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elliesmistress · 29 days

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EPISODE 1: PILOT

WARNINGS: 18+, heavy drug usage (cocaine, weed, alcohol, etc), oral sex (R, E, D, A, ETC), tribbing, overdoses (reader), mentions of overdoses, angst, EVERYONE WILL BE IN COLLEGE AS EUPHORIA IS SET IN HIGHSCHOOL!, mentions of self harm, Jules will be transgender (same in the show, except sex won't be with her), shoplifting, mentions of death, NATE and his family will most likely be left out of this completely and set with new characters that are less toxic, dealer!ellie (sometimes), drug deals, swearing, less abusive relationships but still toxic, mentions of rehab, rehab (detox), death, degradation, toxic sex, rough sex, strap usage, strap sucking, mentioning of 9/11, lmk if I missed anything please!

a/n: this will be VERY similar to Euphoria, you will be RUE (Due to it being "your" story I will be writing it with 'I' as Rue talks). I just need to figure out where abby, dina, jesse, etc will fit into the story. I do know abby will be CAT very likely all the characters will be the exact same (besides from Nate and his parents) I've struggled with a few of the problems in Euphoria and I've written my own fic about MY addictions but I figured I'd do Euphoria too hehe, I will be removing the SA parts of the story because that's just something I don't want to have on my page. Please let me know if you want to be on the taglist whilst I actually have inspo to write :) 3.8K WORDS, spell checked and shit idk man it's like 4 hours past my bed time and 1am

I WILL BE MAKING A EUPHRIA PLAYLIST FOR EACH CHAPTER!

Taglist: @snowy-vee , @vqxen @pedropascalsbbg

PRESENT DAY

"I was once happy, content, sloshing around in my own private primordial pool." I am standing in front of hundreds of people who are here listening to my story—to say the very least, I was nervous. I always have been a fucking addict, and now I'm telling my story of how I recovered from this fucking disease that ruined my fucking life.

"Then one day, for reasons beyond my control, I was repeatedly crushed." I blink my eyes, looking at the floor, struggling to find the right words: "over and over by the cruel cervix of my mother, Grace."

"I put up a good fight, but I lost, for the first time, and definitely not my last... I was born three days after 9/11."

Memories flood back to when I could hear the TV going on the day I was born.

"I can hear you; I can hear you; the rest of the world hears you; and the people who knocked these buildings down will hear all of us soon." The unknown man says on the TV that hearing the words "USA, USA!" being chanted over and over again made me cry as a baby. Those chants will forever haunt me.

"My mom and dad spent two days in the hospital, holding me under the soft glow of the television, watching the towers fall over and over again, until the feelings of grief gave way to numbness." I shift uncomfortably in the silence of the audience, glancing at my good friends Jesse and Ellie, who indicate for me to keep talking. A soft chuckle comes from my lips as I continue on with the story.

"And then," I take a deep breath, "without warning, we moved to a friendly neighborhood in the suburbs, to where a middle-class child, me to be exact, was looking up at the ceiling, counting those fucking numbers like I could fucking see them. Over and over again. 'thirteen... fourteen... fifteen... sixteen."

"My mother looked up at that ceiling like I was fucking crazy; the words she said echo through my dumb brain still: 'What are you looking at, y/n?'" "I kept counting, trying my hardest to ignore her. She said to me, 'y/n, look at me."

I chuckle. "I bet you all know where this is going. I kept counting, but from the start," and my smile dropped immediately.

"I remember breaking down and crying when my mother tried to snap me out of it. I wanted... I had nothing but to cry, so that's what I did. I sat in a doctor's office a few weeks later with my mother crying next to me as the doctor said I could be suffering from obsessive-compulsive disorder, attention deficit disorder, general anxiety disorder, and possible bipolar disorder." I put my hand up close to the mic to cup it. "But I was a little too young to tell," I said in a joking tone, cracking a laugh from the crowd. "Y'all get me; y'all fucking get me."

"With this being said, I was put on medication to treat half of the disorders I had, and to be honest, I don't remember much between the ages of 8 and 12. Just that the world moves fast and my brain moves so fucking slowly."

"I would sit my fucking ass in class every day and try my hardest to listen to what that fucking teacher was trying to teach, but sometimes I would focus on my breathing a little too hard. I'd die. That teacher held a bag to my mouth to calm my breathing, though it never really helped. I remember trying to outrun my anxiety every day, looking in the mirror and trying to push my stomach in so I wouldn't look "fat."

"I would constantly get messages from people telling me they wanted to kill me, drug me, make fun of me, and bully me. My mother knew something was up and constantly asked me what was wrong, but I always gave the same response: 'I'm just fucking exhausted."

AGE 19 (college years)

"You said the doctor was in our network. How could he suddenly be out of network?" I hear my mother say as I walk out of my room into the kitchen, "I can't afford it" Grace says.

"did you see the beauty queen who got acid thrown in her face?" My sister says as I begin to lean on the dinning room table. "Mm, what? No" I say, turning my attention to her and out of my trance. "it's pretty fucked up." She says holding up her phone. "Hey, Mom, you got any tampons?" I turned my head to face her as she looked at the documents in her hand, I knew full well I wasn't going to be getting tampons but she didn't need to know that shit.

"in my bathroom, under the sink." She replies back, I swiftly make my way to the bathroom.

I enter her bathroom and cough as I open her medicine cabinet to take a few of her Alprazolam (XANAX) pills.

I would do this countless times, and surprisingly at some point, you make a choice about who you are and what you want in life.

I pretend to flush the toilet and I look at the picture in my mother's bathroom- it had my dad and my Mom on it on their wedding day.

I look at myself in the mirror washing my hands and putting on sunglasses to hide my pupils that are almost as big as my actual eye itself- I get out of the bathroom to go back into the kitchen

"alright, Jayda, let's roll." I say to my sister as she looks at me and frowns, probably these fucking sunglasses.

"y/n, did you eat breakfast?" Grace says, moving the phone away from her mouth. "I had coffee!" I yell out, opening the front door and making my way out.

Jayda and I begin to walk down the sidewalk, she turns her attention onto me and asks what's with the sunglasses.

"what sunglasses?" I say and chuckle, Jayda laughs with me.

We both make our way to the bus and wait for it to arrive, once it arrives we get on the bus and make our way to the back of the bus.

I guess... I showed up one day, without a map or a compass... Or to be honest, anyone capable of giving on iota of good fucking advice. And I know it all may seem sad, but guess what? I didn't build this system nor did I fuck it up.

I was sitting at a party, with a galaxy book to my knees and a line of cocaine, holding the perfectly rolled 5 dollar bill that had been rolled by some rando.

I snort the line of cocaine and immediately felt the pain in my nose, moving my hand up to my nose and applying pressure to where it is painful, making my breathing hitch, then speeding up my breathing in order to get rid of the pain.

My pupils immediately shot big, looking around—everything felt good, my mind at ease and nothing to worry about. I sit up with the most unreal experience, an out-of-body feeling as I struggle to get up.

"y/n, you good?" My friend Ellie attempts to hold my shoulders to steady me as I wobble slightly, I giggle and smile at her, escaping her grasp. "I'm good!"

I walk past people- everything is in slow motion, my body feels slow, my mind feels slow, and suddenly I no longer feel as high- I find another unknown substance and waste no time snorting it, sitting down on the couch.

I sat back up from the couch I was sitting at, getting offered yet another line of cocaine. I snort that cocaine as well, that leaves it hard for me to breathe, every time I take a breathe out. It feels like I'm breathing out all the oxygen I have.

And then it happens. That moment when your breath starts to slow, and every time you breathe, you breathe out all the oxygen you have. And everything stops: your heart, your lungs, then finally your brain. Then everything you feel, and wish, and want to forget, it all just sinks. And then suddenly... You give it air again, give it life again, and that's what leaves you needing more.

I smile at the figure I see besides me, her face is blurred but she's speaking to me, I feel scared. "I want to call an ambulance" I say in my mind, "but I don't wanna ruin everyone's time"

"dude get her fucking legs" I hear muffled voices, slowly waking up. It was Ellie and Jesse dragging my body to Ellie's bed, after I had passed out on the couch at that random frat party-

I stand in a church with my hands behind my back, looking up at the ceiling waiting to graduate from rehab. Slowly making my way up the steps, I look at the lady and give her a smile and a nod before exiting the building.

"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." Echoing in my mind over and over again as I make my way to Ellie's car.

"Hey!" I see Ellie running up to me. I drop my bags as she pulls me into a tight hug. I smiled at her shoulder. She squeals, letting go of me and looking at my face, pulling a hair strand behind my ear.

"I've missed you," she admits. "I've missed you too."

"What about we go back to mine and we can watch a movie?" Ellie suggests that, honestly, I wanted to get home and get out to my fucking dealer. I never had intentions of staying clean, but she didn't need to know.

"Uh yeah, sure," I say, quickly breaking myself out of my own stance. She helps me with my bag, and she puts it in Joel's old, beat-up truck, and I get into the front seat. "Everyone's missed you, dude, Abby, Dina, Jesse, and Maddie. Fucking everyone, dude."

I chuckle.

I cuddle up with Ellie in her dad's garage as we watch Jurassic Park. I'm on top of her, listening to her breathing—she's relaxed; she's always around me.

I find myself nuzzling into her neck. She moves her head to the side, so you have better access to her neck. I softly kiss her neck; she's always so soft.

Her eyes flutter shut as I start to suck on her neck, her hands finding their way to my ass, slowly rocking me back and forth to grind on her. Ellie let out a choked moan as she felt my clothed cunt rub against her clit.

"Y/N, fuck," she moans. I smile against her neck and make my way to Ellie's lips.

I kiss her slowly, but Ellie starts to become desperate, whining into my mouth as I refuse to give her what she wants. I move my hand underneath her hoodie to find her tits; of course she's not wearing a fucking bra or shirt under her jumper. It's Ellie.

"Wait," I say, pulling down her pants and boxers in one go. I look at her swollen cunt, slowly moving my head downward to lick up her slit, making my way to her clit.

She bucks her hips up into my tongue, I moan into her cunt, and she tangles her hand in my hair, slightly tugging upwards, making me groan loudly.

"S-sh-it," her voice is choked. "Fuck, just like that," she moans, rolling her eyes back, her toes curling in her socks. "Hmm? Feel good, baby?" I say to her, slowly lifting my head up, abandoning her swollen cunt.

"Fucking don't," she threatened, and I chuckled. I push my middle finger into her soaking pussy as I attach back to her clit; her breathing gets faster, and I feel her tighten around my fingers.

"F-FUCK!" She moans loudly, and I feel her pussy conract on my finger as she cums, her fingers tugging at my hair. "A bit loud, don't you think?" I tease after letting her ride out her orgasm, and I move up to kiss her sweaty forehead. "Shut up"

"got another in you?" I smirk, taking off my pants, t-shirt, and bra. Ellie takes off her jumper, leaving us both naked. I allow Ellie to get up and let her go on top of me.

Ellie aligns her clit up with mine and moans quickly, filling the room each time Ellie moves her hips. I start to dig your nails into Ellie's back, making her groan in pain.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Ellie chants from the overstimulation. "C'mon, baby, I know—fuck, I know you can do it." I praise her as I feel a knot in my stomach, threatening to come undone.

Ellie moves her shoulder closer to my face. I take this as an opportunity to bite down on her shoulder, which makes her wince in pain.

"I'm going to fucking cum!" Ellie moans out. Hearing Ellie say this triggers my own orgasm, and we both cum together.

I sit up in bed watching Ellie sleep, and I take out my phone to look at the time.

4AM

"Fuck it," I think before opening Ellie's window slowly, climbing out her window, and making my way to my dealer's house.

"There's a new girl in town I think you're going to be friends with." I stand in front of my dealer, who's sitting down in his chair. "who?" I question.

"shit... I don't know, man. She came in yesterday lookin' all Sailor Moon and sh*t. I'm thinking to myself, "You look like somebody you would get along with."

"Ah, real nice, dude. Really nice, where's ash?"

"I thought you went to rehab?"

"Doesn't that mean I stayed sober?" I smiled, walking towards Ash's room with a smile. I opened his door to see him eating cereal. He puts down his bowl and looks at me.

"Shit, I thought your ass was dead."

"I thought you had Asperger's till I realized you're just a prick." I insult him. "This is a fickle industry. Y'all come and go." He chuckles.

I ask for what I want, and he hands it to me. "Sure, you don't want to try anything new?"

"Like, what?" I asked, pulling the hair out of my face.

"2-C-T-2, 2C-T-7, and 5-MeO-DIPT." "I have no idea what the fuck you just said, Ash."

"Doesn't matter, dude, this sh*t. Is fucking lit?" He holds up a bag with two unknown pills. "It's a fast-acting psychedelic. I have some similarities to LSD, but with, like, key differences. Not as visual and shit, but still a sense of distortion... I don't know what's been blowing up in Tampa, and mad people like to fuck on it."

"okay, yeah." I say, putting all the baggies in my pocket, "That'll be 120."

"Fez said he'd spot me."

"Fezco, don't spot anybody."

"Yeah, well, it's a post-rehab discount, so you should ask him." I say, pointing the middle finger at him, opening his door, and leaving.

"Do you think my areolas look weird?" Dina says to Abby, "What the fuck, no?"

"Just the edges."

"Dina, they're fine," Abby says, taking a puff of the weed Cassie gives her.

"Fine, like, they're weird, kind of weird, or fine, like, nobody but me would ever notice what I would notice?"

"Fine, like, shut the fuck up, Dina," Cassie says, sitting up, grabbing her vape, and taking a puff. Dina scoffs, pulling up her t-shirt to cover her boobs.

"Hey ladies!" Jesse walks in. "Hey baby," Dina squeals, running to Jesse and hugging him. Abby cringes.

"Straight people, ew," she thinks to herself, looking at her phone. "Yo, you got out of rehab."

"Didn't she die?" Dina asks, and Abby shrugs.

"Yeah, I swear she died. I don't know, is Ellie coming to the party?" Jesse questions, to which Dina nods.

I get off my bike at home, slightly drugged up from the drugs I took earlier.

I walk into the house, softly shutting the door.

"Where were you?" My mother says, sitting at the table, Why the fuck is she up at 6 a.m.? You thought to yourself: "I went to eat," I lie. "What the fuck do you mean, you went to eat?"

"what?"

"what?" She mocks, "Don't walk away from me." She sits up from her seat, walking towards me as I walk towards my room. "You know what, y/n? I don't trust you."

"I don't know what you want me to say." It's true; I didn't know why she wanted me to say it. "I want you to tell me where you were," she says, walking quickly as I walk to my room.

"I just said I went to fucking eat!" I yell at her, "Don't you talk to me like that!" Grace says as I slam the door on her face. "Don't be slamming my doors around here."

"It was a fucking accident!" I yell out, holding my body in front of the door. "I don't care. You're not leaving this house until you take a drug test."

"I just peed!" I yell out, "Slam another door."

"Shit," I say, making my way to my bed, not knowing what to do. Every option I could do is unsafe as fuck.

Niacin, maybe. I don't know fuck, I think to myself, putting out my phone to look at the side effects.

Google

Side effects: skin flushing, extreme dizziness, vomiting, rapid heartbeat, and sometimes death.

Fuck, I can't.

"No drug site recommends doing this" I whisper to myself.

The other option is to get a non drug-addicted friend to do it for me.

About 20 minutes later, I show up at Dina's door, knocking.

"y/n!" Dina says, opening the door, smiling and hugging me, "I thought you died."

I laugh. "Can you do me a favor?" Uhm, I'm serious, bro."

"Sure, what is it, y/n?"

"Can you, uh, piss in this cup for me?" I whisper to her . "You're fucking with me, right?" She responds back, and I laugh and shrug.

Dina agrees to do it, and I enter her house to see Jesse and Abby.

"Sup Jesse," I say, fist bumping Jesse, then Abby.

"We thought you fucking died, bro. How was rehab?" Jesse says it with a genuine tone. "Yeah, it was good." I turn to Abby and ask, "How's football going?"

"Yeah, good. Thanks, uh, are you coming to that party tonight?" Abby asks, "Uhm, yeah, maybe."

"y/n" Dina grabs your attention, you move away from Jesse and Abby, and she swiftly hands you the bottle. "Here's that eyeliner."

"thank you"

I quietly climb through my window, grabbing my baggie of crushed cocaine, tipping some out onto my shelf, grabbing my 5 dollar note, rolling it up, and snorting a line.

"Argh," I groan, feeling it hit my nose. The same pain I've always experienced with snorting was still there—just muffled out. By this point, my nose was completely fucked, and I could hear the sound of the drugs eating away at my nose.

"Mom! I have to pee."

"I wish we could do this in a way that wasn't a complete invasion of my privacy." I say, cup in hand, struggling not to smile at her due to the drugs I had taken earlier on.

"Well, you lost your right to privacy after your overdose," your mom says, staring at you in the eyes.

"That was an accident." I smartly talk back, "Don't be flippy, y/n."

"Could you, at least?" Your mom turns around and says, "Thank you."

I sit down, and before "peeing" in the cup, I swiftly change it with Dina's urine as she talks. I wasn't listening to whatever the fuck she was saying... I was high as fuck, and I didn't care.

I gave her the urine sample, and she put the drug test in the container, and all of them came out negative. "I'm sorry for slamming the door earlier."

"it's okay. I forgive you. Come here." My mom says, pulling me in for a hug.

I guess... Like I said before, you get to choose who you want to be and how you want to be- the way the drugs cancelled out all my emotions was what I was looking for, no person, no nothing could compare to that feeling. Besides from drugs.

"I'm gonna stay at Dina's tonight" i say to which she agrees.

It's now 7PM, I don't know how the day went by so fast- but it did and it fucking sucked. I get a text from Ellie.

Ellie: Yo, noticed you left this morning you okay?

Me: yeah, I'm good bro. You alg?

Ellie: yep! Wanna come over tonight? Dont have to if you wanna go to the party instead

Me: I'll come over around like 11?

I find myself making my way to the party that Jesse, Dina, and Abby are going to.

Jesse and Dina have fucked off somewhere else, probably making out or fucking, and you find yourself next to Abby.

"How was rehab, y/n?" She says, breaking the tension, although I can barely hear her over the music, "Yeah, it was good!" I yell over the music.

I stand up, looking for the bathroom in an attempt to snort more, but people were already in the bathroom. "Shit," I think to myself, not paying attention to where I'm walking, accidentally bumping into this lady.

"fuck!" I yell. Looking at her, she looks like the girl Faz mentioned. "Hey, sorry." I retrace my steps.

"You're good; I'm, uh, I'm Jules," she says, and I smile, holding out my hand to shake hers. She accepts and shakes my hand.

She's got one of the most beautiful smiles you have ever seen; her smile is so bright it could light up an entire dark room, filled with nothing but sadness.

"I'm y/n" I introduce myself, to which we exchange numbers, and I make my way to Ellie's place, feeling overwhelmed from the party.

I knock on her door for Joel to answer; my pupils are dilated, and obviously I've taken some sort of drug.

"y/n... Hey, Ellie's in her room." I smile stupidly. These fucking drugs, man, I can't stop smiling . I swiftly walk past Joel and see Ellie. I smile at her, and she smiles back. "Dude, are you high?" She scoffs, "I thought... I thought you quit."

"I'm not high, Ellie, mania." I giggle; she obviously doesn't want to assume, so she wants to give me the benefit of the doubt.

"Are you coming back to college this month?" She questions. "Yeah, probably." The truth was, I didn't want to. But I knew I probably had to.

I shall leave it at this due to how many words, etc. and idk if people will like this 😭😭

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ridestomars · 9 months

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ISN'T SHE LOVELY? – S. HARRINGTON

𖥻 summary: the party meets y/n and steve's firstborn. 𖥻 pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader 𖥻 warnings: girl dad!steve. the baby's name is amelia. too much fluff. everyone is alive and well thank you. one dirty dancing reference. bad grammar, italics & not proofread (hey it's me). 2k-ish words. weird divs :/

💭 liv's thoughts: this is based on an idea i had last year (s4 i miss you) and a sequel of sorts to my 'all is well universe' of sunny days that won't ever end – you don't have to read it, but pls do it's v sweet. i hope you like it! <3

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU'RE UNDER SIXTEEN.

The sound of loud chattering could be heard from the end of the hallway, which wasn't surprising, given the number of people that were sharing the limited space of the apartment's living room. The kids – can you even call them that anymore? – were never known for their ability to speak quietly whenever they were together. However, everyone seemed to be in such a good mood that you can even hear the loud sound of Jonathan's laugh. There's a first time for everything, right?

You held the small baby in your arms, walking in slow steps out of her little nursery. Though you tried not to disturb your daughter too much, Amelia already had her big brown eyes open and searching for the source of all that noise. She wasn't used to such noises, being too accustomed to her parents' soft-spoken voices and the entertaining sound of their television – that didn't play anything other than Steve's recordings of Barney episodes. It's only natural that she finds the commotion strange.

As you arrive in the living room, you are greeted by Steve in his typical mom pose, hands on his hips as he watches Michael and Max's every move, anxiously waiting for his girls. From his stance, you can see that he already regrets the idea of inviting everyone over. Taking in the very worried furrow of his eyebrows, you just know that he is going over the most pessimistic thoughts as he looks at the crowded living room.

Appearing with the small baby in your arms, everyone gasped in surprise and amazement, including Steve, who quickly made his way over to you with the goofiest, most endearing smile. His big hands wrap around Amelia's small frame, as he leans down to take her from your arms. He has that sweet look on his face, that brightens even more when he sees the chubbiness of the baby's laughing cheeks. Delicately, like he's carrying the world's most precious jewel (he is!), your husband shows Amy to everyone, with a proud glimmer in his eyes.

"There she is!" he maneuvers her chubby body tenderly, making the baby sit on his arm to face everyone. Her upper body leaned on his chest for support, and she squealed happily when her curious eyes noticed how many people were in their living room. Unhesitating, Steve translates it to everyone, "Millie says hi".

That was enough to erupt a string of awws, sighs and one high-pitched "she's so adorable!" from Eddie. It was funny to see how a human being so small had everyone wrapped around her tiny little finger. Even Max, who usually had a hard time showing any emotion other than pure annoyance, was goofily smiling at the baby, admiring her brown (and very full) hair and round cheeks.

The kids were the most eager to get to know Amelia, with Dustin being the spokesman for their wishes, telephoning almost every day since the baby was born to ask when they could meet her. So, it's no surprise that the first person to make grabby hands to hold her next was Henderson himself. "C'mon, Steve, let me hold my goddaughter!" he exclaims as he looks at your girl in absolute awe.

"Your goddaughter?" Eddie asks, scoffing from his seat at the couch's armrest, next to the boy. "Yeah, right".

"Guys," Robin quickly intervenes, rolling her eyes as she watches the two bickering all over again over the matter. She was seated comfortably in the chair by your living room's small table, alongside Vicky. "Not this again, please?"

That wasn't enough to silence Eddie and Dustin, who began to argue harder about who is supposed to be the baby's godfather. The usual arguments were professed, "You're not old enough!", "but I'm the most mature!", "The baby's lullaby shouldn't be Dio!", "And it shouldn't be Weird Al Yankovic either!"

Given that he couldn't clap, Steve stomped his foot on the ground as he commanded the room's attention to him again, "Hey, hey, hey!" he exclaimed, letting out a satisfied breath when everyone falls silent again. "So, before we let you hold our daughter, I'd like to go over some rules-".

Loud groans erupt from everyone's mouths, and Amelia looks up at her dad, even more curious.

The kids were squished on the living room's small couch, surprisingly fitting in the space where you and Steve had a hard time adjusting in. Eleven was sitting on the side of the couch's armrest, patiently kicking her feet as Mike, Will, and Dustin elbowed each other in a silent fight for more space by her side. At the end of the couch, Max, Lucas and Erica found a way to position themselves without struggling too much. It was so crowded that poor Suzy had to sit on an old puff that Steve had bought in a garage sale when you moved in together ("It'll come in handy one day, you'll see!" Steve exclaimed while he walked off the sale holding the object, victoriously), right at Dustin's feet. On one side of the sofa, Eddie was slouched on the armrest, while Nancy sat on the other, as put-together as ever. Near her, Jonathan leaned against the apartment's wall, chatting with Argyle and Eden.

Amelia was carefully handed to Dustin, who sat in the middle of the couch. You figured it was the best position to have everyone look at her, an democratic decision, but it was still possible to hear Eddie complaining under his breath.

Your daughter got used to Dustin's hold fast, only shifting her tiny body over his arms a couple of times to find her position. When she did, Amy made one of those adorable baby sounds, showing everyone that she was incredibly satisfied now; and it was like the world had stopped for all of them. The only thing that mattered was to witness baby Harrington simply exist. Feasting your eyes on the scene, you hold Steve's waist, hugging him from behind as you rest your face against his arm, not being able to battle the tears that filled your eyes. Your heart was swelling with pride.

"She's pretty," El murmured, her voice sounding even quieter now, as her eyes sparkled at the sight of the little one.

With a trembling voice, Dustin agreed, "She is very pretty".

"Yeah," Will says as he watches Millie yawn, "She looks just like you, Y/N".

"Lucky for her," Mike and Max remark in unison, immediately glaring at each other with narrowed eyes. That makes everyone laugh, and baby Amelia opens up her eyes to check it out, opening a toothless grin after. Max, feeling as if her witty remark was stolen by the boy, adds, "It'd be such a shame if she had Steve's dead-fish stare. Thank God she has Y/N's eyes, too".

At that, your husband gawks at her, letting out an offended gasp. He's so upset that his mouth hangs open, as he looks at her, in complete silence. Catching his incredulity, Max only shrugs, as if to say, "What can I do?".

"Well, at least she has his hair," Lucas observes, mediating the situation, as usual.

"Thank you, Lucas!" Steve breathes out, feeling he got the justice he deserved.

The bickering soon faded into a familiar silence, as everyone's attention fell fully on your little girl, who slept peacefully in Dustin's arms, completely ignoring the commotion around her. And that was when the emotional weight of the moment fell on all of you. Glistened eyes watched in tranquility as the baby squirmed every once in a while, as the importance of the scene settled. Amelia's sole existence reassured you of a peace that you hadn't known in years, as if she was the last step in sealing the serene fate that awaited all of you. She was living proof that life is still normal, and despite all the hard times, it isn't all that bad, actually.

Seeing those grown-up kids taking care of a small piece of you and Steve filled your heart with delight, and a different sense of fulfillment that you hadn't known until now. It's so meaningful.

The nostalgia of seeing their sweet faces intensified when the kids started to argue about who was going to hold Amelia next, and suddenly the apartment was filled with loud chattering all over again. Just like the old times… but, somehow, better.

"Jonathan, look!" Nancy points out to little Amelia scrunching her nose, as if to suggest that he should snap a picture of the baby like that. Now, the kid was laying in Robin's arms, having her full head of hair brushed by Auntie Bobby – the lame nickname was picked by Steve, of course. "What a cute little nose you have, Amy!"

The oldest Wheeler compliments the baby in a high-pitched tone, as if the girl would actually understand. By her side, Jonathan kept taking pictures of the baby, snapping beautiful frames with that domestic feeling that you're growing used to; he promised that he'll develop all of them later.

"When's her birthday?" Eden asks quietly, as she smooches her face against Argyle's arm, watching the baby in wonder.

"October thirty-first," Steve answers quickly, not helping himself. Ever since the baby was born, he started to cultivate this staggering need to answer anything Amelia-related, talking about her constantly as if he didn't know how to chat about anything else.

With that spaced-out way of his, like he just had snapped out of a trance by the baby's birth date, Argyle lets out a chuckle, looking down at Millie with… respect, it seemed. "Ooh, Scorpio. Cool, man".

Then, everyone falls back into silence, just appreciating her small features and lovable babbles. However, Steve seems a little skeptical about how cool it is for his kid to be a Scorpio, and he slowly turns his head to look at you, giving Argyle a bit of a side-eye when he does so. "What did he mean by that? Isn't that, like, bad?" he whispers to you, still watching your friends interact with Amelia from the corner of his eyes.

"No!" you immediately reassure him, telling a little half-truth, "It just means that she's very… sweet".

Steve seems satisfied by your answer, mainly because he doesn't ask any further questions, and he goes back to keeping his eyes on Robin, making sure that she's holding your kid correctly. It isn't his fault that she has spaghetti arms, alright?

Eddie soon joins in, though he doesn't look very pleased about it, walking to stand in front of Robin with an exasperated expression on his face. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking down at the girl. You watch the scene unfold with confusion.

"Well?" he asks, lifting his eyebrows as if he is waiting for something, though he doesn't say what it is.

Rob looks up, still playing with the baby's hair, pursing her lips while she waits for Eddie to explain why he is interrupting her moment with Amelia. From over her shoulder, Vicky makes funny faces at the small girl, making loud squeals come out of your daughter's mouth.

When he doesn't say anything, Robin asks, "What, Munson?", blinking her eyes vigorously as she tilts her head.

"You're taking too long!" he tells her like that was the only answer possible. "It's been fifteen minutes already, it's my turn!"

After Eddie's little protest (thankfully, he didn't feel the need to get on top of your table this time), everyone took turns holding baby Millie in their arms. You didn't mind it, because you knew that your friends were just very excited to be meeting your daughter for the first time, but you cannot say the same for Steve. He was hating every second of it.

"Y/N, I can't take it," he breathes out once he pulls you to the side, hiding with you in the kitchen, away from prying ears, "They're passing her around like a joint".

"Relax, Stevie," you try to calm him down, though it's useless. Spying into the living room again, you see that Amelia is laying in Eleven's arms, which warms your chest a little. "El's rocking her to sleep, there's no prob-"

You quickly stop talking when Mike takes the baby from his girlfriend's grasp, having a hard time managing his long limbs around the kid's small frame. Eyes widening, you look to Steve, wanting to catch his reaction to the scene.

And he's fuming.

But just as he is getting ready to stomp his way over to Michael, you hold his arm, keeping him back and away from the kids. "Give them a break," is how you begin to reason with him, "he's getting the hang of it".

"Well, my daughter shouldn't be their little guinea pig," he huffs back, crossing his arms.

"Don't be like that," you persuade. "You didn't know how to hold her either, and now you're, like, a pro. Right?".

His hardened expression seems to melt at your compliment – Steve always feels so elated whenever people praise his parenting skills, especially when it comes from you. Your husband's cheeks flush a little, and he looks down, a bit bashful.

"You mean it?" he asks, playing with the loose seems of his yellow sweater.

"Of course, I mean it," giggling, you get closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist as you pull him in for a hug. "She's so lucky to have you as her dad. Actually, we're so lucky to have you in our lives".

He chuckles a little, pleased to still gain such flattery from you. From where you stood, you can clearly see the timid redness that cripples from his neck up to his cheeks, which makes him seem even more adorable in your eyes. But even his striking looks didn't distract you from the intimate feeling of his hand resting over the small of your back, drawing you closer for a sweet peck on the lips. It's funny how still after all this time, Steve was able to make you feel endless electricity and warmth just by the simple touch of his lips.

Unfortunately for you, the pleasant moment was ruined by someone clearing their throat. Pulling apart from the kiss, you and Steve looked ahead, catching Eddie and Dustin's embarrassed faces after interrupting.

"Hey, so, hm…", Dustin starts, clearly not knowing how he should start, still very awkward succeeding the scene they had just break in on.

"We have settled on who should be Amy's godfather, and we swear-", Eddie cuts in, talking at full speed. But before he could get on with their (definitely) deep and sensible reasoning, you hear Steve groaning. "Jesus, guys. Not this again".

LIKES, REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED! steve masterlist | main masterlist | navigation ── hey! wanna talk? leave me a message after the beep. currently accepting requests for steve and eddie.

𖤐 I AM RESTARTING MY TAGLIST! if you want to be added to my taglist, just click here.

#they're my family idc #i love love love writing group interactions #max being the president of mike wheeler's hate club #she's so me #girl dad!steve #liv talks about stevie #liv writes #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #girl dad!steve harrington

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folkloresthings · 9 months

Note

[ regretful ] + lando norris maybeeee ? <3

p.s i absolutely adore your writing 💞

[ regretful ] for a kiss meant to apologise with lando norris.

it was a very nice restaurant, you had to admit. you had asked charles for a recommendation, since you and lando were both new to monaco, and he’d given you the name of his favourite place. it was expensive sure, but you had decided lando deserved a nice night out. he’d been working non—stop since you moved, you’d barely seen him, so at the first chance of an evening off you booked the restaurant.

it felt less and less like a nice restaurant the longer you sat, alone, waiting for your boyfriend to appear. you suddenly felt incredibly self—conscious, amongst the glitz and glamour, the dress you had picked out looking progressively worse in your eyes the longer you felt people looking at you.

lando had agreed to meet you there at seven, after his meetings, and it was now sixteen minutes past eight. he wasn’t answering his texts, and you were sure you might cry from embarrassment if the waiter asked you “are you still waiting on someone?” one more time.

“i’m sorry, there seems to have been an emergency,” you lied, making your apologies to the hostess, before slipping out of the restaurant with burning cheeks. it wouldn’t have been half as bad if you hadn’t heard the whispers of nearby tables mentioning who you were, who your boyfriend was. monaco was smaller than you thought, and now people knew you’d been stood up by lando norris, top formula one driver.

when you arrived back at your apartment, it was cold and empty. there was no sign of lando, in person or on your phone. your new dress discarded in a corner, you pulled on a pair of pyjama bottoms and an old mclaren sweater, wallowing on the couch with yesterdays leftovers and gossip girl playing on the television.

the door clicked open around eleven o’clock, and you heard lando hurry in, slightly out of breath from his rush home. you clicked pause on your episode, turning to look coldly at him over the back of the sofa.

“i waited an hour for you,” you told him, before he could spout excuses. “an hour of pity from the waiters and whispers from stupid people sat next to me. it was embarrassing, lando.”

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, dropping his bag and stalking over to the couch. “the meetings were hectic and i just lost track of time and then it was too late. i’m so sorry, love.”

you bit down hard on your lip, the tears that had been threatening to spill all night finally taking liberty. lando sighed, his stomach twisting. he hated the sight of you crying, always had.

“i just wanted one night,” you manage to choke out, curling into yourself. “but you’re always so busy. we’ve lived here for three months and haven’t spent any time together, lando.”

lando winced, the months catching up on him. squeezing next to you, he pulls your frame into his lap and holds you close, mind racing with ways to make it up to you. he’d been so busy, he’d forgotten to prioritise you — the love of his life. the person who gave up everything to move out here with him, because he’d asked you to.

“listen to me,” he murmured, making you look up at him with big, wet eyes. “i love you so much. i know i’ve been awful recently at showing it, but i do. i’m going to take some time off, i don’t care what anyone says, and we’re going to spend every day together. okay?”

you nod, wiping at your eyes. lando smiles, though it’s full of sadness, and hooks his knuckle under your chin to raise you lips to his. tender and loving, pouring everything he couldn’t say into one kiss, softly sucking at your bottom lip.

“you make it really hard to stay mad at you,” you pout, gazing up at his doe eyes. he smiles, that boyish, toothy smile that makes your chest swell.

“i love you too, baby.”

#🌙 ﹐ drabbles.#thank you for the lovely note<3 #i too could never stay mad at lando #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 instagram au #formula 1 drabble #formula 1 imagine #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris blurb #lando norris imagine #lando norris drabble

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frozenwolftemplar · 6 months

Text

Somehow, the Carmen Sandiego brainrot has taken hold even though I haven't watched an episode in months (no idea how that happened). So, how's about some headcanons? (feel free to play with any or all if they strike your fancy)

-- Carmen's room in headquarters has two wall clocks, one set to San Diego time and one to Ontario because

-- Player has a veritable army of cousins. Carmen never got a straight number because just when she thinks she's got them down, he'll offhandedly mention someone having a baby or something; quite honestly, he can't keep track either.

-- Carmen is nearly hopeless with numbers. Time zones, exchange rates, converting to imperial units when she's in the U.S., she never got the hang of any of it and has learned to just consult Player.

-- "Okay, that guy at the front desk said I'm ten miles from the Grand Canyon. How many-" "Sixteen, Red. Keep an eye out, it's easy to miss." "Very funny."

-- It drove the Faculty absolutely nuts that their 'golden opportunity' is math-stupid; they chalked it up to something she got from her mother's side.

-- It's not. Dexter Wolfe was just *that* good at hiding his dyscalculia.

-- The one math-y thing she can do is card counting, a key component of being an incorrigible cheat at board/card games. Because she will cheat at anything and everything.

-- Seriously, one time Zach and Ivy found an old Candyland game (just lying around the warehouse, don't ask) and Carmen, who had never seen the game in her life, positively trounced them.

-- They just *know* she has to be cheating but can't prove it.

-- Ivy, bewildered, to Carmen's cat-that-got-the-canary face: "How does someone cheat at Candyland?!?" She's just that good.

-- Whenever Shadowsan plays her in cards, it takes all of two minutes for the game to devolve from 'whatever they were supposed to be playing' to 'who's better at sleight of hand.' Not that he condones cheating, mind, but if Carmen's going to, well, he's not just going to let her get away with that.

-- Carmen as a kid was a very picky eater (her adventurous spirit not extending to the culinary world); the Faculty was as helpful as you'd expect.

-- "Dammit, Saira, I told you to quit trying to feed her that rice!" "Well I need someone to taste test-" (absolutely no sense of taste on Saira; lab accident, we don't talk about it) "-and you certainly haven't volunteered. Besides, this newest formula is fortified with three essential vitamins and minerals (at least, I think they're essential), which is more than those sweets you keep plying her with." "At least she eats those!"

-- Ivy and Zach are high school dropouts, figuring they could get ahead better with racing than with academics. As part of joining ACME they get their GED's (since they require *at least* a high school diploma) and the whole team (plus Chase and Julia) help out and are so proud when they pass.

-- The first thing Carmen always does in the morning, something that doesn't change post-series, is call Player. It's also the last thing she does before turning in at night. She can't imagine being any other way, and neither can he. (crud, they're just the bestest friends, I love them so much)

#carmen sandiego 2019 #carmen sandiego #player #fic reference #some of these i do plan on using in fics #shadowsan #ivy #zach #vile faculty #carmen sandiego fanfic #carmen fic

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cryscendo · 10 months

Text

kurt hummel in every performance

3x08 - Hold on to Sixteen

Control - Quinn Fabray, Blaine Anderson, and Artie Abrams + New Directions

#glee #kurt hummel #my stuff #quinn fabray #kuinn #kurt hummel in every performance #song: control #episode: hold on to sixteen #that second gif is so cute 🥺#i wish quinn and kurt could’ve been closer in canon bc i love them #the wlw mlm solidarity they couldve been #trade baby queues for wide eyed browns

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gleesongtournament · 9 months

Text

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angelhummel · 2 years

Photo

my favorite glee dynamics (in no particular order)

Mercedes x Quinn

“Wait, wait! I want Mercedes with me, too.”

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jauntilyplacedcaps · 1 year

Photo

#glee #gleeedit #tina cohen chang #quinn fabray #quinntina #season 3 #3x08 #episode: hold on to sixteen #song: red solo cup #place: choir room #place: mckinley high #place: ohio #duo #brown #red #yellow

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fluentmoviequoter · 4 months

Text

Undo It

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!SWAT!reader

Summary: You get abducted on your way home and won't talk to anyone after you're saved. Deacon vows to undo all the damage done to you.

Warnings: angst, descriptions of injury/threats/torture, SWAT!reader is abducted and held hostage, Deacon gets very protective, fluff.

Word Count: 5.2k+ words

A/N: One scene in this is inspired by Criminal Minds episode "Riding the Lightning" (1x14). I also don't know how to play poker, so I kinda rushed through that. This is completely self-indulgent; the idea came to my mind while watching season 3 of SWAT and I had to write it. Hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think! :)

Picture from Pinterest

“Two more women have been reported missing from central Los Angeles. The Los Angeles Police Department has not yet commented on whether the recent missing persons reports – of which there have been sixteen in as many days – are connected.”

Deacon mutes the television as Hicks enters.

“They’re all over us,” Hicks mutters. “But that’s not why I’m here. We got an anonymous tip from one of Luca’s neighbours. There’s a drug buy going down around the corner from his house. You up for it?”

“Who called in the tip? Same guy as last week?” Luca interjects.

“Probably.”

“We’re in. Worst-case scenario, it’s another false alarm,” Hondo says.

“That’s the worst-case scenario?” you repeat. “What’s your idea of a good case scenario, walking into the middle of a drug buy?”

“My arrest record is lookin’ a little thin. Let’s roll,” Hondo teases, patting your shoulder as he walks by.

You roll your eyes, smiling at Deacon as you fall in line behind him. Deacon puts himself on your team for the breach, and you find yourself tucked behind him as he enters a bedroom.

“L.A.P.D., on the ground!” he yells.

You follow him in, placing handcuffs on the two men inside. Hondo and Tan clear the other side of the house while Chris and Street enter from the back. No other suspects are inside, but there is a bathroom filled with drugs.

“Looks like you forgot to flush,” Hondo taunts as he raises a small plastic bag.

Once back in Black Betty, you remove your helmet and lean against Deacon’s side. You keep your head up, and the touch isn’t visible to Tan or Chris across from you, but Deacon welcomes it.

“Need a ride home?” Deacon asks as he offers a hand while you exit Black Betty.

“No, I’m going to walk. I could use the air. Thank you though,” you reply.

“It’s getting late,” Deacon argues.

“I’ll be okay, I promise, Deac.”

Deacon watches you go and considers following you to ensure you get home safe, yet when you promise to call Chris when you get home, he decides he’ll text you later to confirm everything is alright.

✯✯✯✯✯

The last block separating you from your house seems darker than usual. Speeding up, you reach for your back pocket to pull your phone out. None of your team members would mind staying on the phone until you get home, but your mind immediately goes to Deacon. He’d not only answer but probably be in his car before you finished telling him you were concerned or uneasy. Once your phone is in your hand, you watch as someone steps out of the shadows.

“Evening,” you mutter, nodding once as you step to the side.

“It’s a good one now,” he responds. “I’m Matt.”

You ignore him, but when his hand wraps around your arm, you turn quickly, throwing a punch against his jaw.

“Oh, I told you she’d put up a fight,” a second voice says before two hands land on you from behind.

“Night, night,” Matt says, holding his face as a cloth is pressed to your face.

You fight until everything goes dark, and as your head drops, you see your phone on the sidewalk. You know that Deacon will save you… or die trying.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey, Chris,” Deacon says as he answers the phone.

Chris says your name, sounding out of breath, before continuing, “Have you heard from her?”

“No. I offered to drive her home, but she wanted to walk. Why?”

“She didn’t call like she said she would. She always calls. And now she’s not answering my calls.”

Deacon takes a deep breath, rubbing his jaw as he attempts to deduce where you could be.

“Something’s wrong,” Chris adds.

“I know, I know. Call the team; I’ll drive by her house and meet you there. Hey, Chris,” he waits for her to hum to finish, “we’ll find her.”

Deacon is at your house faster than usual, slowing as he drives past your driveway. A small light is evident on the sidewalk, the only evidence of life in a strip without a streetlight. He parks, jumping out to run across the road and pick it up.

“No,” he whispers, looking at your phone.

What makes finding your phone abandoned on the side of the road worse, he thinks, is that his contact is open. You tried to call him, and based on the new crack across the screen, you needed help. You needed Deacon, and he wasn’t here.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Find anything?” Chris asks when Deacon walks in.

“Her phone,” Deacon answers, laying your phone on the table. “It was unlocked, lying on the sidewalk less than a block from her house.”

“The light-less dead zone?” Luca guesses.

Deacon nods, his jaw tightening as he confirms. He should have insisted on driving you home or been on the phone talking to you the whole time.

“I should’ve just gone with her,” Chris mutters.

“Don’t do that,” Street says, “we had no way of knowing something would happen. Any one of us could be blamed for this, but that won’t help us find her.”

Hondo nods but doesn’t say anything before Hicks rushes in.

“I didn’t see it until now,” he mumbles, opening the computer. “I don’t know how we missed it.”

20-David watches as he navigates to the missing persons' page, a collection of women gathered at the top. Hicks opens the most recent reports, and Chris exhales a sharp sigh.

“They are connected,” she says.

“Yeah,” Hicks answers. “Somehow, we missed the physical appearance connection. Our guys were so interested in the victimology that they probably never even looked at the pictures.”

“They look just like her,” Luca whispers. “It’s uncanny.”

“Do we have any ideas? Suspects? Leads?” Hondo asks. Hicks shakes his head, and Hondo slaps an open palm onto the table. “We can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

“I know that Hondo, but without an idea as to who, what, or why, we don’t have anything to go on. LA county is big, we can’t just start searching aimlessly.”

“First responders,” Deacon says, his eyes and his focus on the screen. “They all work as first responders. Firefighter, EMT, 911 operator. Every one of them. Where were they taken from?”

“Uh, within a mile of their homes,” Street reads. “Six of the six-seventeen, now, visited the Los Angeles county court to inquire about getting restraining orders.”

“Against?” Deacon asks.

Street clicks through the reports before looking up at Deacon. “Asher Nolan.”

“All six against the same guy,” Hondo begins, clicking his tongue, “that’s a lead.”

“I’ll get a warrant,” Hicks says, turning toward his office.

Deacon watches as your picture is added to their list. He knows the team only has 24 hours to find a real lead, or they risk never seeing you again.

“Don’t, Deacon,” Hondo says lowly, standing beside Deacon. “It’s not our fault, not your fault."

“I offered to drive her home, tried to insist, but she promised she would be safe.”

“You didn’t know, Deac, you couldn’t have helped her.”

“I could have!” Deacon drops his voice, looking away from your picture to admit, “She tried to call me. When I found her phone, my contact was open. If she had pressed it, or if I had called sooner, she might have been okay.”

“She will be.”

“She better.”

Deacon walks out, unable to look at your smiling face any longer. Hicks comes back quickly with a warrant, and Deacon tries to detach himself from the case. He can’t, not when it’s you.

✯✯✯✯✯

The clock in the room reads 11:58 p.m. It’s only been four hours since you left S.W.A.T. HQ, though it seems a distant memory. The door opens, and you are still against the bed you’re chained to.

“You know, I miss when you would talk to me,” Matt says, laying his hand across your throat. “What happened? I know you help people, so help yourself.”

He laughs at his dumb act, amused by the fact that he knows why you fell silent. Your skin burns against his touch, and the cough you want to release feels trapped in your throat. Faint bruises are barely visible in the bright light, but you know that the marks they’ve left are deeper than any bruises that may appear. Assuming you survive, of course.

“Since you’re giving me to cold shoulder,” Matt adds, dragging his hand across your collarbone to rest on your shoulder, “maybe I should return the favor.”

His other hand raises, covered in an oven mitt, as he reaches into a cooler and removes a large chunk of dry ice. You pull your lower lip between your teeth, determined not to scream. The ice meets the bare skin of your shoulder, though you’re unsure when he moved your sleeve. Alternating between burning and freezing, stabbing pain, you fight to remain conscious.

“Functional lessons,” the second man muses as he walks in. “I like it.”

An alarm goes off, and Matt and the man whose name you’ve yet to learn walk out. The ice is left against the skin of your upper arm, melting too slowly against you and the bed.

“I almost forgot,” Matt’s voice echoes before something pricks your arm and everything goes dark as the pain finally fades.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Cameras,” Street points out. “They know we’re here.”

“Then let’s show ‘em why,” Hondo says. “Chris, Tan, Luca, go right. Deacon, Street, you’re with me.”

When Deacon feels Street touch his shoulder, he lays his hand on Hondo’s. He wants to get in and get you out as quickly as possible. Many things could happen, too many variables, but Deacon is prepared to risk his life to save yours.

“Gun,” Hondo calls, pushing back against Deacon as they enter a hallway.

“Took you long enough. When my buddy said LAPD was incompetent, I didn’t realise I’d be able to get so much done before you found me,” Matt calls.

“Let’s talk about this,” Hondo yells. “There’s a chance to walk away from this.”

“You mean like Abby?” a second voice joins.

“24-David,” Chris’s voice crackles through the radio, “We got eyes on one.”

“30-David, we have eyes on one east of the front door,” David replies.

“Abby didn’t walk away, though,” Matt says before laughing.

“Neither did Chelsea, or Bailey.”

“Or that pretty little officer. They saved everyone except themselves.”

Deacon closes his eyes, taking a deep breath to stay calm when they bring you up.

“See, that’s where you messed up,” Hondo announces. “You took one of us. Surrender and maybe the DA will work with you, find the other girls and get a reduced sentence.”

“Or, what? Go down in a blaze of fire? Better than ice.”

Hondo peeks around the corner, aiming his weapon. “Last chance, Asher. Put the gun down.”

“Asher? Oh, you mean my boss. He said not to do that.”

Matt raises his gun, and Hondo takes the chance to fire. He rushes out while Deacon covers him.

“Where is she?” Hondo demands as he presses a hand to Matt’s wound, kicking his gun away.

“Frozen by now.”

Matt’s eyes close, and Hondo gestures toward the other hallway as he radios that one of the suspects is down. Deacon nods, leading Street into the hallway.

“Clear,” Deacon says, exiting a bedroom.

“Closet only,” Street informs, opening a door on the other side.

Deacon opens the last door and lowers his gun to his side before he rushes into the room. Street turns in the doorway, covering him.

“24-David, the second suspect is down. It’s not Asher,” Chris radios.

Street turns into the room, joining Deacon by the bed.

“Is that-“

“Dry ice,” Deacon finishes as he knocks it onto the floor.

He removes his glove to find your pulse, elevated but steady. Your skin is colder than it should be, and you don’t respond to Deacon’s prodding or whispered pleads.

“C’mon, come back to us,” Deacon tries again.

“Ambulances are here,” Street says.

You jerk harshly, and Deacon rolls onto the bed, raising you into a fireman’s carry before navigating through the hallways. He feels you continue moving against him, but all he can do is get you help and pray.

“We’ve got her,” the EMT says, helping to lower you onto the gurney. “Hit the sirens.”

“I’m coming with,” Deacon says, climbing into the ambulance.

Hicks appears at the door. “Go. She needs you, Deacon. Keep us updated.”

“Narcan?” one EMT suggests.

“No, at least not yet.” The ambulance lurches into motion as they strap an oxygen mask over your face. “Brain, I think, not drugs.”

They glance toward Deacon, who says, “I’m a trained medic, I get it. Just do your jobs, please.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon paces the waiting room for nearly an hour before sitting in a chair and letting his head hang toward his knees.

“Sergeant Kay?” a nurse asks.

Deacon’s head snaps up as he stands.

“The doctor is in her room now. Wants to talk to you.”

Deacon is silent as he walks down the hallways to reach your room. When he enters, seeing you hooked up to several machines and your arm wrapped tightly, his breath catches.

“I’m David Kay – Deacon,” he introduces, shaking the doctor’s hand.

“She owes you her life, Sergeant Kay. Much longer and the frostbite would have been incredibly severe.”

“And the tests?”

The doctor sighs, looking over at you before answering. “Yes, we ran several tests. MRI, CAT scan, and a few others. Her brain isn’t responding like it should.”

“Will she regain consciousness?” Deacon interrupts, his focus aimed at final answers.

“As far as I can tell, yes, sir, she will. When I say not responding like it should, I suppose I should reword. Her brain is responding, there’s no sign of a lack of oxygen or direct brain damage, but she may never recover fully, and will likely never be the same as the woman she was before. Her brain waves aren’t behaving like a woman of her age and health should be.”

“Thank you.”

Deacon shakes his hand and moves to the corner of your room, typing a short text to Hicks: Get down here when you can. This will be easier in person.

He knows it sounds like you’re dying, but the idea of never having the real you back seems just as dire.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your eyes blink open slowly against the harsh fluorescent lights. A man is standing above you, and you jerk backwards, pulling against the chain on your hand and the unseen weight holding you down. Prepared to defend yourself, you move to the edge of the bed and let the adrenaline numb your pain while fueling your fight.

“Doc, take a step back for me, please,” Deacon says calmly.

When you hear Deacon’s voice, your guard drops slightly, and your shoulders lose some tension as you locate Deacon. You watch Deacon while the doctor stops beside him, whispering something on his way out.

“She’s not herself, just try to give her space and time. Like I said, this may be temporary, or it may be her new normal,” the doctor reminds Deacon, unheard by you.

The hand that you pulled away from the doctor moves jerkily toward Deacon, and he glances down at your hand and the IV you ripped out. He turns and waves to a female nurse. He stands by your bed, and you watch him, tensing as the nurse touches you to insert a new IV.

“Do you want to be alone?” Deacon asks when the nurse exits.

You don’t speak or nod, but your hand moves closer to Deacon. He smiles, taking it as a yes, before sitting in the chair beside your bed. Deacon knows the doctors’ concern but would do anything to hear your voice again.

When a doctor walks by, you lean harshly against the rail on your bed, and Deacon realises you are uncomfortable around men. Although, for some unexpected reason, you seem fine with him. Deacon stands and closes the blinds on your window, and when it feels like he is the only other person in the world, you fall asleep. Deacon is concerned that you’ll be nervous around him, too, when you wake. Later, when you do wake, your eyes find him, and your body stays relaxed, proof that your relationship with Deacon was not impacted by whatever those monsters did to you.

He looks down at his phone to read a message from Hondo: We got a warrant and a location for Asher. You in?

Deacon apologises as he tells you he has to go. “The team is going after him, and I want to be there. I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

You don’t respond, but Deacon taps the edge of your bed as he leaves, only inches from your fingers. While he’s gone, you don’t sleep. The night passes, and by mid-day, when you’ve gone a whole day, 24 hours, without sleep, the nurses give you a dose of melatonin to help you relax. You drift off, falling asleep against your will, and your mind goes to Deacon.

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon is still gone when you wake, but there’s a computer sitting in the chair he previously occupied. You pull it onto the bed, catching the SD card that slides off the top. After you insert the chip and see only one video on it, you start it after looking out the door.

It’s the men who took you, Matt and the other one, standing over you, threatening you before growing bold enough to carry out some of their threats. When they start touching your throat and talking about your voice, you slam the computer closed and rip the memory card out.

Standing from the bed, you pull the IV cart with you to the cabinet. Your tattered clothes are still in the patient's belongings bag, but someone also brought your backpack from S.W.A.T. HQ. You look out the door again before changing and stay close to the heart rate monitor and IV cart. Once dressed and ready, you duck beside the door, waiting for a large enough group to walk by. When one appears, you rip your IV and pulse-ox off, falling into step behind them. You walk out unnoticed and set out without a real destination in mind. Sticking to the shadows, you find yourself in a familiar neighbourhood.

✯✯✯✯✯

When your heart rate plummets, the machine beeps, and several nurses abandon their stations to run into your room. They check the bathroom and the far side of the bed before finding your commander’s phone number.

“Hicks,” he answers.

“Commander Hicks, she’s gone.”

Hicks hangs up on the nurse but walks into the room less than ten minutes later. He looks through everything, noticing that your bag is gone and your IV was ripped out intentionally. Hoping to find something before your team comes back, Hicks opens the computer on your bed. While Hicks is searching, Deacon walks in with a small bag of your favourite snacks and a book to pass the time.

“Calm down, Deac, we’re gonna get answers,” Hicks begins.

“Where is she?” Deacon demands.

“I don’t know. The nurses called as soon as her heart rate stopped tracking, so she can’t be more than thirty minutes ahead of us.”

“I’m going to find her.”

“Deacon, stay with me. We’ll call in the team and-“

“I can’t; I think I need to be alone for now.”

Deacon leaves, setting the bag in his passenger seat and wishing it were you instead. He’s lost you twice in the last few days, and once he finds you, he will do everything in his power to keep you close forever.

Walking into his house, Deacon slows when he sees a pair of shoes under the rose bush in his front yard. He pulls his gun and demands the person come out slowly.

You slide toward him with your hands up and your eyes on him rather than his gun. When he sees your face, he holsters his gun quickly and squats to your level.

“Can I touch you?” he asks quietly.

You give your first answer since waking in the hospital: you nod.

Deacon helps you stand, keeping an arm around you as he leads you inside.

“Help yourself to anything, okay?” he offers as he closes the door. “You can shower, take clothes, whatever you need to be comfortable.”

You pull away from Deacon and disappear down his hallway. He hears the water turn on in his shower and pulls his phone out, his finger hovering over Hicks’ number before deciding to find out why you left the way you did.

When you reemerge, with wet hair and dressed in Deacon’s clothes, you join him in the kitchen and stand closer to him than he expected. He sets two cups before you: a mug of your favourite tea and a glass of ice water.

“Are you hungry?” Deacon asks. You shake your head, and Deacon adds, “Hey, you’re in charge right now. Whatever you want, whatever you say, goes.”

You pick up one of the glasses and look toward the couch. Deacon chuckles as he picks up the other, placing a hand on your back and leading you to the couch. Once you sit, you keep your free hand in your lap as you drink. Deacon wants to take your hand, hold it, and tell you how sorry he is, but you aren’t ready, as far as he can tell.

Suddenly, though, you turn toward him, and he recognizes the look in your eyes, shaking his head and chuckling before he begins talking. His voice has always been soothing to you, his presence like a safe house. You fall asleep to the sound of his voice, and your head falls onto his shoulder.

Deacon remains perfectly still throughout the evening as the sun sets, unwilling to disturb you, even at the cost of his comfort. His phone begins ringing in the kitchen, and he moves out from under you to answer. You wake when you feel his absence, looking around until you find him.

“Hey, Commander,” Deacon greets. “Yeah, I know… I’m worried, yeah.”

You stand and walk away silently. Deacon watches you, staring down the empty hallway as he says goodbye to Hicks.

Entering his bedroom, you find your backpack and pull the memory card out. You reappear with the small envelope containing it, and Deacon waits until you nod, wringing your fingers together, to take it. He finds his computer and inserts the card; his headphones are plugged in, and he decides to use them, unsure of what’s on the card.

Waiting, you stand beside the couch, holding your hands together. You can’t hear the video, but Deacon's facial expressions tell you which part he’s watching.

“Where’d all that fight go, huh?” Matt asks, pushing against your throat until you nearly lose consciousness.

You can’t fight back, and they’re enjoying it too much.

“You said one word and then nothing. What am I supposed to think? Maybe you don’t want to talk. Maybe you shouldn’t. That’s why we told the others. And we made sure they believed it before… well, you know.”

“They didn’t even scream,” the other man adds. “Silence is beautiful on women.”

“What if,” Matt begins, drawing a large blade from a case beside the bed. “We made sure you couldn’t talk again? Cops have to be able to use the radio, so at the least, we’ll know you can’t call for help.”

The blade lays against your throat, and your eyes close, silent but physically preparing to fight.

Deacon’s eyes slide to yours before returning to the screen briefly to close the computer. He moves to sit on the arm of the couch before you and looks up at you with big brown eyes. You want to talk to him so badly, but you can’t. Deacon raises his hands, and you don’t hesitate to lay yours in his. He rubs circles on the backs of your hands, your callouses and warmth melting together.

“Everything they said was wrong,” Deacon begins.

Deacon notices that you lean in toward him with each word he says. He stands slowly, concerned that his size or the proximity will overwhelm you, but you keep your hands in his and follow his eyes as he stands. With the new angle, Deacon can see the bruises forming around your neck, from your collarbone up to your jawline. Deacon’s hands raise to rest on your shoulders, bringing your hands along in his. His thumbs rest gently above your collarbone.

“What they said, what they did, was terrible.” And Deacon plans to undo every word and touch, even if it takes forever.

You lean into Deacon’s touch, trusting him with most of your weight as his phone rings again. He moves an arm around your shoulders, leaning back against the couch as he answers.

“Hicks. I only have a minute. She’s here, at my house. She’s safe… Yeah, I’ll keep an eye on her… See you then.”

“Thank you,” you whisper against Deacon’s chest, your voice rough after not using it.

His eyes widen as he wraps his other arm around you. “It’s no problem,” he promises.

You point to the bedroom, and Deacon nods before releasing you. He watches you walk away, and the echo of your voice wraps around him like a warm blanket.

✯✯✯✯✯

When Deacon rises for work the following morning, he has a message from Hicks inviting him to stay home with you if he needs or wants to. Walking into the kitchen, you’re standing in your own clothes with your backpack at your feet.

“Can I go with you?” you ask, voice barely audible.

Deacon doesn’t have the heart to tell you no, so he takes you back to work. As he walks to the car, he texts the team a quick heads-up that they may need to be quieter around you because you’ve been through a lot, and slow behaviour seems to be the key to making you comfortable. He hopes your new unease around men doesn’t extend to the other men who saved your life.

The team tries to follow Deacon’s advice, but when you hear an obnoxious yell from a beat cop, you tuck behind Deacon and grab his fingers. 20-David knew you had feelings for Deacon but seeing him be your safe space like this is a whole new element for them to witness.

✯✯✯✯✯

You, Deacon, and Hondo are watching Hicks interview Asher Nolan. They can’t tie him to any of the abductions, but he seems to know too much about some of the other women who were taken. Hicks is getting nowhere and is ready to walk out.

“I’ll go in,” you tell Hondo. “But only if you come with me,” you add quietly, looking at Deacon.

“She only goes in if I go too,” Deacon adds protectively, looking at Hondo.

As you walk in, Asher’s eyes find you.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he croons.

“Don’t look at her,” Deacon snaps.

Asher’s eyes move to Deacon long enough to ask, “Do you ever smile?”

“No.”

“Well, you should be with someone who smiles, sweetheart. Come closer and I’ll show you how nice my smile is,” he tells you.

“Tell us where the other women are,” Deacon demands.

“Oh, that kind of information needs to be earned, don’t you think? I have an idea, though, we play poker. You win, and I tell you what you want to know.”

“And if I win?”

“I get to smell her hair,” Asher answers, staring at you.

“No deal.”

You know you need the evidence. Finding the other women is the key to getting a conviction.

“Okay,” you say.

Looking over at Deacon, you hope your look conveys your thoughts: ‘Please win.’

You look at Deacon’s hand, hiding your smile when he tucks a card behind another to disguise his winning hand. The moment Asher shows his cards, asking you to come to his side, you let your lips raise slightly.

“Oh, looks like I missed a card,” Deacon deadpans, revealing his royal straight flush, all spades.

Asher slaps the table, his handcuffs creating a sharp echo. Deacon stands, and you follow, standing behind him.

“Mulholland Drive, by the dam,” Asher admits. As Deacon approaches the door, he says, “I’ll find a better place for you; the best for the last.”

Deacon tries to lunge for Asher, but you step between them and push Deacon out of the interview room.

“Thank you. For winning and keeping him away from me,” you whisper, your hands still pressed against Deacon’s chest.

“I’ll always protect you.”

Hicks steps out, asking to speak to Deacon, and you nod before walking the other way. Deacon meant it, and you know he will do anything to protect you.

✯✯✯✯✯

You enter the locker room, surprised to find it empty. Sitting on the bench before your locker, you drop your head into your hands. The quiet is nice but also allows your thoughts and memories to run rampant. One thought of Deacon silences the dangerous and painful thoughts, and you will your mind to remember what it was like to be held by him.

Deacon finds you waiting alone in the locker room and moves silently to join you. He sits beside you, and you turn toward him, taking his hand and tracing his fingers.

Your touch is magnetic, and Deacon never wants to let you go.

“I- I know you watched the video, but I want to talk about it. If that’s okay,” you begin, looking at Deacon’s hand.

“Of course.”

“They told me to stop talking, not to scream, and I listened. I’m sure they were lying, but they made me believe that last girl, Melissa, was still alive, so I thought – hoped – that if I listened, they’d let her live. Focus all of their time and energy on me, you know. Then they started touching my neck and pressuring me to talk. When I didn’t they started hurting me, choking me and laying knives across my neck before leaving.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know Hicks was at the hospital and found the computer, and I don’t know if they recorded it, but they threatened to pull my vocal cords out and put the knife in my mouth. Talking just- it felt like I was betraying her, I guess, even after I knew they were in custody.”

Deacon moves to his knees in front of you, keeping your hand in his as his other hand raises to cup your jaw. He ducks his head and kisses your neck, wiping away the memories of their touch with each gentle movement. When he reaches your jaw, you lower your chin and meet his lips, kissing him.

He knows this is real, not just something to distract you. He doesn’t, however, know that you know that, too. You have loved Deacon for a long time, and…

“Thinking of you kept me alive. You kept me alive, Deacon. I’ve been in love with you for years and being away from you made me realize just how much. I never want to be away from you again,” you confess, holding his hand and heart.

Deacon knows you will be uncomfortable around men for a while, but never around him. He vows to continue his mission of undoing their words and actions, but he will love every version of you along the way.

“They found Melissa, she’s still alive,” Hicks announces in the doorway.

As the door closes, Deacon kisses you again. You saved Melissa, he saved you, and now he knows it.

#david deacon kay x reader #david kay x reader #deacon kay x reader #david deacon kay #deacon kay #swat cbs #fem!reader

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sambuckylibrary · 6 days

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All TFATWS Anniversary Event 2024 Fills

Thank you to all who participated in this event! here are all the fills you created!

Week 5: No Powers AU by @funsized-loser | SamBucky Fic Rec List | Rated: N/A-E | 13 Fics + 7 Fic Writers Generally Recced |

[podfic] I Could Never Hold Your Heart In My Hand (my darling you already do) by @funsized-loser with original fic by @abarbaricyalp | Rated: T | Length: 1.5-2 Hrs | Snow White Fusion, Fantasy AU, Curse Breaking | AO3 |

Week 5: Ghost/Zombie AU by @funsized-loser | SamBucky Fic Rec List | Rated: T-E | 7 Fics + 1 Fanart |

Week 6: Didn't Know They Were Dating/Friends With Benefits | SamBucky Fic Rec List | Rated: G-E | 10 Fics + 1 Podfic |

Untitled by @onesmolangel | Art | Hurt/Comfort, TFATWS Episode 6 "One World, One People", Hug |

You’re Just Gonna Set Me Up Like That, Huh? by @funsized-loser | Rated: T | WC: 986 | “You’re Just Gonnaa Set Me Up Like That, Huh?”, TW: Blood/Injury, Cute |

Untitled by @abarbaricyalp | Rated: N/A | WC: 511 | “Let Me Just Walk You Through a Hypothetical”, Fluff, Established Relationship |

“Fixing the Boat” by @thatmexisaurusrex | Art | Meanwhile… On the Boat, Gif, Domestic Fluff |

“Sam Finds the Note” and “Bucky Has Regrets” by @thatmexisaurusrex | Art | Divorce Arc, Angst, Thunderbolts Era |

Untitled by @abarbaricyalp | Rated: N/A | WC: 2.9K | “You’re Just Gonna Set Me Up Like That, Huh?”, POV Annalise (Darlene’s Friend), Tooth-Rotting Fluff |

Soul Stone Fic Recs by @funsized-loser | Rated: T-M | SamBucky Fic Reclist | Five Fics |

Victory Party by @funsized-loser | Rated: T | WC: 1.3K | Victory Party, Bittersweet, Let Sam Grieve His Lost Friend |

Never Hit Send, Never Called Again by @abarbaricyalp | Rated: N/A | WC: 3.2K | 6 Months of Ghosting, Post-Endgame, Texting |

Sam Gets Ghosted for Six Months / Bucky Loses His Nerve for Six Months by @thatmexisaurusrex | SamBucky Fanart | 6 Months of Ghosting, Bittersweet, Gifs |

“I don’t think he’s the kind you save.” by @thatmexisaurusrex | art | SamBucky Edit, “I don’t think he’s the kind you save”, enemies to lovers.

Sam Searches for Bucky by @funsized-loser | Rated: M | WC: 1.1K | Sleeping Together, Sam Searches For Bucky, Fluff But a Little Bittersweet |

The Kind You Save by @abarbaricyalp | Rated: N/A | WC: 1.2K | “I don’t think he’s the kind you save”, this one’s angsty y'all, “You’re the one who gets saved.” hits you like a ton of bricks |

Post-WS/Sam-Finds-Bucky fics by @abarbaricyalp | SamBucky Fic Reclist | Rated: G-E | Seven Fics |

#tfatwsanniversary2024 #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky fanfiction #sambucky edit #sambucky art #sambucky fic rec list #sambucky podfic #mod: thatmexisaurusrex

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yeaimsafiya · 1 month

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CHAPTER ONE back from rehab

SYNOPSIS the beginning of a teenage girl named y/n who is fresh out of rehab but doesn't intend to stay clean.

FROM THE WRITER AHH IM SORRY IM LATE GUYS!! This is the first chapter I'm ever writing, I took some inspo from episode 1 but I'm going to have to cut each episode into fourths because I really don't want to spend a whole week trying to finish a whole episode and school work. But I hope you guys really enjoy this chapter as much as I did - Love you guys, Sapiyah <3

WARNINGS Lots of unnecessary writing, female! reader, mentions of drugs and drinking, strong sexual content, nudity, violence, adult content, adult language, scenes might be uncomfortable for some, some scenes might include mentions of mental illness'

SERIES EUPHORIA

CHARACTERS INCLUDED members of the bakusquad & dekusquad, big three(?), some characters of class 1A

NOTES MDNI! Ageless blogs will be blocked or removed.

Readers discretion is advised

Suddenly, the whole world goes dark and nothing else matters except the person standing in front of you.

You were once happy. Content.

Sloshing and swimming around your own private, primordial pool; Then one day, for reasons beyond your control, you were continuously and repeatedly crushed...

Over..and over.. again by the cervix of your mother, M/n.

You put up a good fight, but eventually lost, for the first time, but not the last.

You were born 3 days after 9/11, your mother and father spent two days in the hospital, holding you under the soft glow of the television, watching those towers fall over and over again, until the feeling of grief gave away to numbness.

And then, without warning, a middle-class childhood in the American suburbs.

You were sitting at the dinner table with your mother, M/n, and Father, F/n. But it appeared something else had gotten your attention, a set of numerous lights above the dinner table, in which you wanted to count.

"Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen.."

" What are you looking at y/n?"

"..."

"What are you doing? ..Y-y/n look at me."

"One, two, three, .."

"What are you doing Y/n?"

*cries*

"Id say she's suffering from obsessive compulsive disorder..."

Its not like you were physically abused..

"...attention deficit disorder..."

..Or had some type of clean water storage..

"..general anxiety disorder.."

..Or was molested by a family member.

"..and possibly bipolar disorder. But she's a little bit too young to tell."

So, explain this shit to me.

"Honey, it's just the way your brain was hardwired; Plenty of great, intelligent, funny, interesting and creative people have struggled with the same things you struggle with."

"Like who?"

"Vincent Van Gogh, Sylvia Plath, and even Brittney Spears, your favorite!"

You haven't remembered much from the ages of eight to twelve. Just that the world moved fast, and your mind moved slow.

"Does anyone have an idea of what a perception might be?"

And every now and then, if you focused on the way you breathed...

You'd die.

"Slow down, just breathe"

Until every second of the day, you'd find yourself trying to outrun your anxiety.

"What's wrong Y/n?"

..And quite frankly..

"I'm just fucking exhausted"

Coming down to the kitchen, you could hear the small talk between your mother and younger sister, S/N.

"You said the doctor was in our network. How can he suddenly be out of network?"

"I can't afford it."

"Did you see that video of the girl who got acid thrown at her face?"

"What? No.."

"It's pretty fucked up.."

"Mom do you know where the tampons are?"

"In my bathroom, right under the sink."

And at one point, you'd make a choice of who you are and what you want.

"Alright Gia, let's go"

"Why do the co-payments cost $300?"

"Y/n did you eat breakfast?"

".."

"What's with the glasses?"

"What glasses?"

You just happened to show up one day, without a map or a compass..

"Attention students, we need to lockdown."

..Or to be honest, anyone capable of giving on iota of good fucking advice.

And I know it all seems sad but guess what? You did not build this system up, nor fuck it up yourself.

But then it happens. That moment where your breath starts to slow. And every time you breathe, you breathe out all the oxygen you have.

Then everything stops: Your heart, your lungs, then finally, your brain. And everything you feel, you wish, and want to forget, it all just sinks.

And then suddenly... you give it air again, give it life again.

You remember the first time it happened, where you were so scared you wanted to call 911. Go to the hospital and be kept alive by machines and apple juice. But you didn't want to look like an idiot, and you didn't want to fuck up everyone else's night.

And now overtime, that's all you've wanted.. those two seconds of nothingness.

You spent a good portion of summer before junior year in rehab. God granted you the serenity to accept things you cannot change, the courage to change the things you can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

"Y/N," your sister yelled from afar, greeting you after your long leave. You smiled, and whilst running up to her, tried to continue the conversation with your younger sibling.

"Hey, Come here!"

"How are you?"

"Good, I missed you."

"I missed you too."

"Look at you, are you growing?"

"No."

Looking over, you see your mother standing by your family car.

"Hey," you yelled out to her, only to receive a small smile from her.

And with that. you knew it was your time to go.

"I'm very happy for you Y/n. You're about to start a brand-new chapter," Your mother says while driving you and your sister to school. You looked at her with a smile, then turned your attention back to the car window.

You had no intentions of staying clean. And yet, Jirou just moved into town.

"There's some new girl in town that I think you'll be friends with," Shoto said, with you standing beside him in his store.

"Who?"

"Shit, I don't know. She came in looking all punk rock and shit; So I'm thinking to myself, like, 'look like somebody Y/n would be friends with'."

Which was sort of a dead-on observation for Shoto, who's not normally revolving in the same direction as planet earth.

"So how long have you been back?" He asked.

"About five days."

"And how are you feeling?"

"I mean, ever since I gave my life over to my lord and savior Jesus Christ, things have been, like, really good."

"Word? That's what's up," You chuckled at his snarky remark, giving him a small smile.

"I'm fucking with you," you said whilst laughing, "It was a joke."

"Shit, hey, I don't judge," he defended, hands raising to just above his chest.

"But for real, is Deku in the back?"

"Are you serious?" Shoto questioned, seeming very disappointed in you.

"What, you think cause' I went to rehab I stayed clean?"

"I mean, ain't that the point?" he asks.

"Yeah, well, the world is coming to an end, and I haven't even graduated high school yet."

You gave Shoto one more smile before going to Deku, whilst Shoto stared at you the entire way there; There was a hint of sadness in his eyes, but since you were too busy looking for Deku, you didn't see.

You opened one of the doors of the refrigerators, leading you right to him with a bowl of fruit loops,"I thought your ass was dead," he said one he saw your appearance.

"And I thought you had Asperger's till I realized your just a prick," you barked back.

"This a fickle industry, y'all come and go. I'm just trying to stack my cash, pay off our mortgage," he said while pulling out a bunch of plastic bags out of a microwave.

"So what the fuck do you want?" You gave him a knowing look before he handed you needed.

"You sure you don't want to try something new?" He asks you.

"Like what?"

"2C-T-2, 2C-T-7, and 5-MeO-DIPT."

"I'm sorry I have no fucking idea of what you just said."

"It doesn't matter," he stated, "but this shit, is fucking lit."

"What is it?"

"N-diisopropyl-5-methoxytryptamine. It's a fast-acting psychedelic."

Got some similarities to LSD, but with, like, key differences. Not as visual as shit, but definitely a sense distorter.

"What's wrong?" That same dark purple hair girl questioned.

"I'm just so happy," you responded back.

"I don't know, this shits been going off in Tampa, and mad people like to fuck with this," Deku continued on with his descriptions with the drug.

"Okay. Yeah, why not."

"That'll be 120."

"Oh uh, Shoto said he'd spot me."

"Shoto doesn't spot nobody."

"Yeah, well, it's a post-rehab discount, so you should ask him."

"I will go ask him, cause' I know your full of shit."

Those were the last words he said before you walked out. Those were the last words you heard before you saw the same two boys in freshman year.

Bakugo and Kirishima.

TAGLIST: (send an ask or reply to add or remove) @urinejaeger, @saturxnn, @lv9su, @minnipe, @flamgosstuff, @lilrockzstar, @actfsgxcv, @lovebuggyboo, @russochild19, @iits-lexie, @mendez5657, @animatronicrat, @thirstygorl, @scrittynotfound, @pleaseleavemebelol, @thymebread, @cocojellie, @vxnanaaa-blog, @tn-johnson, @knotatwink, @hpttstears, @blackcatluna, @queennb-123, @nndntahg

Do not steal, use or reupload my work without given permission or my consent. If so, you will either be blocked, removed, or reported.

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