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vmpiires · 4 months

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𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

„𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘”

𝐂𝐖;; mature content. afab!reader, stoner!choso, non-curse/sorcerer AU, no uses of y/n. not proofread so i apologize in advance for any mistakes if they’re made.

𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓;; choso’s mind has been spiraling for a couple days now. the fact that you wrote your phone number down on his hand had him going. he wanted to call you. he wanted to text you. but he just couldn’t. in order to be sanitary, he’d write the number down again on a sticky note and scrubbed the ink off his skin. he didn’t have time for a lover…but he felt like making time for you.

₊❏❜ ⋮ part one ⌒

. ݁ ࣪ ، ⌗ masterlist

: ̗̀➛ art creds by;; currently unknown. dividers are not mine, if you own these, you may claim them in comments.

: ̗̀➛ WORD COUNT;; 2.33K

dark mode recommended

do not copy this plot. i’m perfectly fine with inspirations but give creds. if this plot his stolen in any way, the post will be taken down and you will be blocked.

𝐃𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ✉️🖇️;; idk how long this story will stretch but if ya like it,, i’ll make more parts to it. not too many though. i wanna get to geto too (as promised). hope ya enjoyyyy. reblog to support meeee and if you want more :D (also lmk if you wanna be tagged for possible upcoming parts if i decide to continue)

another note: i finally made a masterlist. that shit took me 5 HOURS to make because i was fixing and adding so much stuff. i just wanted it to be pretty. ya should go look at it :P and should i make a AO3??? i see so many writers with them and i was wondering if i should do that too..

final note: guys,, remember this is my personal twist on the mid 90’s era so some things from current time will be put into the story (such as the ability to text without emailing one another or using a pager, familiar current time songs that are added into the 90’s era of this story, certain tv shows/movies that came after the 90’s)

₊❏❜ ⋮ continue to part three ⌒

“choso, we should make the house look like a haunted house!” itadori suggests. october was the season of spooks and scares (as yuji put it) and choso wasn’t into festivities that much but if he had to do it to make his little brother happy, he would do it.

the boys make their way to the nearby department store, letting yuji pick out what decorations should be put up in the house. for a little boy, choso didn’t even even pick up how significantly scary the items were because yuji wasn’t shitting himself out of fear.

“uh…yuji, i know you said you wanted the place to look like a haunted house…are you sure you won’t freak yourself out and start crying?” choso said, stifling his laughter.

“i’m not gonna cry.” yuji crossed his arms. “and i’m not scared of some dumb clowns. they’re just decorations, anyway.”

yuji was more mature than he looked…in the aspect of fear. he was a small boy but things didn’t scare him easily. you could say he’s a risk taker outside his moments of vulnerability. choso knew that he’d might jump back behind him, tightly holding the hem his tan sweater if he saw kechizu. the male finally smiles at the pink haired boy and nods.

“you’re right. they’re fake.” choso says calmly.

as they approach the checkout area, yuji sees the food area. serving simple things like pizza, hotdogs and drinks. the stuff you’d find at a concession stand of a sports game.

“can we get a pizza?” yuji asked. choso paused. he didn’t intend on spending 13 dollars on food from a department store. he had other plans anyway.

“you sure you want that? i was gonna get you a happy meal before we went home.” the male yawned, threading his fingers through his hair. the sudden mention of a happy meal excites yuji like a child on christmas morning.

“never mind, i don’t want pizza.” itadori quickly switches. choso chuckled, knowing how easy it was to get yuji to think about his choices.

“aw, cute kid,” choso heard a voice behind him. the male whipped his head around, his brown hair following along with him, only to see you standing there with a smile.

“is this your little brother?”

choso flushed a red color when he instantly remembered your face, almost making him feel bad for not calling you or texting you since you dropped off your number to him. he was feeling slightly embarrassed.

“uh..yeah, that’s—this is yuji.” he stumbles a bit, trying not to make his embarrassment known. itadori already knows the deal, so he waves at you with a big toothy grin, making you smile and wave back at him.

“um..what’re you doing here?” choso queried, trying to spark a conversation first for once. the male was obviously nervous and you could see his cheeks reddening the more he looked at you. if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he would explode right in front of your eyes.

“shopping, like everyone else,” you teased. “but really, i just gotta pick some stuff up for my mom and then i’ll be on my way.”

your eyes travel over to the shopping cart that yuji was clinging onto, looking at the halloweeny decorations and you smile.

“you don’t seem like the type to be into holidays really,” you start, “did your brother convince you?”

choso also looked at the shopping cart full of stuff and blushed even harder. he was already flustered enough. it couldn’t get any worse than this.

“oh—no..he didn’t,” he chuckled nervously, “i actually really like halloween. the scary shit—stuff…you know, the movies? they’re cool.”

you giggled at choso’s nervous attempts to speak to you about the festivities that he almost never participated in and the quick fix with his mistake of swearing in front of yuji like he wasn’t there.

“oh, so you like horror movies? yeah, you strike me as that kind of guy.” you said. you couldn’t help but notice his medium length hair, just like you had seen the other night when he was working, flowing in the wind that came through as the store doors slowly slid themselves open as customers exited the building.

the male wore an oversized tan sweater with a pair of joggers and some sneakers. you could tell this was a lazy outfit. something you’d call a ‘no one will see me’ outfit.

his eyes were tired and he had a stoic expression, aside from his profuse blushing that began to die down when he finally got the chance to relax, having his hands shoved down into his pant pockets. his irises were so pretty. a pretty shade of purple. you never seen anyone’s eyes look like his before.

the silence prolonged for a moment. the two of you suddenly ran out of things to say. this was perfectly fine for choso. he would’ve lost his mind if he had to keep talking. it wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy talking to you. he was just too scared.

but it wasn’t long before that silence was disturbed.

“my big brother really likes you. he thinks you’re pre—” itadori starts before choso swiftly covers his mouth with his significantly larger hand, making you giggle once more.

“i’m sorry about that…yuji just likes to say random stuff when the silence is too loud for him.” choso said trying to cover up his embarrassment.

“it’s okay,” you smiled at him. your words seemed to ease his nerves a bit but it wasn’t enough to completely calm him down. you glance down at your phone when you feel it vibrate against your thigh.

it’s your mom texting you, asking if you’re on your way back.

“oh, sh—shoot,” you say, quickly fixing your mistake before you actually said it. “i gotta go. my mom just texted.”

choso is quickly snapped out of his embarrassment trance and his head swings over to look at you, his hair following along.

“you’re going?” he asked. through his dead and serious expression, you could see a hint of sadness. a very small change in his usual expression. you nod.

“yeah. but listen, you should call me. you don’t have my number just to stare at it.” you remarked before hurrying off, waving at him as you did.

once you were out of his sight, his eyes quickly struck down to yuji. he looked like he wanted to scold the poor boy for publicly embarrassing him in front of you but he decided against it and his expression softened.

“let’s just get home…” the male sighed.

choso was happy it’s his day off. he got to stay home with his little brother to help decorate their home with terrifying decorations for halloween. choso couldn’t help but smile at yuji’s futile attempts to scare him with the masks from the store.

“come on, you aren’t even a little scared?” yuji removed the mask from his face and shook his head to fix his hair, which was flattened and sticking to his forehead.

“not even in the slightest.” choso chuckled before ruffling itadori’s hair lightly. “what about your friends? you try to scare them yet?”

“megumi is almost never impressed. he’s kinda lame….and out of the question.” yuji hummed. “but i can get nobara. she’s always screaming.”

“well, you can do that tomorrow,” choso yawned, “you gotta get ready for bed soon. you got school in the morning and i don’t want you to be tired and falling asleep in class.”

yuji frowned before he’d hug choso. it took a moment for choso to process the moment, given that he wasn’t too used to being hugged. choso finally hugged the boy back before smiling softly.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

yuji nodded and smiled back at his older brother before making his way to his room.

when yuji had finally gone to sleep, the house was quiet, leaving choso staring at the ceiling with his hair in disarray and an unlit cigarette between his lips all while he laid on the bed, doing maladaptive night dreaming.

‘workin out’ by JID played softly from the small radio that sat on the windowsill. his eyes slowly traveled over to the shoe box that stood out from all the other boxes in his closet. there was a bright yellow sticky note at the top with what seemed to have your phone number on it along with your name.

the male sat up on the bed and walked over to the box, snatching the sticky note from the box then walking over to his laptop that sat on the umber colored desk.

choso opened the laptop and navigated to the facetime app and decided to punch in your number. he could feel his stomach turning as the low adverb jingling sound repeated itself.

while he waited for you to answer, he’d take one of the rubber bands off of his wrist and tie his hair back, leaving his bangs to hang down in his face. he even took the time to fix the violet eyeshadow that he always had around his eyes, staining his fingers each time he touched around his eyelids. and finally, he’d press down on the bandage over his nose to make sure it was still sticking.

you suddenly pick up, finally answering choso’s call. your room was a bit dark like his, except you had your tv going on in the background. it was loud enough for choso to be able to hear.

unlike choso, you were sitting on your bed with your laptop. you had your hair tied up in twin messy buns with a little bit of your hair hanging down in your face. you wore a black spaghetti strap tank top, revealing the tattoo on your shoulder, and a pair of grey joggers with mismatch socks.

“i honestly did not hear this thing going off,” you giggled as you pushed the hair out of your face. you had been downstairs grabbing yourself a drink while choso was calling. “i’m sorry i didn’t answer right away, though.”

“oh..no, it’s fine. you aren’t busy are you?”

“no, not really. i was thinking about finishing this show i was watching. have you heard of american horror story?”

“yeah, i heard of it. i just never got around to watching it. i’d rather watch movies than an ongoing series.” choso explained simply before he’d light his cigarette. you nod, completely understanding his side.

“shit, well, what movies do you recommend? horror movies, since we’re in spooky season.” you flash a cheeky smile at him. choso’s heart skips a beat when you finally ask him what he’s interested in. he pauses and begins thinking, taking drags from his cigarette.

“there’s one movie, i can’t tell you all of em off the top of my head,” he begins, “watch midsommar. it’s kinda disturbing but you might like it.”

“is it gory horror or..?” you ask before taking a sip of your drink as you began to type in the movie name into the search bar in another tab, scrolling through websites to catch any good details about said movie.

“you’ll have to see for yourself,” choso places two of his digits around the cigarette, gently adjusting it between his lips before it could slip out. you realize the longer you talked to him, the more comfortable he seemed to be but you could still see that he was nervous.

“maybe we can see about it together,” you suggest to the male. “whenever you’re free, of course.” you add quickly. all of a sudden, choso is blushing just as he did at the store earlier that day. you thought it was kinda adorable how he could look so disinterested to suddenly flustered and scared so quickly.

“i—well..” choso stammered, “yeah, sure…uh, we can watch tomorrow night when i put my little brother to bed. i don’t want him interrupting anything.”

you giggled, “aw, he’s so cute, though. but i get it. little kids can get in the way of a lot of stuff.”

the two of you conversed for what felt like hours. your voice was soothing to choso. each time you began to speak, he just imagined you calling his name…just once.

your call with choso ended around three in the morning, and your cheeks were pink, smiling to yourself as you remembered the random conversations that you two had not too long ago.

you hadn’t felt like this about a guy in a long time. while men were usually throwing themselves at you, choso was clearly the odd one out. he was a bit shy but assertive and smart.

choso’s voice was deep as it came from the depths of the ocean but his words flowed smoothly like butter when he wasn’t tripping and fumbling with his words trying to hide his embarrassment.

his style, his personality, the way he looked. in your eyes he was perfect but there were a million things stopping you from telling him you loved him.

what if he has a girlfriend already? what if he isn’t ready for a relationship? what if he doesn’t want one? he probably just wants to be friends.

aside from all those thoughts clogging your brain, you were aware that you’d be moving to fast by throwing that L word around loosely when you just met him a couple days ago.

“damn it.” choso sighed to himself.

‘you’re falling for her…but you don’t have time for her. what’re you doing?’ choso was beating himself up about the whole entire situation. another cigarette is taken out of the pack and lightened as he tried to calm his anxiety and spiraling thoughts.

he was going crazy. he didn’t know what he would do. he wanted you out of his head. he was starting to feel stupid for letting you swoon him as easily as you did at the bar.

part of him wished he never met you…

but he needed more of you.

𝐄𝐍𝐃.

⋆｡࿇ ·࣭࣪̇˖ 𖦹°༅༚

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aloekat · 2 months

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giving pokemon teams to d20 characters!

The Bad Kids / Fantasy High!

pt 1/?

part 1 || part 2

hello chat and welcome to aloe shoves their hyperfixation onto everything they enjoy! making pokemon teams for fictional characters has always been a fun past time for me that i enjoy greatly so i wanted to apply that to dimension 20! i plan on doing every season once i’ve watched it, starting with all the intrepid hero seasons before moving on to side quest seasons

(also i finally decided to post these after @jadelion made posts sharing their team picks, so go check those posts out as there are some great choices! i also wouldnt be inspired to finally post these without him doing so first! i made my list completely independent of hers so if there's the same pokemon its purely coincidental lol)

first i want to talk about some guidelines i’ve given myself for this, which will apply to future posts as well:

only 4 pokemon per team - this keeps things more easy and makes them feel closer to mid-game trainers rather than fully stacked end-game ones. or feel like gym leaders maybe? it also helps with rule 2…

try to have no repeat pokemon - this just keeps things unique between seasons but sometimes a pokemon is a perfect fit for more than one person but for the most part everyone gets unqiue pokemon and there are almost no doubles

low to no legendaries on teams unless for a good reason - same goes for shinies but im more lenient on the shiny rule lol

i made a lot of these these like 3 months ago as of posting this - some choices may be outdated or the character has changed enough that a choice may not fit as well but i didnt want to change it lol (this is solely for the fantasy high kids tbh)

thats all for the rules! finally it’s time to get into the teams!

! SPOILERS AHEAD FOR THE CURRENT SEASON! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !

Kristen

Lycanroc - representing Tracker, again i made these before junior year so trackerbees was still a thing but i imagine it can count for cassandra also since it’s a night themed pokemon. don't know which form of lycanroc she would have though Solrock - she was given solrock during her time with Helio, and while i know sunflora exists i think solrock makes a little more sense, since she was a chosen of Helio she would be at an elevated status and therefor have a better pokemon if that makes sense? it also pairs with... Lunatone - representing her change to Cassandra, a goddess of night. there's like cool symbolism with her pokemon now wow isn't that so cool and awesome!! Unown ("?") - a question mark unown to represent Yes? (and the other Yes forms) along with her cool question mark staff! can also ALSO symbolize doubt with cassandra

Fig

Toxitricity (Low Key) - low key form gives the vibes of a bass and Fig plays the bass! toxitricity would help fig practice her instrument and come up with music. also literally called “the punk pokemon”

Obstagoon - similar reasoning, obstagoon has The Vibes that fit along with also being a sort of rock n roll pokemon

Moltres - representing Ayda, i imagine Ayda gifted it to her once they became girlfriends :)

Mimikyu - a pokemon known for its imitation of another pokemon, very much fits into Fig’s actor feat and her high deception and her not wanting to be her real self sometimes

Fabian

Dhelmise - big connection to his father and being a pirate, his father probably gifted it to him as his first pokemon

Marowak (Alolan) - fun idea i had for this is he originally just had a cubone with him during freshman year, but once he went to Fallinel and learned about the power of dance it evolved into an alolan marowak! it's a fire dance pokemon of course he would have it lol

Sirfetch'd - representing his mother and also his general fencing/fighter style that he works with

Tentacruel - just a cool ass water pokemon i feel he would have, also vaguely pirate-y with big kraken vibes

Riz

Pikachu - detective pikachu go brrrrr i imagine he would have gotten a pichu when very young, and it's evolved over time! it would wear a tiny detective hat as well because um i said so

Inteleon - super spy/gun pokemon also go brrrr, very much a reference to his father and just the general super spy-ness of Riz and Pok in junior year especially

Togekiss - ok this one feels very out of place and i forgot why it was here originally BUT i think it's to represent like a guardian angel sort of? again another reference to Pok because i love Pok and think he's very cool

Voltorb - he's the ball. this is a pokeball pokemon. are we starting to connect the dots

Adaine

Politoad - representing Boggy of course, nothing much else to say

Espeon - a very psychic pokemon representing her oracle powers, it would be fun to think that she had an eevee that simply evolved into an espeon once Adaine realized that she in fact was the elven oracle!

Delphox - another powerful psychic pokemon, again this is just vibes and it's a cool pokemon and adaine is a very cool character lol

Audino - these pokemon are known for being able to hear super well and know how their trainers are feeling from listening to their heartbeat. a gift given by Jawbone to help with Adaine's anxiety but still a good member of her team regardless

Gorgug

Archen - "i'm Cloaca, i suck!"

Gogoat - a grassy pokemon which can sorta represent the tree he lives in but also intended to represent Zelda in some ways (again i wrote these before junior year came out). it would help him carry around a lot of scraps for tinkering

Rotom - found in the village near the Nightmare King's forest, this rotom had gotten lost in the forest and, with no tech from solace nearby, couldn't find a way home. gorgug rescued it and lets it inhabit the Hangvan a lot

Rillaboom - another grassy pokemon but this one is also a drummer! can we take a wild guess as to why i picked this one. for it's drumming ability. because. because gorgug is a drummer.

=====

whew ok that's the first season done! i'll probably do unsleeping city next, which will be linked to this post once it's done!

have a better option that would fit a PC better? please tell me i would love to hear everyone's takes on this!

ok that's it that's the post everyone go home now (once again go look at @jadelion for their pokemon team picks!)

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zensations35 · 2 months

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Don't Cheat On Me (Haz/bin)

Yall were warned, here's another haz/bin fic. The hotel gang playing some board games. Vaggie reacts to them cheating. I played with morals and Angel being cute and Alastor being a sneaky bitch. This takes place mid season 1, cuz I wanted Pentious involved! Okay enjoy!

Husk sets the final two drinks on the table, taking care to scoot them far out of the way of the game board. Angel is propped with his elbow on his knee, chin resting on his palm as he concentrates on his next move.

“Alright,” he pinches one of the sheep tokens and moves it from the vale to his farm--which he dubbed ‘Haven’.

“What are you gonna do with all them sheep, Angel?” Husk asks.

“Nothing.”

“You aren’t going to eat them?!” Pentious yawps.

Angel squeaks. “No!”

Vaggie grumbles. “You’re gonna break the game. They’re currency for other shit.”

“Yeah! To be slaughtered!” Angel’s gold tooth winks in frustration.

Charlie, ever the ray of sunshine, even when talking about animal slaughter, picks up a game piece shaped like a human. “It’s to feed the meeples!” She dances it around happily.

Angel frowns. “Fuck the meeples.” He wraps his lower arms protectively around his sheep farm. “They’re my sheep. I can do whateverthefuck I want with them!”

Husk groans. “Rgh, just let Angel keep his damn sheep. We have other food sources for our population.” He flicks through his action cards, ears twitching with every shush of the card.

“Fine…” Vaggie grumbles. “You’re next, Pentious.”

Sir Pentious taps his fang with a bent claw, considering. It makes a soft tip tap tip tap. His eggbois start giving suggestions like “Trade for his sheep!” “Buy more lumber!” “Steal Vaggie’s coins!” Until soon they’re all chanting “STEAL! STEAL! STEAL! STEAL!”

Vaggie saws at her teeth, scrunching up her nose and suppressing another growl.

Charlie turns to her and offers a supportive arm squeeze. Then she looks encouragingly at Pentious and says, “We don’t steal. It’s very wrong.” She waggles a finger. “What should we do instead?”

Sir Pentious attempts to calm his eggs down, clearing his throat. “Yes, well, ahem. Eggbois!” He slithers into a spine-erect position, being commanding as he ever can manage. “We do not steal. That would be,” he cracks a small grin as if trumpets were blaring all around them, “Against the rules!”

Charlie claps, eyes glazed with pride.

Angel rolls his eyes and waves an upper arm, “Then, what are ya gonna do?”

Pentious hums for another long moment, tail swishing. Not surprisingly, one of the eggbois does not seem to take his words to heart. It clambors under the table and…is Vaggie seeing this? Is anyone else seeing this?? The eggboi’s hand pops up on Husk’s side of the table. Husk, who is mid drink, is too distracted to notice. The eggboi swipes several coins and scrambles back to Pentious, depositing it faithfully by his own pile.

Nobody says a word. Nobody else but Vaggie seems to have noticed.

Her mouth opens to warn them about the absolute betrayal taking place but instead, she’s overcome with a completely feral sensation in the core of her sinuses.

“Ih-hih!” Instinct has her hands forming a protective shield over her face, just as her shoulders shudder. “Eip’Sshieu!” her entire body cracks forward and Charlie gasps.

“Vaggie! Are you okay?” she massages the spot on Vaggie’s arm where her girlfriend bumped the table.

“Yeah, fine,” Vaggie waves her off, shooting a daggerlike glare at the clueless eggboi. Her eye narrows at Pentious who is taking his turn. Obviously the eggboi stealing the coins counted as cheating. But did it count as Pentious himself cheating if he didn’t know about it?

Vaggie heaves a sigh. Morals, she was learning, were fickle.

Husk has already decided what to do--two turns ago. He lays down an action card and helps himself to the public lumber market.

All eyes flick to Alastor. His strategy has been the hardest to read. His moves don’t seem to benefit himself much, but he’s made several plays that have changed the course of the game so far.

His red eyes glide over the cards in his clawed hand, his lips in a loose smile. He plucks a card and hands it to Angel. Angel raises the eyebrow above his dark eye and accepts the card. He looks shocked when he sees it.

“What the fuck?” he waves it at him.

Alastor just smiles and shrugs.

“What?” Vaggie swings her head left and right, looking between them both. “What did he give you?”

Angel snorts. “Wouldn’t you like to know, sweetcakes?” he shimmies his shoulders suggestively.

Vaggie clutches her cards tighter. She wishes Alastor would say something. Normally no one can get the guy to shut the fuck up, but during game night, he’s eerily silent.

Charlie nudges her. She needs to take her turn. Vaggie peers down at her spread. Her cards are shit, she’s poor as fuck, and her meeples are isolated and starving.

Charlie sees Vaggie’s shit pit situation and her mouth tips down, the circles of her cheeks bobbing softly. “Oh, Vaggie,” she scrapes a handful of coins together and holds them out. “Do you want some of my gold? I have enough for my turn.”

Vaggie sucks in a breath, the itch more like a stab this time, and she flattens her hand over her face. “H’SHUiew!” she presses her palm firmly to her nose and lips as her shoulders flutter in tune with her throat, “Heig’SGM!”

What the fuck? That counted as cheating?! But Charlie was trying to help.

Rgh! This is a fucking board game!! Not a reason to revisit moral trauma!

A faint but curious hum trickles next to her right ear, where Alastor sits. Her heart skips and she catches a hint of scrutiny behind his flippant smirk.

What is he thinking??

“Vaggie?” Charlie’s voice pulls her from her paranoia.

“Not getting sick, are ya?” Husk grunts.

“Oh please do not infect us!” Sir Pentious drums his fingers together, “I don’t handle illness well at all!”

“I’m fine,” Vaggie snarls, slapping a card down--something barely helpful at all--and calls it a wash.

Charlie pushes a pile of gold into the pot and buys four apples and a sheep. Angel looks dismayed at this and he’s eyeing the last six sheep in the vale.

“Angel…” Husk’s voice is low and gravelly, like coins scraping together, “you really should think about gathering resources for your plot. You don’t even have enough coins for--”

Angel slams down a card: infinite sheep.

Vaggie’s mouth unhinges and she darts her eye at Alastor. The smug on his face says it all: that’s the card he gave Angel. What the fucks?

Angel scoops the rest of the sheep from the vale and places them delicately in his farm. He now owns 80% of the fucking sheep in the goddamn game.

Vaggie glares at Alastor, her hand flying in circles as she speaks, “Why did you give him that? You could have used that on Angel to steal all of his sheep!”

Angel’s hair flops into his dark eye as he gapes at them. “You could do that?” his voice breaks on the last word.

Alastor ignores them, eyes intent on organizing his meeples, apples, and coins by size and color.

Sir Pentious chooses to sell a few things for money--lumber mostly--but he miscounts and an argument sparks between him and Husk about how much lumber Pentious added to the pile.

Vaggie hiccups her next breath, drops the meeple she was organizing, and spills a “Hg’KtSHieW!” into jangled fingers. She grunts, pinching her nose and sniffling. “Can’t we snf just snf start the turn over and--”

“NO!”

The boys both yell together, wings and hood fanning out as they both scramble to grab at the pieces of lumber they’re arguing over.

“Ai’kTChieh!” Vaggie slumps and sighs. This is getting chaotic.

“Do you need some medicine?” Charlie asks, looking for all the world, more helpless than Vaggie herself.

Vaggie waves her away with a stuffy sniffle, “Seriously, I’m fine.” It wouldn’t help anyway. What Vaggie needs is a break and--

Something enters her field of vision. Right under her nose, a rose colored cloth held by Alastor, of course. He smirks at her, teeth bared, glassy eyes dark and discerning.

Vaggie snatches the handkerchief out of his hand making sure he feels the anger in her shaking fist, but it only seems to amuse him further.

Shitass.

Does he know? Like…know know?

Rgh! She snarls her noseblow as rough and messily as she possibly can into his stupid fucking hanky, then wads it up and offers it back to the Radio Demon.

His grin doesn’t falter one centimeter. Before the cloth can penetrate his personal space, it dissolves into a pool of smoky shadow, leaving Vaggie grasping black air.

UGH! I can’t even spite him!

A clicking static whines from the Radio Demon and he turns back to the game. He’d better not be fucking laughing at her.

It’s Alastor’s turn and again he chooses generosity--this time toward Husker, who just lost his turn to bad luck.

Alastor plays a sheep pass card where all of his sheep will be traded for all but one of Husk’s cards. Husk accepts, stating “my cards’re shit anyway.”

And it’s back to Vaggie. She’s still in a Not Great situation with her farm. Her only cards are to trade lumber for sheep--which no one will go for since Angel is a fucking hoarder and pickings are slim--or to buy stuff at the market, which--

“Hih-ih!” F-fuck! Her eye rolls up, squinting through a tear as her teeth chit into a snarl. “HgtNGSH!”

“What the fuck, Pentious!”

“I did nothing!” the snake insists.

Angel puffs out his chest. “Oh yeah? Well I saw ya! You stole one of my sheep!”

“I did no such thing!”

“Then why do you have a sheep. You didn’t have any on your turn.” Angel points at the lone sheep in Pentious’s farm.

“My ssspecial ability allows me to--”

“Give me that!” Angel swipes the sheep out of his farm without waiting for his explanation.

Pentious’s hood fans, his tongue flicking out, irate. “How dare--”

“Ih-Shieu!” Vaggie’s elbows stab into the knobs of her knees and she heaves a breath.

“Hey! That’s mine!” Angel’s screech and scrambling is half-ignored at this point as Vaggie firmly tents her hands in a triangle over her mouth and nose. She’s had enough.

Husker joins the fray in an attempt to cool the brawl but the snake and spider won’t relinquish their stolen pieces.

Charlie tries to step in, explaining why this is wrong and how to apologize but she can hardly get a word in. Alastor continues to sit calmly with his smile, looking giddily around the table as if he had just been served a feast.

Vaggie feels the pull of another tickle and she snarls. She throws herself to her feet and hollers, “Stop fucking cheating!”

Everyone pauses, Angel’s body stretched halfway across the table, Husk holding Pentious’s arms back, Charlie’s hands clasped together in plea. They all look at Vaggie.

Then, “He started it!” all three boys say in unison.

“These games are about following rules! Not cheating! The only ones in this whole game who haven’t cheated are Husk and Alastor! If you can’t manage to do better than the fucking Radio asshat, then…” her eye flicks to Charlie and her heart plinks in her throat.

Charlie looks hurt. The gold of her eyes splashed like sunrise reflected off the ocean.

Fuck. Vaggie just accused her of cheating. And she compared her morals to Alastor. Shit fuck shit fuck. And Alastor is just sitting there, kicking his feet, staring at them with his chin in his palm as if he’s watching a show.

“RGH!”

Vaggie whirls and storms off, clattering through the double doors and slamming them behind her.

“Jeez,” Angel slumps back in his chair. “It’s just a--”

Husker cuts him off with a palm chop. “If you say it’s just a game, I’m gonna take all of your damn sheep and feed them to the snake’s eggs.”

Angel’s lips tighten and he moves protectively around his farm pen.

Charlie looks toward where Vaggie left and sighs. “I need to go after her. She’s upset.”

“Looks like you’re upset too, sweet cheeks.” Angel draws a circle around Charlie with his lower hand.

Husk smacks him and shoos Charlie. “You do you. We’ll figure this shit out. Trust me,” he turns a scrunched snarl toward the misbehaving duo, “I got plenty of experience with cheating fools.”

Vaggie sits on a couch, arms wrapped around herself. If she had told Charlie sooner, this wouldn’t be an issue. She just…

Can’t risk losing her. Can’t risk being abandoned. Having no one…

She shudders and takes a calming breath. Pushes it out of her mind.

No one suspects, right? There’s no proof even if they do. She’s safe. All Vaggie needs to do is--

The door creaks open and Charlie’s head appears between the wood.

“Hey Vaggie~”

Vaggie pushes at her eye and sniffs, “Hey.”

Charlie closes the door and carefully shuffles toward her girlfriend. “I’m so sorry for…well, all of that.”

“No, I’m sorry!” Vaggie takes her by the shoulders, “I was being stupid. I just…” she drops her hands and rubs one over her thigh, “I see the worst in people, I guess.”

Charlie’s silver lids lower and she bites her lip. “What do you mean?”

Vaggie sweeps the cup of her palm down her arm. “I…” she wants to tell her. She should tell her. Fuck fuck FUCK why is this so hard?! Charlie’s all about redemption!

Yeah. Redemption of sinners. Not you.

The confession dries up on Vaggie’s tongue. “I--I ruined the game.”

Charlie snorts, “You didn’t ruin anything,” she lets out a small giggle, “When I was leaving, I heard Alastor played Reverse Slaughterhouse. It kills everyone’s meeples based on how many sheep they had in their farms. So…”

Vaggie groans. “Everyone but him had sheep. Because he gave his all away.”

“Eeeeyeah.”

Vaggie has several words she could say, but she just bursts out laughing.

Charlie’s eyebrows fly up. “What’s so funny?”

Vaggie cackles, “Alastor didn’t cheat to win. He didn’t need to.”

Charlie smiles at her and drapes herself across her girlfriend. “You’re adorable, you know?”

Vaggie snorts. “You’re the only one allowed to say that. Ever.”

Charlie nuzzles her and breathes cheerily, “I know.”

#yall this was so much fun #i kept asking myself what angels would be allergic to??#and i was like fuck it #gotta be lying or cheating #and BOY DO I LOVE BOARD GAME SLICE OF LIFE SHIT #So had to go with that idea #i just love how i got to bring out everyone's personality here wuhhh it was nice #snz #snzfic #snz fic #zen fanfic #haz/bin #va/ggie #allergies

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crossbowking · 2 years

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Lines We Cross

Summary: (Set early season 4) A close call brings out a fiery side to Daryl.

Request: First of all I LOVE YOU SO MUCH❤️❤️❤️ My request is with this one we got right here... Angry Daryl. Since this scene was one of the best angry Daryl moments👀 - @sweatywildpanda (GIF selected below)

A/N: And I love YOU! Thanks for the request! Angry Daryl makes my stomach go LAKSDFJLKSDFHAKS lol this scene is so amazing, but I decided to switch it up a little to incorporate the Reader :)

Hope you like it!

xx Jess

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"Bob, let it go!”

"Let it go, man! Just let it go!"

“Let go of the bag, man!”

You gnashed your teeth together, attempting to readjust your vice-like grip around Bob's ankle as the others continued their pleas around you.

The upper half of the man's body hung precariously off the side of the walkway your group teetered on, a ferocious hoard of walkers having formed just below, pulling on one strap of his backpack — Bob continued to hold desperately onto the second, the other’s shouts unheard amongst the roar of the dead.

Tyreese knelt beside him then, attempting to shake off the dead’s grasp while Michonne stabbed her katana downward, trying to fend off the growing herd one by one.

"I'm losing him!" you cried out, feeling him slowly begin to slip away.

"Drop the damn thing, Bob!" the archer's voice suddenly sounded, cutting through the noise as he dropped beside you, grabbing onto the waistband of the man's pants and tugging backward.

The struggle ensued until finally, you felt the tension give way, allowing you and Daryl to pull Bob back onto the safety of the walkway. You fell onto your backside with a huff, your fingertips feeling fuzzy as you stretched them out, hissing softly from the strain.

A hand appeared in front of you then, calloused, dirt-stained, familiar. “Hey, ya good?” Daryl rasped as you took his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you nodded, slightly out of breath before you turned to look at Bob.

His bag — the one that’d nearly cost him his life — was now held close to his chest, his arms wrapped around it protectively as he shifted somewhat nervously back and forth.

“What the hell, man?” Daryl broke the silence, taking a step toward him.

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed, Bob — what were you thinking?” Michonne interjected, much calmer than the archer, her brow furrowed with concern.

Tyreese inserted himself between Michonne and Bob, holding his hands out. “Listen, this conversation can wait — we need to get back to our people, get these meds in them,” he reasoned.

“Ty’s right — we can talk about this later,” you nodded, stepping forward and shooting Daryl a look, urging him to let it go.

The archer hesitated briefly before relenting, pushing past Bob without another word and heading towards where he'd dropped his crossbow moments ago.

Bob glanced back at you, his expression twisted in what looked like guilt and you felt a pang of pity. "It's okay," you tried to reassure him, shooting the man a tight-lipped smile.

He simply hung his head as he turned to follow the others.

But then, as Bob readjusted his hold around the bag he'd clung to, the unmistakable sound of glass clinking echoed from its confines.

You froze, mid-step, as the others whipped around and stared back at Bob in utter disbelief. A moment of stillness stretched between you before Daryl suddenly stormed back towards the shell-shocked man, his expression skewing, turning nearly animalistic as he reached for the bag.

Except when the archer grabbed it, Bob didn’t let go — instead, the man jerked it in the other direction, leading to a very brief “tug-of-war” of sorts. You could see Daryl growing more frustrated, Bob more desperate, and quickly stepped forward to mediate the situation.

“Hey, hey, come on!” you tried to intervene, placing a hand on Bob’s shoulder from behind him.

Although when the man yanked the bag back once again, this time with even more force, the strap Daryl held slipped from his grasp. The momentum forced Bob to collide into you, sending you careening backward towards the edge of the walkway, a swarm of the dead just beneath. Your arms flailed, lungs seized, as you teetered on the lip of the rusted metal with a strangled gasp, fighting futilely for balance.

But gravity did what it did best.

And so you squeezed your eyes shut, and in the next moment, you were falling.

Except when the ground never rushed up to meet you, your eyes snapped open.

It wasn’t until then that you felt it — a hand, wrapped around your own, suspending you in mid-air.

Calloused, dirt-stained, familiar.

A gasp flew past your lips as you were suddenly yanked back onto the walkway, crashing into the archer’s solid chest. You grabbed onto the front of his vest, your legs feeling wobbly as the reality of what almost just happened rocked through you.

Daryl gripped his fingertips around either of your arms, studying you somewhat frantically as you steadied in his grasp.

The pressure beneath his touch grounded you further.

“I’m —” you heaved, still unable to catch your breath. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” you managed, nodding shakily, unsure of who you were trying to convince.

The archer’s expression shifted then, darkened, in a way you’d never seen before — then he whirled around, his back now to you. “You stupid son of a bitch,” he snarled, crossing to Bob in two long strides and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

“Daryl, don’t —” Michonne attempted to intervene, though her words fell on deaf ears.

“Ya could a’ fuckin’ killed her!” the archer growled, giving Bob a rough shake.

“It was an accident — I didn’t mean — I swear —” Bob fumbled for the right words, glancing at you from over Daryl’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m —”

“Save it,” Daryl hissed sharply, yanking away the bag still in Bob’s grasp and pushing past him, pulling the top open and peering inside. He stilled, scoffing harshly as he reached in and pulled out a bottle of liquor.

You felt your stomach twist — you’d nearly lost your life over a cheap, half-drunken bottle of whiskey.

“Got no meds in your bag? Jus’ this?” the archer rasped, betrayal laced around the words.

The resounding silence that followed was the only answer needed.

Daryl shook his head in disbelief. “Ya should a’ kept walkin’ that day,” he growled.

He held Bob’s remorseful stare a moment longer before turning from him, gripping the neck of the bottle, and cocking his arm back — but right before he could launch it over the side of the walkway, Bob suddenly spoke.

“Don’t,” he warned, shifting so his hand hovered over the gun strapped against his waist — he had only moved an inch or so, but the intent was clear.

Michonne and Tyreese’s attention snapped towards Bob, equal looks of bewilderment in their gazes, like they couldn’t believe what they were seeing. You felt a swell of anger rise in your chest, turning your skin red-hot, prickling beneath the surface. The hunting knife you kept tucked in the sheath around your thigh slid into your hand.

Daryl, on the other hand, didn’t even seem phased by the minuscule threat. He stalked towards Bob like a feral animal, closing the distance between them, eyes narrowed, chest puffed, as though daring him to make another move. He grabbed Bob’s gun from its holster and you almost wondered if the archer would put a bullet in him for even considering what had crossed his mind — but instead, he gripped onto the collar of Bob’s shirt once more, looking a moment away from losing what little restraint he had left.

“Just let it go, Daryl,” Tyreese spoke up before the tension could spill over. “The man made his choice. Nothing you can do about it — just gotta let it go.”

“I didn’t want to hurt nobody,” Bob hung his head, shaking it sadly, unable to make eye contact with anybody. “It was just for when it gets quiet.”

You let out a shaky breath, catching Daryl’s eye from over Bob’s shoulder. Something flickered over his expression — resolve, maybe even understanding. But his features hardened quickly as he pressed the bottle against Bob’s chest. “Ya take one sip before those meds get in our people…” he threatened, leaning forward until they were practically nose to nose. “I will beat your ass into the ground,” he growled harshly, giving him a quick shove. “Ya hear me?”

No one spoke as Daryl’s threat hung in the air before one of the dead hanging out of the window you’d escaped through let out a low moan.

It was time to go.

Michonne and Tyreese began climbing off of the walkway, staying hidden from the cluster of walkers still huddled on the opposite side. Daryl tucked Bob’s gun into the waistband of his jeans before motioning you forward. You side-stepped around Bob, who remained rooted in place, his eyes downcast in shame.

When you got to the archer’s side, you glanced at him, seeing worry behind the detached facade he usually wore. You could tell he wanted to say something, but it seemed like he couldn’t find the right words — you wanted to reassure him you were fine but your voice was lost somewhere inside your chest.

So instead, you began maneuvering your way down the walkway.

You let out a sigh of relief when your feet finally touched solid ground, still feeling shaky from what happened moments ago. You snuck around the side of the Veterinary College and met up with the others, Daryl and Bob following close behind.

The group took off without another word, walking in silence, each lost in their thoughts. You were heading in the direction of the old factory building down the road — the minivan you’d found at the service station parked just outside.

When you felt a presence suddenly at your side, you didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“Ya alright?” came Daryl’s gruff voice, soft enough that only you could hear it.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye before focusing ahead. “I’m okay,” you nodded, kicking at a stray rock with the toe of your boot. “Thank you for — well — you know,” you trailed off, not needing to specify.

You’d be dead if it weren’t for him, plain and simple.

The archer merely grunted, never having been one to accept gratitude easily.

You looked at him once more. “Are you alright?” you asked pointedly — you were familiar with Daryl’s anger, his short-temper. It was a defining trait of his but back on the walkway…he’d almost lost control.

Daryl’s jaw tightened, like a fresh wave of fury washed over him. He shrugged a shoulder up, mumbling something under his breath. When you remained quiet, he peeked a look at you, regarding you seriously. “I would a’ killed him, ya know.”

Your footsteps faltered, the archer trailing to a stop beside you. The other’s slowed up ahead, only continuing when you motioned for them to carry on. You faced him head on then, concern evident in your features as he rubbed the back of his neck, albeit awkwardly, like he realized he said too much.

“Daryl —”

“S’ true,” he interrupted, his words carrying more conviction. “If you’d — if ya went over or —” he shook his head as though just the idea of it was too much to bear. “I would a’ killed him.”

A soft sigh slipped past your lips as you lowered your eyes. Part of you wished you disagreed, but an even bigger part of you understood where he was coming from — if you lost Daryl, if anything ever happened to him…you weren’t exactly sure what you’d do.

You met his gaze. “I’m okay,” you reiterated, more gently this time.

Daryl studied your expression, something inscrutable flashing over his face before he ducked his head down, nodding once. “Good,” he murmured before looking up and flicking away the hair that fell over his face. “Let’s keep it tha’ way.”

You fought back the smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth, standing up straight and mock-saluting him. “Sir, yes, sir.”

The archer snorted a breath, some of the tension he carried fading. “Smartass,” he rasped, though the flicker of amusement that flashed over his features sent your heart thrumming. “C’mon,” he reached out then and grabbed your shoulder, squeezing softly, before nudging you forward after the others.

You could’ve sworn you still felt his touch — long after he let go.

Fin.

A/N: Thank you for your patience, everyone! I know I haven't written for Daryl in a while - branching out into other fandoms (specifically Stranger Things!) has really helped me get back into the swing of writing. But even if I don't write for Daryl as much anymore, he still has a very special place in my heart (alongside Eddie Munson now because lawddddd have mercy)

Anywho, I hope you enjoyed this one! It was supposed to be a 200 word drabble but somehow transformed into a 2k word fic lol but I appreciate all of you!

P.S. Feedback is incredibly important. I write for my own happiness, but I also write for YOU. So don’t be afraid to shoot me an ask or leave a comment with your thoughts! It truly motivates me and helps move along the writing process. Also, please consider donating to my Tip Jar. Every little bit helps!

Daryl Tag List

@hope-walker @mundieoriley @cameronsails @sweatywildpanda @fuseburner @mikahowl @hanaissunshine @ellerelly @winchester-angel @death-becomes-her @angelwithglasswings @alwaysananglophile @just-always-tired @florqnces @unlockyourmind-wp @detectivejuliuspepperwood @whitexwingedxdoves @maybebetter @for-the-love-of-dean-and-daryl @sarahbaker2010 @dftblood @normansbabygirl

(I'm redoing my tag list so if you'd like to be added for notifications on future stories, please let me know!)

#twd daryl #twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl x reader #daryl #daryl x you #twd fanfiction #twd fic #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fic #crossbowking #norman reedus #reader insert

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xxshamelesslovexx · 2 months

Text

Mickey: Lights a cigarette 🚬 while he and Ian talk.

Ian: Stares at his 💯💯 greedy, bratty, barbarian💯💯 Bottom hogging the cigarette 🚬🚬. Then stares openly at the cigarette 🚬🚬 with longing.

Mickey: 💯🚬💯🚬 Still hogging the cigarette. 🚬💯🚬💯

Ian: 😶😐🙄😮‍💨 Is low-key annoyed that his Bottom is being greedy. 😤😡🤬 Flexes his inner Dom/Top/Daddy and tries to take the cigarette 🚬 out of Mickey's mouth mid drag.

Mickey: Flinches dramatically and swats his hands in an adorably aggressive way before he takes another drag from it and finally passes the cigarette 🚬 to his Dom/Top/Daddy.

Ian: Low-key laughs at his Bottom's reaction while suggesting that Mickey go to Community College. Finally takes a drag from THEIR cigarette. 🚬

Mickey: "Why the fuck are we talkin' about community college right now? Jesus Christ, you wanna spread a blanket out and look for shooting stars next?" (season 7 foreshadowing 😍🫠😍🤤🥰🥰🥰😘😘💯💯💯)

Ian and Mickey: Belches at the same exact time. 🤣😂😋🫢🤗🤭🥰💯

Ian: Wants to be a good Dom/Top/Daddy and tries to help Mickey.

Ian: "I could talk to Linda."

Mickey: "I'm sorry, you want me to work at the place I got shot?"

Ian: 🫥😶‍🌫️🤐Remembers that one time when one of his casual Bottoms shot his brand new Bottom over Ian and a Snickers Bar. Remembers choosing Mickey over Kash, and remembers holding Mickey's face, neck, and head in his hand. 😣😖😢😥😟😓😓

Ian: "Redemption Tale."

.......

Mickey: Can sense that his Dom/Top/Daddy just wants to take care of him and spend time with him. Finally gives in to Ian.

Mickey: "Do whatever you want, man. You brought it up."

Ian: Looks at Mickey with big love sick eyes because Mickey finally gave in without much fuss and decides that he will absolutely talk Linda into hiring his Bottom.

Ian: "Alright"

#shameless #shameless us #shameless season 2 #ian gallagher #ian being mickey's badass dom top daddy #top ian #mickey milkovich #bottom mickey #brat mickey #barbarian mickey #gallavich

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dk-wren · 6 months

Text

A Buddy Daddies' Halloween

School and work have been slamming me yet again, so unfortunately could not write a fic for today (on top of the pile of wips I still need to finish). But, I really wanted to do a little drabble/throwing out of ideas for what a Halloween with the Kurusu/Suwa/Unasaka family might look like.

I hope you enjoy and happy Halloween!

It's their first Halloween at their new home and at the Diner's Nest

Kazuki and Rei get a notice from the city council that as a local business, they are invited to participate in a Halloween event similar to the one that takes place in the 3rd CD drama (i.e. kids visit local business to essentially go trick or treating)

Determined to make a good impression with their new community, Kazuki decides that they are gonna go all out: decorate the restaurant, have specialty food items, and only hand out the best and biggest candy bars

After Miri returns from school that day, the family takes a trip to the local dollar/general store to search for some decorations

They all go off in their own direction and reconvene later: Miri found pumpkin decorating kits, Kazuki found some banners and streamers, and Rei wandered down the "scary" section for decorations, and returned with a few statues that are very terrifying and gory looking (at least to a fairly young child)

Kazuki reminds Rei that the trick or treaters are trying to scare them, not the other way around. But, he eventually relents and agrees to get one of the decorations Rei found so that the decorating process can truly be a whole family effort (and on the agreement that it will sit in the back corner of the restaurant)

Once they finish shopping for decorations, Miri says they need to look for their Halloween costumes

Miri picks out another princess dress and she makes Papa Kazuki and Papa Rei match with her, with Kazuki getting a jester costume and Rei getting a knight costume

Over the next few days, the family spends time getting the Diner's Nest prepared for Halloween. Kazuki is also testing out how to put a Halloween spin on a few of their dishes. His proudest moment is when he figures out the right amount of pumpkin spice to add for a delicious, seasonal pumpkin french toast

Halloween finally comes and the front-facing decorations and pumpkins are inviting and loved by all those who stop in at the Diner's Nest.

The regulars try out the handful of dishes Kazuki developed (and Rei and Miri approved) and enjoy the hidden, little corner decorated around the scary statue Rei found, especially when compared to the cuter decorations seen throughout the rest of the restaurant

It's around mid-afternoon when they run out of candy to give to trick or treaters, causing Kazuki to panic slightly. Rei comes up with the solution to bake some cookies or cupcakes that they can start handing out instead.

After they close up the diner, Kazuki and Rei get into their costumes and take Miri out to go trick or treating in the local neighborhood

Miri gets a bunch of candy, with some families giving her a little extra to share with her papas

Upon returning home, Kazuki agrees to ordering a pizza for dinner. Then, they watch a Halloween movie together while eating their pizza, with Rei and Miri digging into the candy stash afterwards

Kazuki tries to limit how much sugar the two of them eat, but knows how much both of them looked forward to Halloween and wants them to enjoy it

Rei and Miri eventually crash on the couch while they are on their third or fourth movie. Kazuki knows he should probably move everyone to their bedrooms, but he's pretty tired himself. And also, it's been a while since they've had a family nap/cuddle like this. Kazuki is pretty sure he'll regret letting them all sleep out there in the morning, but that's a problem for later. Soon, he too is asleep with the rest of his family on the couch.

#buddy daddies #buddy daddies headcanon #i guess?#halloween #drabble #kazuki kurusu #rei suwa #miri unasaka

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bvbygrl-writes · 5 months

Text

Summer Lovin': Chapter 1

Pairing: Dilf!Draco Malfoy x Blaise's Daughter!Reader

Series Summary: After years of being unhappy and doing what everyone else thinks is best, Draco decides to finally learn what he wants in life. Little did he know what he wants would walk in wearing a cute little dress.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Age gap (Draco is in his 30s reader is 18), unhappy marriage, reader is black, a bit of drinking

A/N: I haven't written a series in a while so brace yourself. If this chapter does well then I'll continue with it but if not I'll probably just drop this in the vault.

THIS FIC WILL BE 18+!!! MINORS / ACCOUNTS WITHOUT AGE DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED WITH NO WARNING BUT THIS ONE.

Draco could say with certainty that his marriage with Astoria was loveless from the beginning. From the outside, it looked like the perfect marriage, the perfect life. He was wealthy, his wife was beautiful, and they had a son who had grown into a lovely young man. But, if he had a choice in the way his life had gone, it wouldn’t have been like that. From the time he was a young boy till the time he was an adult, he had practically every decision made for him. He had hoped after Hogwarts, after he distanced himself from his father a bit more, he would have the rest of his life to figure out what he wanted to do. His likes, his passions, his interest for something outside of pureblood society or whatever agenda his father had pushed on him.

But over time, he had grown a distaste for the way his life was. While Scorpius was still growing up, he and Astoria had a common goal and interest: making sure their son grew up to be a well rounded individual. While their marriage and practically their whole lives were orchestrated, they made sure to give their son something they never had, his own choices and options. However, as he got older and started to attend Hogwarts, their attention had to be focused on one another and what they came to find out is that they couldn’t be any more different.

Constant fights, arguments about little petty things were the only things they could throw at each other (besides the dishware). If it wasn’t one thing, it was another and if Draco was honest, he couldn’t stand Astoria. Her laugh, the rude way she’d speak to the house staff, and constantly bringing up the stupidest of things that happened when they were still in school however many years ago. It was though she was still a rotten and nasty little girl instead of being in her mid 30s as they were. He found himself drinking quite a bit just to tune out the sound of her droning on and on about something he couldn’t give a singular fuck about.

“Did you hear me, Dray? This is important! The elves didn’t add enough salt into the soup so-”

“Add your own fucking salt then, Astoria! Are you so incompetent that you can’t even add your own salt into the meal? The soup tasted bloody fine to me.” he groaned, standing from the table. It was a long, dark oak table that seemed to go on for eternity. They both sat on separate ends and even then, it still didn’t feel like he was far enough. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he began to pace back and forth, sighing as he tried to calm down. A deafening silence fell over the room. He kept praying to a force that something, anything would end this moment.

And like clock work, in came his owl with the daily post. He stroked under its chin affectionately before grabbing the mail. With most of them, he read who the sender was and just tossed it onto the table. But one caught his eye. It was sealed with a dark blue wax with the initials B.Z pressed into it. A barely noticeable smile made its way into his face as he walked a few feet away from the table, ripping open the letter. The smile grew more and more as he read the contents.

Dear Draco,

How’ve you been, mate? I’ve been quite busy and I apologize for me and my small family for not being able to attend your residence during the Christmas season like you requested. However, my wife will be out for the summer visiting her family so I thought it’d be nice if you came to visit the manor and we can catch up like old times. Plus, from the sounds of it in your last letter, you’re very much overdue for a vacation of your own.

Your friend, Blaise Zabini

“Rue!” Draco called out. The elf in questioning came scurrying around the corner, bowing before the man. “I’ll need you to pack up a few suitcases, I need about 3 months worth of clothing. Please and thank you.” the elf nodded, running off quickly with a few ‘right away sir’s and ‘a pleasure sir’s as he disappeared up the stairs.

“Three months?! Where do you think you’re going?” Astoria shrilled, standing up to cling to his arm. She had an overly dramatic pout on her face, lips quivering as fake tears appeared in the corner of her eyes.

“Away from you!” he yelled before sighing. None of this was her fault. She was forced into this connection as much as he was. He gently removed her hands from his body before turning to face her. “Astoria, let’s be honest with ourselves….neither of us are happy. We’ve been at each other's throats for years and if it wasn’t for Scorpius, the two of us would have separated years ago. I’m going away for the summer to spend some time with Blaise to have fun for once and I hope in this time you have some fun too.” his voice was full of sincerity and deep down, she knew he was right. So without another word she offered him a tight lip but understanding smile, walking off towards one of the many living rooms in the house.

“Your bags are packed, Master Malfoy.”

Draco sighed in relief as he stood on the porch of his dear friend’s manor. It was made of light stone and marble, a nice change from the darker style of his own home. He reached forward to use the door knocker but was shocked as the door popped open revealing a familiar face.

“Malfoy. I wasn’t sure if you were going to come or not but I had a room prepared for you anyways. Lyra, fetch a bottle of the good scotch, will you?” he yelled, turning around and beginning to walk further into the house. Draco followed behind him, admiring the carvings on the border of the ceiling. After a few minutes of walking, they reached a living room. It had many windows causing the room to be well lit with natural lighting. But what caught his eye was the set of double doors. Outside appeared to be a garden with lots of greenery and an outdoor dining area.

“I’m impressed, Zabini. I didn’t know you had taste at all.” he chuckled, sitting down on the soft white couch. Blaise scoffed at his words, chuckling as he poured their scotch into two crystal glasses.

“As much as I’d love to take credit for this, a lot of this was the doings of Pansy and (Y/n). She was just starting Hogwarts when we moved here and we wanted her to feel at peace when she was away from the stress of school. It’s crazy to think she’s all done with it now.” Draco hummed at his words, sipping on the scotch. It was nice and smooth. He made a note to ask him about it at a later time. “Oh! Speaking of (Y/n), it seems her summer plans fell through and she’ll be here for the next few months. I hope that’s alright. Although, with the size of the house I doubt we’ll see her much but for meals.”

“That’s quite alright. I haven’t seen my ‘niece’ in quite some time. I believe she was six or so, still asking for us to check for the monsters under her bed." They both laughed at that. (Y/n) was a sweet and bright young girl. When the two families lived closer together, Scorpius and her would often have playdates together. (Y/n) would always call him Uncle Dray, begging to spend the night just so she could spend a bit longer with her favorite ‘uncle’.

“I’ll call her down so we can all catch up. (Y/n), princess, we have a guest!” Blaise called, his voice echoing off the walls. The room went silent for a bit before a faint ‘Coming, Dad!’ could be heard along with a set of footsteps clambering above them. The sound trailed from one end of the ceiling to the other before bouncing steps could be heard from the stairs.

Draco chuckled, sipping on his scotch which he soon began to regret as he choked on it a bit. His gray eyes practically bulged from his head at the girl, no, woman who was standing before them. Was this really the same girl, his little (Y/n/n)? This couldn’t be the same little girl he helped raise, the same one who always needed a flashlight in order to sleep, the one that’d fall asleep in his lap when he was finished braiding her curly hair. His eyes raked over her appearance. She took after her father in terms of complexion, rich brown skin but he had no idea who she had gotten that body from. It most certainly wasn’t Pansy’s. And her eyes? They were the most lovely shade of (e/c) he had ever seen. She had a set of fresh braids that complimented her face well and along with the bright yellow dress she was wearing…she looked nothing short of a doll. He felt his chest grow tight and his nose burned from the alcohol that had managed to make its way back up a bit. The summer had barely begun but he knew it was going to be the best one he’d had in a while.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x black reader #draco malfoy x black!reader #draco malfoy x poc reader #draco malfoy x poc!reader #poc!reader #poc reader #black!fem!reader #black!reader #black reader #x black reader #xblack!reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader

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tawus · 4 months

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LKDJSLDDJHSJKHUSHDKJSHVIUSHFJKSNVJKSBJKVSUHFUSDHJSFHJSHVKJSHFKJSHJSHFUIEPEIQFIOEUJDCKJFHEIUHKCBJHDUBCDVHJKSNKJEHJXCNDKJHIUHUKVHUSUYWGRUEKBKJSNCJMJIUWHKBHSFBJHSGIDHSFHDHUHQIUDHWIUDHIUHDIUQHDIUHQDIUQHDIUDHQKDHKQHDIUQHDUIQUHDDJBKJWDBJKBDJKQBJVOHWIURYEOQJRIWHWUIFIWUWUHSZNCJBSIFHOIJDFOUW

OH MY GOD! This year has been a rollercoaster for me. Mid-terms were kicking my butt, I attended my grandfather’s funeral, then finals showed up out of nowhere to drag me back to hell. I apologize in advance for the grammar. 😣

Edit however you like, I won't mind and I hope that you enjoy reading~! :D

HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY TO TAWUS & SATORU~<3

It was the day after Christmas, December 25th, 2017. Geto Suguru’s death was confirmed and you can help but feel a heavy burden in the air despite the freshly romantic season.

Now, you’re sitting in front of Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer of the modern era, who’s also your husband. Eating lunch with your lover seems to be the same as it generally goes. He was rambling on and on about trying new sweets for the upcoming new year. It seemed as if the death of Geto didn’t affect him as much, but you knew better.

Back when he came home, he just leaned into you, holding you tight. Like a child clinging onto their mother and never wanting to let go.

You held him for the rest of the night as you both slept. Giving him the love, kisses, cuddles, and healing that he wants, deserves and needs. You don’t comment on the droplets of water that shimmer like starlight as they dampen your shirt in the moonlight. Neither his pupils, that were empty like the void. Silent love comforted the both of you as you bathed in each other’s tender embrace on that somber night.

After a few hours of needed slumber, it seemed like last night's waterworks didn’t happen at all. The man in front of you was acting jolly as usual.

“-be? Babe? You there? Oooooiiiiii~?”

“Huh? What?”

“So you weren’t listening to me. I know that you find me captivating and all but you still shouldn’t space out like that when you're listening to someone sweetheart~. Especially if it’s your one and only lover~<3.”

You don’t need him to take off his bandages when you know full well that he’s wiggling his eyebrows underneath them. Letting out a sigh as you chuckled to yourself. His boasting can be cocky at times, but you can’t help but find it endearing. If anything it’s that suave voice of his that can be irritating.

“Sorry about that Satoru, I was just thinking of …… some things. That’s all.”

“Oh~? And what might that be my beloved?”

Satoru noticed that you were feeling a bit nervous but he lets you take your time to speak as he motions his body language to encourage you to tell him what’s on your mind.

“Here. I–I know that it’s already past your birthday and I know it’s late but I wasn’t going to wait for another year to pass by to give you this. Yes, I know that I made cake for you but it felt like I didn’t exactly give you my full efforts. So I made you these instead.”

You took out a black blindfold that had an initial mark that’s stitched bold. On the outside of the fabric it had the name of the person receiving the gift in Kanji, 五条悟.

“Is that? *LE GASP~* Babe! I didn’t realize that you were into that! Oh you naughty little–~”

“Oh my gosh! It’s not like that at all you idiot! I’ve been seeing that you’ve only been using bandages to cover up six-eyes. Putting those bandages on and off again must’ve been tiring and time consuming for you to do that. So I’ve decided to make a blindfold for you to help you with your troubles.”

Getting up, walking over to your husband, you took off the bandages that he wore and put the handmade gift over his head. Nuzzling the fabric to cover his eyes and forehead, combing his hair with your fingers to lift it out his vision of sight. He looked like a paint brush now, you’re not gonna lie.

“The fabric is a mix between polyester & cotton. I did some research on the differences between both fabrics. Turns out while polyester is stronger and a more stretchable fabric than cotton, cotton is more breathable. The pros of both fabrics is that they’re both hydrophobic. Both fabrics were good so I had to go to a store that sold a cotton-polyester blend roll of both fabrics to make this blindfold. I’ve … also made you these gloves.” (Got inspired by the 3rd Picture)

You took out a pair of dark gray gloves, designed with vertical ripple line patterns that went down between each knuckle. A fancy classic wrist strap connected on top with a silver ring to hold the strap. Cladding your beloved's hands, you felt his warm touch and saw the apparent veins as evidence of his hard work as the strongest. Taking a step back to admire the gloves on his person, you put your hands on your hips feeling quite proud of your handcrafted achievements despite not having his opinion yet.

“So? How is it? Comfortable? Does it fit you well? Are your eyes feeling alright? What about the gloves? Are they too tight? I know that you aren’t allergic to polyester so it shouldn’t be itchy. I did quite the research on what kind of fabric to use when I was making these gloves you know. I had to go to a sewing class in advance during spring if I wanted to make these gloves myself. Making them was easy either.”

A sigh escapes your lips as you massage your wrists and hands as you recall the memories of minor injuries and the use of many mini Sanrio bandages.

“You don’t have to use them when you go on the battlefield to exorcise curse spirits. That’s not exactly what they were made for but it’s up to you on how you want to use them. I just wanted to give them to you before the year was over.”

Thank you for this incredible submission and gifts for Satoru! 🤩❤️ As always I’m happy to collab with you on these, please feel free to send more for future holidays too. And no need for apologies, I made the most minimal brush-ups and I just added a bit of an ending with Satoru’s reaction to his presents, I hope you like it 🥰

Hey, still you persevered through 2023! And I’m really sorry for your loss, I lost my grandfather a couple of years ago too. Here’s to healing and a better 2024. Almost no one is out there saying 2024 is gonna be their year anymore lol, but here I am thinking it will be mine 😆

It was the day after Christmas, December 26th, 2017. Geto Suguru’s death was confirmed and you can’t help but feel a heavy burden in the air despite the freshly romantic season.

Now, you’re sitting in front of Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer of the modern era, who’s also your husband. Eating lunch with your lover seems to go the same as it generally does. He was rambling on and on about trying new sweets for the upcoming New Year. It seemed as if the death of Geto didn’t affect him as much. But you knew better.

Back when he came home, he just leaned into you and held you tight. Like a child clinging to their mother, never wanting to let go.

You held him for the rest of the night as you both slept. Giving him the love, kisses, cuddles, and healing that he wanted, deserved and needed. You don’t comment on the droplets that shimmer like starlight as they dampen your shirt in the moon’s glow. Neither on his pupils, which were empty like the void. Silent love comforted the both of you as you bathed in each other’s tender embrace on that somber night.

After a few hours of needed slumber, it seemed like last night's waterworks didn’t happen at all. The man in front of you was acting jolly as usual.

“-be? Babe? You there? Oooooiiiiii~?”

“Huh? What?”

“So you weren’t listening to me. I know you find me captivating and all but you still shouldn’t space out like that when you're listening to someone sweetheart~. Especially if it’s your one and only lover~<3.”

You don’t need him to take off his bandages to know he’s wiggling his brows under them. You let out a sigh as you chuckled to yourself. His boasting can be cocky at times, but you can’t help but find it endearing. If anything it’s that suave voice of his that can be irritating…

“Sorry about that Satoru, I was just thinking of …… some things. That’s all.”

“Oh~? And what might that be, my beloved?”

Satoru notices that you’re feeling a bit nervous, but he lets you take your time to speak and encourages you with his body language to tell him what’s on your mind.

“Here. I–I know that it’s already past your birthday and I know it’s late, but I wasn’t going to wait another year to give you this. Yes I know I made a cake for you, but it felt like I didn’t exactly give you my full efforts. So I made you these instead.”

You took out a black blindfold, which had a mark stitched on it in bold. On the outside of the fabric it had the name of the person receiving the gift in Kanji, 五条悟.

“Is that? *LE GASP~* Babe! I didn’t realize you were into that! Oh you naughty little–~”

“Oh my gosh! It’s not like that at all, you idiot! I’ve been seeing you use bandages to cover up the Six Eyes. Putting those bandages on and off must be tiring, not to mention time-consuming. So I decided to make a blindfold for you to help you with your troubles…”

Getting up, walking over to your husband, you took off the bandages that he wore and put the handmade gift over his head. You nuzzled the fabric to cover his eyes and forehead, and combed his hair back with your fingers to lift it out his sight. He somewhat resembled a paintbrush now, if you were honest.

“The fabric is a mix between polyester and cotton. I did some research on both. Turns out, while polyester is stronger and more stretchable than cotton, cotton is more breathable. The pros of both fabrics is that they’re both hydrophobic, they won’t shrink when wet. Both were good so I had to find a store that sold a cotton-polyester blend roll to make this blindfold. I’ve … also made you these gloves.”

You took out a pair of dark gray gloves, designed with vertical ripple line patterns that went down between each knuckle. A classic wrist strap connected on top with a silver ring to hold the strap. Pulling them on your beloved's hands, you felt his warm touch and saw the apparent veins as evidence of his hard work as the strongest. Taking a step back to admire the gloves on his person, you put your hands on your hips feeling quite proud of your handcrafted achievements despite not having his opinion just yet.

“So? How is it? Comfortable? Does it fit you well? Are your eyes feeling all right? What about the gloves? Are they too tight? I know you aren’t allergic to polyester so it shouldn’t be itchy. I did quite the research on what kind of fabric to use when I was making the gloves too, you know. I had to go to a sewing class in advance during spring if I wanted to make these gloves myself. Making them wasn’t easy either...”

You sigh lightly as you massage your wrists and hands, recalling the memories of minor injuries and the use of countless mini Sanrio bandages.

It only now struck you how quiet he’d been all this while.

“Sorry, I seem to have rambled…” you peer out at him gingerly, as a worry tugs at your heart that maybe he hates your presents, after all. That maybe he considers them pointless. Maybe he’s thinking he could buy himself a million of those if he wanted...

But not a second before you lift your head that you get crushed in a tight hug – the kind where Satoru forgets how strong he is and nearly suffocates you with his love. He doesn’t hear your muffled pleas for air since his own voice is booming through the room.

“BABYYY! I love them! I can’t believe you made them yourself! I want to wear them every day! But also never, because what if they tear? Oh wait no, I’ll protect them with Infinity! But what if someone still manages to tear one of them during a fight? I’d have to grind them to dust obviously, but will you mend them for me? I’ll ask Shoko to heal your hands from all the boo-boos! But still, I can’t believe you made them for me! You must really love me! Although you did already tell me like a year ago you love me... But this is, this is like, living proof!”

Evidently it was his turn to ramble now, so it took him a while to finally release you from his bear hug and place his gloved hands instead on your cheeks, holding your face close.

“Thank you.”

It was only two words now that left his beautiful lips, nothing more, but the deep heartfelt emotion with which he said them, in a voice only for you to hear, made them worth a million.

Feeling for yourself the tenderness of the gloves, sensing him conduct his warmth into you through them, and not seeing but feeling his wide-open eyes behind the blindfold you’d made for him – happiness overwhelmed you. Tears filled your eyes and you grinned as wide as your mouth would allow.

“I’m really glad you like them, Satoru.”

#ask tawus #mokona #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x oc #gojo satoru fluff #gojo fluff #gojo jjk #jjk #gojo satoru imagine #gojo imagine #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru headcanons #christmas

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leighlew3 · 2 years

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What do you think would have been the perfect supercorp first kiss? Like, say the showrunners had decided to go for it, when and how do you think it should have happened?

I think a better overall way to have handled it all, just off the top of my head...

Sometime around early Season 3, in an altered situation where instead of him ever coming back, Brainy shows up from the future alone and returning Kara's necklace as she finds out Mon-El is alive and she's relieved and he's married now, but she has come to realize how bad that relationship was (much sooner than they had her do it in the show) and while she's happy he's okay, she's over it and forgives herself for the role she played in sending him away, in part thanks to Lena's friendship helping her through it. She's also happy for him being okay and being happy in the future. And that's that.

So with him never returning to the show after S2, Season 3 is fully able to focus on Supercorp and the Worldkillers etc etc. Thus, early/mid Season 3 Kara has had enough of the lies (and without Mon-El there to give her the selfish and awful advice to keep lying to Lena), Kara is on her way to tell Lena the truth finally after some craziness, and Alex knows she's on her way to do it finally and is maybe unsure about it, but Kara trusts Lena and wants her to know. But, whatever villain of the moment is around -- captures Lena before Kara arrives. Kara nearly dies (and blows out her powers) saving Lena, and is revealed to be Kara in the process and chaos of it all.

Lena is horrified, hurt, but more than anything -- upset and worried for 'dying' Kara. She wants to be angry for the lie, but how can she be -- Kara just nearly died saving her, and then the icing on the cake, Alex tells Lena that Kara was on her way to tell her when all this happened. Thus Lena, temporarily struggling with a combination of anger and sadness and guilt, of course forgives her. They have a sweet moment in the med bay where Kara is tearful as she says, "I didn't want you to find out like this, I was on my way to tell you --" and Lena interrupts her to say she knows, and it's okay. They're okay. She says they're gonna have to figure some things out, because there were a lot of lies, and Kara understands, but Lena thanks her for saving her life, says she's so glad she's okay. So Kara can breathe easy, knowing she didn't lose her.

Then in the following episode, Lena stops by Kara's place as she's recovering, and THAT is when it happens. That's when Kara opens up about the deeper reason she's always kept the secret, and some of that reason was selfish, because she could not risk losing Lena. But she also couldn't keep lying to her. It's the hardest thing she's ever had to do, ec. And that leads to even deeper revelations and questions from an always self-flaggelating Lena of "Why am I so important to you? Me, of all people?" And Kara can't even put it into words, and thus -- she kisses her instead, to express it. Lena is shocked. Kara panics, apologizes, thinks she blew it, until Lena pulls her in for another, more intense kiss. One that... says everything.

To go even further...

They spend the rest of Season 3 facing down the Worldkillers together, Lena working with new little bro type Brainy -- and with her now WITH Kara and Lena/James never having happened either, has to watch in horror as the woman she loves is nearly killed by her close friend. They all work together to try to separate Sam from Reign, etc.

Season 4 arrives and Kara and Lena are stronger than ever as a couple, as Lex shows up, Nia and Kelly arrive, etc. The dynamics are fun, intense, funny, and it's just all around a better and better show by leaning into Supercorp, still thriving. And Lex and Lillian are mortified to find out Lena is WITH a Kryptonian in every way, which amplifies all the conflict and their rage and desire to kill Kara, etc. They even try to kidnap and brainwash/break Lena in a conversion therapy metaphor to get her to stop loving Kara, but of course they fail. Their love conquers all. Ultimately, it's all Kara and Lena and the Superfriends vs Lena's family and the world/villains.

Season 5 arrives with none of the bs of "dark Lena" and no William, or else him just as a workplace buddy who didn't start off as a dick. Kara goes dark during Crisis from using the book, in a desperate attempt to save Lena and the people she loves after she literally WATCHES Lena and everyone disappear before her eyes. It works, but at grave cost as the Kara they know seems to have "died", via mentally snapping. 5B is all about them trying to save Kara from herself after she goes Red Lantern Kara mode similar to that arc from the comics, full of anger and instability due to the effects of using the book to save those she loves/help save the universe. Of course this is hard on her family, friends, and especially for Lena. Just when they think they might get through to Kara and she's finally about to start to really recover from all of that and has a break through -- a showdown with Lex sends her to the Phantom Zone.

Season 6, Kara's time in the PZ is all about her lifetime of traumas and losing sight of reality again while Lena and friends stop at nothing to save her, and they do, with Lena being Kara's touchstone that grounds her to reality and helps her pull through. Kara comes back broken as ever, and while her anger may be gone, she's a shell of herself after all she's been through since mid S5, and the rest of the final season is all about hitting rock bottom but finding your way back to the light, thanks to the people who love you, and thanks to your own inner light, which Kara always has. The Superfriends step up to keep National City safe while Kara tries to heal from everything and find her way back. Ultimately -- because she's Kara -- she does find her hope, and the show ends either with her "coming out" or just carrying on as Supergirl like normal, as confident and healed as ever, with the love of her life by her side, her sister and friends by her side, and her dream job, etc.

They all live happy ever after.

The End.

#supergirl #supercorp

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kaitidid22 · 1 year

Text

Fanfic: If These Walls (Conrad/Billie)

Summary: Conrad floats an idea and old insecurities arise for Billie. Plus, Gigi is so stinking cute. (Canon-friendly...I think? Set post season 6.)

A/N: A few caveats here.

Firstly, I haven't watched the finale. I'm nervous about it. I'll watch it tomorrow. So, I have no idea if this is still canon-friendly.

Secondly, I've been sitting on this for a few days. I really did mean to have this out mid-week last week, but I kept second guessing myself on it.

I hope you like it!!

“Can we talk?”

Billie looked up from where she had been staring at the coffee pot with blurry eyes to find Conrad hovering at the edge of the counter, still in pajama pants. The early morning light was dim in the kitchen, and Billie hadn’t bothered turning on any lights when she stumbled downstairs at six-thirty.

She had been in surgery late into the night and had only crawled into bed beside him around one in the morning. He and Gigi had both long been asleep, and Billie had almost gone home instead. But she and Conrad had planned to surprise Gigi with a brunch date—or what Gigi called “fancy breakfast”—at a restaurant the little girl loved the next morning. Billie had decided it made the most sense to go to Conrad’s, even if she would be forced to sneak in and creep up the stairs in the wee hours.

Billie was self-aware enough to know that she had used brunch as an excuse. She could have slept at her own house and told Conrad to call her when he and Gigi were awake. There would have been plenty of time to get back to Conrad’s for the brunch reveal to Gigi. But Billie preferred being in bed with him. There was comfort in hearing his breathing and being able to reach out to touch his back or chest in the dark.

Besides, she had thought to herself the night before. Why have a key if I don’t use it?

The fact that she had still woken up before either Conrad or Gigi, though, pissed Billie off. She hadn’t been able to doze off again, even with her hand against Conrad’s back as he slept peacefully next to her. So, she had stumbled down the stairs, accepting her fate, and flipped on the coffeemaker.

“Good morning,” she said in a sleep-rough voice.

A smile tugged at his lips. “Good morning,” he murmured. He studied her face. “Are you still up for brunch? You look exhausted.”

“You always know just what to say to make a girl feel special,” Billie said. As Conrad laughed under his breath, she added, “I’ll be fine with some coffee. I didn’t want to miss it.”

“How’s your patient?” he asked.

Billie pulled her phone out of the pocket of her robe and opened it to the status update she had received from the ICU staff. She held it out to him, and he studied the page with a furrowed brow.

“Numbers look good,” he said in a soothing tone.

“He’s not awake yet,” Billie countered. “He should have woken up last night.”

Conrad locked the phone and stepped close to slide it back into her pocket. Then he brushed a kiss into the skin of her temple and murmured, “You know it’s not always that simple.”

“I know,” Billie said. “I’m not giving up hope. It’s just… floundering.”

He ran a hand down her hair, and she shut her eyes, letting the comfort flow from his hand and soft touch into the center of her chest. Sometimes, with some cases, nothing anyone could possibly say could make her feel better. But, somehow, Conrad touching her always settled the restlessness in her chest. Not completely, of course. The anxiety would remain until she was sure one way or another how her patient would fair. Closure was important to Billie. Even if closure meant hiding in her office with the lights off and crying. But with one touch or hug, Conrad was always able to turn down the volume of her anxiety to a constant static buzz instead of blaring sirens.

The coffeemaker beeped to let her know it was finished brewing. The sound caused Billie to stir, and Conrad’s hand fell away as he moved to the cabinet to grab his own mug. She frowned, suddenly remembering what he had said when he joined her in the kitchen.

“Sorry, what did you want to talk about?”

“We can talk about it after brunch,” he said, lips curved upwards in a gentle expression.

Her frown only deepened as nerves burst to life in her stomach. He poured coffee into their mugs, her first and then himself, before opening the fridge and pulling out the milk for her.

“Is this because of last night?” she asked, ignoring the milk.

Confusion had him squinting at her, but he opened the milk himself and poured some in her coffee. “Last night?” he repeated in question.

“Because I came here instead of going home,” she explained. She sighed and ate the crow. “I’m sorry I did that without talking to you about it. I thought about having you call me when you woke up—”

“I’m glad you came here,” he interrupted.

“Oh.” Then what… Her brain stalled out, though, failing to supply any sort of explanation.

He folded his arms over his chest and faced her, leaning a hip against the counter. “Drink your coffee.”

She picked up her mug. “Right.”

“I kind of wanted you to be awake for this discussion,” he said. He looked amused.

“I’m awake.”

“You’re really not.”

“I am,” she insisted. “Besides, I’m going to drive myself crazy wondering if you don’t just tell me what’s going on.”

He blew out a breath. “Yeah, I get that. I just… wanted to open the dialogue.”

“Okay,” she said. “About?”

He hesitated, then gestured to the living room. “Let’s sit down.”

Billie trailed after him to the couch and settled in the corner like she always did, surprised when he settled in the other corner instead of next to her. Six feet was left lying between them. She studied his face with growing fear. He looked… Was Conrad nervous?

“Okay,” she said, when he didn’t speak. “We’re sitting. Open the dialogue about what?”

“Moving in.”

“Moving in where?” she asked, stupid with exhaustion.

“Moving in together. It doesn’t have to be here.” His eyes flew around the room as if he had never seen it before. “Your place is bigger.”

And it was. Her place had three bedrooms, with a den, living room, and an eat-in kitchen, as well as a separate dining room.

“But I don’t have any furniture,” she said.

Conrad chuckled. “Drink your coffee,” he said again.

She took a sip. Her brain was trying to catch up—it really, truly was.

“We’ve only been dating for three months,” she said.

“So, that’s true,” he admitted. But he had a steel edge to his tone that told her he had anticipated this point and prepared a rebuttal. “But if you count all the time we spent together before that—”

“As friends,” she interrupted.

“Billie.”

“What?” she asked, feeling her cheeks heat at his chiding expression and gentle, almost pitying, tone.

“We hadn’t been just friends for a very long time even before I kissed you on your porch,” he said. “I had been in love with you for… I don’t even know how long.”

Two years, seven months, and six days, her brain supplied.

Not that Billie could pinpoint the exact moment she had fallen in love with Conrad. But she did know the exact moment she had realized she was in love with him, and her brain had sort of been in countdown mode ever since.

“True,” Billie conceded, brain finally chugging along as the caffeine began to sink in. “But we weren’t dating, Conrad. You were, in fact, dating Cade for about nine months prior to that kiss.” He winced, and she sighed. “I’m not trying to give you a hard time. I just want us to be on the same page.”

“We are,” he assured her, the words quiet as he stared at the rug.

“Do you actually want to move in together?” she asked him. She kept her tone as gentle as possible, but even though her brain was working again she was still shocked. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

He hesitated, and she held up a hand. “Wait. Sorry. We need to back up.”

“Okay,” he said. “Where do you want to start?”

She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again. Her brain spun its wheels in mud going around and around the same points. Finally, she said, “I have no idea.”

She laughed, putting a hand to her forehead as if holding her head together. His gaze was affectionate, and part of her wanted to crawl across the couch into his lap and kiss him senseless.

“Okay, first,” she said. “I really am happy you brought this up.”

His shoulders eased, and the crinkles she loved so much fanned out from the corners of his eyes. “Good.”

“Second,” she said. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

He laughed, smothering the sound behind his hand. “Awhile,” he admitted.

“What’s awhile? Two days? A week? Eighteen years?” she joked.

“A few weeks.”

Her jaw dropped open. “Weeks? We’ve only been dating a few weeks.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, avoiding her eyes as he took a sip of coffee.

“Hawkins,” she said. His eyes flicked to her before settling on his coffee again. “Talk to me.”

“We said it already, Billie. This just feels right. I’ve only been in one other relationship that felt this right, and you can’t tell me that this doesn’t feel different to you, too.”

Her chest ached at the reference to Nic, albeit vague and roundabout. They rarely talked about her anymore. Not because they were avoiding it, but because Nic had ceased being a part of their daily lives and thoughts.

Part of Billie hated that and railed against it, even as she knew it was completely natural. They had over five years’ worth of experiences since Nic’s death. Five years, half a decade, was such a long time. Longer in years than Nic and Conrad had been together. Nearly all of Gigi’s life. And half the length of time Billie had known Conrad.

And, yet, a piece of Billie would always think of Conrad’s place as Nic’s house. He had chosen it with Nic in mind, for the two of them, and Nic had moved mountains to make sure they got it after letting it go the first time. And that thought triggered a cement wall to slam into place between Billie and Conrad on the couch.

“Why do we keep doing everything out of order?” Billie muttered.

“There isn’t really a proper order,” Conrad pointed out, sounding almost hurt by the words. “And who are we answering to?”

Nic.

“No,” Billie said quickly, despising that she had hurt him, however unintentional that hurt had been. “That’s not what I meant. I just meant…” She licked her lips and hesitated for a long minute before saying, “I don’t know what I meant.”

The words were murmured, almost too quiet for him to hear, and she knew it was a cop out. But she felt trapped by old insecurities and frozen—in place, in time, sitting on Nic’s couch, talking to Nic’s husband about how right their connection was.

And she knew that looking at it through that lens wasn’t the full story, just a distorted view of everything that had grown between them. And she also knew that others—people who hadn’t walked next to them through the past five years—would judge and talk and say things that she prayed Gigi never heard.

And Billie had told herself that none of it mattered. She had spent a lifetime either ignoring, dodging, or combatting preconceived biases. She could do it here, too. She could do it for Conrad and Gigi and a chance at the life she so very much wanted for herself.

But this… Nic’s house… She forced the thoughts to silence.

“There’s no pressure here, no timeline,” Conrad said, and she could feel that he didn’t believe her lie. “Like I said, I just wanted to open the dialogue.”

She nodded, the movement jerky. “I’m going to go take a shower,” she said and fled.

At brunch, Conrad, Billie, and Gigi’s server was a young woman who adored Gigi on sight. The feeling was clearly mutual as Gigi began babbling as soon as their server seated them. She made the server go over the entire specials list twice, asking Billie for explanations where words were new to her.

“What are grits?” Gigi asked.

“You’ve had grits, sweetie. You didn’t like them,” Billie said, eyes still on her menu. “They’re yellowish beige and creamy? Kind of cheesy.”

“Oh yeah!” Gigi said. “I don’t like grits.”

“No, you don’t,” Conrad said. “But you like waffles.”

“I love waffles,” Gigi said, addressing the server.

“What about those pecan praline pancakes?” the server said in a sweet voice. “How did those sound?”

Gigi looked at Conrad, who gave her a significant look. “That sounds like an option, Bubble.”

Then Gigi turned to Billie. “Do I like pralines?” she whispered, with big, earnest eyes.

Out of the corner of her eye, Billie saw Conrad and the server exchange amused glances. Ignoring them, she leaned close to the little girl. “You love pralines.”

Gigi popped upright with a wide grin. “That sounds good!”

The server nodded and jotted it down on her order pad. Billie dropped her eyes back to the menu and asked, “Could we both do a glass of the mango orange juice?”

“Of course,” the server murmured.

“And coffee,” Conrad added.

Billie nodded absently as she scanned the menu. “Can you bring a side of the breakfast potatoes, too?” She looked up at Conrad and tilted her head towards Gigi. “Those pancakes are going to be so sweet.”

His brow furrowed. “Maybe the sausage instead. Or both. Both?”

Billie shrugged. “She can’t live on carbs and sugar alone.”

“I can’t?” Gigi asked.

“I mean, you could,” Conrad said, with a shrug. “But you wouldn’t be happy for long.”

“I think I’d be happy for a really long time,” Gigi told them all.

“You’d also be bouncing off the walls,” Billie said. “Gotta soak up that sugar somehow.”

“Let’s go with both,” Conrad said to the server.

The server nodded, writing as they spoke. When they trailed off, she waited, pen poised, and then glanced up when they remained silent. “And what can I get for you two?”

“Oh,” they both said, raising the menus again.

“They’re going to split things,” Gigi said in a resigned voice. “They always split things.”

The server nodded conspiratorially. “My moms do that, too. It’s a parent thing.”

Gigi sighed with great drama. Meanwhile, Billie’s blood ran cold, and her chest squeezed with longing. A lump rose in her throat as her eyes ran over the menu, desperately trying to choose something, and she took a sip from her water glass to cover the moment.

“I’ll have the huevos con migas,” she heard Conrad say.

Billie loved huevos con migas. Why did he always do this to her? Why was he so sweet? Huevos con migas wasn’t his favorite. What was his favorite? None of the words seemed recognizable through the haze in her vision.

Billie felt Conrad’s eyes on her like a brand against her forehead, but she kept her gaze firmly on the menu. Finally, her eyes tripped over words that made sense to her addled mind.

“I’ll have the baked eggs,” she said, holding her and Gigi’s menus out to the server.

“Absolutely,” the server said, still smiling easily with no idea of what a bomb she had just dropped on the table.

“Oh,” Billie said, her brow furrowing. “Wait. Can we do those without mushrooms?”

The server nodded. “No problem at all.”

“I hate mushrooms,” Conrad explained to the server, tone easy as he lounged back in his chair.

Billie’s cheeks heated.

“How come Daddy gets to not eat vegetables?” Gigi asked.

“Oh boy,” Conrad said, though he was grinning at his daughter, love written all over his face.

“I’ll be back with your coffee and juice in a minute,” the server said, trying to hide a smile.

“Thank you,” Conrad called after her, and Billie was amused to see the server blush.

Her heartrate was slowly returning to normal after the parents joke, which Conrad hadn’t refuted. Of course, neither had Billie. Gigi hadn’t been bothered. But the mistake had been made before when the three of them were together. Billie was too maternal with Gigi—and Gigi adored Billie too much—for it to never cross strangers’ minds.

Billie had boosted Gigi higher on her hip, resisting the urge to check the time on her phone. But the barista had been flirting with each of the customers as they reached his register—thrilling the blue-haired old biddies to no end—and the elongated conversations had resulted in an extreme amount of tips and Billie’s patience dying a thousand deaths.

No one is in your way, she had told her brain for the thirteenth time since they had joined the end of the line. Everyone deserves coffee just as much as you.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, but your daughter is gorgeous,” the woman—old enough to be Billie’s grandmother, let alone Gigi’s—had said, wiggling her fingers at the one-year-old.

Gigi had hidden her sweet, tiny face against Billie’s neck, wet fingers sliding in and out of her mouth as the woman had continued to stare. Billie had frozen in place, smile brittle, and it had felt like her face would crack in half. Her brain had stalled out.

Nic had been dead three months. Only three months and strangers had already assigned her daughter a new mother.

“She’s not mine,” Billie had said, voice flinty enough that the woman’s smile had wavered.

She doesn’t know, her brain had yelled at her in a panic.

Billie had never felt so grateful for all the years she had spent perfecting her poker face with the surface smile that never reached her eyes. She had let it smooth over her features, erasing the lines of tension around her eyes and mouth. And she had seen the woman’s posture loosen, smile coming back as if Billie had laid out the welcome mat.

“She’s my goddaughter,” Billie had finished. “We’re having a girls’ day.”

The woman had seemed even more taken with Gigi then. As if the idea of a godmother fostering a solo relationship with her goddaughter had been limited to a bygone era. And maybe it had been. To be fair, Billie had only taken Gigi solo once before Nic had died.

But Conrad had gone to a job interview that morning for a concierge service. His sitter had cancelled due to a stomach flu at the last minute. His father, Marshall, had been in Dubai—the lord only knew why this time; Billie had stopped keeping track—and Conrad had called her in a panic, spitting out all the words in a flurry over the phone line.

“I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” Billie had said, even though he had woken her from a deep sleep.

Silence had stretched on the other side of the phone, and Billie had frowned, about to ask if they had lost the connection. Then Conrad had cleared his throat. “Actually, I’m standing outside your door.”

As if to highlight that point, he had rung the apartment’s bell. Billie had blinked, wondering how he had gotten past the doorman and security guard of her high rise. All guests had to be announced. And then she had remembered: when she had added Nic’s name to the security clearance list, she had also added Conrad’s. At the time, she had never thought he would have cause to come to her apartment alone. But it had seemed better to be safe than sorry.

“If you laugh at my hair, I will kill you,” Billie had said.

“You’re a hero,” she had heard him say as she hung up on him.

And, so, she had yanked off her bonnet, thrown on a robe, and met Conrad at the door. Without much more than a thank you, Conrad had shoved Gigi into Billie’s arms, told Billie the baby had eaten, tossed the diaper bag on the couch, squeezed Billie’s shoulder, kissed the baby, and run back out the door. Within ten seconds, Conrad had been gone, and Billie had been staring into Gigi’s happy eyes.

“Well,” Billie had said in the empty stillness of the apartment after he had gone. “I guess we’re going to have a ladies’ day, my sweet baby.”

Gigi had gurgled at her. Love had welled in Billie’s chest, and she had pressed a kiss to the little girl’s cheek. Then she had taken a surreptitious sniff of baby head and sighed in contentment.

“Let’s go do my hair, huh?” Billie had said to Gigi in an overly excited voice.

Gigi had giggled. The baby had remained thoroughly entertained by the ongoing commentary as Billie had used a heated round brush to smooth out her hair. Then Gigi had helped Billie pick out an outfit by pointing at random—completely unrelated—pieces of clothing. (Billie had sweet-talked Gigi into letting Billie wear a sundress instead.)

And that was how they had found themselves at the coffeeshop conveniently located in the ground floor retail space of Billie’s apartment building during the mid-morning, blue-hair rush.

The woman had turned to look over shoulder. “Maude,” she had said. “Maude, come here.”

Another older lady had come over. “Oh,” she had said on a gasp. “She’s beautiful.”

To be fair, Gigi had been rocking a bow the size of her face, thanks to her father. But Billie had still wondered if she should remind the women not to assume. And then she had decided she didn’t want the conversation to continue that long pre-coffee.

“Thank you,” Billie had said.

The first woman had nudged the other with her elbow. When Maude had glanced over in askance, the woman had said, “Godmother.”

“Oh, bless her,” Maude had said, grabbing at her chest. “You’re an angel.”

Billie—thoroughly uncomfortable—had licked her lips. Over the women’s shoulders, she had caught the barista’s eye, and he had nodded his head in recognition. Quickly counting the line as a group of women had moved to the side, she had found herself to be third from the front.

So close, Billie had thought to herself.

“It’s nothing,” Billie had said to them. “She’s my favorite little person.”

“Are you giving her parents a little time to themselves?” Maude had asked with a wink.

“Maude,” the first woman had said, scandalized. “You have no boundaries.” She had looked back at Billie. “She has no boundaries.”

Billie had been distracted by the pain that had suffused every inch of her, pumping through her veins. God how she wished she had been giving Nic and Conrad a day to themselves. She would have traded anything for that to be true. Instead, Conrad had been off trying to find a job that would allow him to single parent a one-year-old.

This time, she hadn’t been able to control the way her eyes welled up. The women’s faces had stiffened as they had studied her, and then they had both tilted their heads to the side with identical sympathetic expressions. And Billie had realized that, somehow, the women had known, had seen the pall of loss that hovered over every aspect of Billie’s life and visage, and known.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Maude had said in an impossibly soft voice. Her hand had reached out and squeezed Billie’s wrist. She had given Billie a stern look. “You’re going to be fine.”

The first woman—whose name Billie never did get—had added, “And so will she,” nodding at Gigi.

And Billie had found herself nodding in jerky agreement, though she would never be sure why, cupping a hand behind Gigi’s head and cuddling the little girl closer. The women had each silently patted her one more time, and then they had walked away, giving Billie the space she had so desperately needed to get herself back under control.

That had been the first time. The worst time, if she was being honest with herself, which Billie tried to be these days. Each subsequent mistake of maternity—as well meant as they all were—had been a little bit easier to handle.

But none of them had happened after she and Conrad had started dating. It was like a new first. And neither of them—not Conrad and not Gigi—had even reacted. Billie couldn’t figure out what to do with that, how to reconcile that against the guilt beating through her chest.

“So,” Conrad said, in that voice he had when he was being goofy. The one that cracked on a high note at the end of his sentences.

God Billie loved him.

“The whole Daddy hates vegetables trick,” Conrad finished. “I see through you, Giorgiana Grace.”

Billie watched Gigi try to fight her smile by staring at the table and avoiding looking at her father.

“Besides, everybody knows that you can veto one vegetable in life,” Conrad said. “Mine is mushrooms.”

“That’s true,” Billie said. “Everyone gets one veto.”

“But you have to use it carefully,” Conrad told Gigi.

Billie nodded. “Because you only get one.”

All trace of amusement had been swept from Gigi’s face. Her serious eyes looked from Conrad to Billie and back again, clearly trying to figure out if they were messing with her. Billie and Conrad stared back at her, waiting for her next question.

Gigi’s eyes settled on Billie. “What’s your vegetable veto?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Billie said, keeping her tone calm. “It’s a big decision.”

The server came back to the table with their coffee and juices. “Your food will be right out,” she said.

“Thank you,” Billie told her before turning to Gigi. “Have some of your juice, sweetie.”

Gigi obliged, though her face was still screwed up in concentration. She drank deeply from the small cup. “So, I only get one,” Gigi said to confirm.

Billie’s eyes flicked up to Conrad, looking at him from under her lashes in the hopes that Gigi wouldn’t notice. Those crinkles she loved were fanning out from the corners of his eyes.

“You don’t have to pick now,” Conrad told his daughter.

Gigi nodded with a contemplative expression. She frowned at the white linen tablecloth.

“You could choose mushrooms, too,” Billie said.

Gigi shook her head. “I like mushrooms.”

“Do you, though?” Conrad asked.

Gigi glared at him. “Yes,” she said, firm. “Billie and I get mushrooms on pizza, and I like them.”

Conrad raised his eyebrows at Billie. Defiantly, she jerked her chin higher and shrugged one shoulder. “You aren’t there, and mushrooms are delicious. What’s the problem?”

“Are you teaching my daughter to like mushrooms?” Conrad asked in shock. “Betrayal.”

“And pesto,” Billie said.

Gigi’s face lit up. “I like pesto!”

“Seriously?” Conrad asked, still in shock. Billie knew he appreciated a good pesto, but it was an awful lot of green for a small child, so she understood the surprise.

Billie held onto the defiance for a few more moments and then deflated. “I let her dip it in ranch,” she admitted. “I really wanted pesto that night.”

Conrad burst into laughter that had the other restaurant patrons glancing at them in indulgent amusement. Conrad held up a hand in apology to the room before rubbing it down his face to physically wipe away his glee.

“What’s so funny?” Gigi asked.

“Nothing, sweetie,” Billie said. “Hey, didn’t you say you had homework this weekend?”

“Yeah,” Gigi said, slumping a little in her booster seat.

“Did you show Aunt Billie your math workbook?” Conrad asked.

“No,” Billie said. She glanced between them. “Why?”

“Because Common Core is going to blow your mind,” Conrad said. “And I kind of want to be there when you see it.”

Billie’s lips twitched. But before she could respond, the server was back with their food.

Within thirty seconds of getting her giant platter of pancakes with its teeny tiny pitcher of the praline syrup, Gigi had spilled the syrup across the table and into Billie’s lap. Gigi’s big eyes widened to saucers, and Conrad quickly stood to mop up the mess with his napkin. Their server dashed away, returning quickly with a cup of water and another clean napkin.

“Here,” the server said, soaking the corner and handing it to Billie.

Billie smiled up at the young woman, taking the dampened cloth. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

She finished soaking up what she could with her own napkin. And then Billie began to dab at the pant leg with the wet corner. She didn’t think she was making any progress, but with everyone hovering and watching she felt like she had to try.

“I’m sorry, Billie,” Gigi said, bottom lip trembling.

Billie smiled gently, looking up from the syrup stain. Billie suspected it was the attention that had cued Gigi into the situation being bad. She hoped Gigi knew Billie would never be angry about an accident, but, again, everyone was hovering and watching with careful eyes. That was enough to let any little girl know mistakes had been made.

“Did you do it on purpose? Was it a personal attack against my pants?” Billie asked. “I knew it. You’ve always hated these pants.”

Gigi giggled. “I don’t hate your pants.”

“Are you sure?” Billie asked with exaggerated suspicion. She heard Conrad chuckle, and he stopped leaning over the table to sit back in his chair.

“I’m sure!” Gigi cried.

“Fine, fine. I believe you,” Billie said. “And it’s okay. It’s not a big deal, sweetie. Eat your pancakes before they get cold.”

“Eat your eggs, Billie,” Conrad countered.

“Eat your sausage, Daddy,” Gigi added, clearly believing they were just naming things on the table.

The server was still hovering with uncertainty, so Billie turned to her. “Could we get another teeny pitcher? I think she salvaged some of it. But…” Billie gestured at the table and her pants.

“Of course, I’ll get you a fresh napkin, too,” the server said. But when she stood, she hovered for a moment, shy. And then she said, “You have a wonderful family.”

Billie opened her mouth, determined to correct her this time, but Conrad said, “Thank you.”

And Billie squeezed her eyes shut as she fought back the flood of emotions. When she opened her eyes, he was teasing Gigi by pretending to steal her pancakes. As if the moment hadn’t happened. As if it was no big deal.

When he caught her watching him, he pushed his plate into the middle of the table with a smile, a silent invitation to dig in, and turned back to his daughter.

God Billie loved him.

Arriving home after brunch, Conrad unlocked the front door, and Gigi darted inside as hopped up on sugar as they had feared. She moved so fast that Billie barely saw Gigi hit the stairs.

“Upstairs, young lady,” Conrad said in a booming voice. “I want to hear the wheels of academia turning!”

“The wheels of academia?” Billie repeated as Gigi’s giggle echoed back down the stairs.

“She has homework,” Conrad said, as if that explained everything.

Affection swamped her chest, making her cheeks heat and her fingertips tingle. Conrad’s grin was bashful, but he winked at her as he held out a hand for her jacket. She ignored the outstretched fingers for a moment and stepped into his personal space, laying her hands against his chest and brushing her mouth against his.

He let her lead, responding with gentle brushes of his lips to hers. And when she eased away again, he let her go without chasing.

“Thanks for brunch,” she whispered, an inch or two away from his mouth.

“Uh-huh,” he murmured, sounding a little dazed.

As she smiled up at him, though, he came back to himself. He kissed her forehead as he slid his hands over her collarbone and up under her jacket to slide it down her bare arms. She managed to silence the hum of pleasure that rose in her throat as his palms skimmed her skin.

When the material cleared her fingertips, he leaned past her to get a hanger from the coat closet behind her. Billie took advantage of the new position to kiss his neck gently.

“Behave yourself,” he said, a thread of humor in the low tone of his voice, despite the edge she could hear starting to inch in. “My daughter is upstairs and very much awake.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Billie said sweetly.

His hands were busy putting the coat on the hangar behind her, one arm on either side of her body, and she took advantage again, pressing closer to his chest. And it really wasn’t her fault since his neck was right there, so, of course, she brushed her lips over the tender place where his neck met his shoulder.

“Definitely not doing anything,” he agreed.

She swallowed a giggle and let her hands slide from his chest over his ribs and down to curl around his waist. Conrad’s hands stopped with the rustling fabric, and she heard the quiet click of the metal hook of the hangar settling on the clothing rod. Then the door snicked shut behind her, and Conrad pushed her against it. A hand slid into her hair to cushion her head from the wooden door. But he didn’t pause, didn’t speak again, before his mouth captured hers in a rough, open-mouthed onslaught of lips and teeth and tongue.

Conrad tended towards gentle and romantic, taking each step in his seduction very slowly, very seriously. It had become almost a game to Billie, seeing if she could push him to his limit.

She felt a surge of victory as one of his hands wrapped around the outside of her thigh and yanked it up to his hip. The move let him push even closer to her body, sealing them together, and her fingers convulsed, squeezing the flesh of his sides and the chambray button up that separated them.

The fingers in her hair tightened into a fist, and the sudden flash of pain, as small as it was, made her gasp against his mouth. Immediately, he broke the kiss as his fingers unclenched, and he rubbed her head where he had accidentally yanked at her scalp.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, eyes locked on hers. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said, meaning it, knowing he would never hurt her on purpose.

She drew one hand up from his waist to wrap around the back of his neck and urge him closer, wanting his mouth back on hers more than she wanted air. He came willingly, and this kiss was gentler than the previous had been—but no less intense. His fingers, still on the outside of her thigh, tightened and squeezed. Her hand gently stroked the skin of his neck.

When he pulled back a second time, he nuzzled under her jaw and kissed the sensitive skin, sending tingles running through her body that curled her toes.

“We have to stop,” he said, murmuring the words into her skin.

She whimpered and dropped her head back against the door with a thunk. “I know.”

“Tonight,” he said. Then he swore under his breath. “That’s so many hours away.”

Billie couldn’t help but laugh at the dread in his voice. Conrad pulled back to look her in the eye, crinkles fanning out from the corners of his own.

“You think my pain is oh so funny, huh?”

“Your pain?” she repeated, incredulous. “What about my pain?”

“You started this,” he teased.

“Me?” she shrieked.

“Shh,” he hushed her, but his eyes were dancing. “Gigi’s going to hear you.”

They laughed, still pressed against the door and each other. As their laughter faded, they leaned their foreheads together, quietly breathing in each other’s air as their heartbeats settled back to their normal rhythms. With their bodies so tightly together, Billie could feel Conrad’s heart like it was her own.

After a few minutes of silence, Conrad said, “You should soak these.”

Billie glanced down to where his thumb was stroking the syrup stain on her thigh. “I think they’re a lost cause. They’re dry clean only.”

He swore under his breath. “I’m sorry.”

“They’re just pants,” Billie said, shrugging one shoulder. “No big deal.”

He hesitated before asking, “Do you need to go get more clothes for the week?”

He meant from her own home. And the reminder of their early morning conversation was like having cold water splashed on her. She didn’t mean to stiffen in his arms, but she did, and she knew he felt it.

“Yeah,” she murmured, tugging her thigh out of his hand and straightening. “I should actually… probably sleep there tonight. I have things I need to take care of.”

He let her go without protest and said, “Okay.”

But he brushed a kiss against her cheek before stepping back away from her. Immediately, she felt cold, even in the rising humidity of Georgia summer.

Billie pushed her front door open and stepped into the entryway, setting the bag of takeout on the console table so that she could hang up her purse. The house was quiet, with a slight chill despite the eighty-degree evening, as if it had been closed up and shuttered for weeks without human life or even sunlight entering.

Billie felt that was unfair. She had slept there the night before and only left for work that morning.

“I was only gone eleven hours,” she snapped at the empty, judge-y air.

Feeling foolish, she snatched the bag of takeout off the console and marched into the dining room. Her table—the same one she had purchased for her downtown high-rise—sat lonely in the large space. The dining room was designed for a long table with at least eight chairs, like the one Conrad had at home. Instead, she had a small, circular table that fit four at a squeeze.

But her whole house was like that, really. She had purchased it only a few months before she and Conrad had begun dating and had procrastinated on decorating. The only rooms that felt lived in were her bedroom and the living room. The apartment had been a one-bedroom, and she hadn’t invested in anything new since she had arrived in the much larger house.

Even Gigi had teased Billie about it after she moved in. Conrad and his daughter had come over for dinner on Billie’s first night in the new house, and Gigi had spent most of the evening in the empty den—not just lightly furnished, but honest-to-Betsy empty—doing cartwheels and somersaults.

“Are you going to keep it empty forever?” Gigi had asked.

“Unlikely, sweetie,” Billie had said.

She and Conrad had been leaning against the jamb on either side of the door.

“She’s going to have to furnish it eventually,” Conrad had said.

“What’s furnish?” Gigi had called to them, taking another tumbling course across the middle of the room.

“You know furnish,” Conrad had teased his daughter.

“It just means to put furniture in a place,” Billie had said.

Conrad had jabbed her lightly with his elbow. “You always ruin my fun.”

Billie had jabbed him back. “Don’t tease your daughter so much and maybe I won’t.”

Gigi had finished her cartwheels and run over to them. “Why don’t you have furniture?” Gigi had asked, slightly out of breath.

Billie had been impressed, though she hadn’t said so. If she had been the one tumbling around the den, she would have been dizzy as hell, but Gigi had seemed unfazed.

“I haven’t bought it yet,” Billie had said, wrinkling her nose in a slightly embarrassed expression.

“Right,” Gigi had said. “But why?”

Billie had opened her mouth to respond and then shut it again. She could have explained that furnishing a house took time and money, but Gigi already had a vague idea that Billie was rich—which she was—and Billie had suspected the little girl would dispute that argument. And Gigi would have been right to do so.

Billie had known for months that she was moving into the house. She had specifically timed it so that it coincided with the end of her apartment lease. There had been plenty of time for Billie to pick out rugs or a love seat to create a cozy sitting room. Or maybe some bookshelves and a desk to carve out an office space. Or she could pick out a flat screen and some folding seats to create a home theater.

So, why the hell don’t I have furniture? she had wondered to herself. What the hell is this room even going to be?

As her brain had swirled through all the potential rooms, none of which had felt like hers, Billie had felt her expression grow troubled. Conrad had straightened next to her.

“Why don’t we go eat?” Conrad had asked, intervening. He had held out a hand to Gigi, who took it without another word. Then he had glanced at Billie, with an overly concerned expression. “You do have a table, right?”

She had shoved his shoulder towards the dining room as Conrad and Gigi had laughed. “Move it, rascals.”

And, yet, nearly nine months later, Billie was still eating at a tiny table in a mostly empty home.

Billie liked to tell herself she had just been busy—which had been true the first few months she had lived there. The hospital had been swamped and understaffed due to the lack of funds, and then Billie had been devoting a large chunk of time helping Kit’s fundraising team drum up more money for Chastain.

Another part of the truth, though, was that she and Conrad had started dating. And when they had started dating, Billie had started spending three or four nights a week at Conrad’s and that had very quickly morphed into five or six, sometimes seven.

With a pang, Billie wondered what Gigi and Conrad were having for dinner. He had texted her, inviting her to join them, but she had begged off. She had told him she had reams of paperwork to get through that night, given a bus crash that had flooded the OR.

And it was true. But it wasn’t true enough that she should be hiding in her echoing dining room with its too small table instead of trading bites with Gigi of whatever Conrad had prepared.

Billie forced her thoughts back to the house. What was the point of having furniture when she was never there to use it? But it left Billie’s perfectly lovely house feeling like an empty, echoing cavern.

Conrad and Gigi’s felt like a home. Billie’s felt like a…well, a house.

And the other part of the truth, the part that Billie didn’t like to think about, was why she had bought the house.

The house had been an effort to create space in her life for the family she had finally admitted she wanted. The complicated part was that the family Billie wanted was Conrad and Gigi, and she had wanted them for a long time. But Billie had decided that she needed to accept that was impossible, which had been heartbreaking and a constant struggle, but one she knew she needed to work through to get to the other side. And she also knew that, eventually, she would open herself up to someone new. After all, Conrad had proven to her that she could. And she wanted it. She wanted love and a partner and maybe even a kid or two—though she was still on the fence about the last.

The purchase of the house had been an investment in a future that Billie hadn’t truly wanted at the time but that she had hoped she would grow into. Like a pair of pants or a bottle of wine that needed to age.

So, of course Billie hadn’t wanted to furnish it. She had barely wanted to live there.

When she had begged off of dinner that afternoon, the bubble of three dots that indicated Conrad was typing back had appeared almost immediately. She had watched them blink on the screen, then disappear, then appear again, over and over for several minutes. She had stayed glued to the screen hoping against hope that whatever he said would have been enough to fix all of it. Which was unfair. And not his burden.

When he still seemed to be struggling after a few minutes, she had typed out “I love you” and locked the phone, setting it aside. She hadn’t dared to look at it again until leaving for the night, and she had finally seen that he had responded with “I love you, too. Tomorrow?” And her heart had leapt into her throat, and she had written back “Yes” before she could talk herself out of it.

Stop thinking about Conrad and Gigi, Billie ordered herself and set about unpacking her takeout.

She wasn’t avoiding Conrad. She was avoiding the conversation they needed to have. But she missed him like she imagined it felt to miss air. Or maybe it was more like dehydration—slowly drying out, feeling every painful crack opening in her flesh the longer she went without him.

But she didn’t know how to say everything that was battering around in her mind. None of it felt fair for him to deal with. It wasn’t his job to remind her that Nic would be proud of her or that Nic would approve of her choices. That was Billie’s role, her job. She couldn’t ask him for that.

Between the two of them, Conrad had lost more, so Billie needed to take less. That was just how it was.

You have to stop, her brain begged her.

Stop what? Admitting the truth?

You didn’t steal anything, her brain screamed back.

Billie resisted the urge to throw her takeout containers across the room to silence the voices arguing in her mind. Instead, she pulled the foil package towards her and carefully opened it as the scents of garlic and warm bread wafted up to her nose.

That night, she had indulged in her comfort food favorites from Curry A-Go-Go downtown: spicy butter chicken and saag paneer, with an order of garlic naan. If she was spending another cold, lonely night at home, she was absolutely going to allow herself to reek of garlic.

The smell of garlic was going to come out her damn pores.

“Can we have pizza for dinner?” Gigi asked as she and Billie waited on the front porch for Conrad to unlock the door.

“Not tonight, sweetie,” Billie said, eyeing the bags of groceries in her and Conrad’s arms. Trying to cut off a potential tantrum—not that Gigi was prone to them, but still—she added, “But we could have a DIY pizza night this weekend?”

“What’s a DIY pizza night?” Gigi asked, tiny nose scrunched up.

“It’s a night where Dad gets a break from cooking,” Conrad said, pushing the door open and letting Gigi and Billie file inside in front of him.

“I’m too young to cook,” Gigi said. “You told me never to turn on the stove.”

Billie bit back a smile.

“You’re never too young to take over the chores,” Conrad told her, ignoring his daughter’s very valid point.

Gigi rolled her eyes. “I’m a kid. You’re a dad. You’re supposed to cook,” she said, stressing the word.

“But pizza night is fun,” Billie told her, trailing after Gigi as the little girl skipped down the hallway to the open plan kitchen. “You get to roll out the dough and put all the toppings on. You can pick exactly what goes on your pizza.”

“Whatever I want?” Gigi asked as Billie set her bag of groceries on the island.

“Whatever you want,” Billie promised.

“Even if I want pineapple?”

“Sacrilege,” Conrad said, setting his own bag down next to Billie’s.

Billie raised an eyebrow at him. “Even pineapple, sweetie.” She leaned down to help the little girl take off her jean jacket and stage-whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll work on him.”

“Yay pizza night!” Gigi cried. “I’m gonna go tell Mr. Biggles.”

Billie watched as Conrad gazed after his daughter until she disappeared around the bend in the stairs.

“You guys can’t gang up on me with mushrooms,” Conrad said.

“You have to let that go,” Billie said, slanting him a smile.

“I just can’t believe you would betray me with mushrooms on pizza.”

Billie shook out Gigi’s jacket to straighten the sleeves and walked over to him. “I promise,” she said, very seriously. “I will take your side on the mushrooms… if you let her have pineapple.”

“Blackmail,” he cried.

“Negotiations,” Billie countered.

His eyes danced at her, and Billie smirked at him before striding back down the hall. Pulling open the coat closet, she hung up Gigi’s jean jacket and then her own sweater coat. She took out a third hangar, intending to grab Conrad’s from him, but his voice interrupted her train of thought.

“I’ve been thinking about it since our first date,” Conrad said.

Billie turned to find him stalled out where the hallway opened onto the kitchen, watching her. His jacket was still on, despite the humidity beginning to rise in the Georgia morning air.

“Thinking about what?” she asked. Then it clicked. “Oh.”

“How long have you been thinking about this?”

“Awhile.”

“What’s awhile? Two days? A week? Eighteen years?”

“A few weeks.”

He waited, eyes on her face, as she processed that information. He had given her space, she knew. She had been relieved when he didn’t push to restart the conversation when she had come back for dinner. But then a few days had become two weeks, and clearly he had gotten impatient.

“Our first date,” she said. Then again. “Our first date?”

He pulled off the light fabric jacket he preferred in the summer and early fall and closed the distance between them. She eased it out of his hand, sliding it onto the hangar, and shoving it in the closet with the others. His eyes were so tight on her face that she felt almost claustrophobic from the attention.

“Yes,” he said.

She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “I’m really confused.”

“I know. I just don’t know why,” he told her. “You know I love you. You’re here practically every night—”

“Only twice last week,” she interrupted, feeling defensive.

“And I hated that you were gone.” He paused to let that sink in, and then he pulled out the big guns. “So did Gigi.”

Billie winced. “She did?”

“Of course, she did.”

“We need to put away the groceries,” Billie said, brushing past him and trying not to cry. “We bought ice cream.”

“Yes,” Conrad said, following her back to the kitchen. “We. We bought ice cream.”

Her hand clenched on the side of the grocery bag. She couldn’t look at him.

“I wanted to open the dialogue,” Conrad said, sounding lost. “I didn’t want to scare you out of the house.”

“You didn’t,” she said, but the words came out as a whisper.

“Billie, talk to me,” he murmured.

But she couldn’t say this to him. The words throbbed in her cut-open chest.

“Is this about Nic?” he asked, in a carefully neutral tone.

Panic swept Billie into motion. She turned and started for the hallway, already visualizing the front door. “I just remembered that I…” But she couldn’t bring herself to lie to him either, so she found herself shaking her head, swallowing against the vise-like grip around her throat. “I can’t. I have to go.”

Conrad stepped into her path, hands held up in front of his body. “Billie.” She stilled, and he edged closer. “Please don’t run from me.”

“I’m not running from you,” she said.

“Then what?” he asked, and she heard an edge of frustration to his voice. “What are you running from?”

“Me? Maybe,” she said on a wet laugh.

“You? I don’t understand.”

“I can’t say this to you,” she said, losing the war against the tears.

“Why can’t you talk to me about this?” he asked. “We talk about everything.”

“Because it’s not fair,” she said. “It’s not fair to say this to you.”

“Please talk to me. Let me help.”

Conrad’s fingers found her cheeks, thumbs brushing the tears away, only for new ones to replace the tears he had cleared. She slid her arms around his waist, burrowing her face into his chest. His warmth slipped through the cotton of his Henley, and his scent—pine and musk and Conrad and home—enveloped her. Her eyes were pouring, but, somehow, she stayed quiet, muffling the little sobs against his solidness.

“I want to,” she said into the cotton.

“What?” he murmured to her.

She pulled back, surprised when Conrad’s arms tightened for a split second before he controlled the reaction and loosened his grip. She knew she was a gross mess, had probably gotten snot all over his shirt, might even have it smeared under her nose. And all of that was less uncomfortable and humiliating and tragic than what she was about to say to him.

The words lodged in her throat. She gestured helplessly.

“Why don’t we sit?” he asked, letting go of her to point at the couch.

She nodded, hoping against hope that Gigi wouldn’t come barreling down the stairs and catch her like this. As soon as she was settled in the corner—her corner—Conrad dropped a kiss on top of her head.

“I’ll grab you some tissues,” he said and hurried out of the room.

She took the few moments he was gone to suck in a deep breath. In through the nose, hold, and out through the mouth, she reminded herself.

That was as far as she got before Conrad was back, tissue box in hand. She told herself the breathing had helped, and the urge to bolt for the front door had faded.

This time, take two on the conversation, when Conrad came to sit, he settled in right next to her. He aimed his torso to face her, one arm across the back of the couch.

Poised to grab her if she tried to run.

Billie knew he would never. Conrad was a huge proponent of bodily autonomy. If she dashed to the front door, he would try to persuade her to stay, but he wouldn’t lay a finger on her even to stop her.

He set the tissue box in the scant inches between their thighs. His eyes were tight on her face.

“Billie, is this about Nic?” She grimaced before she could control it. He nodded, once, decisively, and then he said, “Okay. I’m going to go first. Is that all right?”

The gesture she made as she wiped her face with tissue was caught somewhere between a shrug and a nod and a full-body shudder. But Conrad seemed to understand that what she meant was knock yourself outbecause he chuckled softly.

“We delayed facing this for so long that we were already on the same page before we ever made a move,” Conrad said. “So, I have to keep reminding myself that we’ve never actually talked about it.” He paused, considering. “Well… directly. Out loud. Each other anyway. I think we both talked to other people, if some of my recent conversations with A.J. meant what I think they mean.”

He was right, and he was right that they hadn’t said all of this out loud. Bits and pieces, but never all of it.

They had each gone through their self-flagellation and dealt with their guilt silently in the shadows. By the time Conrad had leaned in for that first kiss, they had both been long at peace with the idea of moving forward together, which inevitably left Nic behind. Their hesitation had been centered in insecurity around how the other felt, if the other had found that same peace, as well as risking the friendship that had meant so much to both of them for five years.

And, once they had kissed, cementing those feelings and answering those questions, they had each known exactly what the other thought without any words needing to be exchanged. So, they had never really talked about it.

Conrad took a deep breath. “When you were talking to Gigi that night, you said we were a family. I hadn’t thought about it that way. Not that I didn’t consider you family,” Conrad amended. “But it wasn’t a conscious thought, you know? You were just a part of our life. A fact of it. And then you said it out loud to Gigi, and I was like ‘Of course.’ It just fit.”

“We’re just right,” Billie said.

“Yes,” Conrad said. “We’re comfortable together. Completely, one hundred percent comfortable. I don’t want to assume anything about you and your past relationships, but I’ve never felt like that before. Like this before.”

Billie’s eyes shot to his face. Conrad was staring at his hands in his lap rather than at her.

“It was different with Nic,” he said. “I loved her with everything in me. Every piece of me loved every piece of her.”

“I know,” Billie murmured.

“But I knew from the second I laid eyes on her that…” He shifted, hesitating to finish his sentence.

“You wanted to be together,” Billie supplied, feeling rather prim even as she said it.

A grin flashed across his face. “That’s the PG version anyway,” he said, voice gravelly. “We weren’t… We didn’t know anything about each other, and that physical part—the sex part—was there from the beginning. Always there. It…complicates things. And we broke up and got back together so many times. And it was always exciting and wonderful, and she fit, too. She fit me. But even when I asked her to marry me, I was only ninety-five percent sure she was going to say yes.”

He laughed, but it was bitter, almost self-deprecating, and he cut it off to swallow hard. Billie felt her stomach twist in nervous anticipation. Somehow, she knew what was coming next, and she wanted to reach out and touch him, wanted to feel his warmth and his skin. Instead, she curled her fingers into fists around the tissues still in her hands.

“You,” he said, careful and tentative. “You were my friend first. Strictly platonic and someone I could rely on, could say anything to, without worrying you might disappear. And you became a part of me. I know that sounds crazy. But I meant it when I said we grew together over the last five years. Sometimes I think I know you better than I know myself. I know you in a way that I have never known another human being. I know how you’re going to react. I know how you think about things, how your brain approaches a problem. I know why you do the things you do, why you make the decisions you make, without you ever having to explain.”

He shook his head, and the motion looked a little rough. “And the fact that I missed how you felt about me is completely bonkers because, of course, I should have seen it. I think I was so scared that I was reading it all wrong, that I just… shut it out. But I’ve already told you that,” he said, cutting himself off with a sigh.

“I think Nic and I would have gotten here,” he said, gesturing between himself and Billie. “But we weren’t there yet. So, no, Billie, I have never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. It’s not better, it’s not more. It’s just—”

“Different,” she whispered.

He raised his face to meet her eyes, clearly encouraged by her speaking, even if only one word. “And part of that comfort is because I saw you with Gigi, how pure and open and honest you are with her. No matter how she tests you, you never falter. And part of it is that we grew together and shaped each other,” he said. “We’re not the same people we were before Nic died. That changed us. But we also wouldn’t be the people we are now without each other.”

Billie nodded, tears starting to spill down her cheeks again.

He rubbed his fingers over his forehead. “And all of that is to say that I understand why this house is a problem. We changed. But the house didn’t. So, you feel like you’re sliding into Nic’s life. Like you’re replacing her.”

Billie pressed a hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t sob loud enough for Gigi to hear.

“And it’s one thing to visit,” Conrad said, bravely forging ahead. “It’s another thing to move in.”

“I’m sorry,” Billie said, covering her face so that he couldn’t look at her. “I’m so sorry. It’s not fair.”

“What isn’t fair is you not talking to me about this,” Conrad said. “Billie, it’s me. This is us. We talk about everything.”

“Not everything,” she muttered.

Against all odds, Conrad laughed. The sound was relieved, almost giddy. He eased closer to her on the couch, arm sliding behind her but not touching her.

“I’d like to change that,” he said. “Everything would be really, really good.”

“There are certain things I will never talk about with you,” she said, but her lips were curling up in the corners, just like he knew they would.

And as soon as he spotted the curls, Conrad’s arm moved from the couch back to wrap around her shoulders, pulling her closer into his heat. She felt a shudder run through him, and she realized he had been afraid. Her not talking to him, shutting him out, had terrified him and made him question his own confidence.

With all of that swirling through her mind, she said, “I don’t know how to get past this.”

“You don’t move in here,” Conrad said, as if it was the simplest decision in the world.

The words were firm, and the world dropped out from under Billie. He was taking the invitation back.

He didn’t want to live with you anymore, her brain hissed at her. Because he knows you’re right. You’re stealing Nic’s life. You’re the worst friend who has ever—

“Gigi and I can move in with you,” he said.

The voice cut off, and the world righted. A second later, a wave of shock swept through her as she fully registered what he had suggested.

“My house?” she asked.

“Why not?” he asked. “Gigi loves it there.”

“She loves to visit,” Billie pointed out. “Not to live. When she’s spent the night, she slept with me. She didn’t even want to go in the guest room.”

Conrad’s arm tightened around her, and she heard him swallow again. “Uh-huh.”

“And you know I bought that place in a hurry,” Billie said. “I barely even looked around the market. I took the first one that was nearby.”

“It’s a great house,” Conrad argued.

“Sure,” Billie said. “But this is Gigi’s home. She’s lived here her whole life.”

“True, but—”

“And the yard here is way better,” she said. “You even have a hot tub. I do not have a hot tub.”

“The hot tub can move,” Conrad pointed out. “I can’t move the yard, though.”

Billie made a complicated hand gesture that said See? My point exactly.

“But this place is small,” Conrad said, relaxing against the back of the couch. “Yours is bigger. If we decided to have more kids, where would we put them here?”

“Okay, we’re putting a pin in that,” Billie said in a dry voice. “Because that’s a whole different emotional conversation and a long way off if it happens at all. We could certainly find a new, different, third house option long before that happens. And, besides, selling my place would probably cover the cost of putting an addition on this one. And don’t you own that hillside? We could build up and maybe out off the back—” She paused, hand outstretched as she pointed out his windows, and took in his expression with suspicion. “What? Why are you grinning at me?”

He shrugged, still grinning like he had won the lottery. “I only ever wanted to open the dialogue.”

And Billie suddenly realized that she was quiet inside. The voice telling her she was stealing Nic’s life was gone.

The fear wasn’t gone. The anxiety and guilt were still roiling in her stomach, and she wasn’t sure she would ever be ready to move into Conrad’s house.

But the voice that had been berating her for two weeks was silent.

“How do you do that?” she asked him.

“Do what?” he asked, contentment on his face. He intertwined their fingers and brought her hand up to brush a kiss against the back.

“Make everything better,” she said.

His eyes squeezed shut like she had hit him, fingers tightening around hers. He sat like that for a moment, pressing her hand against his lips, his eyes closed to the world. And when he opened them again, they looked bruised. But not the bruised that Billie had become used to—the darkness of grief, of pain, of longing. All she saw in Conrad’s eyes was…gratitude and relief.

“I don’t know,” he said, voice gone gravelly again. “But I’m really glad I do. Honestly… you have no idea.”

#the resident #billie sutton #fanfic #conradbillie #conbillie #cobillie #conrad x billie #billie x conrad #gigi hawkins

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