleep,” he says softly.

“But I’m making french toast,” I say. I keep my eyes on the counter.

“I’ll make you french toast when you wake up,” Joel responds.

“It’s already tomorrow though,” I retort. “I have work, Ellie has school. There’s no time to sleep.”

“Work and school can wait for another day. They’ll understand.” I let Joel pull me away from the kitchen, but he doesn’t get farther than the living room. Maria and Tommy stand back and watch our conversation.

“I don’t have anywhere to sleep,” I say, continuing to argue.

I can feel how heavy my eyes are, but I’m not ready to sleep. Sleep cements everything that just happened into reality. I have too much to do, and I don’t want to think of what dreams may bring me.

“You can sleep in my room, I’ll stay on the couch until you guys are ready to go home.” I shake my head. I can’t take Joel’s room from him, even though I know he won’t let me refuse.

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I’ll give you some of my clothes to sleep in, and we can stop by your house when you wake up for new clothes.” I try to wrack my brain for other excuses.

“There’s too much else to do. I have to get my car from the school. I have to tell Bill and Frank. I have to call Ellie’s school. I have to call the funeral home. I have to write the obituary.” I count each item on my fingers, staring at the floor as I think of more items to add. Joel places a finger under my chin and tilts my head up to look at him.

“Sleep first, we’ll figure out the rest later.” He says with a look in his eyes telling me there’s no room for argument. I sigh and let him direct me toward the stairs. He keeps his hand pressed lightly between my shoulder blades as he walks behind me up the stairs.

I can barely hear the muttered voices of Maria and Tommy downstairs as Joel drags me away. When we get to his room he walks me inside and lets go of me as he closes the door. He turns away to start rifling through his drawers for something I can wear to sleep in.

I hadn’t thought about the fact that I didn’t have clothes at his house before. We may be together in some sense, but every time I’ve spent the night before we slept with our naked bodies tangled in the sheets. It feels more intimate to be wearing his clothes to bed.

I start to take my clothes off while his back is still turned to me, figuring it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. He immediately averts his eyes when he turns around to see me standing in only my underwear. I feel a rush of rejection at the movement. He’s never looked away before. Joel clears his throat and holds the shirt and sweatpants out to me.

“Here you go, might be a little bit but it should do.” He keeps his eyes on the floor, even when I take the clothes from his hand.

He doesn’t look in my direction until I’ve pulled both the shirt and sweatpants over my body. It feels absurd that only 24 hours ago I had my mouth wrapped around his cock while he slept and now he can’t even look at me while I change. I can’t tell if it hurts more or if I’m angry that he's treating me like I'm delicate.

“I’ll be downstairs,” Joel says motioning his head to the door. “You get some sleep.”

He walks to the doorway while I stand in the middle of the room watching him. What just happened?

“Joel,” I call after him when he opens the door to leave. He turns his head in my direction. “Thanks for the clothes.”

“You’re welcome,” he says and leaves the room.

—

We spent the first full day after my father’s death at Joel’s house. Despite my attempts to keep things normal, my friends are constantly watching me as though I’m seconds away from falling apart. I know it stems from a place of concern, but it only sets me more on edge. My every move is being observed and analyzed. Everyone is walking around me like they’re walking on eggshells. I don’t know how to convince them I’m fine without them thinking I’m in denial.

Ellie still doesn’t want to go home yet, so Joel offered to let us stay at his house at least until after the funeral. Maria comes by in the mornings and doesn’t leave until after we all go to bed. Joel sleeps on the couch. I haven’t been alone with him since he handed me his clothes to sleep in the morning we came back from the hospital.

When Joel offered to let me sleep in his room, I thought he would make his way into the bed after the others had fallen asleep. After the awkwardness of when he handed me his clothes, I thought maybe he just wanted to give me some space to actually sleep for a bit, or maybe he was concerned about others perceiving the relationship we’ve attempted to keep quiet. I held out hope that maybe come night time when everyone left I’d feel the warmth of his body next to mine again. I stayed awake for hours that night, just in case, but he never came. It’s been a couple days since then, and still nothing.

Today I have to do a couple of errands to ensure things are ready for the funeral tomorrow, the first of which is picking up clothes from the house. Maria stopped by the house a couple of days ago to pick up clothes for Ellie and I to where while we stay at Joel’s, but I haven’t been back since I left with Joel to pick up Ellie and Sarah from their trip.

Maria parks the car in the driveway alongside mine and, upon my insistence, waits outside for me while I go in. On top of the lingering stares, and the constant pressure of being surrounded by people, between Maria and Joel I have not been allowed to drive at all in the last several days. They went so far as to pick up my car from the school parking lot while I was asleep that first morning. They brought it back here after and hid the keys.

When I go inside the house it seems exactly the same as it always does. Mine and Ellie’s things are strewn about the various rooms. I’ll have to make sure to come back and clean before we have the wake here tomorrow. Sunlight streams through the open blinds, sending beams of light across the hardwood floors. I feel like I’m disturbing things in a way, like our home has been preserved in a world before the news and my presence forces the grief upon the space.

I move slowly up the stairs, taking in the tranquility of my surroundings. I don’t have to watch myself here, I can just be. I go to Ellie’s room first, delicately opening the drawers to her dresser. I thumb through various shirts until I find the black sweater she wore to our mother’s funeral.

I run my fingers over the soft cotton of the yarn. I remember her tears that day, the way she refused to look at me for weeks after the accident. I remember asap the fights we had in the months I first moved back. She used to scream at me and remind me that I’m not her mother.

We’ve made so much progress since then. It’s been hard to get the relationship to where it is now, but I can’t help but wonder if we’re headed back to that kind of relationship with the passing of our dad. She’s been so quiet since his passing, it’s hard to read where she’s at. I do my best to push the thought out of my head as I grab the black slacks that finish her outfit and move on to grab mine.

I keep my funeral dress in the back of my closet. A simple black piece with short sleeves, it used to be a dress I would wear regularly. I can’t stand to look at it now, the memory of my mother’s loss dripping off of its fabric. I made sure to save it for the next one though. I grab a small bag from my closet and throw Ellie’s clothes, along with my dress and a pair of opaque tights and black heels, inside.

I glance at my bed from the doorway before I leave. Joel took the time to make it before we went to pick up the girls that afternoon. I stood back and watched him after he declared I wasn’t doing it right. His eyebrows pinched together in concentration as he tucked the corners in neatly. I close my eyes and sigh as I move on.

The last of my father’s things are hidden in the far corner of the closet in the art studio. We kept his nicest suit in a garment bag there, anticipating the need for exactly this, the outfit he will wear to his own funeral. Because the room was originally the master bedroom, the closet is large and I’ve put a lot of things inside to store. Which means I have to walk past stacks of art, both mine and my mother’s, to get to the bag I’m looking for.

The large canvas Joel and I painted last weekend rests by the door among my stack of Joel paintings. My eyes linger on its bright colors as I pass. It feels silly to be so insecure after only days of little romantic interaction with him. It’s not like he’s gone, or even like he’s ignoring me. I see him everyday. I talk to him every day. He shows me he cares every day. However, I can’t help but play the moment with the clothes over in my mind again. I remind myself of his absence in the bed each night. I know there’s a possibility he’s just trying to maintain our secret, but I can’t help wondering if he sees me as weak now. What if that spark is gone?

I tear my eyes away from the painting and grab what I need. Then I turn out the lights and head back down the stairs. When I walk outside with the two bags in my hands. Maria rushes to my side to grab one of the bags when I pause to lock the door again. I ignore the way my stomach clenches in frustration. She just wants to help, but I can’t help feeling like everyone is treating me as though I’m fragile.

We put the bags in the back seat of her car. I don’t look at her as I get in the passenger seat, eyes peering at my car in the driveway next to hers. A lump forms in my throat as I continue to fight against my anger. They won’t even let me drive my own car.

“You good?” Maria asks as she gets in beside me. Her eyes scan my face while I adjust my seat belt.

“Yeah, let’s go.” I reply, keeping my eyes on the front windshield. Maria looks over me once more before putting on her own seatbelt and pulling out of the driveway.

Despite my arguments against it, Maria does go into the funeral home with me. She follows me awkwardly through the building, observing my every movement. She stays quiet, but always just a step behind, while the funeral director asks me questions and we pick out options for the service.

I wasn’t very present with the planning for my mother’s funeral. Bill and Frank took over most of that for me, claiming I needed to focus my energy on Ellie. It was a reprieve I gladly accepted then, but one I refuse now. It’s nice to have something to do, to have a distraction amidst it all.

A good number of things had already been decided beforehand since his health had been declining for so long. The last steps are really just finalizing the details. Who will be performing the service? Where? Which coffin did we want to use? What will he wear for the viewing? Working out the details has given me a chance for some normalcy in my life while everyone attempts to get me to step back. Even now, when we drop off the clothes my father is to wear at the viewing tomorrow. I’m acutely aware of Maria’s wandering stare beside me.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asks, her hands toying with the edges of the garment bag I’ve placed on the counter. I drum my fingers across the counter while we wait for the funeral director to come get the clothes so we can be on our way.

It’s just the two of us in the empty showroom up front. The funeral director went to the backroom for a moment to put the file of our selections away. She offered to bring me back there as well, to give me a chance to view the body before tomorrow. I declined. I don’t want to see him, not now and not at the viewing tomorrow. I just want this to be over. My refusal just seemed to set Maria more on edge.

“I’m fine,” I respond. I keep my attention on the door to the back room.

“It’s okay if you’re not…” Maria pushes. My fingers tighten on the edge of the counter. I take a deep breath and try to keep the bitterness out of my voice when I speak again.

“I said I’m fine okay?” There’s some movement through the window in the door to the bathroom as the funeral director makes her way back to us. “I know he died, but he’s been gone for a while. This doesn’t change anything. If anything, it’s for the best actually.”

Maria and I both go silent when the director comes back out to collect the rest of our items. Maria’s eyes don’t leave the back of my head as the director and I discuss the last few details before the funeral tomorrow. I try to ignore the way her eyes burn into me as I talk.

I walk quickly when we leave, Maria trailing behind me with the car keys in her hand. I wait at the passenger door of her locked car in the parking lot while she catches up with me.

“What do you mean it’s for the best?” Maria asks when she gets to the car. She doesn’t unlock the doors. I sigh and stare up at the sky.

“Maria…” I huff, but she isn’t letting go.

“What do you mean it’s for the best?” She asks again.

I debate on taking off and walking instead. Despite the fact it’s still early February, the weather is extremely nice. There’s a slight chill to the air but with the sun it should be warm enough to walk. That is, if I knew Maria wouldn’t follow me down the road in her car.

“I mean, even if he had by some miracle lived, he would have gone to prison,” I say. Maria and I stare at each other over the hood of the car. She looks concerned, but doesn't judge as I continue. “He decided to drive drunk and he killed two people, now he’s dead. It really is the best possible outcome for him. His little angel will clean up all the pieces for him. The rest of us just go on living and he never has to face the consequences of his actions.”

The weight of what I’ve said lingers in the air. It sounds callous, said out loud. I’m not even sure if that’s the full extent of what I’m feeling right now, but it’s the simplest version to explain. Mourning him doesn’t feel right, so I won’t. I settle on the anger instead, partially because it’s so overwhelming in the face of everything else, and partially because I don’t want to deal with the rest of my grief.

“He’s still your dad,” Maria says quietly. I bite my lip and look away. I know she’s right, but I can’t think of it that way.

“Maria, just drop it.” I plead quietly. She exhales and unlocks the door. I immediately open it and get inside.

—

Joel already has dinner prepared when we get home from our errands. Everyone sits down to eat together, but we maintain an awkward silence through the whole meal. Maria’s eyes keep glancing over at me as I shovel potatoes in my mouth and keep my eyes on the table. Tommy watches the friction between us from his seat beside Maria. He looks as though he wants to say something, but has no idea how to bring it up.

Ellie sits next to Sarah, quietly playing with her food. She hasn’t eaten much lately, but she takes bites from time to time so there’s something fueling her. Joel and I sit on opposite ends of the table. He watches everyone closely, noting the tension in the air as he cuts a piece of his pork chop.

“Is there anything you need help with for tomorrow?” Joel asks, his eyes on me. I look up at him, his expression soft as he offers his help.

“No,” I reply, trying to keep any emotion out of my voice.

“How was-“ Joel tries to ask but I cut him off.

“It was fine. I’m fine.” It comes out harsher than I meant it to.

I can see Joel and Maria exchange a glance in my periphery, which makes the anger turn in my stomach again. I take another bite of my food and get up to clear my plate. I rinse the dish and leave it in the sink before heading upstairs without speaking to the others.

A couple of hours after we all go our separate ways I hear the quiet sound of the doorknob turning and then a gentle click as it latches behind whoever entered the room. I don’t turn to see who it is. Moments later, the mattress sinks under the weight of another body as someone lays down next to me.

“You asleep?” Joel whispers. His breath fans against my shoulder. I nearly sob at the sound of his voice.

“No,” I whisper back. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his chest.

I close my eyes as I feel his face bury into my hair. He presses soft kisses to the back of my head. His hands rub gently up and down my arms. I inhale the scent of vanilla and wood I’ve come to associate with Joel’s presence.

“I really am fine you know,” I murmur. He kisses my hair again.

“I know,” he whispers back. I have a feeling he doesn’t fully believe me, or maybe he does but doesn’t expect it to last. Either way I don’t attempt to convince him any further.

I retreat into him, allowing his gentle caresses to pull out the most vulnerable sides of me. It’s exhausting trying to keep up the balancing act, being sad enough that my friends don’t think I’m psychotic while not being so sad that they think I’m drowning in grief. It has felt like I’m putting on a show instead of simply existing ever since my father passed. I’m too tired now, and Joel’s warmth is too comforting to keep up the facade.

“I’ve missed you,” I say into the dark room. Joel’s fingers brush against my arm again.

“I’ve been here,” he says. I shake my head.

“Not like this.” I murmur. Joel’s hand moves up my arm to pull the hair out of my face. He kisses the skin under my ear.

I turn my body around in the bed to face him. His hair falls in messy curls around his face. He’s wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. He maintains a soft expression on his face, but I notice a hesitancy in him. I softly press my lips against the patch in his beard.

“I don’t want to push you.” Joel murmurs as I move my lips to his. I kiss him softly, our noses brushing against each other. “I don’t want it to be like how it was when Ellie was in the hospital. That wasn’t fair to you.”

I don’t understand what he means by ‘it wasn’t fair to me’. I wanted to be with him at that time just as much as he wanted to be with me. I didn’t feel like he pushed me to do anything, why would he?

“I know you have a lot on your mind right now,” Joel continues. “I don’t want you to think I expect anything. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to. That’s not what this is for me.”

“I want you,” I mumble against his lips. I kiss him again. My lips are firmer against his this time as I swipe my tongue against his bottom lip. “Please, I want you. I’m not weak or broken. I can drive my own car and make my own decisions. I want you.”

I try to be patient, to let him lead, but I wrap my hand around the thick muscles of his arm anyway. Going from an entire weekend of constant intimacy with Joel to nearly a week without touching him has made me hungry for his attention. His hands spread across my back, holding me delicately as he allows me to take what I need.

“You have me,” He responds while resting his forehead against mine.

“I want more of you. I need more.” I’m feeling desperate now. It’s not enough to be beside Joel, to feel his body wrapped around mine. One of his hands leaves my back and travels down to my bare thigh.

I’m only wearing panties and the oversized t-shirt he let me borrow to sleep in on the first night here. When he looks down at my clothing it’s as though he just now realized I’m wearing it. He grips my thigh harder, eyes darkening with lust when he pulls me in for another kiss.

His tongue slides into my mouth as I pull at the fabric of the shirt he is wearing, fighting to get him closer despite his entire body being pressed tightly against mine. He breaks the kiss only to allow me the space to pull the shirt over his head and then begin to kiss my neck softly.

Joel takes his time with all of it, his fingers delicately sliding under my shirt to glide against my bare skin. I twitch when his thumbs brush my nipples.

“Joel,” I whine. I push my hips against him, his hardening length making contact with my core.

He growls at the feeling, his hands squeezing me harder. He climbs on top of me, finally pulling my panties down my legs. I whine and attempt to grind against him but Joel presses my hips back down to the bed.

“Patience baby, let me do this for you.” I lose myself in his eyes, his hand slowly snaking between my thighs.

There’s something different about the way he touches me tonight. Each brush of his hand is deliberate. Just the slightest movement sends sparks across my skin. He doesn’t break eye contact with me as he runs his finger through my folds. I push my head back a little, my lips parting though I’m careful to keep my eyes on his.

There’s a deeper connection between us this time around. His eyes communicate with mine wordlessly as he begins to rub circles against my bundle of nerves. He puts all his energy into showing me the words that fail him. It makes me squirm, not just from the pleasure he’s providing me but from the emotions involved in all of it. It’s too much to handle, too much to feel right now.

I move my hand down and pull him out of his underwear, hoping to pull some of his attention off of me. He hisses through his teeth when I grip his cock. I twist my wrist as I move my hand slowly up and down his shaft. His hips chase my hand despite the way his hand grips my wrist to get me to stop.

“Enough,” he growls, squeezing my wrist as I pump him again.

“Then fuck me already,” I whisper back. He pulls my hand off of him and pushes his boxers the rest of the way down.

I spread my legs further apart so he can nestle in between them. He rests against me, rubbing his swollen head through my folds as it leaks pre-come. I whine as he runs his length over where I need him most, but doesn’t push inside.

“Joel,” I plead. I push my hips up, the tip of him breaching my hole. He shivers as I pull him in, not moving from where he rests against me.

“Okay, okay sweetheart.” He keeps one hand on his cock as the other grabs my leg and hitches it around his waist. I have to bite my lip to keep from calling out as he pushes inside. My eyes flutter shut, but his fingers squeeze my leg and he pauses his movement. “Oh no you don’t. Keep your eyes on me darlin’.”

I force my eyes open again to make contact with his. He continues in one long, slow, motion until his hips are flush with mine. I expect him to immediately drive into me with the intense passion he normally does, but when I’m completely full of him he freezes again.

He drops his head to my shoulder and I huff in frustration as I wait for him to move. I can feel every ridge and vein of him as I pulse around his length, my wetness dripping around him. The house is silent aside from our hushed breaths. I’m desperate for some sort of motion, but he does not grant it to me.

I start to move instead, pressing my hips up and down the best I can while stuck between his body and the mattress. I go fast, settling for short bursts as I desperately try to get enough friction to build the pressure in my core again.

Joel pulls back slightly to give me more room, but it’s not enough. None of it is enough. He watches me through hooded eyes while I desperately attempt to set a good pace.

“Baby,” Joel murmurs. I feel something vaguely simmering inside me, but it’s nothing like what Joel normally provides. He mutters my name and grabs my hips, pressing them back to the mattress. I throw my head back on the pillow as he stills my movements. “Not like this, not tonight.”

He pulls out of me and kneels back on the bed, looking over my form carefully. I adjust my body on the bed, self conscious from his observing eyes.

“As much as I love this on you,” Joel says, tugging at the shirt that covers me. “I need to see all of you.”

He pulls his shirt over my head and throws it on the floor. I am bare to him now, his eyes roving over me not in lust but in worship. He looks over my body but stares into my soul. His hands skim my form delicately before he positions himself over me again and presses a delicate kiss to my lips.

I watch closely as his lips trail down my entire body. He kisses softly at my skin as though he’s trying to memorize how my skin feels pressed against his lips. He kisses down my neck, over my shoulders, across my chest. My stomach tenses as he kisses further down my body. I jolt when he lightly presses against my core, not in a sexual way like he has before but gentle and loving. He moves to my thighs next and down my legs, then back up again until he reaches my hips once more.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers to me and lines himself back up with my center. I pull my arms around his neck, my eyes staring into his as I await his next move.

He cages me in with his body, wrapping my legs around his waist while his arms rest on either side of my head, holding his upper body above me. He pushes back inside me with a languid thrust and sets his pace.

I moan against him, finally getting the reprieve I need. His hands grip the sheets by my head while he watches my face contort in pleasure. I pull lightly at the ends of his hair, my toes curling as I gasp. I start to lose myself in the feeling of him, allowing the warmth of his body to float me away to some other place.

His body melts into mine. I’m no longer aware of where he ends and I begin. He doesn’t retreat fully, not wanting to leave my body long enough to do so. He thrusts slow and deep, each one knocking the breath out of me. We share the air between us, our breaths mingling in soft pants as he cages me in. The world fades away until all I feel is him. All I see is him. All I know is him.

Sex with Joel has always been great, but this is on another level. The word sex can’t even encapsulate what is happening right now between us. This time it’s not about finding release, or the pleasure that builds in my stomach. This time it’s about the way I can feel the sweat on his skin and each pulse of his member inside me. It doesn’t take long for him to bring me back to the precipice of my orgasm.

I feel tears well in my eyes as I clench around him. It’s everything I needed and too much at the same time. I thought this would provide me a distraction from my grief. Instead Joel holds me like he’s trying to prove how much he truly sees me, trying to prove he’s here to help me hold the burden.

I’ve never felt this vulnerable. It scares me that he doesn’t look away. If anything he seems to hold me closer. The hand that rests by my head moves closer to my face, his thumb brushing the tear on my cheek away. He moves his thumb out of the way to press a kiss to my tear stained cheek.

“I’m gonna-“ he says hoarsely, his lips ghosting my cheek.

“Me too,” I reply. It feels like my entire being is about to explode, and despite how overwhelming the experience already is I need to know what it feels like to be one with him. I desperately want to feel every last moment of this. I don’t want it to end. “Do it inside, please.”

He looks at me with wide eyes, a silent question of ‘Are you sure?’ passing between us. He knows I’m on the pill, but we’ve always been extra careful. We have enough going on with Ellie and Sarah that we don't need to risk any other surprises. Right now, nothing else matters but having all of him.

I nod my head, giving him a final approval. We keep our eyes on each other as he groans and I feel his warmth begin to release inside me. I let go as well. His body wraps tighter around me as I pulse around him. He pushes deeper while ribbons of his seed spread inside me. We kiss passionately, our lips pressed hard against each other as both of us struggle to stay quiet with the pleasure coursing through our bodies.

Once the shockwaves begin to subside, and Joel’s twitching frame subsides into one of heavy pants, he drops his forehead to mine. He holds me close while he rolls us onto our sides, keeping one of my legs hooked around his waist so he doesn’t slip out. I fall asleep with him still inside me, his body intertwined with mine in every way.

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trsrina · 2 months

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valentine’s day with zerobaseone

gn reader, established relationship, fluff !! mentions of food, not proofread

jiwoong

- even after having been in a relationship with jiwoong for some time now, you still kick your feet and get all excited when you receive your yearly valentine’s surprise from him

- sends a box of chocolates and a bouquet of blue roses to your workplace in the middle of the day with a love letter in it (probably some cheesy love poem he racked his brain to come up with and feels very proud of)

- it will probably be something like “roses are red. my face is too. that only happens when i’m around you” written with crayons and decorated with silly childish stickers and doodles ,and you had to resist letting out the loudest laugh ever at that since you were still at work

other members under the cut!

zhanghao

- sorry but YOU have to ask him to be your valentine, not the other way around and you have to do it fast before anyone else (hanbin) snatches him away from you

- no but seriously he would’ve cleared out his entire schedule for that day just to spend it all with you going out just idk eating at some cute but overpriced café (don’t worry, he pays), shopping and just gossiping over some coffee

- ends the day with a night stroll at a park with your hands intertwined and swinging by your sides maybe feed some ducks you saw while chatting the night away and just giggling to each other about something silly. it was simple but meant so much to the both of you

hanbin

- this is so serious for him like no one takes valentine’s day as serious as him so he makes sure to give you princess treatment throughout the whole day

- you wake up to the sound of a grizzling pan and smelling the aroma of the breakfast he’s preparing for you and damn this man CAN cook. serves you a five course meal at 8 am in the morning with like heart-shaped pancakes and eggs like this man is not real (sorry i just love domestic hanbin)

- after breakfast, you two return to bed since you were still feeling sleepy. he cuddles you to sleep, your head buried in his chest and literally clinging onto him, him with his arms tightly wrapped around you in a comforting embrace, gently patting you to sleep as he leaves small pecks all around your face and he probably has even more stuff planned later in the day

matthew

- matthew biggest green flag. spent so long planning the perfect valentine’s date for you and surprised you with a romantic picnic at the beach. he even sets up a table and chairs for the both of you, made sure all the food was perfect

- i can envision him covering your eyes during the walk from the car to the beach then surprising you. pulls out your chair for you and pushes your hair behind your ear and when you ask why he’ll say, “just wanted to take a better look at your pretty face”

- makes you giggles at his jokes the whole time and at last, gives you a final surprise which was an adorable cake with ‘happy valentine’s day’ written on it with icing that he spent the majority of yesterday making for you (u have no idea how many times he had to redo it)

taerae

- he serenades you. that would be the most taerae thing to do like seriously. he would start planning since christmas, writing a whole love song for you, him writing and composing it for you all by himself

- he would be so nervous when the day arrives. he would take you out to a nice restaurant, surprising you with flowers and all, then when the both of you return home, he sits you down on the couch and takes out his guitar

- starts strumming and you’re like, “i don’t recognise this song?” and realises that he wrote it and it took everything in you to not start crying on the spot. serenades you with his honey-like sweet voice while looking into your eyes like a lovesick man, literally making heart eyes at you and smiling like an idiot

ricky

- sends you a text in the morning which reads, “morning, baby. happy valentine’s day. i reserved a table at xxx restaurant for us at 6 pm. i’ll pick you up at 5:30 pm. i love you.”

- the moment you receive that text you start giggling and kicking your feet while burying your face into your pillow, only ricky can make you feel this way.

- you dress up for him and the moment you see him, he’s leaning against his car in a button up with the first few buttons unbuttoned and a huge bouquet of flowers. holds your hand the whole time, during the ride and dinner, listens intently to all of your rambling during the whole of dinner and also pays !!! (bc he’s young and rich)

gyuvin

- rings your doorbell enthusiastically with flowers and gifts dressed in his best attire, fixing his hair every few seconds to make sure he looks perfect for you. shyly hands you the bouquet he arranged himself when you open the door

- he would drag you to a dog café for your date and he’s most likely even more excited about this than you, just looking at the bright grin on his face and the giggles he lets out while he plays with the puppies makes a smile appear on your face too

- would probably point at every dog and says it looks like you because it’s cute just like you. no but imagine you guys sharing a pasta together and accidentally recreating the lady and tramp scene omg

gunwook

- bowling date with gunwook omg okay his jaw will literally drop the moment he sees you arrive all dressed up like he thinks you’re drop dead gorgeous and won’t stop giggling and blushing every time he glances at you

- pays for everything and takes the chance to show up his skills in bowling. coolest guy ever just the way he confidently strikes the bowling pins with the bowling ball but gets so shy and blush when you cheer for him and compliment him

- and when you’re getting food together at a restaurant, he would not stop staring at you. his head propped up on his hand as he stares at you hopelessly, utterly lost in your eyes and down bad. type to wipe your mouth for you when you have something in the corner of your lips.

yujin

- your first valentine’s day together so he would be so anxious about it and shy. he would make sure everything goes smoothly and plans it all out like buying tickets to that movie you said you wanted to watch in advance and making reservations for a restaurant you mentioned you wanted to visit before (most likely the first time he ever made a reservation by himself in his lifetime)

- takes you to the movies and insists on paying for your popcorn and drinks. probably watching some cheesy romcom together and since it’s valentine’s day, you’re surrounded with couples which just makes him even shyer

- holds your hand and whispers silly comments about the movie in your ear throughout the movie. he couldn’t focus at all because you were right beside him

short little valentine’s headcanons that i rushed to make it on time 😓

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snoopyblankie · 3 months

Text

LI’L PUP’S “DAYCARE” / “SCHOOL” ROUTINE !

Okay, so in a few posts, I mentioned that if you don’t have a CG, have a hard time with routine, have a hard time meeting certain daily tasks, etc., then it can help to make a sorta daycare/school routine (which would involve getting ready for the day, exercise, recreation, meal breaks, etc)!

Of course, the “daycare”/“school” aspect to it is all up to you ! Routines can have some variation, and if you’re having a little day or your routine seems to be difficult because of sudden regression, then this is more tailored towards that !! (It’s also a li’l more geared towards the 4-5 age range, but don’t let that dissuade you!)

Me personally, if I’m havin’ a rough time, I might feel a sorta lingering regression throughout my day which I’ve been feeling lately. I don’t want it to interfere when I have to be big, though, so this is also a good way to manage big tasks and little wants!!

The routine can start like this !

Getting Ready For The Day: You gotta make sure you’re ready to take on the day! Wake up at a decent time (what works for your schedule) and try to do each of the following!

Make your bed

Drink some water

Brush your teeth/hair

Go to the bathroom (even if you’re not sure you need to! It can’t hurt to try!)

Wash your face or splash it with a little water

Get dressed (It helps to lay out your clothes the night before if you can !) (don’t forget new underwear and socks !)

Have some breakfast

School Time: These you can rearrange the order of, but I recommend keeping lunch/recess/nap in a somewhat similar place (ex. not having recess first) unless you really gotta! These are just suggestions after all and you know yourself best !

Welcome to the Day: Make a list of the Big Things you might need to do that day (tidy up, laundry, work/homework, etc) so you can sprinkle them in throughout the day or work around them! You can write this out by hand as a little goal chart—this is how we are greeting the day! You can write your name and date on it, use fun pens, make it a little sticker chart, whatever you’d like! This is just a way to keep track of the things you’ve gotta do. This is also a time to Get Grounded; make a separate list of three things that have made you happy/went well/or that you look forward to this morning! Even if it’s a hard day, it helps to try and find the littlest things (like you!) that make your day a little better (ex. “The weather is nice right now,” “I made my bed,” “I changed into different pajamas,” “I’m going to the park later,” etc!)

Reading: Set aside around 20-30 minutes (or more! I’d say about an hour max for now) to get comfy in a fun chair, on the floor, wherever, grab a book (or a couple if they’re shorter,) and get reading! No need to take notes unless you wanna, and if you really wanna make it more school-like, you can read the books out loud to some stuffed animals (just make sure you’re reading ‘em, not just saying ‘em) or write down the books you read in a reading log! At the end of the month it could be fun to look back and see what you’ve read!

Music: This was always my favorite subject (well, one of them)! Again, set aside around 30 minutes, and have some music fun! Listen to your favorite artists, learn some chords on guitar, practice keyboard/piano, whatever you’d like! Write a song and play it for your stuffed animals! Come up with a cartoon theme song, or music for a video game!

Work Time: Set aside around 30-60 minutes to do some work! If you have school work, you can chip away at that. If you don’t, you can use this time to do some of your big tasks (start a load of laundry, wash some dishes, etc) and, with whatever remaining time, maybe find some things to stimulate your brain! Word puzzles, math problems, researching a subject you like—anything!

Recess: Set a timer for 30 minutes and go have fun! This depends on the weather, naturally, but it’s free time! If you can get outside, go for it! Enjoy the sun (or snow,) lay/sit in the grass, take a pet for a walk or just go for one yourself/with a friend, run around if you can! If there’s a park nearby, that could be fun! Or if you have outdoor toys (ball, hula hoop, chalk, etc) you can use those! Even just reading or drawing outside is nice to get the fresh air. If you can’t get outside, do some indoor fun! Try and stay off of screens, but you don’t have to (you could find some fun kids games on the computer,) and play inside! Play with your stuffed animals, whatever toys you may have, color, anything your heart desires! Maybe you just want 30 minutes to meditate wherever you are, go for it. Just stay safe, and keep stuff handy in case you get too excited playing!

Lunch Time: This can be 30 minutes to 60, however long you feel you need to make/have lunch and settle down afterwards! It’s not helpful to rush during a meal, which I know sometimes folks struggle with (me too,) so this is the time to slow down. You’ve had a busy day so far, you gotta make sure you’ve got energy to last you a while longer! Try incorporating fun stuff into lunch if it’s daunting; fun shapes, a color scheme, a theme overall, etc. Have a stuffed animal have lunch with you if you wanna (just don’t feed ‘em your food, they like their own!)

Art: We don’t wanna get right into anything too exhaustive after lunch, what better idea than to create? Set aside 30 minutes to do something creative! Paint, color, draw, use clay, make bracelets, make a fun craft, whatever you can think of. There’s loads of posts about agere craft ideas, and plenty of kids’ art ideas on Pinterest and in books—check those out for some ideas! Remember, you’re not making things to be the best, you’re making things to make them!

Writing: For 20 minutes, it’s time to write! Assess how your day’s going—if anything’s changed from the morning, what fun stuff you might’ve done, etc. Maybe you just wanna write a silly story, or you have one that you’re already working on, go ahead and work on it! If you’re feeling particularly little, those handwriting workbooks are very fun!

Gym: For 30 minutes, we’re gonna get our bodies moving! This is all dependent on your mobility levels, so I won’t get toooo specific here (I will in other posts)! Clear some space in your living room, a rec room, however much space you need, and get your blood moving. This can be things like yoga or simple stretches (which have lots of seated options,) Pilates, or a full-out routine! It’s important to get your body moving as best you can, it keeps your heart healthy and can help if you’ve got low energy (I can confirm)!

Quiet Corner: Now we really step away from the screens. For 20-30 minutes (minimum, if you can do longer go for it,) turn off your phone, the TV, the computer, and try to relax. This is another good time to journal, to meditate, or even take a nap if you feel like your body needs it (try not to take too long a nap though, keep that to 12-30 minutes so you don’t mess up sleeping later). This can just be any quiet activity that is more hands-on to help keep you grounded. I like to read in the little corner in my room, or to play with my sensory bin! (This is also a good time to bust out the “clean up” song and maybe tidy up stuff as you start wrapping up).

Goodbyes: The day isn’t over yet, especially if you’ve gotta work closing or have late classes, but the school routine is sorta wrapping up. Grab your journal yet again, and write down something about the day that you’ve enjoyed, something you’d want to do tomorrow, or maybe something you wanna do later in the day! This is also a good time to clean up as needed, as you say “goodbye” to the more organized schedule and carry on with your day!

Dismissal: The “daycare”/“school” day may be done, but the day isn’t over yet! Have another check in and see what tasks you’ve still gotta do for the day. It’s a good time to get crackin’ on those so your evening can be more restful!

If you have work/class that interrupts your schedule, just try and pick up where you left off (unless you’re gettin’ home real late—adjust as necessary). Once you’re done with all your tasks for the day (it’s okay if you can’t do ‘em all,) it’s time to settle down, have some dinner, have a nice bath, and get ready for bed however you’d like!

This routine is great because of how flexible it can be; don’t wanna do gym every day? That’s fine! Switch out gym for science (go outside and collect some rocks or fallen plants, look ‘em up, watch some Bill Nye)! Don’t wanna do writing that day? Okay! How about history? Brain Pop is great for all sorts of subjects, and it’s a good way to try finding some new books!

This is a VERY long post, and it’s all just suggestions, but I hope some folks find it helpful (I love detailed posts like this personally ^w^). I might make some more as far as routines go (morning/night routines, different daily routines, etc) but I will definitely be making follow-up posts to this one with links and resources for every subject (as I find them!)

Have a great day !!!!!!!!! You’ve got this !!!!!!

#lil pup speaks !#helpful !#words !#routines !#agere #age regression #age regressor #agere blog #age regression blog #agere journal #agere routine #agere resources

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ilys00ga · 4 months

Text

life after his enlistment.

pairing: yoongi x reader

synopsis: how life/the relationship was like after he enlisted.

genre: fluff, established relationship, yoongi enlisted, they are trying their best, idk if I should call it angst or hurt/comfort, but there's some kind of ✨️melancholy✨️ in this (predictable much), I effing miss him sm more now :(.

warnings: t.w: if u are just like me, prepare to be missing yoongi sickeningly after this. gosh, it feels like a hole in a chest rn. idk what to do w myself. oh btw some ideas mentioned here are purely my own opinions, so it doesn't have to be "facts" or "all true." if u have different opinions or if u disagree with any it u can reach out to me about them, I would like that, but that's that, enjoy!!!!!!!!!

A/N: this was a request made by @kimvante2013 I hope it meets ur expectations! this was so fun to write, I liked this a lot. feel free to send more reqs or anything u want :)

PS. English is not my first language, so you know the drill.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

the problem wasn't that you couldn't see him, no.

since his duty was different from that of an ordinary individual, you both were able to spend the nights in each other's arms.

when he comes back home after duty, sometimes he's met with an empty house where he'd wash up and start preparing something for you to enjoy munching on once you get back home at a later hour of the day. other times, he comes to a busy, warm house. you blasting your favorite drama on the TV while doing the laundry in the middle of the living room, or just chilling and waiting to welcome him with mellow hugs and kisses.

and when he's on duty, he can't always contact you, but he whispered kisses laced with promises into your lips before leaving on his first day, and he would never dare to break them. not that he wants to anyway.

sometimes you'd wake up to post-it notes sticked on random surfaces and items around the house, or good morning messages of love and kisses. sometimes he calls during lunch breaks to check up on you, reminding you to drink water and eat well because that's yoongi's most precious habit of showing that he always just cares.

"don't forget to layer your outfit today, I just saw that it's gonna be awfully cold."

"did you like the bouquet I sent? want more? cook me ___ tonight xx"

"hi, don't forget to drink a cup of water right this instance or you'll shrivel up and die."

"it snowed on my way here this morning, let's go out this weekend and have some fun :]"

when days are too hard to handle, weighing one of you—maybe even both of you at the same time, cause life is a bitch like that—down and burying you under the ground, you'd send long voice messages to the other. never expecting an immediate reply. just simply pressing record and spilling all the bottled negative energy that clogged your brains and chests.

so, the problem wasn't really that you couldn't see or talk to him..

the problem was that neither of you were used to any of that.

you weren't used to being away from each other for long hours throughout the day (even though he often went on tours and job events aboard), or not being able to talk and/or see him whenever you wanted to—atleast whenever your shift agreed to let you. you're stuck on this routine for months. you were so not used to that.

over the years, you and yoongi grew to become a pen and a paper: two different items that are meant to only function and be paired together. one can't be capable without the other.

yet you try to avail yourselves of the situation and take it all easy. slowly, like waking up and leaving a warm, comfy bed at 5 in the morning to gain some purpose somewhere out there.

so, while staying away from one another for several hours a day comes with heavy challenges and even melancholy at times, that doesn't mean it can't be fruitful for your relationship.

since for it to grow healthier, a couple, intentionally or not, sometimes needs to take some "time off" to preserve the connection and intimacy between them.

you always remind yoongi of how much you had missed him during the day, which is something that never failed to put a smile on his face and trigger a stream of butterflies in his stomach.

love and yearning are two inseparable powerful emotions that one can't defeat, and absence makes the heart grow fonder. that's the beauty of the challenge your relationship was subject to at this new stage.

"I am still me, you are still you. everything's gonna be alright." yoongi would say as he hugs your face into his chest.

he always reminds you that this new chapter the two of you have entered together, hand in hand and with shaking hearts, is one that he'd been dreading but looking forward to for a very long time.

a chapter that made him understand how much he needs your existence in his life. to be himself and to be the somebody you need and deserve.

and he makes sure to translate that into your skin as he traces it with his lips and fingertips when you finally fall into each other's embrace.

#yoongi #bts #yoongi scenarios #yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #bts scenarios #agustd #yoongi angst #min yoongi #bts imagines #bts fic #bts army #bts yoongi #bts enlistment

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cherryredstars · 4 months

Note

Hiii cherry💋♥️ would you write something about going on a late night drive with simon when you both can't sleep🥺🫠

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: Fluff

Summary: What happens when you can't sleep.

Word Count: 1.4K (Unedited)

It's been a struggle to find sleep lately.

Maybe it's a combination of the colder weather and a busy week, but no matter how tired you are, sleep seems to slip through your fingers. It makes your bones heavy and your brain slow. Eventually, after hours of tossing and turning in your bed, you slip out. Fuzzy, festive socks hit the cold wooden floor as you creep out of bed and to the front door in the dim lighting of your flat. You pull a simple jacket over your jumper and slip on some boots.

You leave with your keys jangling in your pocket, closing the door softly before walking forward to the door across from you. You're nervous. It's late, way past any reasonable hour. You know he's probably awake. You know sleep isn't his friend either. But a small voice in your mind wonders that maybe its one of those rare nights where he finds himself passed out on his couch. You'd hate to steal him from his only form of peace.

You knock softly, just loud enough to be heard if he is awake. You're certain that any sound would wake him up though. You rock back and forth on your heels, hands stuffed in your pockets as you wait. The carpet needs a bit of cleaning you realize and you have a small stain near the end of your boot that you don't remember from this morning. Maybe you should just leave and try to go to sleep.

But the slow creaking of his door makes your head shoot up. He's barely visible from the crack, but more and more of him gets revealed as he realizes its you. He's wearing an outfit similar to yours, a pair of sweats and a jumper. His has a military training symbol, front and center. He raises a brow at you, leaning against the door frame.

There is a bit of silence between the two of you as you study the other. He definitely can see the bags under your eyes, but you can see the heaviness in his. He wasn't sleeping from what you can tell. You stopped him if he was about too, though. You give him a tentative smile, hands fisting in their hidden space.

"Fancy a drive?" You whisper like a secret.

Simon doesn't respond and you get nervous again. Maybe you're disturbing his night, taking him away from something important. Knowing Simon, he's probably in no mood for any human interaction so late in the day. He gives you a hard stare before turning around. You're about to leave when Simon slips into his apartment, but you stop when he steps out a second later.

He has a beanie over his head and his shoes on. He has another one in his hand, a matching black on that he shoves into your hands. His keys are clutched tight in his hand as he starts walking down to the elevator with the expectation of you following. You hurriedly do, shoving the beanie on your head and jogging to catch up. Simon holds the elevator doors open for you, clicking on the ground floor button.

"We'll take my car." He says in that gruff voice, eyes trained on the elevator doors. You only hum in agreement.

The winter air hits you hard, and you shiver once you exit the building. Simon seems unbothered as usual, leading the way to his truck. He unlocks it when he's close enough, opening the passenger door and helping you step up before entering himself. He turns on the heater, warm air blasting as you buckle in. The engine makes a gentle purr as it starts up, and Simon reaches into the back before throwing a blanket into your lap. You put it over you wordlessly, going as far as to spread it over the middle console to make sure Simon's warm too.

Simon doesn't say anything in response, instead switching through stations before finding one that isn't a random talk show. He keeps the volume low, almost inaudible in the car silence. He pulls out of the parking spot, leaning back as he begins to drive down the empty streets.

Unsurprisingly, there aren't any other cars on the road. The streets are devoid of people, too. You lean your head against the window, body shivering at the initial coldness of the glass. You can feel Simon's eyes on you every now and then, but you don't look back at him. Instead, you focus on the world outside.

The moon is obscured by clouds, and the dim street lights don't do much to help. The buildings blur outside, making a watercolor of dark colors illuminated by the occasional white and burnt yellow. The two of you are silent, just letting the soft music fill the space. Occasionally, you'll hum along to a song you like and Simon will tap the beat onto the steering wheel's leather.

When the station turns to white noise at a light, silence engulfs the both of you again. You're content to keep it that way if Simon wishes, but you're surprised when he speaks up.

"Tell me about your day."

You turn to look at him, eyes widening before you smile softly. You get comfortable, sitting with your legs crossed as you play with the corner of the blanket. You look to the car's roof as you think about where to start, eventually deciding to recount the moments since you got out of bed. Simon keeps his attention on the road but he hums and nods along, asking questions and making a comment at the appropriate times. Eventually the two of you spiral into random conversation, joking about miscellaneous things. The car fills with light giggles and chuckles, a smile permanently etched onto your face as you stare at him.

He's awfully handsome. It's not a new realization, just one that gets illuminated as the headlight glow reflects onto his face. He seems relaxed, or as relaxed a man like him can get while still upholding a military posture. He shares bad jokes with you, a small smile creeping up when you make any reactions: good or bad. If it relates to the current flow of conversation and isn't too revealing, he recalls moments he shares with his team or the occasional mission.

You soak it up eagerly, wanting every piece of Simon Riley that he's willing to feed you. His voice is calming, a low rumble that holds a bit of gravel. It warms your body more than the heating and blanket combined. It's easy to fall asleep this way, being cocooned in warmth and being filled with the gift of Simon's voice. His car smells good too. Like him. An intense mix of evergreen pines and something smokey but warm. Like sticky, sweet ambrosia.

Your eyes begin to get heavy as he continues his hushed story. You try to fight it, desperate to hear what he has to say. Maybe you'll have to ask him to record his voice for you. Like a mini podcast of sorts. That way, you'll have something that'll shut your brain off quickly. Eventually the feeling gets too hard to fight, and sleep takes you.

When you wake up, you find yourself in your bed. Your mind is still groggy with sleep, and you squint as morning light floods in. You look around as your eyes begin to clear, finding your boots at the end of your bed. You're still wearing your thin jacket, but now it's fully zipped up. Your hand slides into your pocket, panic seizing you as you don't feel your keys. You quickly pat yourself down, frantically moving your sheets around. Your worry stops abruptly when you spot them in the corner of your eye.

They sit neatly on your nightstand, laying on top of a black beanie. The beanie from last night. Carefully, you grab it. It's soft and still warm in your hands. Hesitantly, you bring it up to your nose, suffocating in the familiar scent that is now slightly tainted by your shampoo. You sit there for a few moments, absorbing the remainder of last night. After a while of lazying around, you begin to slip out of bed. It's only then you realize the foreign blanket that unravels from around you.

And suddenly, your room smells entirely of ambrosia evergreens and cold Manchester nights.

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modifieduchiha · 11 months

Note

i need more yandere!inumaki x fem!reader x yan!yuuta T - T imagine those 2 hot shawties in tandem

♥ Your Wish Come True ♥

♡ Characters: yandere!Toge Inumaki x Fem!Reader x yandere!Yuta Okkotsu

♡ Warnings: Yandere elements, FLUFF & ANGST, Drugging , gaslighting , Dirty talk/thoughts, NSFW but no obvious smut, mentions of pregnancy, polygamy, etc.

♡ Word Count: 2,887

♡Authors Note: Thank you to ALL OF MY FOLLOWERS . You all encourage me to write every single day , I wake up in the morning and seeing all those 'Like' and 'Reblogs' make life feel worth living . My brain really wasn't working when I wrote this , still I Hope you enjoy, anon! ♡ - your author , Tee.

Directory Buy me a Ko-Fi? JuJutsu Kaisen Masterlist Submit a fic request!

BLOG IS 18+ — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

It was the day before Halloween, music filled the air of your living room, creating a casual ambiance as you perched on a step ladder, meticulously attaching little craft paper bats to the ceiling with tape. Halloween held a special place in your heart, and you relished in the chillier air and the falling leaves that adorned the trees. Your roommates/best friends Toge and Yuta had left to grab some candy to put outside the door tomorrow night. Lost in the moment, you hummed along to the music, which was playing perhaps a touch too loudly.

Suddenly, your phone erupted into intense vibrations, sending a sensation coursing through the soles of your sock-clad feet, momentarily throwing off your balance. Caught off guard, a startled yelp escaped your lips, and you found yourself swaying precariously on the ladder.

In that split second, two sets of strong hands swiftly closed in, each firmly gripping one side of your waist. Startled, you glanced downward to be met with the concerned gazes of Yuta and Toge. Their presence, unexpected yet reassuring, filled you with a mix of surprise and gratitude as you regained your stability. Their concern was evident, etched on their faces as they gazed up at you.

Why were they always so damn quiet, or maybe you just always played your music too loud?

In that brief moment of rescue, a curious and perplexing exchange took place, leaving you with questions swirling in your mind. Why were they home so early? How did they manage to keep a watchful eye on you when you hadn’t even noticed them? Wait were they finally coming home to profess their love for you , to take you as theirs like you’d wanted for years?

Their presence, though comforting, raised a sense of intrigue and mystery, leaving you to wonder what lay behind their expressions.

Toge swiftly retrieved your phone that had clattered to the floor, his hand deftly pressing the pause button, abruptly halting the music. His gaze, however, didn't fail to scan through the flurry of message notifications that adorned your lock screen, betraying a hint of curiosity and also of anger. A brow was cocked slightly after seeing that even one of your teachers, Satoru Gojo , had invited you over.

How inappropriate to invite your innocent , mindblowingly beautiful student over, Toge thought to himself , making a mental note for him and Yuta to take care of that human trash later.

"You've got to stop this habit of being so reckless and stubborn about doing these things on your own,-" Yuta exhaled, his grip around your waist tightening, causing you to let out something similar to a gasp at the feeling. “-you have us here.”

As Toge's hands relinquished their hold, Yuta effortlessly guided you down, setting your feet back on the floor with ease.

Despite being your best friends since middle school, they had always been special to you. Every other friend you made had eventually stopped talking to you, but Toge and Yuta were always there, you could count on them.

Toge's eyes briefly shifted to the ceiling, admiring the array of little paper bats that now adorned it. - God shes adorable they- both thought to themselves , a smile graced Yutas face as he turned his attention back to you.

"The bats look really good, though, babe..." His words elicited an innocent grin that tugged at your lips, and forced your heart to work overtime. Yuta's fingers tenderly tucked a few loose strands of hair behind your ear, his touch both comforting and protective.

A warm feeling spread throughout your body with all the affection and attention you got from them , your eyes twinkled upwards toward the display you had made on the ceiling, a gentle breeze breathed life into the paper bats, causing them to sway and dance, adding an enchanting touch to the ambiance.

“Shit the sun is already setting?!”

You groaned , feeling like time had been going much to quick today, the cogs in your brain were starting to turn faster as well , imagining dressing up your own children ; two of them , who looked identical to their fathers , and you heavily pregnant with another.

However, as you picked up your phone to check the time, you felt its familiar vibrations, and a hint of resignation crossed your face. It seemed that external distractions were determined to pull you away from the comfort of your thoughts, house , and the company of your roommates. With a deep exhale, you began to make your way toward your room, phone in hand, hoping to find a moment of solace.

Toge and Yuta exchanged a brief look, if you had been paying any attention you would see that the look they gave each other was a mirror, as if they were sharing the same brain and its thoughts.

They stood there, Yuta nodded understanding that they couldn't let you leave so easily. Their shared desire to keep you by their side intensified, urging them to follow you, their footsteps falling in sync behind you.

Unbeknownst to you, both Toge and Yuta harbored their own feelings for you, their emotions running deeper than mere friendship. The unspoken connection, tinged with a mixture of longing and uncertainty, fueled their determination to prevent you from venturing into new relationships, friends or not, they were all you needed ; they were sure of it. Meanwhile, you were oblivious to the shared affection they held for you, instead you used other people and things to distract yourself from the possibility of ever noticing, satisfied by your own thoughts.

A whoosh of air tickled your senses as you plopped on your plush bed belly first, eyes locked on your costume that hung from a velvet hanger on your closet door. The only thing that broke your trance was the vibration in your hand.

Playfully you kicked your legs back and forth in an attempt to zone out the crass and crude thoughts that were trying to occupy every space in your mind. Fingers moved across the screen are you quickly scrolled through social media , a photo text suddenly pinged your notifications;

Satoru motherfucking Gojo had really just sent you an amazing dick pic. The bottom of your lip found its way in between your teeth, cheeks pinkening as you stared at the image.

It was at the same moment that the boys entered your room whispering, quietly chuckling between themselves that you realized they were about to see the text from Gojo, your Psychology Professor.

The apples of your cheeks were on fire now and your gulp was audible as your fingers scurried to turn the screen off and bury your device under a pillow.

Yuta, ever perceptive, picked up on your unease and approached you with playful yet genuine concern etched on his face, like you were a child who had gotten caught sneaking candy.

"Everything okay, princess?" he inquired, his voice filled with genuine care , the curiosity itself could drive him insane. He knew that whatever had stirred up your emotions wasn't related to him or Toge, but that didn't stop his curiosity from nudging him to delve deeper.

"I'm... I'm fine, Y-yuta" you stammered and when you said his name your thighs clenched on their own , it was out of your control, and all you could was hope he didn’t pick up on it. Even your cheeks were still flushed from the unexpected encounter with Gojo's text, this did nothing to help.

Your attempt to brush off the situation only heightened Yuta's concern; interest. He could sense there was more to your reaction than you were letting on, and yet the way in which you said his name made him tilt his head and run a hand through his loose onyx locks

Toge, who had been silently observing the exchange, took a step closer, his expression a mix of curiosity and false empathy, his brain was calculating every possible way to keep you inside tonight that didn’t pose a risk to you physically, perhaps gaslighting?

"Are you sure, Y/N? You seem a bit flustered and look like you’ve got a fever-" he chimed in, his gentle tone inviting you to open up.

“-i’ll go get you a hot cocoa,” Toge offered as he was already walking out of the room, giving you no chance to respond.

Caught between their genuine concern and your desire to keep your emotions concerning everything hidden, you hesitated for a moment. The truth was, you held a deep crush on both Yuta and Toge, but you convinced yourself that they only saw you as a friend and roommate. The thought of revealing your feelings filled you with saccharine-laced dread. Yuta's hand gently reached out, his fingers tracing a comforting pattern on the edge of your bed.

"You know, Y/N, we're here for you. Whatever it is, you can talk to us," he reassured, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity. Those dark eyes of his momentarily shifted to take in the sight of how good your ass looked in the black leggings you wore, he felt the animalistic urge to just take you growing.

Toge returned to the room with a mug of warm chocolate drink in hand, he couldn't help but notice where Yuta's gaze had fallen, his eyes momentarily lingering in the direction of Yuta's gaze; he couldn’t blame him, it was a fantastic sight.

Sensing the possessive undertones hidden in Yutas demeanor, he discreetly kicked Yuta's foot, a silent reminder to maintain their shared determination and goal. With a gentle smile, Toge approached you, his voice soft yet tinged with an unsettling intensity.

"We care about you, Y/N. You don't have to carry your burdens alone. Remember, we're your family, we would die protecting you-" he whispered, his eyes fixated on you as he handed you the mug.

“-we would do anything for you,” Yuta added on, truer words had never been spoken by the duo. His smile held a hint of urgency, an underlying desire to be the one to provide you with pleasure and comfort.

“Oh uh , I changed my mind about going to that party I was telling you guys about…I-i’m actually gonna go to a friend's house and cram in some studying tonight,” The lie left your mouth so easily but the aftertaste was sour, guilt prickling at your stomach.

In all honesty, you wanted to go see Satoru. Despite the age gap, the two of you actually conversed well, he was really funny, and the both of you had stuff in common.

His lips also tasted really good, they also did an equally good job of keeping your mind off the two boys back at your shared house when your thoughts turned lewd , thinking of how the sex between the three of you would be, how it would be to be both on their girlfriends, to take the both of them simultaneously.

Truthfully you watched porn a lot , not for arousal but simply to study it, you were basically a virgin, having never gone further than oral. If the moment ever arose, you wanted to be perfect, to be their dream girl.

A cringe brushed your expression as you felt a shiver run down your spine, you so badly wanted to run away after brewing yourself a mixture of apprehension and unease. The last thing you wanted to do was be a horny spazz and creep them out.

The warmth of the drink enveloped you, but the intensity of their gaze lingered, creating an unspoken tension that you couldn't ignore. It was as if they saw through your facade, knowing the truth that lay beneath your lies.

You continued to take sips of the drink, wondering to yourself why this one's consistency felt off. Their eyes never faltered from your body, their unwavering attention a constant reminder of their affection and precise attention, you were used to it by now but it started feeling dangerous to indulge for so long.

The atmosphere became suffocating, the boundaries of friendship blurring into something darker and more complex. When you lied you had a very clear tell ; wiggling your toes, and thats exactly what you were doing on display for them both.

Both of them were in an amount of shock at how the lie slipped effortlessly from your lips, and both Yuta and Toge saw through it. Their expressions tightened, their smiles masking a possessive determination that sent a chill down your spine.

They knew you were deceiving them, and their obsession with you only grew stronger. Was the fly trying to become the spider?

As the conversation continued for the next 15 minutes, Toge and Yuta's questions became more probing, their determination to uncover the truth palpable. It felt as if they were interrogating you and the heat sure was on. You spit out lie after lie, weaving a web of deception only to end up caught in it yourself.

It was beginning to wrap around and compress you, and as you went to prop yourself up you noticed your arms felt like jelly, your strength had diminished. Little did you know but Toge had surreptitiously added a potent anti-anxiety sleeping medicine to the hot chocolate he had prepared specially for you. The effects of the drug started to take hold, causing gradual drowsiness to wash over you. Your eyelids grew heavy, and a dizzying sensation began to cloud your thoughts.

“Wh-wha’times it?” Such a simple question seemed difficult to get out of your mouth, it couldn’t even properly form. Was it already late enough for you to feel this tired? No , you knew this wasn’t natural.

Toge and Yuta were both side by side and knelt in front of you wearing devious smirks as they had front row seats to your amusing reaction.Yuta's gaze never wavered, his eyes locking with yours, his possessive determination shining through.

"You can't keep lying to us, Y/N., its not safe…besides we know what you truly desire,-" he whispered, his voice carrying a mix of concern and angst.

“-and it isn’t some middle-aged nobody.” Toge rubbed the pad of his thumb against the rim of your pink bottom lip as he chimed in, eyes tracking the finger as it brushed back and forth.

How did they know about that?! You wanted to scream, to yell at them for whatever they had orchestrated and done to you, yet all you could manage was turning your head in hopes of getting his finger away from your mouth. Yuta's smile took on a darker edge as he watched you struggle against the effects of the sleeping medicine.

"We won't let you get lost on the way to Gojos, Y/N. We'll make sure you stay right where you belong, here with us." The palm of his hand left the cheek of your ass stinging, it elicited a moan from you, one that sounded so sweet that Toge side-eyed him briefly with a knot between his brows.

Despite your growing fatigue and the fog that clouded your mind, a flicker of realization seeped through. You were caught in their web, trapped in a dangerous game of desire and obsession. The room spun around you, your body weakening as their presence engulfed you.

In the haze of your fading consciousness, you faced a critical decision; to succumb to the darkness that threatened to consume you or to fight it. Yet, a small voice within you whispered of self-preservation, urging you to fight against the darkness that threatened to engulf your very being.

With a surge of determination, you pushed against the lethargy that gripped your limbs. Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of fear and adrenaline fueling your resolve. Summoning all the strength you could muster, you mustered a feeble protest.

"N-no…-" you managed to whisper, your voice strained and weak, tears were beginning to stream down your cheeks.

"-Yuta..Toge..pleeasee?."

Yuta's expression twisted with a mix of frustration and determination, his grip tightening on your arm.

"We love you the same way you love us, the way you described it in your diary, y/n. We want to do all those dirty things with you, we want you in every way. We know what's best for you." he asserted, his voice dripping with venomous lust.

Toge's eyes flickered with a mix of concern and something darker, a battle raging within him.

"We just want to protect you, y/n. Don't you understand? Just go to sleep and when you wake up we will be right here , we will give you everything you ever wanted. Your wish come true." he pleaded, his voice trembling with a hint of desperation.

The room seemed to spin around you, their voices echoing in your ears. The full meaning of their words was slowly becoming evident due to the drugs coursing through your nervous system .

You realized that your wish, your dream, the one you had wanted for so long was coming true right in front of your eyes, what you wished was at your fingertips; but it was darker and twisted. And yet your resolve was yielding, letting go of every ounce of strength to stay awake once you realized that your dreams had a single term and condition…sleep.

You have to sleep to dream . Afterall this was your dream, right? Your wish come true.

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neil-gaiman · 1 year

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Hi,

My name is Hayden and this is less an ask, more a rhetorical “how did you do this?!” and "this is really weird and cool please listen!" I'm not sure if you'll be interested but it's a very strange, very real story of coincidences melting my brain. I hope you find it as wonderful as it felt.

So last winter/spring I was in the last year of my undergrad degree in Twickenham. On the weekends I worked at a cocktail bar in the area -the Richmond, London area to be specific. During this time I started listening to The Sandman Audiobook on Audible. I’ve always wanted to read the graphic novel, I knew I’d like it, it’s exactly my type of fiction but something always stopped me a few pages in, I was enjoying it but it just wasn't going in (maybe it was my dyslexia or ADHD or the stress of 3rd year Uni). So I started listening to the Audiobook. It was amazing. It pulled me into the world immediately and I could listen when I while doing other things and still be engrossed. As a Creative Writing/Film student it inspired me, motivating me to write my dissertation, fueling my creativity. I would listen every spear chance I could, when I cleaned my room, as I did laundry, on my walks to lectures, on the bus to work...

I would even get to Richmond 30 minutes early so I could sit on the Green and listen for a little longer. On my breaks I would sit in the little office at the top of the building, eating my dinner at 11pm and listening to the tales of Dream of the endless. The bar was (and still is) on Brewers Lane, a narrow little cobbled-Alley that goes between Richmond Green and the high street. It's a beautiful, old bar, definitely haunted and full of memories, full of stories.

A few months later, I had finished the Audiobooks (the 2 that were out at the time), I no longer worked at the bar, I had graduated with a First Class Joint Honours. This is when The Sandman Series came out. I watch it and to my delight when it's good, more than good. The acting, production and characterisation were everything I could have wanted. I then get to Episode 6, The Sound of Her Wings. Adapted beautifully from the graphic novel. While I watch I start to recognise the environment Dream and Death were in, the park bench seemed familiar. I think "that's just London parks, they're all pretty much the same". Then the siblings start walking, and I start to recognise some landmarks of Twickenham, pubs by the river that were too expensive for me and my friends, old wisteria-covered streets I walked down with people I no longer talk to. I'm already thinking this is so cool, seeing Dream and Death walk around these places I spent the last 3 years of my life around.

Then they're back in the park. And I see it. no doubt. It's Richmond Green! The same place I would sit and listen to the audiobooks! the exact place I sat! daydreaming, people-watching and listening. Where I pictured these exact characters in my mind's eye. The embodiment of story and imagination was standing on the Green that I had imagined him on.

Dream and death say their goodbyes and I am full of wonder, disbelief and some other hard-to-define emotion. Dream walks away from his older sister. He enters an alley. No, a lane. He's walking down Brewers Lane. The Lane I worked on for a year. The Lane I sat above listening to Lord Morpheus in existential angst and now he was walking below it. Waking among the people. Walking past the shops I passed. At that moment I felt like I had willed him into existence. At this point, my mind was well and truly blown. Then he came to just outside the Bar, my Bar, and the scene ends. The scene ends at the very same place I would stand, at 2am, smoking with my friends after a hard shift, before we'd go back inside, and make each other the most extravagant drinks we could come up with and talk til 5am. Then stumble back to that spot, say our goodbyes and make our way home. And I had just seen Dream stand there.

I know this is all a coincidence, that Tom and Kirby aren't actually Dream and Death. I didn't actually will the TV series into the world. Lots of stuff is filmed in Richmond, it was probably filmed before I even worked there and I could have been listening to any audiobook at the time. It's not a magical occurrence, it's scratches on shiny metal, random and without meaning. But for that moment, watching that episode, You (and 50+ other people) held up a flame to the scratches, letting me see all the meaning and purposeful patterns I could ever want. And that's just a bit magical I think.

But yeah, I think it's pretty clear you've somehow gotten directly into my brain, Netflix knows something and the show was made specifically for me!

That's magic.

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chaoticdelinqueerwithglitter · 5 months

Text

I had brain riot with this idea, courtesy of @z3r0aqxa and their TR matchups. I just found this dynamic too adorable for not writing about this!

Edit: Fanart of this here! 💜

Ran Haitani with a s/o that have way too much energy and usually sleeps 5/6 hours top.

(english is not my first language, be nice please!)

Ran doesn't understand how he ended up with you. Not that he's complaining exactly, he loves you. But he also loves sleeping.

This man needs his (at least) 12 hours of sleeping beauty.

The first time that you wake up with him, you were happy to just cuddle on his arms. The first two hours. But it was so boring after a while and your boyfriend was almost in a coma.

So, obviously, you ended up going to the kitchen for some coffee. You need your caffeine!

Where you found Rindou who, as soon as you said you were thinking in waking up Ran after coffee.... Panicks xD

Rindou warned you that you should never wake up his brother. NEVER.

You just made fun of him, obviously. But decided to listen to him anyway. Is not that you were actually scared of Ran, you just felt bad waking him up.

When Ran finally wakes up (hours later), he thought that you just left. Not that he would admit it, but that... Breakes him a little.

Until he finds you outside his bedroom, just spending time doing your own stuff and waiting for him to wake up.

This man doesn't understand how someone is able to have done so many things so early in the morning! (It's actually noon and we all know it)

But you've being waiting for him, you wanna go outside, you wanna walk around the city with him. So, even if he's still sleepy... He can't say no to your puppy eyes.

Now, you're just dragging him around through all Tokyo. Ran have a lazzy smile all the time that you do that. Maybe doing things so early (again, it wasn't early at all) is not such a bad idea if it's with you.

No need to say that after this, Ran gave you a key of his apartment, for you to be able to go in and out while his sleeping. He knows that you can't handle being stuck in bed for so many hours and he trusts you.

Rindou thinks you're a miracle maker when you even manage to wake up Ran without having to face his wrath.

Tenjiku thinks it's hilarious seeing you almost jumping with all your energy, dragging Ran to the meetings.

Even Izana starts calling you when he needs Ran to be punctual somewhere. Everyone knows that if it's with you, Ran will go anywhere. With a sleepy face and a lazzy smile.

Also, be ready for Ran napping in your lap. You don't need to sleep? Perfect, you can just pamper him while he sleeps. He even let you play with his hair!

And of course... Ran is a horny bastard. So, more than once, when you are trying to wake him up and do something together...

Ran huggs you tightly and whispers in your ear "Baby, I can help you to use all this energy without going out of bed."

Obviously, you can't say no to that xD

(I hope someone likes it, it's my first time writing about Ran! 🙈)

And of course, I had to mention Izana, hehehehe

#tokyo revengers #haitani ran #ran haitani #ran haitani headcanons #ran haitani x reader #rindou is traumatized by sleepy ran and we all know it xd #tokyo revengers headcanons #me trying to write #me writing🌻

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juvenillia · 6 months

Note

I saw your requests are kinda open so I wanted to ask if you'd share your thoughts about the love language of the task force 141? (Maybe add Konig because I want to see you write more about him)

hello anon and a huge thank you for my first request, I hope you like it, also keep requesting stuff, i love that aaah🤍

Love Language [headcanon]

Words of affirmation – physical touch – gifts – acts of service – quality time

a/n: Little brain rot in general I believe that everyone shows love very differently and therefore I think that everyone has all the love languages in them, some are just more distinct than others. I for example love to give gifts and quality time, but I am all over acts of service and physical touch (especially biting. If you are loved by me, you must manage the that I start to randomly bite you. I don’t make the rules.) But let’s talk about our men, I do believe all love quality time, especially due their jobs that drags them away from you so many times. But let’s dive into some detail. Feel free to discuss in the comments.

Charachters: Soap, Price, Ghost, Gaz, König

》 Masterpost 《

Johnny – Physical touch, will not argue about that. This man needs to be glued onto you even with the teeny tiniest spots of skin connected. You walk down the street; he has his arm around your shoulder. You sit in a pub with friends, his knee leaning against yours. You’re doing the dishes, hands slung around your waist. Driving, hand on your thigh. Even when you had an argument and turn around in bed to give him the cold shoulder, his foot will kind of touch you somewhere. Only the slightest not to push your mood even more, but he can’t stand to be separated from you. Deployment is already hard, but when you’re back together he’s all over you and will not stop until you make him. He respects your boundaries, especially in the public, but if you let him, he will do everything from the sweetest pecks to the filthiest strokes along your skin, no matter where and no matter who is around you. Plus, I believe that this Scot is a damn flirt. Words of affirmation is a go to, never fails to make you blush, and as soon as he takes notice of that he’s gonna push it further. Loves to make you all flustered and as soon as your face is burning like a volcano, he will pull you in and stroke your back, peppering you with quick kisses. Loves to praise you and compliments you and just showing off with his bonnie lass. Always makes sure everyone knows that you belong to him and still will flirt with you, like he wants to hook up with you all over again. Imagine him going to the bathroom while you’re out with friends and comes back later just to pretend he doesn’t know you to flirt and compliment you like a madman.

Price – To be very clear, this man is the perfect impersonator of all five love languages. He would never hesitate to reassure you about his love, compliment you in the cheesiest way, calling you all the petnames he can find, and his favorite is definitive and simply “mine” or even “Mrs. Price”, no matter if married or not. He will always make sure that you are relaxed, so he definitely takes care of things around the house when he’s back from deployment. Making breakfast before you wake up, let’s be honest he will always be earlier up than you. Even if it’s really hard for him to leave the bed when you’re curled up in his side. Anytime he must go somewhere, no matter how far away or how long, he will bring you flowers when he returns. He goes for his morning run; he’s picking up some casual flowers at the way back. He comes back from a long deployment; he’s having a big ass bouquet waiting for you. When they have some time after missions staying in god knows what city, he will always buy a little thing as souvenir for you. Quality time and physical touch are for him one and the same. You’re sitting on the couch watching your favorite show, he will be instantly next to you and pulling you ins his lap. This man simply combines all of them in the most romantical and at the same time casual way possible. Everything if just easy going for him because he adores and values so much, he needs to show you in every way possible.

Ghost – My man, my beautiful, beautiful man is completely down for quality time and now mix that with acts of service. You’re curled up in an armchair reading your latest book, he’s on the couch next to you scrolling through his phone after he prepared you both your favorite cuppa. You sit outside on the patio, watching the clouds, he’s next to you smoking. You only have a thirty-minute break at work? He’s already waiting at the entry to the building, a bag with your favorite food and coffee in hand to keep you company. You complain about the errands you must run after work? Consider it done already. He wants to be at your service all the time, just say what you want, and he takes care of it. Also, if he can take care of all those things beforehand, there is much more time he can spend with you without things that annoy you. Plus, he can read you like an open book. He is trained to read people, to observe and learn and with you it’s even easier. He wants to learn everything about you, just to be able to take care of everything that could cause you discomfort and prevent anything that let the smile he loves so much falter. So, he started very early to investigate your habits, triggers and pet peeves. You frown in a very specific way; he knows you already getting headaches because you didn’t drink enough. You sigh in a mumbling manner; he knows you need some cuddles. And don’t get me wrong, Simon does not, and I repeat he doesn’t despise physical touch. He just needs a lot of time to trust someone fully to let someone – you – come that close and if you’re patient with him, he will warm up and let you do all the things you want to. Physical touch is just not the way he would show you how much you mean to him (like all the time).

Kyle – He is an old-fashioned lover boy, so of course it’s words of affirmation. He loves to tell you how you make him feel, no matter what situation. Thanking you for choosing him, for making his life so much livelier. Complimenting you in such a smooth way, it never fails to make your heart jump. Just like Johnny I do believe he can be hell of a flirt, but somehow more reserved and subliminal. Praising and teasing you at the same time, whispering in your ears how beautiful you look and how grateful he is to call you his. He completely submitted to you and loves to do things for you. So, I’d also add acts of service. He loves to help you out. As soon as he’s the second day home again, he doesn’t let you lift a finger. The first day is reserved for cuddles and other intimate stuff. Always at your side, making sure you don’t have to anything but relax and enjoy his company. He likes to take you out, showering you in all the affection he holds for you. Opening doors for your, walking on the side of the sidewalk that’s closer to the street, relacing your shoes, carrying you over a puddle. You want ice-cream and waffles in the middle of the night? He’s driving god knows how long to get his girl happy.

König – Gifts, definitive gifts. He loves to spoil you. You’re looking at something in the store, and can’t decide between two colors, he’ll buy the one you didn’t get. You randomly mention that you saw that pretty necklace some time ago, it’s already in his cart. No matter what you want, or need, he’ll provide you with everything. Money isn’t important to him, but your happiness is. You casually mention you’d like to live in a house in a specific place or city. He’s already browsing to find the perfect house for your future. But it’s not about the big things all the time. Little things do the job as well, he thinks you might enjoy. Even if he finds a shiny rock that just looks pretty, he’ll bring it home to you. He wants to provide for your future, that you can just lean back and live a careless life. And shower him with your love. Therefore, I need to add physical touch to his top priorities. His hands all always all over you. He can be a cocky asshole, but in a lovely manner. Always teasing you with his words, making cocky jokes, but his hand on your cheek, his arm around your waist reassuring you that all he’s saying is meant in a loving way. Showing affection is never hard when he’s with you, always placing his head onto yours, a hand on your shoulder. Always having you close in for him like the best reassurance that you’re true with him. That you do love him and much more, that he can hold onto you. His hands gripping your hips and always pulling you close to him. Nearly scared to lose you at any point. Maybe a bit possessive, but in an adorable way.

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probably-writing-x · 11 months

Text

Armour - Chapter Two

Rafe!AU x Reader

Summary: Having your heart broken was one thing. But Rafe watching somebody break your heart? That was something nobody could prepare for.

Warnings: Cursing, mentions/hints of a toxic relationship

Word Count: 3K

Author’s Note: I LOVE writing this series and this whole concept, I feel like I could carry it on forever - once again, this chapter was inspired by this gif so I feel like this might be an ongoing theme for this series <3 Thank you for the love y’all.

After that night, you hadn’t thought of James. You and Rafe had returned home and, when Sarah asked how your night was, you’d told her you’d slept better than you had done in days. She’d probably tell you that you were crazy for going round to the house, and tell Rafe he was stupid for getting himself involved. She’d tell him this was too much like the old Rafe, the one that craved the power and the fights, and that he wasn’t like that anymore. But you knew that little spark in Rafe would always stay - for the few people that he cared enough about to make sure that nothing bad happened to them. And you’d seen that last night, the way he’d spoken about you; someone fighting your corner.

“Good morning,” Rafe groans as he walks through to the kitchen, dragging a hand over his face.

He’s wearing a pair of joggers that hang low on his hips, accentuating the V-lines around the bottom of his abs, his torso visible for the few seconds as he struggles to pull a hoodie over his head.

“Is it even still morning?” Sarah laughs, pouring out another cup of coffee and handing it over to him.

“I had a busy day yesterday,” He rolls his eyes, “You know, travelling and all that.”

He sits down at the kitchen island beside you and offers you a small smile just before his lips touch the coffee mug, his eyes warm in the steam coming from the cup.

“Did you get up in the night, Rafe?” Sarah asks, settling a hand over her growing bump and leaning back against the kitchen counter.

He frowns over his coffee and shakes his head, “Nope, slept like a baby.”

“That’s weird,” Sarah frowns too, “I could’ve sworn I heard the door open.”

“Probably just baby brain,” He clears his throat, “I’m going to hop in the shower.”

Sarah watches with a suspicious squint in her eyes as he disappears, “I swear he gets weirder every time I see him.”

You laugh and look down as you feel a smile spread onto your face, you’d have to thank him later for last night.

Sarah comes over and takes the seat that Rafe had been sat in, shifting herself so that she’s facing you, “So, I need you to be honest with me, how are you feeling?”

You turn so that you’re facing her too and Sarah stretches out her hands for you to take, both of you squeezing into the contact, “I’m okay, so much better than I was. It’s just weird, you know? For nine years he was the person I told everything to. Even when we weren’t living together or anything, I’d wake up and send him a text or call him before I went to sleep. I keep getting this weird instinct to just reach for my phone because I feel like I haven’t heard from him and then I realise that… I don’t know, I won’t.”

She nods reassuringly but doesn’t say anything else, letting you continue.

“I just want to know why,” You laugh a little, “Not in a weird ‘what’s wrong with me’ kind of way. But just… it was nine years of my life, you know?”

“Okay, I maybe shouldn’t be suggesting this because I think, as the best friend, I’m meant to tell you to stay far away from him, but maybe it would do you some good to meet up with James and talk it all through. Do you think?”

After last night? You weren’t sure he’d ever want to see you again, especially if he thought Rafe would be with you again.

“Yeah, maybe, we’ll have to talk about everything at some point, I guess I-“

You’re cut off as your phone pings on the counter and a message notification comes up from James again.

I think we need to talk after yesterday. I’ll pick you up and we can go for coffee if you’re free?

Sarah eyes the message too, “After yesterday?”

“Right, yeah, with the box and stuff, I thought that was his final straw or something,” You look down so that she can’t realise that you’re lying, “Um, I better go and get ready, tell him that I’ll be free.”

You squeeze Sarah’s hand as you leave, hurrying up the stairs as if running from the conversation. She probably wouldn’t be too mad if you told her about last night, but she’d almost definitely tell you that it was a bad idea, that Rafe is a bad influence even all these years later. It was the same way you didn’t tell her about the night at the beach with Rafe, or the countless other nights like that - she’d tell you Rafe was her brother but it wasn’t a good idea. And you weren’t exactly ready to hear that.

You go into the bedroom that had become your own and close the door behind you, just as there is the sound of the ensuite door opening. Rafe steps out, a towel wrapped around his waist, beads of water dripping around his shoulders, dipping down from his soaked hair.

“Oh shit sorry I-“ Rafe comes to a halt, glancing up from his phone in his hand, “The shower in the other bathroom is terrible so I just… I thought you were downstairs so I-“

“Rafe, it’s fine,” You laugh, “Not anything I haven’t seen before.”

He fakes a gasp, “You’ll embarrass me, (Y/L/N).”

You roll your eyes, “I don’t think anything embarrasses you, Cameron.”

He chuckles and drags a hand through his wet hair, “So, I was thinking we should get out of the house today. I miss the beach when I’m in New York, one of the few things to miss about this place.”

“I actually,” You clear your throat, “I have something to do today.”

Rafe frowns for a second, “Ooh, mysterious,” He stretches out a hand and pokes at your side, “What are you doing?”

“I just,” You shake your head, “I have a meeting, you know, to sort out the house and stuff.”

“Oh, okay, cool,” He nods, “Well, be back by sunset and we can go for a swim. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” You return, “Now please go and get some clothes on.”

“Keep it in your pants, (Y/N), you know you love me,” He wiggles his brows, exaggeratively swaying his hips as he walks out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Your eyes settle over the room, landing on the box still sat beside your bed. The rest of it was closed away now, but the shot glass and now your toy giraffe, sat on your nightstand. You smile a little at the sight, thinking only to yourself. It felt like a couple of brightened moments in a week you were sure wasn’t going to get any sense of light. Today would likely be another darkness, but you’d be coming home to another bright place.

~~~

Within the hour, you’re showered, changed and ready to leave, sat on the edge of your bed waiting for James to text. Twelve minutes after he’d said he’d be there, he texts to say he’s outside. You grab your jacket and hurry down the stairs, glancing back to see Rafe and John B stood outside in the garden. John B is pointing something out and he’s holding a plank of wood in one hand as if he’s preparing to build something. Rafe nods along and seemingly agrees, laughing at something John B says that seems to brighten up his eyes. Your heart sinks a little at the guilt that comes with the view, knowing he would hate to think of where you were going right now. But you open the front door and close it quickly behind you, hurrying down to the car waiting with the engine still running.

You open the door and climb in quietly, feeling oddly far when you don’t have to lean over to kiss him in greeting.

“Hey,” You breathe out when he doesn’t make any move to say it first.

“Hi,” James glances at you, “Where do you want to go?”

“Are there really many options?” You frown, settling your hands into your lap and picking at the skin beside your thumb to give you something to focus on.

James chuckles a little and moves to reverse out of the driveway, “Fair point, let’s go.”

He drives you the short distance across the island to the one coffee shop that anyone actually used here. It’s near enough empty as you step through, thanking James for holding the door open for you. You order your regular and he orders his, sitting at a table in the far corner as if sheltering yourself from the world.

“So, I would ask how you’ve been but that feels weird when I saw you yesterday,” James comments, dragging his finger around the rim of the coffee cup on the table, “But how have you been?”

You swallow down a sip of your drink, too hot so it scratches your throat as it goes, “I’m okay, and I’m sorry about last night.”

He shakes his head, “Look, it’s your house too (Y/N), at least until we sort everything out. I just don’t know why you didn’t text me. And why you thought you should just show up in the middle of the night with Rafe?”

You nod as if you’re being told off, “No, I know. It was stupid. It was late and we were just planning on getting in and leaving, I didn’t plan on you seeing him, and I especially didn’t want the two of you to argue, you know that.”

He’s silent in his agreement, pausing for enough time for it to settle before he says, “So why is he here?”

“He’s back from New York for a few days, just coming to see Sarah,” You explain, taking another sip of your drink and wincing as it burns at your tongue.

“Perfect timing,” James raises his brows momentarily as if being sarcastic, “I’m sure he was happy to see you.”

“Wha-“ You pause, reconsidering the idea of starting up an argument that he’s already ignited, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, (Y/N),” James rolls his eyes, “I know the way he used to be with you.”

“We’re friends, we’ve always been friends.”

Perhaps that wasn’t so true, just maybe. Before you and James got together, you’d been so sure that you and Rafe would be inevitable. There was the night you kissed at the party, there was the night on the beach with far too much alcohol, there were countless days and countless nights. Just as you were losing hope of him ever reciprocating your feelings, you’d seen him kiss a girl at another party, and you’d used that as confirmation enough. Two weeks later, you’d gone on your first date with James. Nine years later, you’d still never told Rafe how you’d felt before that - especially since the two of you had started living such different lives.

“I knew how he felt about you, it was obvious. God, the first time I met those guys he acted like I was the worst person he’d ever met,” James scoffs, “I thought he was going to rip my head off when I said we’d be moving away for college. He could’ve done the same last night, too.”

“You know, you don’t get to talk like that anymore. You split up with me. So it shouldn’t matter to you how anyone feels about me, whether or not that’s true,” You defend, tucking your arms around yourself as if closing yourself away from him.

“I don’t think I noticed it when we were in college, it was just me and you in our own little world and for a long time I thought that’s what would make us last. But we moved back here and it’s like everywhere you turn there’s another memory of you two - another piece of him that you’re holding onto even years later.”

“We’re friends. He means a lot to me. That’s what friends are.”

You let the silence fall.

He’s silent too and it surprises you. Normally, he would find any way to keep an argument going if he’d started it, he’d argue back and forth constantly until you agreed - he didn’t just let arguments end.

“I didn’t come here to argue with you,” He takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry for the way I ended things. I know I probably didn’t go about things in the right way, but I think if I’d have tried to do anything else I… well, I don’t think I’d have been able to do it.”

You feel the lump grow in your throat, the way it seems to constrict your words just a little too much as you say, “Then why did you?”

He breaks eye contact then and looks down at his cup, his finger still swirling around the edge in continuous circles, “Do you remember the first time we went out?”

“Our first date?”

“I picked you up from your house and I had to wait down the road because your parents might see me. And we went out, and I knew then that this was it for me, like within one date I’d just already decided,” He doesn’t meet your eyes, “And then I walked you home and I stopped around the corner again so that your parents wouldn’t see me. And you walked up to your house and Rafe was sat on the steps up to your porch, just waiting for you to get home.”

Your heart sinks at his words, like a weird feeling of not knowing the inevitable.

“And I guess for the past nine years that’s how it’s always felt; like Rafe was just waiting for you to go back home to him.”

“You’re blaming this on Rafe?” You raise your brows, your words feeling coarse and dry as you speak, “We were together for nine years. I chose you for nine years, every fucking day I chose you, and you want to tell me that you blame this on Rafe? That Rafe’s the reason you broke my heart?”

“Broke your heart,” James repeats, nodding slowly, “Your heart didn’t seem too broken last night.”

You let out a scoff and bite down just a little on the tip of your tongue as if trying to calm the anger bubbling out of you, “Right, yeah. I had one night where I felt a little bit fucking human again, after not sleeping, not eating, crying until I thought I’d be sick. After asking myself over and over and over again - what did I do? what should I have done? what’s wrong with me? And this whole thing you’re just going to blame on Rafe?”

“Where is he right now (Y/N)?”

You stop in your tracks, your hand clenching around the heat of your coffee mug, your words seeming to sink in the air between you.

James takes a long pause, his eyes scanning your face as if waiting for you to find the answer, “Waiting for you to come home.”

~~~

It’s an uncomfortable drive back. Neither of you speak a word. So much so that the tyres suddenly seem to make too much noise on the road, and you feel like you can hear the sound of the wheel turning under his grip. There’s a welcome relief when you watch the car turn into the driveway towards Sarah’s house, and an overwhelming dread when you catch the sight you know that James has seen too.

Rafe is sat on the steps in front of their house, the copy of To Kill A Mockingbird in his hands, a third of the way through the pages. He glances up at the sound of the car, a slight drop in his features as he recognises the face behind the wheel. He sets the book down on the side of the steps and stands up, his jaw clenching as you watch him.

James doesn’t say a word, but there’s the slightest tiniest hint of a smirk on his lips as if he’s been proven right about everything.

You wait until he cuts the engine and pull your seatbelt off, pausing before you push open the door, “I didn’t know that he’d be-“

James opens his own door and pushes himself out before you have a chance to say anything else. You follow suit quickly, scrambling out like the car’s on fire.

“Couldn’t wait to jump on her could you, buddy?” James bellows, storming over to Rafe.

“Excuse me?” Rafe looks taken aback, glancing at you as your eyes catch, “This is the house meeting you were talking about?”

“House meeting?” James looks at you, “So you couldn’t even tell him you were seeing me?”

“I just- I didn’t-“

“So what is it? You’re trying to come crawling back to her?” Rafe interjects and you flick your eyes to him as if a warning, though now he is only focused on James.

“You want to talk about crawling back? It seems pretty fucking convenient that you show your face around here the minute (Y/N)’s not got a boyfriend anymore.”

“Right, yeah, that’s why I’m here. Maybe it’s a good thing I came home, to pick up the pieces of the shit you left her in.”

In a conversation about yourself, you’ve never felt smaller. It’s like you’re shrinking into the space around them, disappearing when all of their anger is fuelled by you and focused on themselves. You’re sure you could disappear and they’d remain - hot headed in their hatred.

“Pick up the pieces? That’s what you think you’re doing?” James laughs, both of them practically steaming in their anger, “You’re not doing fuck all to help when you’re trying to get into her pants two seconds after she’s singl-“

“Enough!” You yell, sounding like the word has come from someone other than yourself as you feel your hands start to tremble.

Both of the boys silence, finally looking away from each other to focus on you, their anger sinking into the same pool as your disapproval. Rafe’s eyes seem to settle back into himself, like a realisation of how he’d been acting - he’d been doing the exact thing that he hated seeing in James, the way he ignored you in favor of his own focus. He looks like his younger self when you watch him. That anger, that hatred, the kind that he’d had before he moved away. That kind that gave him a million more problems. He’s that boy again.

“Just stop doing this, okay?” You drag a hand through your hair, “Neither of you get to talk on my behalf. Neither of you get to choose what’s best for me, or force this narrative of what you think is going on in my life. I’m sick of it. Have this masculinity battle some other time but god do it when I’m not here.”

With that, you disappear around the side of the house, shortcutting through the garden gate and finally letting yourself breathe, the tension in your chest seeming to return.

Rafe looks at James as if he could go again but in that moment all he can think of is you. The disappointment in your face as you’d walked away, the way you looked at him like you didn’t really know him. He drags a hand through his hair and all he can think of is how you tell him you’re sure he could suit any hairstyle. He stops himself from smiling, the urge fading when he looks at James again.

“So, what? Maybe a week or so and you’ll ask her on a date?” James folds his arms over his chest, “Or is a week just too long to wait? Hell, maybe you’ll be engaged within the month.”

“You know what, James,” Rafe clenches and unclenches his jaw, “Just go,” He waves his hand in the boys direction, his body turning away from him as if it’s gravitating back to you.

And with only the thought of you, he backs away from the fight.

~~~

You’re sat on the half-made dock at the end of Sarah and John B’s lawn, your feet pushing through the surface of the water aimlessly, eyes focused on the way the water curves around your ankles. Your chest has seemingly settled now but if you let yourself think of everything for too long it seems to flurry in anxiety again.

“Can I sit? Or should I put myself in time out?” The words come with the sound of footsteps creaking along the wooden planks, pausing as if they’re sure they are a safe distance from you.

You don’t turn around, “Sit, as long as you promise to be quiet.”

Rafe mumbles a ‘yes ma’am’ and takes his spot on the edge of the dock beside you. You feel him looking at you, his eyes burning into you as they scan your face. You weren’t crying and it seems to relieve the tiniest bit of worry within him. But you looked drained. Not tired in the way you were when he first saw you - but drained in the way that life seems to have been just slightly pulled away from you.

He opens his mouth to speak but stops as you lean back, fingers linking between your hands over your stomach as you lay against the dock. The sun hangs bright above you and you close your eyes, a deep breath forcing a rise and fall in your chest. Rafe watches you, the innocence in your features. He’d relied on those exact features for a lot of moments in his life. Your smile when he needed reminding of a good memory, the way your jaw clenches when you’re angry when he needed reminding of when he was in the wrong. Your eyes when he needed to come back home.

After a moment, he leans himself back too, his shirt wrinkling against the wood as he lays down, one arm tucking underneath his head. He turns his face towards you, observing.

You poke one eye open and squint in his direction, “Stop staring, weirdo.”

Rafe smiles, “So you’re not completely ignoring me,” He nods his head a little against his arm, “Does that mean I’m at like a six on the scale?”

“The scale?”

“The scale. How mad you are at something, you don’t remember?”

Of course you remember. When the two of you had been at school, he’d used that ‘scale’ as a way of you telling him how bad your day was - on the days when you had exams, and your friends were being shitty, and your parents were having problems at home, you’d say you were closer to a 10. It applied to everything - when he annoyed you, when you and Sarah had argued over something silly, everything.

“I’m a seven.”

He laughs a little and it seems to sit welcomingly in the space between you, easing the clench in your chest just enough.

The two of you stay in silence for a while after that, watching the sun disappear momentarily behind a cloud, casting a welcome shade over the water. You focus on the rise and fall of your chest, breathing in and out deeply to avoid the discomfort coming from laying on the dock. Rafe stays still beside you for a while, before his leg slightly shifts to the side so that his knee knocks against yours. You fight back a smile and turn around to look at him;

“Yes?” You raise your brows.

He pushes himself up so he’s leaning over you on his elbows, his head blocking the sun out so you can look at him without completely squinting against the light.

“I’m sorry,” He nods, “I really did have no idea you were with him, I was just waiting until you got back. And I don’t know, as soon as he said that I just felt like I lost it. It was weird, I don’t think I’ve felt angry like that in years.”

You nod in response, watching the guilt cast a darkness over his features.

“How did it go with you two today?”

You push yourself to lean up on your elbows too, matching his stance as he settles back to his side of the dock.

“Well, he’s not your biggest fan,” You laugh a little, staring out on the stillness of the water, “I don’t know, it just seems like he wants to think our relationship was doomed from the start, like we were just putting off the inevitable.”

“Well, did you ever feel like that?”

You take a deep breath, “I don’t think so. I don’t know, I just thought we’d stay together. God, I think after our third anniversary I was pretty certain that this would be it. But after what he said today it just feels like the two of us had been in two different relationships for all this time. And now I’m thinking, why didn’t he ever propose? Why did he want to move back here when I had my whole life at college? I mean, shit, Sarah’s having a kid and I was still just a girlfriend after nine years.”

Rafe nods, “Yeah I know what you mean. He was crazy for not wanting to marry you after all that time.”

You turn your head to look at him but he stays looking out over the water dismissively.

“God, who wouldn’t want to marry you?”

You feel your heart swell for just a second and turn your head away from him to look back over the water, both of you letting the silence fill in the empty gaps of the conversation you hadn’t yet had, that you didn’t need to have just yet.

“So, the sun is about an hour from setting,” Rafe points out, “How about that swim?”

~~~

You make your way back downstairs with your swimsuit on, a towel held under one arm, your flip-flops slapping against the wooden steps.

“Hey! I feel like I haven’t seen you today, how did it go with James?” Sarah stands up from the couch as you come downstairs, “Are you going out?”

You glance out at the garden, Rafe not visible along the stretch of the lawn, “Yeah, I’m just going for a swim. And it went well with James, a little bit of closure at least. Still feels weird.”

“It’s bound to,” Sarah nods, reaching out a hand to squeeze your arm, “Did you tell Rafe that you saw him?”

“Um, yeah, yeah, he knows,” You scratch at the back of your neck.

“God, I’m surprised he didn’t flip. I don’t think there’s anyone he hates as much as he hates James,” Sarah shakes her head.

You’re about to speak again but are cut off by the sound of the garden door sliding open. Rafe appears on the other side, poking his head through the created gap between the door and the wall.

“You ready to go (Y/L/N)?” He looks at you, a soft smile on his lips, a sort of calm resting in his features.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” You return softly and he nods, disappearing again.

“He’s so different when he sees you,” Sarah shakes her head, glancing over at the spot where her brother had just been.

“Different how?” You frown, letting your eyes trail back to her.

She shrugs her shoulders and rests a hand over her bump, running her fingers over the skin, “Just like he’s grounded, like he’s home.”

You feel the lump form in your throat, the way it once again makes it feel impossible to think of anything to say.

“Go on, he might be grounded but he’s still impatient,” Sarah jokes, gesturing her head in the direction of the door.

You laugh and follow her instruction, closing the glass door behind you as you walk down to the dock. Rafe is sat on the edge, his legs dangling over into the water. In only his swim-shorts, you can see the contortions of his muscles across his shoulders, the way they dip in his skin and seem to make him look bigger than he ever seemed normally. His skin isn’t as tanned as you remember him being but you suppose he doesn’t get as much sun when he’s in New York - not the kind he got here, anyway. And part of you seems to remember just how distant he was nowadays, his return feeling all the more temporary.

You hang your towel over the edge of the dock next to his and pull off your flip flops, leaving them at the edge too before breaking into a sprint straight past him. Your arms outstretch in front of you and break the surface of the water first, submerging your underneath until your toes feel the cold of the still water too.

Your head breaks the surface and you drag your hands up to draw your hair way from your face, now slick against your scalp.

“Very graceful,” Rafe smirks, “How on earth do I follow that?”

You watch him stand from the dock, stretching upwards before taking a few steps back. Within a split second, he catapults himself into the air, drawing his knees upwards so that he lands in a cannonball into the water, spray dispersing into the air and all over you.

“Well, I wouldn’t call that graceful,” You laugh, blinking away the water from your eyes.

From where Sarah and John B’s house was, you could see the sunset through a clearing in the trees if you swam around to the right angle. And you and Rafe knew the islands well enough to know exactly where to go.

By the time you swim around, the sky is painted with a yellow hue, sun lowering down seemingly a few feet from the horizon.

“I’m sorry about today,” Rafe breaks the silence, turning himself in the water to face you.

You kick forward so that your body tilts back, head hanging into the surface water, “You already said that.”

“I know, I just hate when I feel like I’ve disappointed you,” He comments, watching the way your body floats in the water.

You smile a little to the sky, “You didn’t disappoint me.”

He pauses for a moment, “So, I didn’t ask you earlier but, did he tell you the reason why he ended things?”

Your body tilts to turn you upright once again in the water, hands pushing through either side of you to maintain your position, eyes locking onto him. His hair is slick against his head and there are small beads of water trailing down either side of his cheeks, looping around under his jawline. He’s home. For the first time in years, he’s back here and it feels like it’s actually him - not some replaced or changed version. You’re both back to being sixteen again, sneaking liquor out of your houses, staying up until the sun called you home, misfit ways of surviving life in this isolated haven. And you realise it then, for a fleeting moment where you let yourself accept it - it’s Rafe that makes this place home.

“He…” Your voice trails off then, considering every possible outcome that would come in return for telling Rafe exactly what had been said earlier, exactly what you’d come to learn.

But the moment is fleeting. And you’re back in seconds to a reality. To a broken heart and a broken home, to New York, to your future, to James, to Sarah just a matter of metres away, to everything and everyone that you didn’t want to lose. To Rafe.

“He couldn’t give me a reason,” You swallow the lump in your throat, your eyes not breaking away from Rafe.

“The guy’s an idiot,” Rafe shakes his head, turning away from you and towards the sun.

You watch as he does, watching the glow that radiates from his skin, the way it seems to warm the air around him.

James might be an idiot, but maybe he was right.

———

Taglist: @viianey

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hamiltonaf · 8 months

Note

Hi bestie, can i request how lewis would help you when you have insomnia? Mine is really a pain in the ass this week, could use a distraction

Night Owl | Lewis Hamilton

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings: None

A/N: Hello loves ! Apologies for the delay in writing requests…I fell really ill over the week and was so out of writing :( but I’m back. Thanks anon for requesting, I hope you enjoy. Requests are still open .xx

Another night that I found it hard to sleep. It was like this for over a week because of stress and anxiety. I don’t even have anything to stress about, it’s just how my mind works when my brains thinks I have so much to do and I won’t complete everything I want to do in time.

It wasn’t that big of a deal to sleep at early hours of the morning all alone because I didn’t have Lewis with me so I’d wake up late. However, now that Lewis is around, I feel the need to sleep and wake up at a normal time so that we could do more things together as a couple since I hardly see him anyway.

Once in a while I’ll experience an adrenaline rush in the middle of the night and I’m so full of energy, I could literally eat a whole meal, probably even host my own fake concert and I still wouldn’t be tired till around 4 or 5am.

I joined Lewis and his family for the start of the summer break before Lewis was off on his boys trip. I was over the moon to see Lewis after a whole 2 weeks. Doesn’t seem that long but felt like a lifetime for me.

We spent the day with the family catching up and playing with Kaiden and Willow. We played countless rounds of Uno and spent most of our time out in the sun. Watching Lewis with kids and spending time with him had me thinking about him leaving on his boys trip soon - anxiety trigger because the thought of us being apart again soon.

I swear I’m not selfish… we video call everyday and I physically see him every weekend or every second weekend, but with our schedules clashing I can’t even spend time with him when I’m free because I’m working. Race weekends also fly by so quickly, before you know it, it’s already Sunday and I’m on a flight back home whilst he takes a flight to another race.

I just would’ve wanted to spend some more time with him during this summer break and it could make up for the lost time.

I didn’t even realise I was daydreaming until Lewis snapped his fingers in front of me. “We’re at the hotel… you’ve been so quiet for the past 15 minutes. Is everything okay ?” He asked softly. “Oh yeah. Uhm everything is fine… don’t worry” I faked a smile and exited the car. He followed behind me back to our room, it was quite evident to Lewis that I wasn’t my usual self. When we reached our room, he grabbed me by my hand and pulled me flush against his chest. “Are you sure you’re okay ? You seem off. Is something bothering you ?” He raised a brow.

“I’m fine really” I gave him a soft smile then pecked his cheek. Just as I was about to leave his grasp, he held me tighter. “Babe I can literally tell when you’re lying. You pull that fake smile on me when something is bother you” he pointed out. I immediately felt embarrassed. “What ? No” I scoffed and giggled. “And you do that as well” he said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Okay well I’m not in the mood to discuss it right now, maybe later” I trailed as I pecked his lips and walked over to the bathroom. I had a shower and to my surprise, Lewis had fallen off to sleep. I on the other hand was full of energy, but might as well try to sleep.

I got into bed and cuddled up close to him. In hopes I would fall off to sleep, unfortunately I was too restless and ended up turning from side to side. I know he’s a light sleeper and I felt bad at the thought of him waking up because of me. A whole hour of trying to sleep and I gave up. I jumped out of bed and went to our lounge to watch something to pass some time. About half and hour into the movie, I got a shock when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

The movie I was watching had me in a depresso mode where I was bawling my eyes out. “Oh my- love are you okay ?” He asked concerned. “Oh my god. Babe you scared me” I screamed as I placed a hand on my heart. “Didn’t mean to scare you, if anything, you scared me… why did you leave me alone in bed ?” He pouted as he jumped over the couch to sit right next to me. “I can’t sleep” I sighed. “No worries, I can help” he smiled. “Lew it’s not one of those nights where I randomly can’t sleep, I have insomnia. It’s much harder to sleep when you’re an insomniac” I pouted and laid my head on his shoulder. “Well what’s keeping my girl up ? You didn’t tell me earlier, I wanna hear it from you now because I’m concerned” he said as he turned to look at me.

“Okay don’t take this the wrong way. My brain overthinks the smallest of things, when normally I couldn’t care. We’ll blame it on some chemical reaction on my brain, maybe lack of serotonin I think-“ he cut me off. “Babe. You’re rambling. Calm down. Deep breaths and tell me straight up how you’re feeling” he smiled as he cupped my face. “Look, you know how much I love you and it hurts me how little we see each other. My mind for some odd reason isn’t its normal self because all my mind thinks about is how little time we actually spend together …” I said embarrassed. “Look I’m all for you going on your boys trip, but I had to be honest with what’s on my mind” I gave him a soft smile.

“Aww baby you’re so cute. You want me all to yourself ?” He smirked and raised a brow. “Low-key yes, but no” I said as I then slapped my forehead in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry that sounds so dumb” I covered my whole face with my hands. “Darling, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about” he said as he pulled my hands away from my face and caressed my cheek with his thumb. “I’m just glad you’re honest with me. Sorry babe for hurting you, why didn’t you tell me sooner ?” He cooed. “I thought it was stupid and I was just being dumb” I shrugged.

“Never. Your feelings are valid, always. Consider me all yours for the rest of the summer” he smiled as he pulled me in for a short kiss. “Wait, what ? Lew no ! You can’t not go on your boys trip” I argued. “This is not a debate love” he grinned. “But Lew, you can’t not-“ “End of discussion. Let’s go” he cut me off as he stood up and carried me in his arms towards our bedroom.

“Now I definitely won’t sleep, you’re making me feel awful as if I’m holding you back which I’m really not. My mind is just racing at the thought of how quickly time is going and how we’re barely together, this has nothing to do with your mates by the way because I think they’re all amazing. My brain is just not braining these past few days” I pouted as he laid me in bed and jumped in to cuddle me closer to him.

“Babe just don’t worry about it, that’s the least of my concerns right now” he said as he nuzzled his face into my neck. “Lew !” I groaned. “You need to sleep and I’m doing my best to help put an end to your insomnia” he smiled into my neck as he snaked an arm around my waist. He placed soft kisses along my shoulders before turning me around in his grasp. “I really love you” he smiled. “I really love you too Lew Lew” I felt my cheeks flush as he pulled my face closer and connected our lips.

I felt so at ease in his embrace knowing he’s right with me after quite a while of being apart. I guess all I needed was a goodnight kiss.

#f1 #formula one #formula 1 #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton fluff #f1 fluff #lewis hamilton oneshot #lh #lh44 #ricciardoaf oneshots

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whatsnewalycat · 6 months

Text

Psychomanteum / Chapter 14

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC Louella (2nd POV)

Chapter 14: Wish You Were Here

Chapter Summary: Dieter takes action.

Word Count: 9.9k+

Content / Warnings: dieter pov, implications of suicidal thoughts, swearing, alcohol use, airplane, uncertainty, parker/jackie, infidelity (not our heroes), thoughts of cocaine use/relapse, opera, fame, very vague understanding of the criminal justice system excuse that pls, bribery, lotta fucking dialogue, lotta yearning and self-reflection, angst, our boy is a big sappy mess and we love him for it

Notes: Chapter title from “Wish You Were Here” by Pink Floyd. First and foremost, everything is gonna be ok, ok? I promise. Also, good news for people who like this story—since we’re nearing the end, I’m going to make it my primary writing focus for a while. Will be posting to AO3 later bc I can’t from mobile it’s a nightmare.

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— Dieter senses your absence before he even opens his eyes.

Oftentimes you wake before him, still weaning off your internal alarm of 5:30AM EST (not-a-fucking-chance o’clock PST). When this happens, you brew some coffee and drink your morning cup in bed, passing the time by reading, or fucking around on your phone, or writing in your journal.

Most of the time he opens his eyes and finds you deeply engrossed in one of these activities. Sometimes you’re cuddled up into his side, silently tracing patterns onto his skin. Even when you’re not in the same room when he wakes, he can still feel you, your life force brushing up against his.

But this morning is different.

Dieter winces at the morning light and sits up, rubbing his face before looking around the room. He clears his throat, then calls out your name.

It echoes back to him.

The silence that follows is eerie and distinct, its vacuousness an exclamation point that hurts his ears.

How can nothing be so loud?

Swinging his feet over the side of the bed, he goes to grab his phone off the nightstand and instead finds a note with his name on it. He sits there staring at it for a minute, rubbing the layered notebook paper between his fingertips.

The gears in his brain start to turn.

He looks at the armchair where your suitcase has been sitting the week and a half. It’s gone.

Understanding twists his guts bowtie.

Denying the cardstock confrontation, Dieter puts on a robe and searches the house.

He finds nothing.

Each empty room accumulates buzzing and hot beneath his skin.

He goes outside.

The patio, the garage, the driveway, the street.

Calling your name like a kid who lost his mom in a department store, panic building with every utterance, a desperate crescendo.

By the time he returns to the origin point, his thoughts are stumbling over one another trying to explain what the fuck could be possibly be happening, because this can’t be real.

It’s a joke, it’s a terrible joke that you’ll laugh about later—or, no, there was an emergency and you had to go—but wouldn’t you wake him? Wouldn’t you tell him? Maybe you went to the store and you’ll be right back. But why would you bring your suitcase?

He snatches the paper off his nightstand and unfolds it.

—

Dee,

I need you to know this isn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. I love you as much as humanly possible, and then some. Please understand that I couldn’t make you choose. That burden shouldn’t rest on you.

I’m sorry for ruining everything. I’m sorry for leaving like this. I’m sorry for not giving you a choice.

I love you with everything I am.

Until the next life,

Lua

PS: I stole some cash from your wallet. I’m sorry for that, too.

—

The words don’t compute at first.

He shakes his head and reads it again.

And again.

A thousand-pound weight drops his stomach to the floor. Adrenaline pumps through his heart and turns his limbs gelatin. Blood whooshes behind his ears, and—God, he’s going to be fucking sick.

The note wavers in his grip and the text starts to blur.

This isn’t right.

This can’t be happening.

He needs to talk to you right fucking now.

Overcome with this sudden rush of panic, Dieter grabs his phone off the nightstand, ignoring the barrage of notifications littering the screen, and calls you.

The line trills, and further away, he hears “I’ll Be Your Mirror” by The Velvet Underground and Nico play.

He follows the noise into the kitchen, where your phone buzzes on the countertop, displaying your contact photo for him. The one where you’re both mid-laugh with red lipstick and black face paint smudged all around your faces.

Your voicemail picks up.

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.”

A tone signals the start of recording. Dieter clears his throat, then says, “Hey, doll. It’s me. This is probably stupid because your phone is here, but I don’t know,” he pauses to gather himself as everything around him becomes blurred by tears. When he speaks again, his voice is somehow gummy and ragged at the same time, “I don’t know what to do. You’re gone, and there’s this note and… Fuck, whatever it is, we can figure it out. Please, Louella—Lua, baby, I love you. If you hear this somehow, please call me.”

When he hangs up, all he can do is stand there, staring at her phone.

The air particles around him throb with this deep, dense sorrow that cracks him wide open and hollows him out. It’s heavy. Infinite. All-consuming, like loss on loss on loss on loss.

He knows, like he just knows things, that this is what you were feeling before you left. He knows you left your phone so nobody could find you.

Beyond that, though… It's a brick wall. He tries, although he doesn’t really understand what the fuck he’s doing, to send out some kind of a psychic ping. Sometimes he can get a sense of you this way.

This time he gets nothing.

He can’t hone in on anything, can’t even feel the rough edges of your life force. The string that connects your tin cans has been severed.

What the fuck does that mean?

The not-knowing makes him anxious. His imagination starts wander deeper into the dark forest, showing him taxis and mirrors and riverbeds and—

Your phone jumps to life.

It starts ringing to the tune of “Take Your Mama” by Scissor Sisters, lighting up with a photo of you and Parker.

He scrambles to grab it and answers, “Parker—”

“Dieter?”

“Is she with you? Do you know where she is?”

“What do you mean? Isn’t she with you?”

“No, I just woke up and she’s fucking gone and there’s this note,” he sighs and throws his hand out at his side, “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“A note, what does the note say?”

“Hang on, let me,” he tucks the phone between his ear and shoulder, rummaging through the pockets of his robe, “Here we go, ok…”

He reads it to Parker, who remains silent for a long while afterwards.

“Until the next life?”

The tips of his ears heat up, and he runs a hand through his hair, “Yeah.”

“Have you talked to anyone else this morning?”

“No, I just woke up,” he starts pacing the length of his kitchen island, explaining, “Last night we were talking about moving in together, having her come out here, and… I don’t know, did I fucking scare her off or something? She seemed into it, but maybe I’m wrong, maybe I was going too fast—”

“Whoa whoa whoa, ok, slow down, papi,” Parker interjects, “It’s not like that. Her apartment was raided this morning.”

Dieter frowns, “Wait, what?”

“Yeah, some fucking journalist went poking around, talking to her neighbors and shit, digging into stuff about Ethan, their business, all that. He brought it all to the cops and demanded they do something about it, so they got a search warrant.”

Dieter stays quiet as his mind whirrs, trying to comprehend this information.

Parker continues.

“I went over there this morning, just to check in on the place, and it was fucking crawling with cops. I FaceTimed Lou and told her, then she hung up and I haven’t been able to reach her since. Figured she was talking to you, but…”

Poisoned words cycle through his head, begging to be released, but he traps them behind clamped lips.

“I called Reese to see if he knew anything, since he bumps elbows with a lotta those criminal justice guys, you know?”

“Reese?” Dieter furrows his brow, “Married guy? I thought you were done with him.”

“Yeah, well,” a sigh crackles in his ear, then Parker says, “Good thing I’m not. Turns out, he’s friends with the DA. He told Reese about the journalist shit, said they have a warrant out for Lou. Wanted on possession with intent to distribute and drug trafficking for the pot stuff, oh—and possession of cocaine, because apparently they found one of Ethan’s hiding spots.”

“Fuck.”

“I know.”

Hundreds of thoughts ricochet around his head screaming for attention. The whole goddamn dashboard is lit up and blaring WARNING WARNING WARNING—

The nausea returns. Dieter plucks a half-smoked joint from the ashtray on his countertop and lights it, then turns and slides down the cabinet onto the kitchen floor.

He takes a few hits, waiting until the overwhelm dims a bit before whispering, “Fuck, Parker, this is bad.”

“I know, baby, I know.”

The skunky smoke burns his lungs as he inhales again, holding holding holding, then lets it go.

Things start to slow down enough for him to backtrack, “Did you say a journalist?”

“Yeah, Reese couldn’t get a name, but there was this guy outside the building this morning who was—oh, fuck.”

“What oh fuck?” Dieter wrinkles his nose at the roach and takes one more drag before stubbing it out on the shiny hardwood floor.

“It was that point dexter motherfucker that did your interview. That was the guy! And I was on a video call with Lou—”

Parker cuts himself off with a gasp.

I couldn’t make you choose.

“Oh fuck,” Dieter breathes, “I gotta call you back.”

He hangs up and trades your phone for his own, rejecting an incoming call from Darlene.

It takes him three seconds to find it.

Dieter Bravo Girlfriend Wanted On Drug Trafficking Charges, Claims In Email to DIRT: “He Was In The Dark”

The header presented at the top of the article is your mugshot from your previous arrest. Your eyes appear puffy and dull and hopeless. Below it, the article continues:

Dieter Bravo’s newest girlfriend reportedly has a warrant out for her arrest in relation to drug trafficking charges.

Early this morning, the NYPD hit Louella Friedman’s Downtown Brooklyn apartment with a search warrant. Friedman was not present at the time the warrant was executed, so no arrests have been made, but law enforcement sources tell us that she is now wanted by the state of New York on multiple drug charges.

This is not Friedman's first run-in with the law. Just days ago, she appeared alongside Dieter Bravo for an exclusive interview with DIRT, in which she admitted to being convicted of felony drug trafficking in 2018. She stated during this interview that she has “changed a lot since then … we don’t want people to think we’re trying to hide any of this, because we’re not. We’re just trying to move forward together.”

The email we received from Friedman this morning paints a different picture:

“As you probably know, my apartment is being raided. I need one thing to be clear: Dieter is not complicit. He didn’t know about and did not take part in my illegal activity. He was in the dark. My mistakes are my own, and I ask that the blame be placed appropriately.”

It’s assumed that Friedman is still in the LA-area, as she and Bravo have been spotted out and about a few times this week. Before that, the pair were seen in New York, which leads us to wonder how much time the Academy Award winner actually spent in her apartment.

Bravo himself has a notoriously checkered past with drugs, and although his antics have been subdued since the “publicity stunt” for the movie Limbo (premiering next May), it wouldn’t be considered out of character for him to become knowingly involved with a drug dealer.

DIRT will continue reporting as this story unfolds.

—

The first person Dieter calls is Lincoln, who answers on the second ring with a cheerful, “Good morning, Dieter!”

“Lincoln, where the fuck are you?”

“I’m grabbing breakfast from that pla—”

“Change of plans,” Dieter leafs through the clothes hanging in his closet, “Get over here now.”

“What about—”

“Listen, I need you to get me the next flight to New York. And, uhh,” he rips a few shirts off their hangers and tosses them into the open suitcase on the floor, “Clear your schedule for at least two days. I need you to housesit.”

“Is everything alright?”

Dieter ponders the question for just a moment, long enough for a sharp ache to pierce through his chest, then says, “Hurry the fuck up, ok?”

He hangs up.

The second person he calls is his lawyer.

When he tells the guy about your situation, he says, “Well, it sounds like there’s enough room for deniability, I don’t think they’ll bring charges against you—”

“Yeah, no shit,” Dieter scoffs, “What about her, how could she get out of this?”

“With all due respect, Dieter, you’re my client, not her.”

“Come on, man. What if, you know, I was in her situation?”

On the other line, the lawyer sucks his teeth, then says, “Well, theoretically speaking, you would be looking to either turn yourself in or see if you could get the charges dropped.”

“How would one get the charges dropped?”

“The District Attorney would need to drop them.”

“Uh-huh,” Dieter nods and rubs his lips, then queries, “And if—you know, like you said, theoretically—if he were to be convinced to drop the charges—”

“See, that is a tight line to walk, and one must tread very carefully, you understand? Many methods people attempt to use in persuading district attorneys, for example, bribery or blackmail, get sticky quick. They offer the wrong amount of money, or don’t get enough dirt, or what have you, then they’re in a world of hurt.”

“Well, sure. Those people don’t use their head. But if someone wanted to just… sit down and talk to him, would that automatically raise a red flag?”

“Depends. If someone of similar notoriety as you reached out to him to set up a meeting, it might raise a red flag. But if they happened to run into each other… probably not as much.”

“I see.”

The front door swings open and he looks up, expecting to see Lincoln, but instead locks eyes with Darlene. She’s holding a phone to her ear and says, “Yeah, he’s here.”

“I gotta go,” he says, then hangs up the phone and greets Darlene, “Hey.”

Her heels click-clack on the floor as she strides over, taps on the screen of her phone, and says, “Ok, Mark, you’re on speaker. Dieter’s here.”

Darlene sets the phone down on the counter and starts rummaging through the leather bag hanging off her shoulder. The phone speaks:

“Dieter, we need to talk. Is Louella there?”

“No.”

“Is she going back to New York?”

Not sure how to answer the question, Dieter rolls his eyes, “Is that what this is about?”

“Yeah, look, this isn’t good. I’ll cut to the chase. If you endorse her claim and cut ties, we can keep you on, but if you don’t, we gotta let you go, bud.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Darlene answers this time, “We’re serious, Dieter. The optics are terrible—”

“The fucking optics, un-fucking-believable,” he mutters, pushing off the counter to pace the kitchen.

“Is it really unbelievable?” Darlene blinks, her scathing gaze steady on his, “Coke head dating a felon who’s wanted on drug charges? You don’t see how studios will react to that?”

He doesn’t answer. She continues.

“If you release a statement corroborating her story, explaining how you didn’t know, and things are over between you—”

A groan of agony rises in his throat.

“—it will work. She gave you an out, Dieter. Take it.”

His nostrils flare. Heat rises to his face and he hisses, “You never liked her, did you?”

Darlene scoffs, “What?”

“Did you even give her a chance, or did you just write her off the second you met her? That shit weasel from DIRT is the one that set all these fucking dominos up, did you know that?”

“No, of course not—”

“Dieter,” Mark sighs, “This isn’t personal. Look at the facts. You’ve done three stints in rehab just within the past decade. Beasts of the Bubble depicted you as a drug addict—Christ, you overdosed in that hotel. You just got divorced, had a ton of bad press from that. Now you’re in this very new, very serious relationship with a widowed felon. And, what, a week after swearing she’s a law-abiding citizen, cops find enough shit in her apartment to issue a warrant for her arrest? Do you know how that makes you look? Does it sound like you’re a person anyone could trust to sign onto a project?”

Dieter presses his palms against the kitchen counter and leans over the phone, “It sounds like you’ve already made a choice, Mark. You wanna drop me as a client, just fucking do it.”

“If you make a public statement saying you were shocked to find out that she took advantage of your vulnerable state, you’re not using, blah blah blah, this could go away relatively quickly. Most likely she’d be painted as a con woman or gold digger or something along those lines, which makes you the victim. Granted, that makes you look a bit like a sucker, but we can live with that.”

The nausea returns.

“I can’t,” Dieter shakes his head, “I’m sorry, but I can’t live with that. Saying that she tried to steal my money—god, not a fucking chance in hell—”

“Of course, you wouldn’t say that,” Darlene cuts in, “People might infer that, is all Mark means. You know how this works—”

“Yes, I do know how it works. And no, I can’t. I won’t. It’s all fucking bullshit, the whole thing. Darlene, you’re bullshit,” he directs his voice to the phone, “Mark, you’re fucking bullshit. Fucking… optics and public opinion and the two of you trying to stage direct my fucking life—my life. Mine. I am my own person. And I love her. I’m going to find her, and fix this, and spend the rest of my fucking life with her even if it doesn’t make sense to anyone else but us.”

Darlene holds up her hand, “Dieter, you’re making a mistake—”

He laughs.

It booms, dry and humorless, through the house.

She jumps in surprise at the noise, then looks at him like he’s fucking crazy. Which is fair. He sounds fucking crazy.

But for once, he feels completely sane.

His spine straightens flag pole and he shakes his head, “Trust me, Darlene. I’m not.”

They sit there, staring at each other in a silent standoff. Her hazel eyes flick around his face, then drop to the phone.

“Mark, I’ll call you back.”

Darlene ends the call before Mark can respond and stomps around the dining room table to a solid oak credenza, popping the top off one of the decanters of booze.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I need a drink.”

“It’s 10am.”

Whiskey sloshes into the crystal tumbler. Darlene glances over her shoulder at him, holding up the bottle in question. He sighs, which she interprets correctly as a yes, and pours a second glass.

Dieter murmurs a thanks when she returns and hands it to him. He takes a big swallow of the liquor. Leaning back on the counter beside him, she does the same.

“How’s she doing?”

His stomach twists.

He takes another swig and shrugs, then digs the note from his robe pocket and gives it to her.

She reads it, then passes it back and empties her whiskey down her throat.

“Fuck.”

“My thoughts exactly,” he mutters into the tumbler as he drinks the remaining booze in one large, burning gulp.

“So you don’t know where she is?”

Dieter pinches his eyes closed, tilting his head up at the ceiling, and shakes his head, “She was gone when I woke up. Took her suitcase. Left her phone, funny enough.”

After a brief silence, she tells him, “I didn’t know David was looking into her. Even if I did, I would never try to get her in trouble. You know that, right?”

He shrugs. His shoulders weigh a million pounds.

“Look,” she sighs, “Maybe I don’t see whatever it is you see in her, but I do see that you love each other.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think she’s turning herself in?”

He furrows his brow and looks down at the floor, shaking his head, “No.”

Dieter breathes it in, that palpable emotion still clinging to the air. He sinks into the dense, dark feeling—blackest ink in the world—letting it carry him downstream. There’s a glimmer of something. A spark of you.

He speaks it out loud.

“She’s in the fucking woods now.”

“In the woods? Dieter, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles, scrubbing his face with his hands, “I don’t fucking know. I’m scared, you know, with the note…”

He doesn’t want to say it. If he doesn’t speak it into existence, maybe it won’t be true, that you’re looking for a place to die. Like how dogs do when they’re ready, crawling off into isolation to protect their loved ones.

Darlene stays quiet.

He swallows hard and starts pacing the kitchen floor again, running his fingers through his hair, “If I can get the DA to drop the charges, maybe it won’t be too late. Maybe I can fix this. But I have to find her, too.“ A hot rush of frustration overtakes him. He slams his fist down on the countertop with a thud and barks, “FUCK!”

“Ok,” Darlene turns to face him, placing a hand on his arm, “It’s gonna be ok—”

“But what if it’s not?”

Emotion clouds his vocal cords and vision, warping both into a wet, smeary mess as he says, “What if she fucking—fuck, Darlene, what if she goes through with this? I can’t do this without her. I won’t.”

“We don’t know that this is a suicide note—”

His whole body twists up into a snarl, a guttural moan rising from his throat as the idea shreds him to bits. He shakes his head in protest, because he does, he knows that’s what this is, but he can’t fucking bear to speak its name.

Darlene watches him unravel for a moment before taking the crystal tumblers back to the credenza for a refill. When she returns, she holds one out to him and asks, “We need a plan to track her down. Have any ideas?”

He rolls his head on his shoulders to look at her, glancing down at the cup, “We?”

She nudges him again, so he takes it and sips while she grimaces, “If I didn’t raise hell about the interview and get David in trouble… who knows, maybe we wouldn’t be here. I doubt he was looking to write an exposé on her before that.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” he shrugs, “Doesn’t matter now.”

“Still, I’m… sorry,” she stares down at her glass and swirls the amber liquid around a bit while telling him, “The contract, too. I’m sorry about that. Like Mark said, it’s not personal. It’s business.”

“I know.”

“You’re sure, though? That you don’t want to corroborate her story?”

“Yes, I’m sure I don’t want to throw the love of my life under the fucking bus, Darlene.”

She holds up a hand in defense, “Ok—”

“Even if that’s what she wanted me to do, no fucking way. She’s a good fucking person and I won’t sit here and agree with people saying she’s some fucking lowlife, because she’s not—”

“Ok ok ok—Dieter, I understand. I was just making sure.”

He huffs and takes a drink.

An uncomfortable silence settles over them. The booze starts to course heat through Dieter’s veins, sedating his agitation, making his head swim.

“If you’re not my publicist anymore, why the fuck are you still here?”

“Because I’m still your friend.”

He looks over at her, meeting her hazel eyes, and senses sincerity.

His jaw works back and forth. He takes another drink, then tells her, “I’m going to New York to meet with the DA. Lincoln should be here any minute, he’ll stay here in case she comes back while I’m gone. I’m gonna have him try to track her whereabouts, see if she left any breadcrumbs—”

“You have a meeting with the DA?”

“Not… necessarily.”

“Then, what—” she pinches the bridge of her nose, “I don’t wanna know, do I?”

“Doubt it.”

“Right,” she sighs, shakes her head, then starts pacing, “Well, if Lincoln is here, he can call around to places, but I’m assuming you don’t want him to leave the house? In case she comes back?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll help follow up. Call around, and if needed, go to the places she might be. See if I can’t track her down.”

Hope swells in his chest. His posture softens, and he nods, “Thank you.”

She waves him off, “You said she left her phone, right?”

“Yeah, uhh,” he pulls it from his robe pocket and stares at the lock screen, “I felt, I dunno, weird… about going through it. So I haven’t yet.”

Darlene holds out her manicured hand, so he gives it to her.

“Zero two one four eight eight.”

She types in the passcode and starts tapping around as she paces, sipping her whiskey every now and then.

Meanwhile, Dieter finishes his drink and stares at the empty glass, wavering back and forth on whether or not to pour another. A hungry buzzing works through the tendons in his neck. There’s an old, familiar voice at the back of his head, urging him for more more more, begging, pleading for sedation, anything to make these big feelings less so.

Booze would be great, but you have the morphine, too, or the coke, fuck—now would be the perfect time for coke. It would straighten out your thoughts. Sharpen you. It could help you, Dieter, really. Help you clear your head and get to the bottom of this fucking mess, it could be the thing that saves her—

“She made an outbound call this morning,” Darlene murmurs as she punches the number into her phone, then raises it to her ear.

Dieter hears the faint voice from the speaker answer, “Hollywood Checker Cabs, how can I help you?”

She snaps her fingers at Dieter and pantomimes writing. He scrambles around the kitchen trying to find paper and a writing utensil while she asks, “Hi, my friend ordered a cab early this morning and I’m trying to track where she might’ve been dropped off, can you help me with that?”

Dieter finds a notebook on the counter. He pulls the pen from its spine and writes down your phone number and full name, then slides it over the island counter to Darlene, who nods and reads your phone number, then says, “Yeah, she called at 5:32, the pickup is—yep, that’s it, that’s her.”

She grabs the pen and starts scribing. Every few seconds she murmurs an uh-huh or ok.

Behind her, the door to the garage swings open and in comes Lincoln, carrying a brown paper bag and a backpack.

Concern creases his forehead as he approaches, and drops the paper bag on the counter, whispering to Dieter, “What’s going on?”

“Shh.”

Darlene glances up at them, then back at the notebook, and nods, “That’s incredibly helpful, thank you. Appreciate it.”

When she hangs up, she says, “The driver dropped her off at Union Station around 6:30 this morning,” then continues typing in her phone, “From there, she could’ve taken another taxi, or a bus, or a train—”

“She took a bus.”

Lincoln asks, “Who took a bus? Lua?”

They both ignore the question. Darlene blinks up at Dieter, and before she can question him, he shrugs, “Gut feeling.”

“Gut feeling,” she snorts, shaking her head, and tosses her phone in her bag with a sigh, “Well, I’ll drive over there and see if she’s still there. When does your flight leave?”

Dieter looks at Lincoln, who perks up and pulls out his phone, “Let’s see… A car will be here in… fifteen.”

“I’ll call you when I know more, ok?” Darlene says as she pulls her purse up onto her shoulder. She regards Dieter for a second or two before patting him on the shoulder, “We’re gonna find her.”

He doesn’t trust himself to verbalize the uncertainty churning in his guts, so he acknowledges the sentiment with a flaccid smile and a nod, thinking, “I fucking hope so.”

—

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.”

“Hey, love. I’m, uhh… leaving you an update, I guess. I’m going to New York to sort this shit out, talk to some people, see what I can do. But if you get this somehow, please, baby… please come home. Ok. I love you, bye.”

—

Suspended miles above the Midwest, with Dieter packed in a tin can alongside all the other mouth-breathing sardines, the in-flight WiFi goes out.

He tries watching a movie, but none of the information computes. His mind keeps wandering to you. What you’re doing, where you are, why you didn’t just fucking wake him up and talk to him.

Seconds twist under his skin.

The minutes lodge inside his throat.

The tiny screen could be showing him fucking anything, and his demeanor wouldn’t change a drop.

Tight-lipped. Hostile. Dead-eyed.

That’s what he gleans, anyway, from the way people react to his presence. The downcast glances and wide berths. How the flight attendant doesn’t even try to protest when he requests four mini-bottles of vodka.

Wincing with every swallow, Dieter drinks them and scrolls through his text history with you. It’s not uncommon for him to do this while idly passing the time alone, within the past few months especially.

Re-reading each conversation, admiring the photos and screenshots, allowing himself to daydream about you… usually, he finds it comforting.

This time it’s different.

It’s steeped in the knowledge that he may never receive another message from you.

Flipping his phone face down on the little shitty tray, he looks up at the Q*bert air vent and releases a big sigh. The thoughts of you creep back into his brain. He doesn’t shoo them away, though. It’s fucking pointless.

Please understand that I couldn’t make you choose. That burden shouldn’t rest on you.

A burden.

What a load of shit.

As if he wouldn’t let hellfire lick his bones to dust for one more earthly second with you. As if you don’t revive him every single time your lips meet his. As if he could breathe without you in the atmosphere.

Of fucking course he would choose you.

Over anything, really. Especially acting. Fuck, maybe that’s exactly what he needs. It’s all just stupid Hollywood bullshit anyway. Being owned by a dozen different people at any point in time. Everyone trying to get their finger in the goddamn pie. He’s tired of being a billboard first and a human second.

The more he thinks about it, the madder he gets. He douses his stomach with vodka, thinking about the fame machine, how it chewed you up and spit you out in no time at all.

He resents the public spotlight. His whole adolescence, he dreamed of having a successful career as an actor. He worked hard and got lucky and his dreams came to life, and now, well… he’s right back where he started.

Watching, helpless and terrified, as the person he loves gets pummeled half to death.

—

Dieter leans on the doorframe and gives apartment 14C three firm knocks.

The blaring music inside cuts. Parker stomps up to the other side of the door, “Who is it?”

“Fucking Santa Claus, who do you think?”

A thunk sounds from the deadbolt, then Parker swings the door open, propping a hand on his hip and shaking his head, “Santa Claus? Really?”

His face is fully dragged up in the style of Jackie Lantern, with blue eyeshadow and hot pink lips and harsh contour, while the rest of him is Regular Parker, with sweatpants and a baggy Bikini Kill t-shirt.

“Ho ho ho,” Dieter enters the cozy, dimly lit apartment and pulls him into a one-armed hug, “Good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too,” Parker mumbles as he wraps his lanky arms around Dieter and squeezes, “Wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Me too, bud,” Dieter takes a step back and ventures into what looks like a new-age opium den.

Incense and pot smoke cloud the air. A loom-woven tapestry, depicting a unicorn standing triumphant in a field of wildflowers, takes up almost the entire wall behind a well-worn sofa. On the opposite wall, at least 50 framed bug specimens hang on display.

Between the deep-seated couch and the TV sits a big octagonal coffee table, its glass top all littered with books and water bottles and cannabis paraphernalia.

Dieter, finding none of this surprising, looks around and nods, “Nice place.“

Parker bolts the door closed and turns to scan Dieter up and down, “Nice suit.”

“I hate this fucking thing,” he mutters, rolling his shoulders in a feeble attempt to make more room inside the jacket, then points to Parker’s sweatpants, “Is that what you’re wearing?”

“Shade,” Parker scoffs and starts off down the short hallway into his bedroom, “I’ll be ready in a minute, help yourself to whatever.”

“Where do you keep your liquor?”

“On top of the fridge.”

Dieter wanders into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of whiskey from its home, then starts flipping through cabinets. When he finds the one with cups, he calls out to Parker, “Want a drink?”

“Lord, please.”

He unscrews the cap and pours two generous servings. Before returning the bottle, he takes a pull off it. The cheap booze burns the whole way down, settling like fire in his belly.

Parker comes stomping back into the room, clawing at the back of his blue sequin gown, “Do me a favor, love, help me zip this?”

Dieter signals for him to spin around, then guides the zipper up his bony back as Parker asks, “Any updates from your neck of the woods?”

He taps on his shoulder, giving him the all clear.

Parker turns and leans back against the galley kitchen’s countertop opposite Dieter, who hands him a drink.

“Yeah,” Dieter nods, takes a sip of the shitty whiskey, then explains, “Darlene was able to convince the security team at Union Station to let her review footage from this morning. At 6:30 this morning, Lua boarded a Greyhound bus that dropped her off in Fresno around 11:00. Darlene couldn’t get much over the phone from them, so she’s driving up there to raise hell, see what she can find out.”

The words come out dull and matter-of-fact. Offline, disconnected from the treasure chest labeled LUA.

Parker studies him, “How’re you holding up, papi, you doing ok?”

“No.”

He stares down into his cup and thinks he should probably say something else, but comes up with nothing. It feels both pointless and too painful.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

When he glances up at Parker, and their eyes meet, he recognizes the melancholy there. His own, reflected back at him.

He shifts a little and adds, “After we get this part over with, though, maybe we can… I don’t know, get hammered, cry about it. Drown our sorrows or whatever. If you want.”

The corner of Parker’s hot pink lips turns up in a smirk and he chuckles, “Long as we don’t get arrested doing this stupid ass shit, I will take you up on that.”

“We’re not gonna get arrested, I promise. He’ll take the offer.”

“And how do you know that?”

Dieter could make a reference to The Godfather here, or mention the thick wads of cash lining his Armani suit, but thinks better of it. Probably best he doesn’t know.

Instead, he asks, “Do you trust me?”

“You know we wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“Then trust me, we’re gonna be fine. Just follow the plan.”

Parker snorts and shakes his head, muttering something about ‘you cryptic ass motherfucker’ into his glass as he takes a sip.

Dieter drinks, too, then tells him, “I like your dress.”

“Thanks,” he smiles, eyes flicking to the clock on the stove, “Fuck, I gotta finish getting ready or we’re gonna be late.”

“Can I pick out your hair?”

Parker groans a little, feigning annoyance. He pushes off the counter and starts towards his room, “Fine, but I reserve the right to veto.”

—

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.”

“Hey, doll, it’s me. I’m uhh… in New York, at Parker’s place—”

“Who are you talking to?”

“I’m leaving her a message.”

“Give it, I wanna say something.”

“Just hold on—”

“Hey Miss Lou, I love you, I miss you, and let me tell you, your boy is a goddamn mess. And, um… so am I. I’m worried about you—we’re worried about you. Just… let us know you’re ok, ok?”

“Me again. We’re gonna go fix this. I love you, Louella. Please come home.”

—

Instead of conversing en route to the Metropolitan Opera House, they pass a flask of whiskey back and forth and occasionally sing along to the music on Jackie Lantern’s “PUSSY POWER” playlist.

Although neither of them mention it, Dieter knows they’re essentially doing the same thing. Hyping themselves up. Trying to ban the performance anxiety from their brains as they get into character.

By the time he and Parker arrive at Metropolitan Opera House, the booze has fully assimilated into Dieter’s bloodstream.

Thank fucking god.

It grinds down the coarse edges of reality and allows him to slip effortlessly into a familiar skin.

Dieter Bravo: Washed-up Actor.

Dieter Bravo: Party Monster.

Dieter Bravo: Brazen Jackass.

A carefully curated persona so convincing, it had him fooled for years before you coaxed the real him out of hiding.

That guy, the real him, or whatever the fuck, is not the right man for this job. Too soft. Too emotional. Guy is a pansy, he would fucking cry or make a scene or something.

Seriously.

He has no jurisdiction here.

Here, in this glitzy opera house, among the other black-tie patrons who regard him and Jackie Lantern with a kind of grotesque curiosity that guy couldn’t fucking handle.

But, Dieter Bravo: Attention Whore?

Eating. This. Shit. Up.

“Literal fucking pearl clutching, ho-ly shit,” he murmurs to Jackie’s big, white blonde afro wig as they walk up the red carpeted stairs into the lobby.

It opens up into a huge space that reminds him of a cave.

Brightly-lit, thanks to the starburst chandeliers dripping from the ceiling like stalactites, but a cave all the same. All four stories of shining white marble look to be hollowed out over centuries. Smooth, curved staircases flowing into terraces, filled with hundreds of well-dressed people and the abstract murmur of their conversations.

For the millionth time today, he wishes you were here.

You would be awestruck, gazing around with starry eyes that would make him appreciate its beauty that much more. You would look at him, in that way you do, and everyone else would melt away. You would smile and make those crystal chandeliers look like bare fluorescent bulbs. Put the goddamn place to shame.

“Whaddaya think, sugar? Get a drink?”

He glances up at Jackie over the rim of his sunglasses and tosses his sloshy head back and forth, trying to gauge how drunk he actually is, then shrugs, “Fuck it, why not.”

She leads the way while Dieter follows in her wake, delighting at the number of people who ogle Jackie, with her big hair and her commanding presence and her blue gown, shimmering aqua and cyan and turquoise in the light.

Only a few people seem to notice him trailing behind her. Fewer yet glint any tell-tale signs of recognition. The little upright jolt. The furrowed brow leaping into a surprised expression. The whispered “Is that who I think it is?” to the person beside them. Or, his favorite, the scramble to grab their phone and snap a photo.

They order drinks and find a tall table in the corner to lean against. From this vantage point, they survey the crowd for their subjects.

“How much does your man know?”

“My man,” Jackie mutters to herself with a little scoff, glancing down at her martini, “He’s not my man. I’m just a rental.”

Dieter peels his eyes away from the crowd to look at her, “A rental?”

“Not good enough to invest in long-term.”

His head rocks back in understanding, and he frowns, “How long have you been seeing him?”

“Off and on for two years.”

As she says this, she looks up, flicking her eyes around the room. Then she zeroes in on something. Her posture perks to attention. That little glint of recognition.

Dieter follows her gaze to what can only be described as the most average looking white man in Manhattan. Dusty blonde hair, athletic build, black suit.

He would’ve completely overlooked the guy if not for the precision of Jackie’s stare.

Well, that and the fact that you’ve gone on your fair share of angry rants about the man, which involved you showing Dieter his Instagram. This is how he also recognizes the mousy woman standing at his side.

“He brought his wife?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you two me—”

“Nope.”

The sullen aura radiating off her makes Dieter tick his jaw back and forth. He looks between her and Reese, then asks, “Does he know the plan?”

“Kind of,” she shrugs, “Bare bones, enough to maintain plausible deniability.”

“Uh huh. How did Reese know about Mr. Lindorm’s uhhh…”

He scrunches his face up and turns his wrist around, trying to find the right word.

Jackie raises an eyebrow, “Proclivities?”

“I was gonna say fetish, but sure.”

She lands a playful smack on his arm, then sighs, “Sometimes it’s best I don’t ask.”

“Don’t ask don’t tell, good policy.”

This earns him a side-eye with very little humor attached. Sore spot. Fuck.

“Look,” he leans harder on the table, “All I’m saying is you could do better. No doubt about it. You uhh… I don’t know. You deserve someone who loves you so much, they would pluck the stars from the sky and craft them into a crown for you. Not someone who keeps you a secret.”

“Craft them into a—?” She blinks at him, “Ok, papi, what the fuck’re you talking about?”

He tries to formulate an answer, to figure out where the fuck that came from, but admits, “Fuck if I know.”

“I’m cutting you off.”

“I am not that drunk.”

“Better not be, cuz it’s fuckin’ showtime. Here they come.”

“Sorry to interrupt.”

He looks to the source, flicking his gaze up and down Reese’s neat tuxedo.

Reese extends his hand, “I don’t believe we’ve met, but I’m Senator Reese Bernard—”

“I don’t endorse political campaigns, sorry.”

He starts to turn back to Jackie, who mirrors the action, then Reese, right on cue, says, “Oh, no. Nothing like that, I’m just a big fan. Could I buy you and your um,” his eyes shift to Jackie, “Companion a drink? Maybe pick your brain for a bit?”

Dieter finds himself slightly surprised with Reese’s acting ability. That is, until he remembers the man acts every single day of his life. He raises his eyebrows in question at Jackie, who holds his gaze and shrugs, “Fine by me.”

“Alright, yeah.”

A boyish grin spreads across Reese’s face, then he turns to the little mouse of a woman behind him and murmurs something to her, jerking his head towards the bar.

She nods and walks off as Reese joins their table, glancing between Dieter and Jackie, “Well, this is certainly a way to shake things up at the opera, huh? Kind of exciting,” he settles his gaze on Jackie, giving her a charming smile, “You look gorgeous.”

“Thanks, love,” she tilts her head at him, batting her lashes.

The way they look at each other, all goo-goo eyes, inspires Dieter to finish his drink. When he slams the empty glass down on the table, they both jump, snapping out of their nauseating little bubble.

“When’s our guy supposed to be here?”

“Ahhhh,” Reese frowns at his watch, then starts searching the lobby, “Should already be around somewhere. We always meet him and the missus over here for a drink before the show.”

“You guys do this often?”

He shrugs, “Every couple of weeks or so. Not really my cup of tea, or his even, but the gals love it.”

“Cute,” Dieter mutters.

Jackie shoots him a look, then asks Reese, “Do you really think this is gonna work?”

“Oh, definitely, definitely. The guy is smart when it comes to law, but thinks with his dick when it comes to most everything else,” he smirks at her, “And you’re just his type.”

In response, Dieter grunts and searches the room. His head feels weighted, brain sloshing around in the sea of alcohol he consumed throughout the day.

Maybe he should switch to water for a while, slow down this freight train.

Or maybe we should go in a different direction. Try to get a hold of something that will straighten us out.

This thought overrides his entire body, blaring and hot and uncomfortable in his veins, and he wonders if that’s why it’s called an impulse.

Wouldn’t it make you feel better?

His leg starts to bounce. He grits his teeth and reminds himself that he promised you he wouldn’t use cocaine again. Reminds himself of what you said in return:

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Your voice in his head makes his heart flutter, while the content of your statement sits heavy in his stomach, warring with that concentrated dose of urgency buzzing through him.

“There he is,” Jackie murmurs into her wine glass, “Over by the stairs.”

Jerking to attention like he fell asleep at the wheel, Dieter follows her laser-focused gaze to a distinguished salt-and-pepper man posing for a photo with a tall blonde woman.

The way they stand next to each other, all rigid and precise, their perfect, practiced smiles spread wide beneath dead eyes… it strikes him as familiar.

Middle-aged Barbie and Ken.

A fair comparison, although she looks closer to 20 than 40. Either that or she has a stellar plastic surgeon.

There’s something else, though.

It’s in the way they take a big step apart when the photographer gets his shot. How they seem to be bickering at each other out the side of their faces between fake smiles.

Anika and Dieter.

He studies them with a morbid kind of curiosity, wondering if that’s what they would have eventually been like if they tried to make it work. If, almost a year ago, he would’ve gone home to her instead of boarding that plane to New York.

They would’ve fought about it. Maybe they would’ve cried and had make-up sex. He probably would’ve gone to rehab, and couples counseling, and, hell, maybe they would’ve had a kid or something. Things would’ve felt real and good with her for a while.

But it would have faded.

After a while, he would have strayed again. He would have started getting high and fucking around all the time. He knows this like he knows you’re alive, like he just knows things, certain and right at the very core of him: He never would have found peace until he found you.

Instinctually, he wants to say you changed him, that you made him want to be a better man. But it dawns on him, with stunning clarity, that you didn’t. You didn’t change him any more than an astronomer changes the universe when they discover a star.

Which is to say, darling, that you just brought him into focus so he could see himself for who he really is.

Anything else would have been a plastic, miserable cohabitation.

As this sinks in, that hungry buzzing in his chest wanes. He understands that he can’t break his promise to you. More aptly, he won’t, because he’s not that man anymore.

—

Sometimes things go sideways.

For instance, sometimes the love of your life thinks that disappearing is the best solution to both save your career and evade a second felony.

Sometimes, though… the universe aligns in your favor, and a plan goes off better than you ever could have imaged.

Sometimes your girlfriend’s best friend’s boyfriend’s wife, who Dieter eventually learns is named Rachel, runs into her friends, Mr. and Mrs. District Attorney, on her way back from the bar and invites them to join your table.

They introduce themselves as John and—no fucking joke—Barbara Lindorm. Just as Reese predicted, John is captivated by Jackie the second he lays eyes on her. He occupies the open space next to her and laughs at her jokes, frequently splitting off into quiet little side conversations, where Dieter hears him ask where she’s from, what she does for a living, and whether she and Dieter are dating—which is great news, because it means he has not placed him as Dieter Bravo: Louella Friedman’s Meddlesome Boyfriend.

If Barbara notices her husband flirting, she doesn’t let it show. Dieter surmises it’s because he’s doing a bit of flirting himself, letting his gaze linger on her longer than appropriate, complimenting her dress, her hair, her nails. Not because he’s interested or anything, but rather to provide a bit of a distraction while Jackie reels in her husband.

It’s a little fucked up, sure, but you’d understand. Think big picture, baby. The greater good or whatever.

At one point, he sees Jackie pull out her phone and tell John, “Oh, I have to show you this picture from my last show, you’ll love this.”

This is the move. The part where she shows him a typed out message telling him to follow her at intermission.

Dieter calls attention to the other side of the table, asking Reese, “So, what, do you guys have regular seats or something? Since you come here so often.”

Reese sees the setup and nods, “Oh, definitely. A box, actually, they’re great seats—“ he cuts himself off with a gasp, slamming his palms down on the table, “Hold on, I’m getting a crazy idea. The other couple we usually come here with dropped out at the last minute. Do you two want their seats?”

Dieter glances over at Barbara, meeting her demure gaze, while he hears John murmur to Jackie, “You’re right, I do love that.”

“Why the hell not,” he licks his lips and shrugs, departing from Barbara’s eyes to meet Reese’s, “Let’s keep this party rolling.”

Reese grins, “Fantastic! Ok, do you guys wanna go now, or…?”

The lights wax and wane in brightness a few times, signaling curtain call, and Dieter smirks, “Lead the way.”

—

While waiting for the gilded curtains to part, Dieter flips through the program for Ariadne auf Naxos, tuning out the meaningless chit chat taking place around him.

He skims the synopsis provided, mostly just trying to look busy. One sentence catches his attention.

Ariadne is alone in front of her cave.

He tilts his head at it, lingering for a moment before resuming the skim. His eyes snag on the words stars vanish, then backtrack to the beginning of the sentence.

Entranced by Ariadne’s beauty, Bacchus tells her that he would sooner see the stars vanish than give her up.

Like he did with the last line, Dieter stares at it, slightly stunned. He shifts in his seat, glancing around before leaning over the program to re-read the opera’s synopsis from the beginning.

The passage briefly recounts the story of Ariadne, who assisted Thesus in escaping a labyrinth because she loved him. They were betrothed, and Ariadne left her family to be with him. On the trip home, Thesus abandoned her on a remote island while she was sleeping.

Ariadne woke and found herself alone on the beach. Heartbroken, she longed to die. When Bacchus arrived on the island, Ariadne first thought he was the messenger of death, then mistook him for Thesus. Bacchus explained that he was neither, he was a god. They fell in love and rose into the heavens.

Dieter sits back in his seat and fidgets, trying to find comfort despite this goddamn suit jacket, all stiff and tight with wads of cash. Despite the painful parallels his mind keeps drawing.

You are fucking everywhere.

The opera. The crystal galaxy chandeliers that hang from what looks like a bright white tunnel into the afterlife. The scalloped ceiling, backlit with a warm, golden light, reminding him of goldfish scales.

Are they signs or is he just losing his fucking mind?

“Probably both,” he mutters to himself.

Jackie looks up from her program at him, raising an eyebrow, “What?”

He shakes his head, nervously tugging at the whiskers that sprout from his jawline.

Before she can prod him further, the chandeliers float up into the white abyss and all of the lights dim, then the curtains part.

—

As soon as intermission starts, Jackie is on her feet.

John waits one cool second before excusing himself and following her into the hall. Reese hears this and turns around in his seat, asking Barbara how she likes the show so far. As she leans forward and begins to answer him, Reese locks eyes with Dieter and gives him a wink of approval.

Dieter nods and rises to his feet, then slips into the hall, weaving his way through the crowd.

See, when Jackie used to work catering gigs here, she got to know a member of the opera house staff who showed her a few private rooms that aren’t necessarily secret, but aren’t exactly advertised, either. They’re reserved for VIPs, when they want them, but mostly remain unoccupied during performances.

He follows the path Jackie mapped out for him earlier today to an unlabeled door on level three. Inside, he hears a familiar giggle and knows it’s the right one.

He pats down his suit jacket with both hands, double checking that he didn’t somehow drop all his money en route, then grabs the doorknob, twists it, and pushes the door open to reveal the smallest Victorian parlor he’s ever seen in his life.

It contains an antique sofa, a coffee table, and an armchair in the corner, and still feels cramped. The back wall is entirely occupied by a mirror. Probably an attempt to make the room look bigger.

On the ornate red sofa, Miss Jackie Lantern and Mister District Attorney are so busy making out, neither of them seem to notice his presence.

Dieter makes a point of closing the door with a loud bang. John jumps up and starts scrambling away from Jackie, his face all covered in hot pink lipstick, stammering out clichés, “I can explain, this isn’t what it looks like—”

“Save it, that’s not what this is,” Dieter waves him off as he approaches the couch, unbuttoning his suit jacket.

“What is this, then?” he looks from Dieter, who shucks off his jacket and sits down beside him, to Jackie, “A three way?”

Jackie sticks out her bottom lip in a sympathetic manner, shaking her head.

“This is an opportunity.”

John turns to him, narrowing his eyes, “Explain.”

“Well, see,” Dieter tosses his jacket on the coffee table, “I’m going to give you a stupid amount of money, I mean—really, truly, a fucking obscene amount of money. In return, you’ll drop the charges against Louella Friedman.”

He studies Dieter carefully.

“You and I both know that warrant was bullshit. Based on witness statements obtained by fucking paps, really?” Dieter clicks his tongue against his teeth and shakes his head, “That man is a gossip monger with a grudge. Zero fucking credibility. It wouldn’t hold up in court. It would be a waste of everyone’s time and money. This is an opportunity to cut through the red tape and get a little something for yourself in return.”

John sits back, crossing his arms. He frowns at the jacket for a while, seemingly running calculations in his head, then asks, “How much?”

“Hundred thousand.”

His eyebrows make a surprised jump. He presses his knuckles to his lips, considering this. His leg starts bouncing. He looks between Dieter and Jackie, these quick, sharp glares, “I don’t appreciate being set up like this.”

Dieter nods in acknowledgment. Jackie just blinks at him.

He releases a big sigh.

Sitting up, he grabs the jacket and digs into one of the pockets, then pulls out a few $10,000 bundles.

As he inspects them, Dieter asks, “Well?”

“You two are good,” John chuckles, then extends his hand to Dieter, “I’ll look into her case for you, see what we can do.”

He takes it, giving him an overly enthusiastic shake, “Good man. Thank you.”

“Louella Friedman?”

“That’s right. I, uhhh—I put her info in the front pocket.”

“Got it.”

Dieter stands and looks at Jackie, nodding to the door.

“Thanks, Johnny,” she winks, then rises to her feet and starts towards the door.

“Thank you, Jackie,” he grins at her for a second before returning to Dieter, “And thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Dieter pulls up the sleeves on his dress shirt, “Don’t spend it all in one place.”

John laughs at this, so Dieter feels compelled to clarify, “No, but really, the IRS might start asking questions if you do. So—don’t, ok?”

“Oh, well, yeah—”

Dieter turns on his heel and follows Jackie out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“Johnny?” he raises an eyebrow at her as they walk away.

“He’s kinda cute. Good kisser.”

“Thinking about adding him to your roster?”

She snorts and gives him a playful shove, “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

—

Within thirty seconds of entering the apartment, Jackie has locked herself in the bathroom with the shower running.

Dieter collapses on the couch and slowly dismantles the remains of his suit, unknotting the bow-tie, taking off his dress shirt, wriggling out of his pants, until he’s left in boxers and an undershirt.

Exhaustion, emotional and physical, drains any remaining adrenaline from this evening’s success from his limbs.

Figuring it will take a while for the de-Jackiefication to take place in the bathroom, he checks his phone for updates, then decides to call and leave you a message before letting sleep take over.

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.”

“Hey, doll, it’s me. It is… just after midnight here in New York. Just wanted to let you know, I talked to the DA. He’s dropping the charges, because they’re bullshit, and uhhh… yeah. You can come out now, if you want. I… I miss you. All day I missed you. I wish you were here, and—listen, Lua, I get what you’re doing. You think you’re saving me or something by disappearing, but let me tell you, you are fucking not. Ok? I don’t think you understand… you save me every single day. Just by loving me. The acting, publicity, fucking—whatever, none of that fucking matters to me. I swear to god. You are—you are it for me. The end all be all. My sun, my moon, the stars, you are my whole fucking universe. You are… everything to me, Louella. I love you. I hope I see you soon.”

[ Next Chapter ]

#psychomanteum #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x oc #dieter bravo x ofc #the bubble #the bubble fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction

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nervousgardenerkid · 2 years

Note

Hey, I love your writing 🫶

Please can you write an Eddie angst pleaseeeee.

The idea is that reader has been in love with Eddie for years and when he dies they’re distraught. The gang helps them through all the stages of mourning. Months later they wake up feeling really good so they go to one of the gangs house where they all will be hanging out. They all are acting really off and try to make them leave and then Eddie walks. Reader thinks they’re hallucinating until Eddie starts talking to one the kids and then it dawns on them that their best friends and the person they love have been lying all this time knowing the suffering they’ve endured. An argument and a confession follows, where they try to explain they did It to protect them but reader isn’t having any of it. All they want to do is hug Eddie but they can’t even look at him. They leave on bad terms with everyone. I can’t think of an ending heheh :))

I’m so sorry that request is so long. Thank you so much hope you have a lush day :))

In the back of my mind, you died

a/n: ANON I LOOOOOVEEEEEE THIS IDEA SO MUCH!!! YOUR BRAIN IS SO SMART FOR THIS!!!! i'm sorry it took so long my life has been hectic rn😭i'm not sure if i'll be writing a part two to this?? the ending might be fixed/changed cause idk how i feel about it,,anyways i hope you enjoy it and credit to the gif owner! <3

read part two here!

Denial. That's all you've been doing is denying. Eddie didn't die, no. He's just decided to lay low until this whole "earthquake" shit and him being a murderer dies down. That's all he's doing you think to yourself, but that doesn't stop the nightmares of him dying in your arms. Every time you close your eyes you see the exact moment where the life leaves his eyes. You can't escape the horrible memory no matter what you do, you don't want to consider therapy cause how are you supposed to say that the love of your life died in the claws of bats from another dimension? Exactly, you can't.

You appreciate your friends, you do. You love them so much but you wish that they can leave you alone.

“I’m not broken, you know that right?”

Steve looks up from the magazine he's reading on your bed and smiles.

“I know that.”

“So why are you guys on babysitting duty with me?”

He sighs.

“Y/n, we're just worried. You've been ignoring the fact that Eddie-”

“Don't.” you cut him off.

“He's gone y/n. We're not rushing you to let him go, take all the time you need.” he stands up from his spot on the bed and crouches down to be eye level with you.

“But you're going to have to accept it sooner or later, and when you do we promise to all be here for you.”

Tears start to form and you throw your arms around him finally letting go of all the bottled-up emotions you have.

Anger. Pure anger is running through your veins when you see students gathered in front of Eddie's locker. Some are writing mean things, others are leaving sincere notes either way it pisses you off. Nobody in this school liked Eddie! It was always just you and hellfire who stuck up for him, so why the hell is everyone acting as if they care?!

“This is bullshit,” Gareth mumbles next to you.

You scoff. “Tell me about it. He's gone and suddenly the whole town loves him?”

“Like they weren't accusing him of murder weeks ago.”

If there was anyone you knew who was taking his death as hard as you, it was Gareth. Gareth knew Eddie his whole life, Eddie was practically his brother, and the fact that he doesn't even know what happened to him kills you.

“I fucking hate this town.” You whispered while shaking your head when the cheer team leaves a teddy bear in front of his locker.

Gareth chuckles, you take it as a sign of agreement.

“If I could I burn it to the fucking ground.”

You turn your head to look at him. His eyes are red and you're not sure if it's cause he's been crying, or because maybe rick gave him the hookup but you give him a soft smile. You've talked to Gareth before, and you consider him a friend. You glance down at the watch resting on your wrist and look back at Gareth.

“Do you wanna get out of here?”

“Hell yeah, let's go.”

You Gareth quickly exit the school and you both try to ignore the heartbreak you feel when you think of how happy Eddie would be knowing his best friends have someone to watch each other's backs.

Bargaining is something you find yourself frequently doing. You toss and turn through the night and look at your alarm clock. The bright red 1:00 taunting you. You let out a quiet tsk and decide enough is enough, quietly searching through your dresser you pick out the first pair of pants and grab the first shirt you see. You open your window making sure to leave it a crack open for you for whenever you sneak back in. You're not sure where you're going yet, your brain is not up to full speed with your body but soon you start recognizing that you're going to Eddie's trailer. Before you know it you're a good distance away from it but you stop in your tracks. Your heart is pounding and it's the first time you ask yourself what exactly are you doing here? We're planning on going to the upside down to find Eddie? Were you even looking for Eddie? Your thoughts are cut short when you see a familiar set of curls hidden under a hat exit the trailer quietly.

“Dustin?”

His body tenses and he turns around slowly to face you. He smiles at you nervously and waves as you take steps to get closer. You weren't supposed to be here, he hasn't even spoken a word to you and the guilt is already starting to eat him alive.

“Y/n! What are you uh, doing here?”

You cross your arms.

“I should ask you the same thing.”

Dustin stood frozen on the porch speechless, his eyes scanning your body trying to find any kind of clue as to why you're here. He wants to come clean and say it but he made a promise, and he was way too scared to break it. He narrows his eyes at you and something in his clicks when he sees the determined look on your face.

“Were you going back?”

“I-i think so? I don't know.”

Dustin mumbles out a Jesus Christ and stumbles over to you, dragging you away from the trailer.

“Are you insane?! What exactly were you gonna do?”

You stop walking, causing Dustin to look at you. His heart sinks when he sees tears falling down your cheeks as you stumble over your words.

“I just want him back Dustin.” you cry out.

Dustin wraps his arms around you and holds you as you cry, his brain is screaming for him to tell you. To just end all the pain you've been feeling but he made a promise. They all did.

He pulls away from you and gives you a sad smile.

“I miss him too, but y/n, you can't risk your life going back in there for something that's not even there.”

“We just left him there Dustin. His uncle never even got to see him.”

The both of you are crying now.

“And that's killing me, but there's nothing we can do.”

You look Dustin in the eyes and you have a strange feeling in your gut that he's hiding something but you're too exhausted to question him. You nod your head, wiping away the tears that fell down your face, and take a deep breath.

“Yeah. Yeah, you're right.”

“C'mon, let's go home. You can ride my bike, my leg is killing me.”

You hum knowing his leg is a bit more sensitive since the incident and agree to take him home.

“I'll walk home after I drop you off.”

“My mom thinks I'm at Lucas’.”

Silence is shared between the two of you as you slowly turn to look at Dustin.

“You mean the Lucas who's practically living at the hospital reading to Max?”

Dustin kicked a rock and mumbled out how it sounded better in his head. You shake your head and chuckle, throwing your leg around his bike and waiting till you felt his hands resting on your shoulders. While Dustin was getting on the bike you took a glance at the trailer that sat behind you two and you could be sworn you saw a figure that you knew all too well.

“You ready?” Dustin asked you. You looked at him then back at the trailer only to be met with nothing. You cleared your throat and nodded your head.

“Yeah, let's go.”

Everyone was worried about you the second Eddie was gone, but to their surprise, you were still up and moving. What they should have been worried about was the third month of his death. Depression hit you like a semi and you couldn't get out of bed to save your life. Everyone would stop by to drop off some food and water only to throw it out the next day when they saw it was untouched. They tried everything to get you out of bed but were unsuccessful every time.

It was midnight now, Nancy was sleeping on the couch in the living room as you rotted away in bed. They usually didn't spend the night but you haven't eaten in five days, to say your friends were worried about you was an understatement. You stared at the picture of you and Eddie laughing that rested on your nightstand when the familiar feeling of needing to use the restroom came back. For the first time in days, you slowly took the blanket off of you and began to sit up in bed. The room spun a little bit but now you were sitting up and looking at your bedroom door.

Go. You thought to yourself. Just go pee and then you can get back into bed. The thought of standing alone was enough to exhaust you, let alone use the restroom. You know you should get up, your bladder was starting to hurt from how long you haven't used the restroom but you couldn't move. You look down at your feet and see one of Eddie's shirts on the floor, it was his favorite, and now it's dirty. It's dirty, it's on the floor, and it was nearly forgotten about until now. The pain in your bladder was getting stronger but you didn't move, you stayed sat in bed looking at the shirt with tears streaming down your face.

Your thoughts are cut short when you feel a sudden pang of pain in your lower abdomen. You let out a gasp and quickly put pressure on it but it only makes things worse. I need to pee. Was the only thing running through your mind. You start to stand up but let out a small cry from how much it hurts.

“Y/n?” You heard Nancy call. You stayed quiet trying to steady your breathing. You take small steps toward your bedroom door, counting down how many you have left to go to the restroom when you fall to the ground. You hear Nancy start to run to you as you cry and clutch your side tightly.

“Jesus Christ, what happened?!” Nancy asks as she rushes over to you. You push her away determined to get yourself to the restroom. You know what she's thinking. You know she probably thinks you're insane at the fact that you could get a kidney infection trying to get to the restroom by yourself cause you're thinking the exact same thing. You curl into a fetal position on the floor, your breathing rapid as the pain gets worse with each passing minute. Nancy decides enough is enough and helps you up while whispering how you'll be okay. She helps you stand up and gently shushes you when you let out a whimper.

“It's okay, you're gonna be okay,” she whispers. She takes you toward the restroom and turns on the bath for you. She makes sure the water is warm before she looks at you, you have your shirt pulled over your legs as you sit on the toilet finally giving your bladder some ease.

“I uh, I'm running you a bath,” she says gently. “If you need help with anything, call me, okay?”

You nod your head and watch as she leaves the bathroom and closes the door, leaving it a little open.

You sigh and slowly get off the toilet, holding onto the wall for support as you flush it. You step into the bathtub with your shirt still on and sit in the warm water. Nancy knocks on the door and peeks her head in to check on you. You both make eye contact and you clear your throat.

“C-can you wash my hair?”

Nancy nods her head and rolls the sleeves of her pajama shirt up. She sits on the edge of the tub and gently strokes your hair as you rest your cheek on your knees.

“There's a cup in the cabinet. Eddie would bring the dog that lived next door and we’d give her a bath.

Nancy makes her way to the cabinet and grabs the small cup, filling it with water and counting down before she gently pours it onto your head. Comfortable silence is shared between you two before she drains the water and grabs a towel. She helps you stand, squeezing out as much water as she could from your shirt before you grab onto her hand.

“Thank you. F-for helping me.”

She gives you a sad smile and wraps the towel around your shoulders.

“I changed your sheets, and there are some clothes laid out for you.”

You hold onto her hand as she helps you out of the slippery tub and onto the cold tile floor. She leads you to her room, closing the door all the way so that you can change out of your wet clothes. You place the towel on the floor and toss the shirt on top of it knowing you'll take it out soon. You slip into the comfortable clothes and sit on the edge of your bed, your hands rubbing over the clean material of the new sheets Nancy changed for you.

Your eyes drift back to the picture that's on your nightstand and you swear that you can hear Eddie's voice in your head telling you to eat something. You hear three knocks on your bedroom door and you're guessing you told Nancy to come in cause now she's leaning up against your door and smiling at you.

“I know it's nearly one in the morning but are you hungry?”

You wanted to say no, you're too tired to eat anything and you just want to lay in bed and sleep until you feel better, but you don't. Instead, you slowly nod your head.

“I think there's still some pizza in the fridge from when Steve and Robin came over.”

Nancy gave you a genuine smile, happy that you finally decided to eat some food. She started to leave your room to reheat the pizza when she heard you call out for her.

“Thank you. Seriously, this whole…healing process hasn't been easy for me.” You clear your throat and send her a small smile. “So thank you, really. You've all helped me so much, I don't know what I would do without you guys."

Something in Nancy shifted, you could tell from the way her shoulders dropped and the small smile she gave you.

“Y/n?”

She wants to say it. She's seen you suffer enough and it's killing her not to tell you everything she knows. It's on the tip of her tongue, she's so close to saying it. You look at her with raised eyebrows.

“You never have to thank us. What are friends for?”

A few more months pass and little by little you start to feel okay, normal even. Is currently Friday, which is movie day at Steve's. It started as a way to get you out of the house but it's blossomed into something more now, you park the car in front of Steve's house and grab the snacks that are in the passenger seat of your car. You hum out a tune and gently kick at the door with your foot. Robin opens the door laughing but quickly stops when she sees it's you.

“Y/n! What are you doing here?”

“Haha, very funny.” you teased. “It’s movie day! Here grab the snacks so I can come in,” you say while dumping some snacks into her arms. She stumbles over words and her feet as you make your way into the house, you throw a hey to everyone and place the snacks onto Steve's counter.

“Geez, why is everyone quiet? Did you guys start the movie without me?” you chuckle out. You turn toward your friends who are sitting on the couch staring at you with wide eyes.

“Jesus, are you guys okay? It's like you've all seen a ghost or something.”

“Thanks for giving me my vest back Steve, I've been dying to see her again.”

Your body stiffens and your blood runs cold when you hear a voice that you've missed for far too long. Your eyes lock with Dustin and suddenly everything clicks. The night you found Dustin at Eddie’s trailer, the way everyone looked at you with guilty eyes, how everyone seemed like they were walking on eggshells when they were around you. They knew. They all knew.

“It's no problem man, I washed like three times- oh shit.”

This had to be a trick. You must've not been over his death yet and now your brain is making you hallucinate him. You slowly turn around to face him and tears instantly form in your eyes. Eddie feels himself freeze under your gaze, feeling like a criminal that's been caught. You shake your head and walk up to him, you raise your hand as if you're going to rest it on his shoulder but you freeze.

“You're not real.” You whisper while shaking your head. You let out a laugh like it's some kind of sick joke and turn toward your friends.

“Please tell me he's not real.”

The lack of answers confirmed it for you. You then turned toward Eddie with tears streaming down your face, but there was fire behind your eyes.

“How long have you been here?”

“Y/n, hear me out-”

“How long?!”

Eddie stays quiet and decides his shoes are much more interesting cause he can't bring his eyes to meet yours. You let out a scoff and look at your friends.

“Okay, since the fucking ghost doesn't want to talk I'll ask you guys. How long has he been back?”

“Ever since you caught me at his trailer,” Dustin spoke up.

You sniffled and nodded your head.

“So did you all know?”

Everyone on the couch nodded their head and Steve mumbled a quiet yeah.

“Was anyone going to tell me?”

“We wanted to,” Mike began.

“That's not what I asked. I asked if you were ever going to tell me.”

Everyone was silent once again and to be honest, you were getting fed up with it.

“you know what?” you chuckled out. “I think I'm done.”

“Done?” Nancy asked.

You grabbed your keys and started to walk toward the door.

“Yeah. With you guys.”

Everyone started to talk over each other and Eddie rushed to stand in front of the door, blocking you from leaving.

“Hey hot shot, just hear them out. Hear us out.” He begged.

For the first time in months, you look Eddie in the eyes, and it feels like you're back at the very beginning.

“Get out of my way Eddie, or else you'll wish you were dead.”

Defeated, he steps out of the way but chases you outside. The sun was no longer in the sky and the dam finally broke. Tears were streaming down your face and you felt arms wrap around you. You try your best to push him away but he's not letting you go.

“Get off of me!” you cry out.

“Sweetheart, please.”

“No! Do you know how fucking miserable I was Eddie?! Did you know that I considered going back to that hell hole to get you?!” you're pushing him now and you catch a glance of your former friends watching you from the window.

Eddie grabs your hands trying to stop you but you twist out of his grasp.

“For months people you love have suffered Eddie! This isn't even about me anymore! Does your uncle know you're back?! What about Gareth and the rest of the party?!”

Eddie shakes his head and tears are forming in his eyes.

“Really?! You're crying, Eddie?!”

“You weren't supposed to find out this way.”

“Then how? How the fuck was I supposed to find out Eddie? Were you going to come to my house with a bouquet of flowers? Were you gonna wait until I tried to go back to the upside-down again?”

Eddie stayed silent. He never really thought about how he was going to tell you, or how you would react. He knew that the more time dragged on the more difficult it would be, but he still had hope.

You saw a tear fall down Eddie's cheek and it took everything in you to not wipe it away. You've dreamt of this moment, you've even prayed for it but this isn't how it was supposed to happen. You were supposed to be happy he was alive, jump into his arms and finally kiss him as you've always wanted to do.

“You know,” you started as you walked to the driver's side of the car. “You may not be dead anymore Eddie,”

You start the car. “But you're dead to me.” you nod your head at everyone gathered by the window.

“They are too. I don't want to see any of you ever again.”

You drove off after that, you weren't sure where you were going, considering all your friends lied to you about something that big. Part of you wants to rationalize what they've done, and you can kinda understand why they did it but you would've never done that to them.

Your heart is pounding out of your chest as you walk up to the front door of the last person you should be seeing. You knock three times and wipe away the tears that are streaming down your face, you look like a mess right now you're sure of it but you don't care.

“Y/n?” Gareth asks with concern. “What's going on, why are you crying?”

“Eddie isn't dead.”

Gareth wants to laugh, but he can't. He won't. The way you look right now, the shakiness in your voice. He wants to think you're joking but what kind of sick person would make a joke about this? He steps to the side and opens the door wide for you, silently asking you to come in. You step inside his home and stuff your hands into your pockets, not bothering to wipe away your tears anymore.

“You've got a lot of explaining to do.”

You let out a humorless chuckle. “How much time do you have?”

Gareth let's out a sigh and hugs you, his hand rubbing your back gently as you cry into his shoulder.

"I've got all the time in the world right now."

#eddie munson blurb #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things blurb #stranger things angst #eddie stranger things

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