#like. it was an unsafe time of year back before cars as well. unsafe to take a horse in certainly unsafe to walk alone in

[july-19th-club]

*claims to be devotee of the wild*

*despises winter, objectively wildest season given that it is the time when the land is largely left to its own devices and none but the most hardcore human people venture past the most heated and domesticated parts of the world)*

[repulsiveliquidation]

Thorn in My Side || Jessie Fleming

warnings : mentions of injury and surgeries. insinuations of cheating and false accusations. angst. happy ending and smut will be in part two.

summary : you get injured, its Jessie's fault. or so you thought.

a/n : as i type this, i think i've figured out how to incorporate the smut! i'll get to writing as soon as this is posted! i'm not sure if it makes much sense, here's to hoping. enjoy.

“for your UCLA Bruins, number 21, Jessie Fleming!”

Jessie steps forward and smiles, waving to the flood of Bruins fans in the stands cheering them on. You clap with a scowl on your face, watching as the girls in the stands ogle and fawn over her. You’re admittedly jealous of her for reasons unbeknownst to you, but seeing the 5’5’ Canadian made your blood boil.

She was good on the football pitch and was smart to go along with it. Jessie had it all. Being called up for most of her time in school and playing for her national team made her well-known in the soccer world from the moment she was here in America.

She was ferocious on the grass, a fearless midfielder who put everything out there.

The game was a close one, tied at the half 2-2. There were lots of contact, tackles, and battles that made it clear to anyone watching that there was tension between you and Jessie. One always found the other; if one had the ball, the other wanted it.

You had possession, running towards goal. There was a flash of blue and you were on the ground yelling in pain, hands clutching at your ankle. There was a loud pop and your ankle began to swell. The trainers came over and were hauling you off on a stretcher almost immediately, the ref showing Jessie a yellow for the unsafe tackle. It wasn’t a red card because really you fell a little weird and her studs were nowhere near your ankle.

She looked genuinely sorry, taking your hand in hers as you were stretchered off. You were in too much pain to care, shoving her hand out of yours and your teammates pulling her away from you.

A broken ankle was what they said. It was a clean break but you needed surgery and that meant no more soccer for the season.

Just great.

They put you in a wheelchair before you head to the hospital, your parents are already at the stadium to take you. You hear the final whistle blow and your teammate rolls you in, the girls all feeling sad when you tell them the news. There’s a little Bruins blue in the sea of Trojans in front of you and there’s a Canadian standing there digging her cleat into the grass, wanting to apologize.

Megan and Kasey stand beside you just in case things get a little heated. Jessie steps forward and looks more sorry for you when she sees the bandages and you in a wheelchair.

“Is it broken?” she asks genuinely, looking at your leg and then at you.

“No thanks to you,” you snide, rolling your eyes at her. “What do you want now, Fleming?”

“I wanted to apologize, I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she says sincerely but you’re too bitter to hear her take ownership of her actions.

“You knew what you were doing, Fleming. You’ve always been out to get me our entire college career and now in our final year you finally get what you want!”

You don’t know the tears were starting until they did, pouring down your face hot and fast. She looked a little mortified and pale, backing away and saying she was sorry over and over before a sea of Bruins pulled her away to celebrate their win.

The whole car ride to the hospital you spent weeping, thinking about how you’re not going to be able to play your senior year out like you had hoped. But more so of the look of pure horror on Jessie’s face when you accused her of hating you so much that she would purposely hurt you.

She looked on the verge of tears. Like hurting you scared her.  

You scared her.

||

“The break is clean, but rehab will take a while if you’re not careful,” said Dr. Jeff, the attending podiatrist.

“How long?”

“You’re looking at 14 to 16 weeks, kiddo. Two years if you’re stubborn like most of my patients are.”

“16 weeks sounds great.”

“Smart kid you got here,” the doctor tells your parents with a smile, “I’ll schedule you in for surgery today, you should be out of here by the end of the week.”

The doctor leaves and your mother begins to fuss, propping up pillows and getting your nurse to bring you more jello. Your father, on the other hand, has a look of all-knowing on his face.

“I’m sorry Dad,” you begin, head hanging low the moment your mother leaves the room.

“Don’t be sorry, peanut. These things happen. Better now than when you’re on a professional team, yeah?”

“She didn’t really make me break my ankle did she?” you ask, looking up at your dad who was rubbing your back as the tears filled your eyes again.

“It was the perfect tackle, kiddo. You just fell a little funny is all.”

“She looked so horrified when I said she did it on purpose,” you sob, leaning into your father’s stomach. He held you tight and cradled your head, your heart hurting more than your broken ankle, the face Jessie made when the words left your mouth etched behind your eyelids.

||

There are plenty of flowers in your room the moment you wake from surgery. Lots of cards and get well soon balloons hung from the ceiling. You were still groggy when your teammates visited, Megan was sure to bring lots of Sharpies to sign your cast with, all the girls leaving a nice note for you on it.

There was an hour left for visitations and your parents just left to wash up at home. You were mindlessly scrolling through the terrible TV channel selections while finishing your 5th Jello cup when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in!” you yell, thinking it was a nurse coming to check your vitals again. What you didn’t expect was to see a brunette Canadian poking her head through the door.

“Hi,” she said sheepishly, standing by the door unsure if you really would want her to come in.

“What are you doing here?” you ask as kindly as possible, eyes flickering towards the clock above the door, “it’s late, why aren’t you back at school?”

“Spring Break, my parents are down from Canada so I asked to see you before we drove back,” she says quietly, stepping in a little more. “Can I come in?”

You nod, unsure if your mouth would be polite enough. Anger still seethed in your bones but the look of sheer horror on her face was still fresh in your mind.

“How bad was it?” she begins, still standing near the now-closed door.

“Clean break, should take 16 weeks if I’m careful.”

“That’s good. The doctors here are great.”

“They are quite convincing, they know how to get a patient to stay on their medical plan.”

“Did you get Dr. Jeff?”

“He accused me of being stubborn.”

Jessie laughs and you smile, a light blush creeping up your cheeks. It’s an adorable sound and her face of laughter replaces the one of fear you had burned into your mind.

“I’m really sorry for all this,” she begins but you cut her off.

“It wasn’t your fault, my dad said it was a clean tackle. I just fell funny.”

You looked up at her and saw the relief on her face and she stepped forward, taking your hand in hers. You took a deep breath and reciprocated her ownership of her mistakes, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders the moment you looked her in the eyes.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said the other day Jessie, that was not fair to you.”

“Heat of the moment love, don’t worry about it.”

Your heart clenches hard when the pet name slips out of her lips and you smile, hoping she didn’t see your eyes dilate and feel your skin warm up. She nods and bids goodbye just as her phone rings which tells you her parents are waiting outside.

You sit there giddy and a little starstruck as she disappears out of view. Your hand is warm from her touch and you can still feel her hand holding yours. You thump your head back and curse loudly, before grabbing your leg in pain temporarily forgetting that you were actually hurt.

You giggle and bite your lip, shaking your head when your phone dings.

Maybe: Jessie Fleming.

“You look cute when you’re flustered.”

You clap a hand to your mouth and smile, face heating up with a dark blush.

“You did this, you better fix it.”

“I think we can make that happen, love.”

You don’t think you slept much that night, texting till the sun came up. Your parents came in to check on you in the morning and found you with your phone still on call with Jessie but you two were asleep. You woke up to your doctors talking to your parents and discussing your rehab plan. There was another text from Jessie, making your heart skip a beat.

“You’re also very cute when you’re sleeping.”

Over the next few weeks, you two talked constantly. Jessie kept you company when you were bored at rehab and you kept her company while she was training on her own. You called her every night before bed, giggling and laughing well into the night most nights.

“How is rehab coming along?” Jessie asked as you were lying back on the examination table to relax your ankle. She was in her bed, looking as stunning as you had been denying yourself the chance to admit.

“Good, looks like I can put pressure on it by next week if Tiff lets me,” you say, side-eyeing your trainer Tiffany who was doing cupping on another teammate’s back.  

“Girl, I will hold your papers hostage, don’t test me,” Tiffany jokes, waving the lit fire stick at you.

“Yes ma’am I’ll be super-duper extra careful!” you answer with a salute, making Jessie laugh so loud it rings through the room. Most of your teammates know the thing you’ve got going with her and think it’s cute.

All but one.  

Megan.

She stood at the door listening to you ramble on about Jessie this and Jessie that, her blood boiling at the thought of you being buddy-buddy with the girl she believed to be the one who hurt you.

Megan was a freshman who was from Florida. She was a great pick from her high school team, and the best defender on the East Coast. She made the team here at USC and to say the least, she fit right in.

There was homogeny that wasn’t there before she joined and the linkup between you and her helped you take her under your wing. She looked up to you and was so ecstatic to play with you after watching you on TV.

She felt that Jessie took away her only chance to play with you before you graduated.

Jessie needed to pay.

“Hey, weird question,” Jessie starts, one night while you two were tucked in bed and on the phone with each other.

“Yeah?” you ask, turning over onto your side. Jessie looked a little concerned but you shrugged it off, the girl was known to constantly look worried.

“Someone sent me this photo but it’s from an unknown number, I thought it was weird.”

Sent.

You looked at it in shock.

It was you. Kissing a girl on the basketball team.

“Jess this isn’t me.”

“I’m not blind you know, that’s you.”

“Jessie, I swear this was doctored! I’ve never talked to this girl, let alone fucking kissed her!”

“Then why did the fucking photo come with a text that said, “She’s not who you think she is,”?”

“I don’t know! No one else but the girls know about you and me! I promise Jessie please!”

“I need some time to think. Leave me alone.”

She hangs up.

The tears fill your eyes as you stare at this photo. You don’t even think you’ve crossed paths with this girl, having not been the biggest fan of basketball. But your face was clearly there and hers was too. Her lips were on yours and you looked like you were enjoying yourself.

You think and you think hard. You didn’t go to any parties lately with your leg and you haven’t been to any games of theirs. You stared at the photo for hours, wracking your brain for some kind of explanation.

An explanation as to why Jessie looked so hurt at the thought of you with someone else.

[simpingforheros]

Bring Me To Life

Pairing: Arkham Knight!Jason Todd x Female! Reader

Summary: Destroy the Batman and get his companion back? Jason almost didn't believe Slade until... Warnings: Usage of female pronouns, Nudity (NO smut), Swearing, Character Death, Angst, Resurrection, Infantization ( I didn't know how to better describe this), Unhealthy relationship dynamics, Kinda Dark/Obsessive! Jason, Mentions Electroshock therapy, Implied Brainwashing, Slade being a creep, Mentions of Drug Abuse, Mentions of Child Neglect, Mentions of Child Homelessness and unsafe situations, SPOILERS for Death in the Family (Comic 1988) and Arkham Knight.

Author's Note: Hiya Everyone, This is the first fanfic I've written in a while and the christianing fic for this account. I may start a casual little series with this, but I don't know yet. Also any comic and game inaccuracies are either because I forgot or I adjusted it to fit the story.

Also while this post is mostly safe for work, MINORS DNF AND PLEASE READ WARNINGS. I DO NOT AUTHORIZE ANYONE TO STEAL MY WORK OR REPOST IT ON OTHER SITES.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It was supposed to be him...

Those dark nights he had spent alone on the streets as a child didn't seem so bad looking back on it. Jason understood struggle even when he had lived with his parents who spent grocery money on alcohol and drugs. Living on the streets didn't feel so much worse, especially since he had... "Jason, Mr. Accetta gave me some scraps from dinner rush today! There's even a whole pizza in here!"

Her. His one friend had since he was thrown into this harsh world. She was the only person he knew at the time to never stop smiling or finding a positive outlook on things. He couldn't even remember when they met, but he could hardly remember them being apart.

Whether he was stealing or fighting, she was there as a faithful lookout or a willing accomplice. She taught him how to take tires off of cars like her granddad taught her and he taught her how to throw a punch like his dad used to throw. An unstoppable duo who ran the alley as well as two 11-year-olds could.

The harsh winter nights they spent crowding together were his favorite memories from that time. Even with the bite of Gotham's winds at their toes, his partner would never falter to talk about anything and everything as he listened. She would talk about her dead grandparents a lot and all the stories she had with them before they passed away, but his mind couldn't recall them at all. He just remembers the constant dream that she told him every night.

"One day, Jay, I'm gonna have enough money and get an apartment in Old Gotham..." Jason's nose turns up as he listens to his friend as he bites on his food. "Why Old Gotham? Isn't it just falling apart?"

She giggles as she pulls the oversized coat closer to her shivering body. The jacket was from a relative but the fabric lost those memories as its fibers were now bones. She still had it even after she left the streets...

"Because it's the most beautiful place in the world...I will get an apartment someday and you and I will live there. We can even get like a cat or something."

The familiar burn on Jason's face blooms as he asks, "Why would you want me there?"

"Because it wouldn't be my dream home unless you're there with me."

He wouldn't find out until a few years later that her grandparents used to live in Old Gotham until her grandfather died and her grandmother had to move as she would unknowingly follow her husband not even a year later...

Those nights in the streets melted into nights spent in the warmth of Wayne manor. As the two thieves became kings after a faithful night with the Batmobile, Jason was brought into the world of crime fighting along with his closest friend. As they trained and donned their capes, She would show a new side of herself to Jason. The overly happy young girl from the streets became an anxious teenager as he became angerier.

"Jason..." Her voice woke him up in the darkest of nights. His body ached from the nightly fights from the previous day as he turned to see a familiar sight.

A now 14-year-old Y/N standing in the crack of the door. Her fidgeting figure indicated all he needed to know before he raised his blanket as she scurried to get in the bed. This was a ritual that started when they moved in. Both would grow anxious at night as they went from the open streets to a large, confining manor. Alfred almost had given up on trying to scold the teens as they were found sharing a bed more times than being separated.

As she curled into his side as much as she could without hurting him, he could practically hear her mind tinkering as her E/C eyes stared into his chest.

There wasn't the need to discuss what was on her mind. At least not right now. She was concerned about the growing tension between Bruce and Jason. He was becoming reckless and Bruce was having none of it with her often getting dragged into the middle of the fights.

He hated that he never tried more...

It shouldn't have surprised him when all the conflict had finally caused a break in the family. Especially when Jason began looking for his birth mother. Y/N tried to be supportive of him as he investigated his leads. Those leads eventually led to Jason reuniting with Bruce as he investigated a possible arms trade in Lebanon. The reconciliation and the prospect of finding his mother left him blind to any form of common sense, but what kind of common sense could a fifteen-year-old make in the life they lived?

He should have listened to her concerns when they finally found Sheila Haywood, his real mother. Y/N had a bad feeling from the start but he dismissed her worries. Jason had no clue that the night he was supposed to meet with Sheila was gonna end up being one of the worst nights of his life....

"Jason, maybe you should wait for Bruce to be here so he can come with you." She suggested softly.

His eyes roll as he adjusts his costume. "Because it's none of his business. I'm just meeting with my mom and talking out some stuff..."

He didn't tell her about the blackmailing he witnessed earlier that day between his mother and the Joker. But, he would find out later that she already knew about it through Bruce.

Her hand reaches for his shoulder and pulls him around to face her. "I'm serious. You shouldn't meet with a woman you barely know in some fucking warehouse in the middle of nowhere!"

Jason can remember the hurt he felt when he heard her snap at him, Oh, how angry he got with her when all she wanted was to protect him. He remembers yelling at her the worst thing he thought he could say to her.

Why the fuck did he ever say that to her?

"I'm sorry your parents didn't want anything to fucking do with you, but I'm not gonna let your bitter ass ruin my shot to be with mine."

He remembers the hurt that filled her eyes and the string of regret pooling in his gut. With a fake smile on her face and tears pooling in her eyes, Y/N says softly,

"Okay...I'm sorry," The sharp sting in his neck as she pressed the vial of sedatives Bruce gave her into his veins. "I'm sorry to do this, Jason, but Bruce said you wouldn't go down that easily."

Jason couldn't remember what he said after the spark of betrayal hit him, but he hated himself that the last time he saw those eyes they were clouded with the tears he caused....

"Y/N! Please talk to me!" Jason begs into the coms as he rod on the back of the motorbike with Bruce.

He should have known. Her instincts are never wrong and he doubted her.

When Bruce found him unconscious and told him about how Joker was involved in all of this, Jason should have known that it was all a trap. His mother wasn't a poor blackmailed soul, she was a conniving bitch who profitted.

He also should have known that Y/N was gonna go meet with Sheila instead of him. Where the Joker was waiting for her.

"Y/N, please. Please be okay...." He begged to the coms as he can only think about what he said to her the last time they spoke.

"J...Jason...."

"Y/N!" Relief washed over him like a wave as he heard her voice. Her broken pained moaned of his voice made him sick as he tried to at least rationalized that at least she was alive. "Don't worry, honey. We know where you are and we're coming to help you."

He didn't know that she was laying battered and broken against the locked door as she stared at the bomb that was ticking away on the wall. Her labored breaths blocked out the ticking on the comms as she whispers out.

00:12

"Do you remember the apartment?..."

"What apartment? The one you talked about in the alley? Why are you-?"

She interupts him, he can hear the familiar curl of her smile in her pained voice as she whispered,

"I wanted it to have a window facing the east end...the stars always looked pretty over there..."

00:10

"Y/N, what are you-"

"I wanted one of those Tabby-looking cats like the ones we saw in the alleyway outside of Mr. Accetta's restaurant...Name it Frank after that old Italian fucker...I was hoping we could go back and actually buy dinner in that restaurant someday..."

00:08

"Are you okay? Why are you talking like this? We are almost there. I can see the building! We are almost here. I'M COMING TO SAVE YOU."

Jason's desperation was palpable as he heard his beloved talk like she was on her deathbed. His panic causes Bruce to drive faster as the Batcycle inches closer to the warehouse. "Jason"

00:04

"Jason, I love you...I have since I was 13..." She admits as her voice trembles. "I used to dream we would become the family we always wanted with each other...Thank you for being in my life and I'm sorry I let you down..."

00:03

"Y/N, I -"

00:02

"Wait!"

00:01

"Goodbye, Jason..."

.

.

.

It should have been him who died that night... It was supposed to be him. NOT HER.

Jason blamed himself for her death as soon as he helped pull her broken corpse out of the rubble. He tried to convince himself that it wasn't her. This wasn't his Batgirl. Not his best friend who would run around the manor with him or help him pickpocket pedo freaks on the street. This broken little girl that was in his adoptive father's arms wasn't his first love. She was a bright, kind light who protected her loved ones, not this broken shell who wore her skin...

But, it was her...

He blamed Bruce for it too. He was the one gave her the orders to keep Jason away from the warehouse. He had to have known that she was gonna go instead. Bruce should have known she was because she wanted to be wrong about Sheila so Jason could be happy...

He also blamed the Joker. He wanted that Clown dead... His opportunity presents itself after he tracks Joker down to an abandoned wing of Arkham trying to flee from blowing up a children's hospital.

Blinded by his rage and bloodlust, Jason went in alone and without any communication. Y/N would scold him in her grave as he fell for the trap, sealing him in a cycle of hell for a year.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"What if I could?"

"Do what?"

"Bring her back. Would you be willing to work for Crane if I could bring back the little Batgirl?"

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He knew it was bullshit.

Bringing back someone from the dead was impossible.

Jason would have been satisfied if his pseudo-partner/ prisoner, Deathstroke, just told him that he would be able to kill the Batman and wipe the hell hole that is Gotham off the face of the earth. He already dedicated a full year after his escape from Arkham to building his army.

His only regret during this time was not killing Joker himself. Even after all the torture and pain that clown did to him, he regretted not bashing the Joker's skull in after their last encounter as Slade helped him escape. It wouldn't have mattered to him at the time that Slade would have killed him because it wouldn't have been revenge for his own torture.

it would have been for Y/N. For the hell she faced that night. After a few months in Arkham, Jason almost accepted his torture as punishment for not dying that day for her because he experienced everything she felt. Every day he experienced everything she had to feel those short agonizing hours for an entire year. She must have been so scared and Jason couldn't save her.

The only thing that kept him from giving up was the memories he had of her and the burning hatred for those who caused her light to be snuffed out too soon.

He just wanted to feel that warmth again...

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"If you can do that, then I'll burn the whole world to the ground for that fucking lunatic."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Please Jason. Let us help you!" Barbara Gordan begged from her cell as Jason snaps at her.

"THERE IS NO HELPING! I CAN FIX IT!"

Jason was manic. His men were being tugged around like dog toys by Batman and Slade had left him hours ago to attend some matter he didn't care to ask about. His time was running thin and he knows he needs to end this soon. It didn't help that those he didn't want involved are here as well like Barbara.

"Sir..." A militia soldier says as he nervously walks into the room. HIs men were already aware how stupid it was to come near him when he's in a crazed anger. Jason's head whipped at him like a feral man as he grits out.

"What is it?"

"Deathstroke is here...and he uh..."

Impatience reaches a boiling point as Jason raises his gun and shoots the militia solider in the head as Barbara shrieks. The red puddle of death fills the sterile room with lead as Deathstroke walts in. Jason turns his back towards him as places his helmet back into place.

"My, what a mess you made." Deathstroke mockingly scolds. The hidden smirk almost causes Jason to snap again.

"Where have you been? Batman is out there taking down my tanks faster than my men can repair them. You told m-!"

The Arkham Knight's monologue was intruppted as he turns to scold Slade by his heart dropping to his stomach at the sight before him. He swore that if he didn't hear Barbara's gasp and the whisper of fate's name, he would have woken up back in that dreaded wing of Arkham Asylum.

Slade chuckles as he rattles the chain in his hand as he says coyly, "What? Am I not allowed to go fetch your payment?"

Standing behind Deathstroke was a naked woman. Her tangled up (H/C) hair ran down her shoulders as her wide innocent eyes shined through the now white tendrils framing her face. Her body seemed more mature but all muscle mass she had was faded. Her face seemed aged but he recognized the curve of her nose and those lips he imagined smiling at him through his darkest moments.

"Y/N?" He helplessly calls out to her as he feels himself pulled towards her like a magnet.

If it wasn't for the stark white streak and gnarly, painful-looking scars on her body, Jason would have thought this was Scarecrow's fear toxin. It couldn't be possible, right? She was dead. He knew she was because he held her body. He felt how cold she was and watched how her lifeless eyes looked up to the ash ridden sky.

Those eyes now looked at him with no familiarity, but a childlike wonder as she naively smiles at him.

"How?" Was all the Arkham Knight could muster as he reaches to grab her. To pull her into his arms and never let her leave.

Deathstroke grabs the collar that was wrapped around her neck and yanks her back behind him as she chokes on her breath. He chuckles as he looks back into Jason's voiceless mask.

"The Lazarus Pit brought back her body." He explains as he hauntingly twirls the chain in his hand. "Of course, after you agreed to work with Crane, I brought her back immediately. Unfortunately, the poor thing suffered from Pit Madness."

A cruel smirk appears on Deathstrokes lips as he pushes the girl's hair back to reveal circular scars on her temples. Jason felt rage bubbling up in his throat as he recognized what those scars were.

Prolonged Electroshock Therapy

"You sick!" Before Jason could throw a punch, Slade places his gun on Y/N's forehead as he chuckles. The woman didn't even sense the danger as she continued to observe everyone with a curious eye. Jason immediately backs off as Slade continues.

"Of course. Her treatment did cause her to be cured of the madness but at the cost of her memories. She barely remembers how to take care of herself so you make it like that. Especially when you want to fuck her."

Jason was thankful for his mask as he would have killed him from his glare. To imply that she was just a potential fucktoy made him itch to bury this man in the deepest bowels of hell. As he quietly glares at him, Slade finally offers him the chain. The Arkham Knight accepts the chain as the assassin warns him,

"Now since you got your payment. You better keep your end of the deal..." His voice becomes threatening as he says.

"Because I can easily kill her just as I brought her back.'"

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AN: I was gonna write more, but I got exhausted so this is all I got. Let me know if it's a vibe or not.

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@simpingforheros fanfic. I DO NOT AUTHORIZE THE COPYING, STEALING, OR REPOSTING OF MY WORKS ON OTHER WEBSITES WITHOUT CREDIT.

[kabr0ztrousers]

Kabr0z Writes episode 118: Road Trip, part 1

Also entitled: On the Road Again

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

AO3!

CWs: Unsafe driving; oral sex; enthusiastic consent; heat/rut cycles; being stuck in a car with a musky werewolf

A/N: Fuck it! Writers block hit hard today, so y'all are getting the fun road trip 3-parter instead of anticipated requests.

######################################

Another year, another summer. At least this year, Liam had finally got his car. The trip was simple: Land's End to John O' Groats across two days on the road, avoiding motorways where possible. Really taking in the winding B roads of England and Scotland. From the southernmost to northernmost points of the British mainland.

Getting to Cornwall was comparatively quick, which is a baffling thing to say when dealing with rail transport in the Southwest, but compared to the odyssey ahead of you, it actually was. You've been looking forward to this for months, the last time you saw Liam in person was September, before setting off to university, both of you leaving home and going to different cities. The smug git got into St. Andrews, you were studying in Cardiff. That trip might as well have been a world away.

You stepped off the train, the ocean wind whipping your sundress around your knees, threatening to take the wide-brimmed hat from your head. You set off to the coastline, butterflies in your chest at the thought of seeing your old friend again after so long. You wondered if he'd finally found himself a girlfriend... Or boyfriend, you never know. He'd never shown any interest in girls growing up.

There he was. You'd recognise that goofy nerd from a mile away. Tall and lanky, all ungainly arms and legs, a permanently-wagging tail and one pointed ear flopping down. He'd at least dressed for the weather, like you, although given that he was the sort of guy to wear jorts and flipflops in a blizzard, that may be reading too much into it. You snuck up behind him as he stared through a pair of binoculars, looking out over the endless Atlantic in front of you.

You stood on his left, tapping his right shoulder. You laughed as he turned to look, grabbing him from behind into a hug

"You goober! You always fall for that"

He laughed with you "Knobhead, I was waiting for you"

You let go and he turned around to look at you. He looked exactly the same as he did when you last saw him. It was only 9 months ago, sure, but it felt longer.

"Enjoying the view?" He offered his binoculars to you.

You looked out over the wide, flat ocean. Some tiny islands rose from the sea on the horizon, the shadow of a lighthouse in the haze settling over the cold Atlantic water "Sure is pretty out there"

"Yeah... Real pretty"

You handed him back the binoculars, "So, lunch first or do you want to get this show on the road?"

He laughed and took his car keys out of his pocket "I was thinking of fish and chips, but if you want to get rolling we can find a pub"

You followed him to his car, a slightly dented red Astra, and climbed into the passenger side. A few false starts later, the engine turned over and you were underway. Miles slid past, you told him about your time studying natural history and he regaled you with the kind of maths where you haven't seen an actual number for weeks. There was something about him describing the concepts that may as well have been entirely in Greek for all you understood, maybe the way he got so into the proofs, maybe his soft voice getting so excited when he'd come near the end of a complex proof, maybe just because you hadn't seen him for months and suddenly you're reminded of just how smart he was. You couldn't take your eyes off him.

You slid down country roads, hedgerows either side of you buzzing with life, watching out of the windscreen as you saw brief flashes of ocean as you passed through Cornwall into Devon. Calling out whichever farm animals you saw as the fields.

You started to become aware of a smell in the car. Warm, musty, not unpleasant, but strong. You cracked a window, still the smell didn't dissipate. You looked over to your driver. Liam was gripping the wheel hard, panting slightly as his jaw clenched.

"You OK? You want to take a rest?"

He looked at you. You'd never seen that look on his face before. It was like he'd just hiked across a desert, and you were a cold beer. You realised what the smell was. Your eyes flickered to his lap. His jorts were tight, his manhood pitching a tent in them.

Your breath left you. Your chest was so tight, like you'd just ran a mile. You swallowed hard, unbuckling your seatbelt and leaning over to him. He sighed as you unbuttoned his pants, springing free as you pulled down the band of his boxers.

You'd never realised he was this big. You could fit both of your hands next to each other on him and still have more cock left over. That's not even including the knot, thick and throbbing already. You wrapped one hand around the base of it, hearing him groan as you squeezed gently. The smell was so much stronger now. You could feel yourself getting wet, a spreading heat filling you as you inhaled his scent.

You kissed it, feeling it twitch as you did. It jerked to attention, swelling a moment as a pump of precum oozed from the tip, intensifying the smell as it rolled down his shaft and got on your hand.

"Do you want me to suck it?" You whispered, not sure he could hear you over the engine

His left hand left the wheel, grabbing the back of your neck where it met your skull. He guided you to the tip, your tongue reaching for it as you helped him guide you in. You half-lay over the centre console, one hand on his cock, the other propping you up. The tip was touching your lips, smearing them with the sticky-sweet pre. "Don't worry" you whispered "I can take it"

You weren't as sure as you made out. He believed in you though.

His hand pushed down on you. You opened wide, careful to shield your teeth with your lips so as not to catch him. He slid deep into your mouth. You felt him at the back of your throat. You were a little less than halfway down. He wasn't moving you, letting you acclimatise to having his cock leaking in your mouth before he did anything.

You bobbed your head a little, hearing him breathe. Your hand left his knot, reaching around to rest on his, still gently holding your neck. You squeezed his hand, moving it up and down as you did, wordlessly instructing him.

He always was a quick learner. He pushed your head down onto him, gently at first, but getting firmer with your encouraging murmurs until he was using you like you wanted. His cock hit the back of your throat, making gagging noises as he bruised your soft palette. You could hear his groans. He was getting close. Your tightened your grip on his knot. Groans turned to growls as he throbbed harder in your mouth. You were already gulping down his precum when he finally let go, forcing you as deep as he could.

You felt his cum in your throat, thick and hot, swallowing greedily. You felt him pulling the car over, then the other hand grabbed your head as well. He used your face, still pumping ropes of cum into you while he milked himself with your mouth. You shivered as you tasted the salty, slightly bitter fluid, feeling it coat your mouth as you struggled to swallow it all.

At last his balls relaxed, knot still engorged, slouching in his seat. A gasping, panting, grinning mess.

He flinched when you kissed his overly-sensitive cock "Sorry about that... I forgot my rut suppressants... Thought it wouldn't be this bad"

You kissed his cock again, then his nose "Tell you what, when we get to the hotel, you can return the favour"

This is going to be the best road trip

######################################

As usual when I publish in the morning, this is yesterday's episode coming late, rather than today's coming early.

Tonight and tomorrow will be the second and third parts of the story, and I have a nice happy ending planned for our two lovebirds. Hope you all enjoy 😁

As normal, if you do have a request please feel free to drop me an ask about it and it'll go into the queue! You can request anything, but if you've read this far, you'll know the requests are often more of an inspiration than a hard-and-fast brief.

You get what you pay for, after all 🤣

[fuzzymakercloudduck]

Paige Bueckers x reader

Fluff! Comfort!

I’m sad, wrote this out of the fact I needed it

This is so self indulgent btw

Dusk till Dawn

I have come very far in my career for a twenty two year old, I knew that, but there is a twinkling feeling that chases me for so long, a feeling of failure as if I will never be good enough, it’s exhausting having to fight your brain in a endless battle day to day.

Through the years it got easier, I have found friends that were there for me, my family, my job which I love, and then Paige who has become my sunlight. But sometimes the things I went through, the mental stress I was once caged in comes backs crumbling the steps I took so far.

And it was exactly what was happening right now, an overwhelming takeover of anxiety, I have been overworking myself lately, the fear that I will be a failure knocking down my walls, trying to drive properly as tears blur my vision was not a easy task when I literally couldn’t even breath.

For some miracle I get to the building safely, but I just couldn’t push myself to even get my belt off, I sit in the car and just fall apart, remembering everything, the times in my teenage years I wished I were gone for good, and I know it wasn’t right but I got myself wondering if I done enough to deserve to have lived, if I suffered enough to deserve to have happiness, to deserve Paige, to deserve anything good that I got.

I dry my tears and try to look put together as I bring myself up to Paige’s dorm, hoping the other girls weren’t there so they wouldn’t see me in this state, I just needed to be in my girlfriends arms.

Thankfully once I open the door, the living room was empty so I was able to just go straight to Paige’s room.

Once I standing in front of her door I take a deep breath before knocking.

“Baby, it’s me” I noticed my voice being raspy because of the meltdown I had so I try to cough discreetly as I hear Paige opening the door.

“What happened?” Her face is of immediate concern as she look my face up and down, I was stupid to think I could just pretend everything was fine, at least to the one who knew me the most, and that realization instantly made me have new found tears streaming down my face as I let out a sob, the feeling of stupidity filled my whole body as I hide my face in my hands, right away I felt Paige’s arms around me pulling me in as she closes the door behind my back, her smell sinking me in.

“shh, it’s okay, I’m right here” I feel her guiding me to her bed as she sit us both down, her words made me melt into her embrace then my tears came for real, it felt like hours of simply crying and sobbing as Paige’s hand went up and down my back soothing me down, she kept silence, knowing me well enough to know I need to formulate my feelings before anything else.

“I’m right here for you baby, d’ya wanna talk about it?” her voice was low as she kissed the side of my head. I take a deep breath as I hold tight onto her before saying anything.

“I just felt so overwhelmed lately, with work and within myself really” I let out a sob before continuing, “it makes me so anxious that those feelings I felt when I was in the deepest stage of my depression will just come knocking down everything I’ve done, all the way I crossed, I’m just scared” I finish and feel her arms falling from around me to now her hands holding mine as she look in my eyes.

“You have no idea of how strong you are, and I understand is so scary to know you ever felt that way, but the difference is that you were dealing with all that all by yourself, you don’t have to do it anymore, whenever you feel like you lost just remember I am right here with you, as well as so other people that love you, you’re not alone anymore, and you’ve come so more far than you even realize.” Paige whips the tears that spill out of my eyes as second nature and then pull me into her chest laying both of us down, suddenly all the unsafely mindset evaporate, being drowned out by the comfort of the person that loves me.

“And I need you to promise me that you will always talk with me when you feel like this, ok?” She look in my eyes as she say this, Paige was one of the only people that I shared my past history with mental health medicine and the darkest side of my depression. “Doesn’t matter where or when, the moment you need it I am right here, you do not need to be strong alone, I love you”

“I love you Paige” my eyes were so heavy because of the tears,I knew this would be a bigger conversation in the morning but for now I really needed to drift in sleep in her arms, my safe space, my home. “Thank you for just being you” she held my tightly as she grabbed the blankets to throw over us once she realized my eyes closed.

“I’m here from dusk till dawn” I feel a kiss pressed to my forehead right before I stumble in sleep.

*NOT PROOFREAD, ALSO ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE SO DO NOT COME FOR ME

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Making Arrangements Part Two

Part One | Masterlist

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting will be blocked.

Length: 7.9K

Notes: Hey look it's part two! This is the end of the fic!

No beta, we die like Billy Kimber

Warnings: Arranged marriage; mentions of prostitution; canon-typical attitudes toward sex; slow burn; enemies to allies to lovers; mention of Reader's mother passing away, though it doesn't say how; Reader has a brother and an aunt; no physical descriptions of non-canon characters; possessive Tommy; explicit sexual content - vaginal sex, unsafe sex

Summary: Mrs. Shelby. It had been your truth for nearly six months now, but you heard it so rarely that it hardly seemed to fit you.

“You look impressed.” You noted it to him with pride. Thomas’ gaze swept around the hotel room as he pressed a tip into the bellboy’s hand. The young man dipped a courteous nod before hurrying out, shutting the suite door behind himself.

“You chose well,” Tommy conceded. You shrugged nonchalantly, turning away to hide your proud smile. When Tommy had asked you to make arrangements for your trip, you’d been certain it was a test. It seemed like you’d passed, at least. The interior was opulent, with rich shades of red and tawny across the furnishings.

“There’s a balcony,” You nodded him toward it as you headed for the doors. You opened them, stepping out and peering over the hotel’s small courtyard. You heard Thomas come up behind you, felt his hand rest on your lower back as he set the other on the banister.

“It’ll be nice to be able to get some air without all of the street noise,” You added. Why were you so chatty now? It was hardly the first time you’d been alone with him.

Maybe it was the fact that Tommy had trusted you with this in the first place. Maybe it was how close he’d stuck to you on the car ride down, urging you to sit closer so that he could hear you properly over the rumbling of the road beneath his tires. Maybe it was the fact that, unless something else prevailed, you were going to share a bed with your husband for the first time that evening.

You glanced back toward Tommy and found him eyeing the courtyard below. You cleared your throat, looking over your shoulder and nodding inside.

“Do you like it?”

He turned to you, a small, patient smile on his lips.

“Yes,” He reassured, his thumb sweeping gently over your lower back. “I like it.”

You nodded, relieved, and turned back to the courtroom.

“What time is your meeting?”

“Six o’clock.”

“What time do you want me ready to go?”

“Five thirty should work well enough.”

You reached out, fishing into Tommy’s jacket for his timepiece. You ignored his heavy, curious look as you eyed the face. You had a couple of hours between now and then.

“Alright,” You shrugged, tucking the watch back where it belonged before you turned, heading into the room. It was another moment before Tommy followed you back inside.

“What’ll you wear?” He asked.

“That depends.”

“On?”

“Where we’re going and who we’re meeting.” You crouched by your suitcase, casting Thomas a sidelong glance. “You still haven’t told me.”

He hummed, drifting closer and leaning against the bed frame.

“We're meeting Jay Miller.”

You frowned. That name sounded familiar, but you couldn’t place it. He waited patiently as you wracked your mind. Jay Miller. Jay Miller…

Your mind flashed with a face that you used to know well—a warm smile, a lopsided grin, the flutter of dark lashes as you took him between your lips—

You turned away from Thomas, your face going hot.

“I didn’t know that you knew Jacob,” You said crisply.

“It’s a young acquaintance. Lewis made introductions.”

And you would have to thank your brother for that—perhaps with a smack upside of his head. What the devil was he thinking, introducing your husband to your former beau?

“How fortuitous.” You straightened from your suitcase, looking down at its contents. Jay Miller. Lord above. You hadn’t seen the man in years. Maybe he wouldn’t remember you? Maybe he wouldn’t dare say a thing in front of Tommy. Maybe Tommy didn’t even know—

“That one.”

Your mind quieted as Tommy stepped up beside you, pointing into the suitcase. Your brow furrowed as you followed his direction, crouching down to pluck up a purple beaded dress.

“Why this one?” You asked, turning the fabric over in your hands.

“I’ve never seen you in it.”

“You haven’t seen me in most of the things I’ve packed,” You pointed out. Tommy hummed, pressing tightly up against your back, making your stomach turn somersaults.

“Then this’ll be a good place to start,” He insisted.

“And you still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

“We're having dinner at the Granville Hotel."

You drew in a shaky breath as he stepped away again, reahing into his pocket for his cigarette case as he headed back toward the balcony. You'd wear your purple dress to the Granville Hotel. Fine. You looked down at the dress, smoothing the crepe satin with your fingers. You’d known that you would need to prepare yourself physically, but preparing yourself mentally was now an entirely different matter.

-- 

It was a boon that Jacob seemed as shocked to see you as you had been when Tommy had mentioned his name to you. For as long as it had been, Jacob seemed almost wholly unchanged. He stood from the restaurant table, straightening his jacket as you and Tommy grew closer.

Jacob’s dark hair was neatly coiffed; his warm, dark eyes lingered heavily on you as you approached him on Tommy’s arm. He was taller than Tommy, nearly 6’4, with broad shoulders, and biceps that bulged in such a way that they seemed to challenge the seams of his suit. 

“Mr. Shelby,” Jacob turned his attention to Thomas, shaking his hand warmly.

“Mr. Miller,” They shook hands before Tommy gestured toward you, “I believe you know my wife.”

“I do,” Jacob nodded, “But I’m ashamed to say that I have not had the pleasure for quite some time.” He took hold of your extended hand, and while you’d expected a shake, he bowed over it, brushing a kiss to your knuckles. You fought to hold your expression steady as he leaned back, murmuring, “Mrs. Shelby.”

Mrs. Shelby. It had been your truth for nearly six months now, but you heard it so rarely that it hardly seemed to fit you.

“Mr. Miller,” You answered softly. “It is nice to see you again.”

“And you.”

“Shall we sit?” Tommy asked.

“Please.” Jacob waved his hands to the seat on the other side of the table from him. Tommy pulled your chair out for you, nodding as you murmured your thanks. He leaned down, dropping a kiss to the crown of your head, and you couldn’t help but glance back with a small smile on your lips. You didn’t even care if it was for show. The outward affection that Tommy had given you in the last few weeks felt so nice. It had been so long since you’d felt anything like that, not since—Well. Not since Jacob, at least.

You let your eyes stray to the other side of the table where Jacob seemed to be perusing the wine menu. It was a relief. You weren’t sure what business the two were engaged in, and finding out right off the bat would have been a bit much for you to handle. You knew well enough now that Thomas liked to ease into his business rather than state it outright.

--

Dinner was delicious. Course upon course upon course of perfectly prepared, filling food, chased by sips of the best bottles of wine that the restaurant had to offer you. Jacob and Thomas spent the entire meal exchanging pleasantries, talking around business…Until you reached the wasteland between dessert and the bill.

“...Now,” Jay started, folding his arms on the table. “We ought to come to our reason for meeting.”

“In front of the lady?”

“She can handle it.”

Where there had been a tease in Tommy’s voice, there was a thread of annoyance in Jay’s, insistent and firm. You weren’t sure who you were more grateful for at that moment. Jay knew you in your place in your family’s structure; Tommy was still learning you, in a way. He shifted in his seat a touch beside you, curling his arm around the back of your seat.

“I know she can,” Tommy insisted. “I just wanted to remind you that it’s simply not polite.”

Polite. You were almost certain that that word had never once applied to Tommy Shelby. Jay gave Tommy a tight smile, giving a small nod.

“Well then,” He replied, tone clipped. “Let’s get to it. We have sixteen distribution centers, but we’d only be able to lend five to you and your operations.”

You glanced toward Tommy, trying to gauge his reaction to the news. He nodded slowly, tapping the ash from his cigarette into the tray on the table.

“When we last spoke,” He spoke matter-of-factly, his tone tipped with venom, “You told me that ten centers would be available.”

“Yes, well.” Jay’s gaze flitted toward you lightning-quick, then away again. “That was blue sky thinking on my part. The fact of the matter is, we have five. Take them or leave them.”

“I’ll leave them.”

Your gaze flitted over to Tommy, stunned. He’d leave the option of five, rather than pursue them and find five elsewhere?

“You’re kidding,” Jay scoffed before he nudged you beneath the table with his foot. “Talk some sense into your husband.”

You considered for a moment, taking in Tommy properly. It was stalwart—almost flat—but he quirked a brow. You took in his expression, his countenance…And you knew. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be enough for him. You shook your head a little, your gaze fixed on Tommy as you agreed:

“It’s ten or nothing, Jay,” You warned.

“Please,” Jay laughed. “You can’t have bought into his shit so quickly.”

Tommy’s expression flickered as he turned to meet Jay’s eye again, his eyes narrowing.

“You doubt my wife’s sense?” Tommy frowned, his voice daring Jay to disagree.

“Thomas,” You warned softly, but it was drowned out by Jay’s, “I’m questioning whether your wife still has a mind of her own.”

Tommy stood so quickly that it made you jolt, stunned at the sudden move. Jay followed suit, the glasses on the table rattling as his thighs hit the table on the way up. You reached out, hurriedly steadying the table as the motions drew the attention of the other diners. You looked up, gaze darting between the two of them.

“You question my wife’s intellect. That is a dangerous path to walk.”

“I knew her long before you, Shelby, and better, if I do say so.”

“Is that right.”

“Thomas,” You hissed, “Don’t.”

Your dread grew as Tommy’s gaze held steadfast and heavily on Jay’s.

“Tommy,” You reached up, catching hold of his hand and squeezing it, “Please. Not here.”

It was another long, harrowing moment before Tommy lowered himself to sit beside you again, his arm curling around the back of your chair. You watched him, your heart pounding as Jay reluctantly lowered himself to sit, casting an apologetic smile toward the maître d.

“So,” Tommy drawled, “If five is all you’ve to offer, we may as well conclude our business now.”

“I suppose we should,” Jay agreed, his gaze drifting toward you. Your eyes dropped to Tommy’s shoulder, holding steadily there, rather than look at Jay.

“I’ll take care of the check,” Jay offered.

“There’s no need,” Tommy insisted, drawing out his money clip and slapping a stack of bills on the table. “It’s on us.”

--

Your entire body was hot as you stormed into your hotel room, already reaching up to remove your earrings as you crossed the threshold.

“Was that necessary?” You spat, glancing back toward him.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

You bit your inner cheek, holding in a hysterical laugh. That was bullshit. You tossed the earrings onto the vanity, ignoring one that pinged off of the mirror and onto the floor. You reached back, struggling to tug your dress off. You huffed in irritation, simply holding your arms up. It was a moment before Tommy strolled over, drawing the dress off of your body. You turned away from you before he could get a proper look, snatching the dress, your pajamas, and robe before hurrying behind the room divider to change.

You drew off your slip and your stockings hurriedly, listening to Tommy mill around on the other side. You tugged on your pajamas and robe, tying the tie tightly before rounding the divider, your pretty purple dress balled up to shove into your suitcase.

“I did not appreciate that,” You announced primly, crouching beside the case for your toiletries. 

“Appreciate what, precisely?”

“Being used as a bargaining chip.”

You straightened, settling at the vanity and taking up your cold cream to take your makeup off.

“...That’s not why I brought you.”

“Bullshit.” You met his eye in the mirror, uncaring of the fact that you likely looked ridiculous, smearing cream all over your face. “You wanted a position from the higher ground, and bringing me, you got it.”

You sprung up, striding over to the restroom and taking up a washcloth. You twisted on the tap, running it under the water and raising it to clean away the cold cream. You looked into the mirror, swiping away the remaining smudges of kohl beneath your eyes. You drew in a steadying breath, fighting to staunch your irritation. It felt good, but it just wasn’t enough.

You could hear the twisting of a bottle top, chased by the almost melodic sound of whiskey being poured into a glass. You straightened up, pitching the used washcloth into the basin of the sink and winding into the room. You plucked the glass of whiskey out of Tommy’s hands moments before he could take a sip, stomping over to the balcony and yanking the door open. You drew in a deep gulp as you leaned against the balcony, peering into the courtyard. The small winding path around it was lit with small lanterns, swaying in the evening breeze. You heard Tommy’s footsteps approaching after a few moments, but refused to look in his direction.

“What if you’re right?” He asked after a few moments.

“Then I’d say that you’d accomplished your mission.”

“Thank you for following my lead.”

“You should’ve taken the five.”

“Excuse me?”

“Better to have five to start with and look for five,” You argued, glancing up at him. “You could’ve negotiated a lower fee with Jay and an equal fee elsewhere.”

“You think my choice is foolish.”

“I think it’s short-sighted.”

Tommy’s brows rose and fell swiftly.

“You’re certainly entitled to that opinion.”

The telephone rang on the side table just inside the bedroom, and Tommy stepped away with a murmur of, “Excuse me,” As he went back inside. You turned to watch him, leaning against the balcony and watching him. He plucked the phone up, tucking it against his ear and answering, “Yes…Ah, Jay,” His gaze darted to yours. “I didn’t expect to hear from you this evening…Mm…Mhm…I see…”

Your brows rose, stomach roiling with nerves as you listened.

“Yes…Yes, ten centers will still do just fine,” Tommy insisted. You narrowed your eyes slightly. Dickhead.

“Of course… I understand…Thank you…Lovely doing business with you as well.”

You rested your chin on your hand as you heard Tommy lower the receiver back into the cradle. A moment later, he joined you on the balcony. You listened as he drew out a cigarette, tucked it between his lips, and lit a match. You caught the acrid scent of his cigarette just a few moments later.

“...Go on,” You finally sighed.

“‘Scuse me?”

“Gloat. Get it over with.”

“I think I’ll wait.”

--

“Tell me about him.”

Getting into bed with Thomas had been nerve-wracking. You’d been certain that he’d stay up and go out, but as you’d shut the light off and gotten under the covers, he’d joined you. There was a good amount of space between the two of you. You’d been staring at the ceiling, praying that sleep would come quickly, but you’d laid in silence until he’d asked that shocking question.

“What?” You frowned, letting your head loll to the side to look at him.

“Jacob Miller.”

You could feel him watching you in the room’s low light. You rolled onto your side to face him, tucking your hands under your head.

“I’m sure you did your research before doing business with him.”

“I did, but everything that I know is strictly professional. How did you meet him?”

You sighed softly, casting your mind back.

“It was at a party.”

“You brother’s?”

“No, he was still too young then. One of my Aunt Pearl’s friends threw it.”

“How old were you?”

“Seventeen.”

“How old was he?”

“Mm…Twenty I guess.”

“You liked him.”

“Not at first.”

“Why not?”

“He was just…I don’t know,” You shook your head. “He was too showy, flashy. Loud. But, he was already drunk by the time I got there. He’s far more calm when he doesn’t have a few in him.”

“Did you want to marry him?”

You considered for a moment, your thumb sweeping along the band of your wedding ring.

“I used to, I suppose.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“...It didn’t feel right.”

“And our marriage did?”

Did. The word hit you low in the belly. Did? Not does? What made Tommy think that your stance on the marriage had changed already? Was it your irritation at his tactics earlier that evening? You were certainly justified in that upset, and you wouldn’t let him talk you down from that, at least.

“...It’s different,” You insisted. “Jacob and I were simply attracted to one another. No strings. You and I married for the sakes of our families.”

“Do you regret it?”

You were quiet for a moment, taking in Tommy’s features.

“...No,” You shook your head. “We both got what we wanted. Didn’t we?”

Tommy nodded slowly, his foot gently brushing yours beneath the sheets.

“That we did.”

You nodded, relief melting over you.

“Have you ever been in love?” You hedged. It took a moment before Tommy admitted, “Yes.”

“Who was she?”

“There was a girl. Greta. We were young, and…She got very sick.”

“Only her?”

“...Another, named Grace. She worked at the Garrison.”

“Why her?”

“I thought we were cut from the same cloth.”

“...And now?”

Pain flashed across Tommy’s face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

“Now I know better.”

-- 

It was strange to wake up with someone else. You opened your eyes slowly, focusing on the rise-and-fall of your belly with the weight of Tommy’s arm atop it, the heat of his body pressed into your side. You tipped your head to look at him, taking him in properly in the early morning light. You raised your hand, gently smoothing back his sleep-mussed hair.

The night had yielded far more than you’d expected. You hadn’t expected Tommy to tell you about his first love, and you hadn’t expected him to ask about yours. You hoped that it would bring you closer, but with Tommy, you could never tell. Maybe it was leverage…But if it was, why would he have told you about Greta, or Grace? You peered up at the ceiling, noting to yourself that you ought to ask Peggy more about them when you got back to Birmingham.

You glanced toward Tommy as you felt him sigh, nuzzling your shoulder sleepily.

“...Morning,” You murmured. He hummed softly, turning his head from the window.

“I want coffee.” “I’ll order room service.”

You rolled over, reaching for the phone. You sucked in a breath as Tommy’s arms curled around your middle, his body pressing up against your back. You swallowed thickly, reaching out to dial the front desk.

“...Hello?...Two coffees…” You requested, “And, um…” You drew the receiver away. “Do you want anything to eat?”

“Toast for now.”

“And two orders of toast…Room 402…Thank you.” You hung up, settling back down in bed. “It’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”

“Should be ten for what we’re paying to stay here, ” Tommy sighed, brushing his cheek against your shoulder.

“Did you sleep alright?”

“Fine…You?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Tommy rolled away, stretching and yawning widely before he sat up. You stayed in bed, trying to remember the warmth of Tommy cuddling so close, certain that you wouldn’t feel it again any time soon. You’d forgotten how nice it was to be held. You watched him for a few moments, taking in the expanse of his pale back before you finally pushed yourself to sit up, lowering your gaze to the sheets as Tommy turned back toward you.

“...You alright?” He asked after a moment. You swallowed thickly, forcing a placid expression as you met his gaze again.

“Of course.”

For a moment, you thought that he may push back for an answer, but he let it go, nodding as he fished into his coat pocket for his cigarettes.

-- 

The news that the Blakes would be visiting Birmingham had reached Pearl first. She had mentioned it to Polly, who had told Tommy while Lewis was in earshot. Lewis had written and sent you a note, and you’d had the facts of it by noon.

By the time Tommy returned for the evening, you were completely occupied with the arrangements. He found you in the kitchen with notebooks and your planner spread out over the table.

“I see you’ve heard,” He commented.

“I have.”

“Is there dinner?”

“There's soup and bread in the oven.”

Tommy grunted, walking more deeply into the kitchen. You hardly registered the feeling of him resting his hands on your shoulders, pressing a kiss to the back of your head.

“...How was work?” You asked after a few moments.

“Fine.” You heard the oven door open, then close again. You tutted as he nudged some of your work aside, setting his plate down before he sat beside you. You could see Tommy rolling his sleeves up out of the corner of your eye, but you simply drew another notebook nearer to yourself, eyeing an itemized grocery list.

“What are you doing?” Tommy asked after a moment.

“Totaling the estimated costs. I want everything to be prepared before they arrive.”

“Mm…Have you eaten?”

You turned the page of your mother's old notebook, brow furrowing. Was it apple cake or apple pie that the Blakes preferred? Or apple strudel? You knew that there was apple involved—

You jolted as the notebook was yanked out from beneath your hands, tossed to the other side of the table, out of reach. You whirled around, eyes wide.

“Tommy!”

He pushed the plate toward you, turning it in your direction so that the stew was closer to you than it was to him. “Eat.”

“And what’s to stop me from just taking up the notebook up again?”

“I am.” Tommy snapped his fingers, pointing at the plate. “Eat.”

You huffed softly, taking up a piece of bread and reluctantly dipping it into the stew.

“...I made this for you,” You grumbled.

“What was it that the minister said when we were married? About the two being as one? Means we share.”

“How technical,” You grumbled through your mouthful. You glanced up as Tommy nudged a glass of wine closer to you. You took the glass up, taking a deep pull before passing it back. Lord above, you hadn’t even realized how hungry you were. It hit you all at once, your stomach grumbling as you swallowed. You didn’t dare look at Tommy, nervous that he’d heard it.

“How long have you been at this?” He asked, waggling a finger toward the mess on the table.

“I don’t know. A while.”

“Mm. An awful lot of uproar for the Blakes.”

You cast him a sidelong glance, brow raised. “The Blakes are one of the oldest families in our acquaintance. I haven’t seen them since I was a child, since—” Since before your mother had passed. You cleared your throat, lowering your gaze to the plate. “Anyway. I was just going over my mother’s old party notes. I don’t want to miss anything.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Beyond offending them and losing our connections? Gee, Thomas, I can’t think of a thing,” You quipped dryly. He seemed to smile unwittingly.

“Less chatting, more chewing,” He counseled, nudging the bowl closer again.

-- 

“I trust you have everything in hand.”

Pearl’s tone indicated that she did not trust that you did, in fact, have everything in hand. Despite her prickly barb and lack of faith, you’d managed everything quite well. The Blakes would be staying in your guest room, which had been fully kitted out when you’d remodeled the house. You’d ordered in a chef and a sous chef for the next few days, giving you the freedom to deal with the house, and you’d hired on a maid permanently. Ethel was a quick, eager, high-spirited woman, who had practically been your shadow for the last few days.

You cast Pearl a sidelong glance, jaw clenched as she lazily swept her eyes across the neat sitting room. You could just make out the sound of the cook and his sous chef bustling about in the kitchen, Ethel in the living room, setting the table.

“Yes, I have,” You nodded. “And thank you for all of your help this week.”

Pearl snorted at your contemptuous tone, tapping the ashes from her cigarette into a tray on the sideboard.

“You’re the lady of the house. You have to learn how to manage these things for yourself sometime. It may as well be now.”

You sighed, turning to the house and straightening the cushions for what had to be the eightieth time that day.

“Did you see them when they went into the office?” You asked, glancing back toward Polly.

“Mm, briefly. Beulah looked like hell. Poor woman never did have the stomach for the crossing. They booked too late, couldn’t get a cabin close enough to the middle. She must've spent the last five full days chucking her guts up.”

“Pearl,” You scowled, disgusted.

“I”m simply saying, don’t be too offended if she doesn’t eat too much at dinner tonight.”

“Mm. How about the old man?”

“Oh, you know Chester. Strong as an ox. He’ll outlive us all.” Pearl was quiet for a moment before she added, “They brought Hugh.”

The news hit you like a freight train. You groaned loudly, giving your foot one petulant stomp before striding over to the door to the dining room. You drew in a deep breath, steadying yourself before you opened the door.

“Ethel.”

“Ma’am?”

“We’ll be ten for dinner tonight—Unless,” You glared over toward Polly, “You have any more surprises.”

“Not a one. You’re a dear, Ethel,” Pearl gave her a bright smile. You turned your own tight smile toward Ethel, nodding, “Ten.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“It’s better this way,” Pearl insisted as you let the door swing closed. “You were saying that you hated a lopsided table. Hugh evens out numbers.”

“How kind of him,” You grumbled. “How old is he now?”

“Thirty.”

“Married?”

“Divorced.”

“Mm.”

“...Attractive.”

You arched a brow at Pearl’s comment. She watched you for a moment before she lowered her gaze to the smoldering end of her cigarette.

“Is your husband still seeing that woman?” She asked. The mention of Lizzie made your gut pang with bitterness, but you forced your face into an uninterested mask as you shrugged.

“I don’t know,” You admitted.

“Does he bring her around?”

“No, but he may go to her. However he handles that business, he doesn’t—...It isn’t in the house, at least.”

“Have you considered asking him?”

“I don’t care what he does.”

“It’s up to you to know. Especially for the course of this visit.”

You sighed softly. “Thomas will do what’s best for the business. He won’t jeopardize it for a roll in the hay.”

“You’re certain?”

“Trust me, aunt. If there is one thing that he cares for in this world, it’s that.”

-- 

Pearl’s assessments of your visitors had been correct—you could see that the second they walked through the door.

With a full head of greyed hair and a neatly trimmed handlebar mustache, standing at 6’2, Chester Blake had the same larger-than-life air that he’d possessed when you were young. He was a little thicker around the middle than he had been the last time you’d seen him, but the sands of time didn’t exactly flow north. He was aging, but he wore it well. Beulah, on the other hand, looked as if she’d spent the entire crossing on the cargo hold of the ship. Her hair and clothing were neatly styled, but her typically pinked fair skin looked sallow, and her expression was drawn. Her bright grey eyes were dull, and her smile seemed just a little wobbly as she took you in.

“My word,” She managed, “How much you’ve grown.”

“And you haven’t changed at all,” You smiled as you embraced her, “Either of you.”

“A lie, and one that your mother would’ve abhorred, rest her soul,” Chester patted your shoulder, “But I’m happy to hear it myself.”

You smiled, shaking your head.

“I think that my mother would’ve scolded me if I hadn’t said as such.”

Tommy skirted around Beulah, resting a hand on your hip and leaning in, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. You smiled, despite the fact that the show of affection was likely a show for your guests.

“We mustn’t all crowd in the doorway,” You insisted as Tommy helped Beulah out of her coat, passing it off to Ethel, “Can I get anyone a drink?”

“Have you got whiskey?” Chester asked as they followed you into the sitting room.

“Man after my own heart,” Tommy commented, walking over to the sideboard.

“And you, Beulah? Some tea, perhaps?” You suggested softly. She took your hand, giving it a grateful squeeze.

“I’d love nothing more.”

“Ginger?”

“You’re an angel.”

“Ethel,” You turned to your maid as she headed for the kitchen, “A ginger tea for Mrs. Blake, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Thank you.”

You guided Beulah to a seat before joining Tommy at the sideboard.

“Would you like one?” He murmured.

“Thank you, no. I think it’d be best if I kept my head for the evening. There’ll be wine with dinner, besides.”

“Mm.”

You glanced toward Beulah where she had closed her eyes, then looked toward Chester, where he was eyeing the tintype photographs of your parents, and of Lewis when he was young.

“...Where are the boys?” You asked after a moment.

“With Polly and Pearl, showing Hugh a good time at the Garrison.”

You groaned quietly in annoyance. That was just what you needed—the lot of them spilling in to dinner, absolutely smashed.

“They’ll be on their best behavior,” Tommy added before you could complain further.

“You’re certain?”

“They gave me their word.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line before you gave a short nod, murmuring, “Alright.” You could feel Tommy eyeing you for a moment before you felt his hand slide across your waist. You raised your eyes to his as he shifted just a little closer, his hip pressing to yours.

“The contract was signed this morning—everything from here on out is just pleasantries. Relax.”

You drew in a deep breath, holding it for a few moments before you sighed, lowering your eyes to collar. You closed your eyes as Tommy leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You patted his hand softly before he drew away, taking up one of the glasses and turning back to your guests.

“Here you are, Chester.”

You glanced toward Beulah, grimacing as you saw her raise her hand to her mouth, resting it there, as if she wasn’t sure whether she’d be ill or not. You walked over to her, forgoing propriety as you crouched beside her.

“The tea should be ready in a moment. Would you like to go and lie down for a few minutes before dinner?”

She gave you a small, grateful smile.

“I’ll be alright, dear,” She insisted, patting your hand. “But could I ask you to get the tin of mints from my coat? They’re in the left pocket.”

“Of course.”

You straightened, heading for the coat closet. You’d only just retrieved the tin when the front door was flung open. You heard the clamoring of voices just a moment later, and you watched as Polly, Pearl, Lewis, Arthur, John, and an unfamiliar man piled in. You folded your arms across your chest, unable to help the slight, disapproving raise of your brow. Pearl caught sight of you first, and she cackled, pinching your cheek.

“Give up the sourpuss, pet, it’s only us.”

“I can see that, thank you.”

Ethel zipped into the hall, rushing to collect the coats as quickly as they were being shrugged off. You gave Lewis, Arthur, and John a peck on the cheek as they passed you, heading into the sitting room.

“I don’t get one?”

The man’s voice gave you pause, and you turned to get a better look at him.

Hugh Chester Blake had been a menace of a child when you were growing up—stealing your books, dipping the ends of your hair in ink, shoving you down into the dirt as he passed. Your gaze swept him speculatively. He had his mother’s eyes, his father’s thick, dark head of hair. You had remembered a lanky little twit, but he’d grown to be quite tall and quite broad.

“Hello, Hugh,” You greeted.

“That’s not a very warm welcome, is it.” He took a step closer, and you fought the urge to step back, swallowing thickly as he crowded into your space. Christ, where had Polly and Pearl gone? Play nice, just play nice. Pleasantries, you thought. Thomas had done the hard work, you couldn’t undo it by insulting the man—

“About time, Hugh,” You heard.

You could’ve cried with relief as Tommy joined you, curling a territorial arm around your waist.

“Mrs. Blake is looking for those mints, darling,” Tommy added. Darling, that was new—Your mind stalled at the endearment before you squeaked, “Oh, goodness! Excuse me.”

You hurried away from the crowded doorway, just catching on Tommy saying, “You boys took your sweet time.”

You crouched beside Mrs. Blake’s seat again, murmuring your apologies as you passed the tin over.

“It’s quite alright,” She insisted, “I know all about the hosting game—your attention is torn ten different directions.”

You smiled gratefully, giving her hand a squeeze as you straightened, glancing around. Everyone had drinks in hand…And Tommy and Hugh were still in the doorway. You frowned, recognizing the tight, irritated set of Tommy’s jaw. What could they possibly be discussing—?

“Dinner is nearly ready, Mrs. Shelby.” Ethel’s news snapped you out of your contemplation, and you nodded, smiling at her.

“I’ll start herding the cats, then. Thank you, Ethel.”

--

Dinner had gone off without a hitch. Every dish had been prepared perfectly—and the chef had been quick to heat broth for Beulah when she’d been wary of not being able to keep any of the rich meal down. You could feel yourself beginning to truly relax as you watched Pearl and Polly dance with John and Lewis. The sound of the record player, their chatter and laughter began to brighten up the typically drab, quiet calm of the sitting room.

“Room on your card for me?”

Hugh’s question made you clam up again, and your eyes darted to his palm. Pleasantries. You could manage one dance, couldn’t you? You gave him a small smile, resting your hand in his. You knew the moment that you did that it was a mistake. He tugged you far too harshly toward the others, causing you to nearly trip over your own feet. He rested his hand on your lower back, fingers splaying wide, nearly dipping lower than what was appropriate. Your hear ticked up in your chest as you took in the ruddiness in his cheeks.

Hugh was drunk.

You didn’t know how much he’d had at the Garrison, but he’d been pounding the wine back at dinner, nearly drinking an entire bottle alone, and hardly touching his food. Now, he jerkily steered you around the crowded space, his grasp on your hand so tight it was nearly painful. Where was Beulah? Maybe you could excuse yourself to check in on her—

“I’m cutting in.”  

Your eyes darted gratefully to Tommy as he grasped Hugh’s jacket, forcing the man to stop.

“What?” Hugh asked, face reddening in irritation.

“I said,” Tommy stepped closer, “I’m cutting in. I want to dance with my wife, if you don’t mind.”

If you don’t mind. It was tactful, almost genius. It put the ball in Hugh’s court. The polite thing to do would be to acquiesce; if he didn’t, the phrasing and his refusal to let go would seem absolutely ridiculous. You felt Hugh glance between you and Tommy before he reluctantly passed you into Tommy’s hands.

“Thank you for the dance,” You added over your shoulder before Tommy steered you to the other side of the dance floor. You sighed softly, resting your forehead against Tommy’s shoulder. “Your timing was superb.”

Tommy hummed knowingly, swaying you slowly as Arthur switched the record over.

“Are you alright?” He asked, sweeping his thumb over the side of your hand.

“I am now,” You murmured, lifting your head to look at Tommy. He nodded, gaze sweeping your face. His nose brushed gently against yours, his eyes flitting to your lips, and lingering. You swiped your tongue along your lower lip, stomach fluttering as Tommy pressed his lips to yours. You felt the swaying slow, then stop as Tommy’s arm curled around your waist, drawing you into his chest. You gently lifted your hand from his shoulder, resting on his nape. You had barely kissed him on your wedding day. This was sweet in a way that you’d never known from Tommy—a way that you wanted to become more familiar with.

The hoots and whoops from Lewis, Arthur, and John snapped you from the tender embrace, and you turned your head from Tommy, embarrassedly pressing your face into his neck.

“Alright, pipe down,” Tommy grumbled. When you managed to draw yourself from your nervous hiding place, you found Polly and Pearl sharing a smile.

--

“…What are you doing in here?”

The question flew out of your mouth, coated in your surprise, and you could see the swell of Tommy’s amusement as he closed your bedroom door behind himself.

“Hugh is in my room,” He informed you. Oh—Lord above. You nodded a little. Of course. How hadn’t you thought of that?

“I see,” You muttered. Tommy hummed, pushing off from the door and walking deeper inside. You watched him take in the furnishings, his gaze sweeping the armchair and bookshelf, the small reading table, the nightstand…And the bed. You raised your hand, scrubbing at the back of your neck.

It was going to be alright, you told yourself. You’d slept with Tommy—you’d been asleep with Tommy—before, just a few weeks ago. That had been a comfortable enough experience, so…So this would be more than alright. You were certain of it.

“I’ll just,” You gestured toward the divider in the corner of the room, “I’ll go change.” You skirted around it before Tommy could argue, or offer to be the one to change behind it. You plucked up your pajamas and stepped behind the divider, scrubbing your hands over your heated face once you were out of his line of vision. How did this man still make you so nervous?

“...It was a lovely evening.” Tommy’s insistence floated over the divider to you, prompting you to snap into action.

“Yes, it was,” You answered, words slightly muffled as you drew your dress up and over your head. You hung it over the silk folding screen, reaching for the fastenings on your brassiere and corset. “I’ll have to give the cook an excellent recommendation. Dinner was superb.”

“Yes.”

You drew off your thigh-highs, hanging them on the screen by your dress. You pulled on your nightdress, smoothing your hands over the cool, sky-blue fabric before putting on the matching robe.

“…May I come out?” You asked, damning your nerves.

“Of course.”

You stepped around the screen, surprised to find Tommy in bed already. He had the manuscript that had been on your bedside table in hand.

“You’re making progress,” He commented, flipping through a few pages, skimming a few of your corrections and notes.

“I was. Things got a little…Held up with the Blake’s visit,” You admitted. You’d hardly touched the manuscript in the last couple of weeks. You walked over to the basin, trying to ignore the feeling of Tommy’s gaze following you.

“…Is that new?” He asked.

“Hm?” You looked at them, finding his gaze lingering on your exposed legs. The interest in his gaze warmed you, and you hurriedly looked away again as his eyes swept upward. “Oh, the—This? No.”

“Had it long?”

“A few months.” It was another outfit that you’d gotten for your honeymoon months ago—one that Tommy would never had had a reason to see before.

“Will you be reading before bed?” Tommy asked.

“I think not. It’s been a long day.”

The stress was beginning to drain from your system, making you feel the full weight of your fatigue. You were almost certain that you’d fall asleep the second your head hit the pillow. You washed your face quickly, listening to Tommy turn the pages of the manuscript every few moments. When you finished, you dried your hands and turned back to the bed.

“Would you like to leave that light on?” You asked, nodding toward the lamp on the bedside table as you shrugged your robe off, hanging it up on the bed post.

“I can do without it, unless you’d like it on.”

“No! I’m alright,” You chirped as you climbed into bed, tugging the covers up. Tommy set the manuscript aside, shutting the light off before he settled down in bed beside you. You could feel his legs brush against yours as you the two of you laid on your sides facing one another.

“…Hugh’s a live one, isn’t he,” Tommy commented.

“He hasn’t been told no much before.”

“That became quite clear.”

You shivered at the thread of steel in Tommy’s tone. You reached out, tracing a finger gently along the back of his hand.

“Thank you again,” You added, “For stepping in when you did.”

“I told you,” Tommy turned his hand over beneath yours. “If I ever find out another man touched you, I’ll give you his hands.”

You huffed a soft laugh through your nose.

“May put a bit of a damper on your contract with his father.”

“Though they’d make an excellent trophy above the mantle.”

“That’s vile,” You giggled, smile widening as Tommy’s hand wrapped around yours. You were quiet for a few moments, reveling in the heat of his palm against yours. “…I don’t suppose I’m afforded the same opportunity?” You added.

“What do you mean?”

“Whose hands would I get to take as a trophy?”

Tommy met the statement with silence, and it made you want to sink into the bed. You’d been joking—

“There’s been no one,” He finally said. The admission made your heart stutter in your chest.

“Excuse me?”

“There’s been no one,” He repeated.

“But…Lizzie—”

“Not for months.”

Months. When had it stopped? And—

“Why?” You asked, shaking your head in disbelief. Tommy raised your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. He pressed another to your forearm, then shifted closer, lips brushing against your shoulder. He turned his head, and your eyes fluttered closed as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Tommy—” You breathed, but you were unable to get another word out as his lips covered yours. You sighed against his lips, raising your other hand to smooth over the close crop of his undercut. He let go of your hand just long enough to grasp your nightdress, using his hold on the fabric to draw you closer, then steer himself up over you. You let your thighs splay as he slotted between them, pressing his bare chest against you, hips flush and grinding against yours. His kisses trailed lower, hands grasping covetously at the fabric covering your chest. He gave the lace a yank, and you hissed softly as you heard it rip.

“Tommy—Oh,” Your mouth fell open as he drew one of your nipples into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue, “Damnit—I liked this nightdress.”

Tommy lifted his head, lips brushing your chin. “I’ll get you others,” He grumbled against you, “I’ll buy you a hundred more tomorrow.” His hand slipped between your legs, and you gasped as his fingers brushed against your pussy. You tipped your hips up into his touch pleadingly, lowering your chin and finding his lips with yours.

“I want you bare,” He murmured against your lips.

“Are you going to fuck me?”

“No.”

The answer made you go still, embarrassment and nerves flipping your stomach. Tommy took your face in his hands, holding your gaze steadily with his.

“I’m going to make love to my wife.”

--

His palm pressed heavily over your mouth, muffling your moans as his cock stretched your needy core. You pressed your head back into the pillows, curling your arms around his shoulders, and your legs around the backs of his.

“Sssh,” He murmured, the push of the hush brushing against your ear. “We don’t want the Blakes hearing, do we?”

You managed to shake your head a little, blinking up at Tommy as you panted broadly against his palm. Your cunt throbbed around his cock as he fully sheathed himself in you. You reached up, tugging Tommy’s hand away and catching his lips in a kiss. His fingers intertwined with yours, raising your joined hands to rest on the pillow beside you. He rolled his hips gently, then again as you whimpered, swirling his tongue with yours. Tommy fucked you with slow, even strokes, trading slow kisses as you moaned and panted into one another’s mouths.

Tommy broke your kiss, pressing his face into your neck as his thrusts became harder. You gasped, sinking your nails into his shoulders as you let your eyes slide closed. The bed was beginning to creak with his movements, the slapping of your hips slightly muffled beneath the sheets. You felt the familiar curling sensation beneath your waist, and you slid a hand down, grasping Tommy’s behind and using the grip to urge him on. He drew back just enough to get a good look at you, his eyes bright in the dim room. You sucked in a stunned breath as he reached between your legs, fingers teasing your clit as his hips pounded yours more roughly.

Your eyes widened as the headboard whacked against the wall behind you.

“Tommy,” You chastised, “Hugh will hear—”

“Let him,” Tommy spat, “Let him hear how I take care of my wife.”

You bit your lip to quiet your moans, grasping his wrist and stilling it as his touch tipped you over the edge. Your hips bounded up against his, chased by the harsh slamming of his hips, and the heat of him spilling into you. The scrape and squeak of the bed quieted as Tommy braced himself over you, looking down at your sweat-sheened body. He leaned down, brushing his lips over your breasts, then up, over your neck. You closed your eyes, curling your arm around his shoulder and resting your hand on the nape of his neck. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the pounding of his heart against yours. You turned your head, nuzzling his hair and pressing a kiss to his head.

“…Think that dresser has enough room for my things, too?” He mumbled. You grinned, tightening your grip on him as his hand tenderly smoothed along your thigh.

“It certainly does.”

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ;  @paintballkid711 ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @babaohhhriley ; @thescarletfang ;

[swifty-fox]

is there anything you can share about benny and/or brady in cicada season au?

Omg absolutely!

Let’s seeeeee

Benny was born in Italy, his family moved here when he was six months old (yes he had to go through the citizenship process when he turned eighteen). His mother moved back home after his father passed away and he misses her very much but he knows she’s happier there. They have a phone call every few days and he tries to visit every other year or so. He’d say himself he’s about 85% fluent in Italian but does understand it fully.

He got Meatball at a party he went to where it was clear the owner wasn’t taking care of him and smuggled out the very fluffy very hungry puppy out under his jacket.

He’s a beetle guy but he does keep other bugs including some tarantulas and recently is getting into scorpions as well!

Due to the nature of what he keeps most of his animal husbandry is more bare bones (bins in racks) but he does have some vivariums that Gale has made for him. They house a few types of Mantis, a Hercules beetle and a stick bug named Steve.

He’s Catholic (of course) insofar as he goes to church on Easter and Christmas because his mother asks and prays to the saints now and again when he can’t find his car keys but he’s not very devout. Much to his mother’s chagrin.

Brady!! My princess!!! He was a flight medic, and served with John and Curt for two years before the crash. While he walked away unscathed (mostly. We will get into that) he didn’t stay in the army much longer than either of his friends. It just wasn’t the same.

On top of helping John out with his business he also works evenings as en EMT. It scratches that adrenaline thrill he misses from combat rescues as well as pays the bills. He also likes keeping busy, especially in the evening when otherwise he would be alone in his apartment. I don’t know how heavily his OCD will play in this au, but he definitly does still have it.

He is quite devout and while he split from his church due to conservatism he does go to a Jesuit church pretty consistently. Not every Sunday but at least a couple times a month. He briefly thought about becoming a priest but felt he could better use his skills elsewhere. And also he’s just. A little too mean.

He had cats growing up and is a little squeamish about how dirty animals can be but he does like them. Meatball will win him over I’m sure.

Johnnys known he’s gay since he was very very little but never acted on it until after the military. It was a bit of a self destructive act and a little unsafe circumstances but he is happy he got it over with (and we might unpack that in their fic) it’s part of why Bucky is so eager to set him up. He wants that boy to get the fucking he deserves.

He did have a brief (BRIEF) crush on John until he got to know him better

[delusional-fantasising]

Hi! If you're taking requests I saw the post on Parker Robbins character. Could you do a fic with a reader who's on his team but there's like a shit ton of tension between them and then a specific situation causes them to act on that tension. I don't know your rules on smut or nsfw but this doesn't have to include that unless you want it to

Author response: Hello I am open to writing almost everything just check my rules if you aren't sure or i could tell you if i am uncomfortable writing something, I write for GN readers but I give the option of both afab and amab bodies that way everyone can get the reading experience that they would experience what they prefer rather than just writing one version and leaving a demographic struggling to find a version for them.

The fake cloak (Parker Robbins/Medic!Reader)

Content:

In general: Tension, Violence, Injuries, NSFW, Consent, Teasing, Unsafe sex, Hair pulling (Recieving!Parker), name calling, mentioning of medical impractice, Bottom!Parker, Porn with Plot AFAB part: Unprotected PIV, implied vaginal creampie AMAB part: Unprotected anal, implied anal creampie

Please use protection irl please

Losing your job wasn't easy but being placed all over the town's newspaper and the news for what you did just tarnished your reputation. You were being sued for so much money, money that you had to make by selling your house and living inside of your car.

You were in a grocery store and at the cash register, you swiped your card just to hear the error sound.

"Sorry but your card has been declined, do you have any other way of payment?" The cashier asked, you didn't. You were officially extremely broke, you were going to cancel everything till the guy behind you spoke up, "Sorry my friend is going through some finical struggles right now."

He handed a fat wad of cash to the lady who smiled and nodded her head understandingly. She bagged your groceries and you turned to the guy who paid for your stuff.

"Thank you so much I just-" You began as you were grateful because these times weren't easy for you. He raised his hand and cut you off, "Its no problem, people gotta look out for each other. My boss noticed you the other day living in your car and we have a hiring spot open if you would like it."

He handed in a card with a location on it along with a phone number.

"Go to this place tomorrow afternoon if you want the job."

He left after you took the card, you needed this job even if it meant working at some pizza shop, you had to pay a lot of money that you didnt have.

The next day you went to the location and you entered an elevator and it arrived on the top floor, when it opened you were greeted by a group of people with one of them having a knife in her leg.

"Here's your test," A normal looking guy said as he gestured to cheap medical supplies on a table, the woman sitting down spoke, "I can't believe i agreed to let you stab me."

You were stunned but your body kicked into action as if you were back in the E.R, in the matter of an hour you were done and hired.

Years later

"I swear I am surrounded by idiots," You muttered, rolling your eyes as you plucked broken beer glass shards from Clown's shoulder. "Hey it was not our fault, we had to defend Slug's honour. No one calls our tech whiz those nasty slurs and not expect us to beat the shit out of them."

Slug was helping bring around materials for you to help the others. You glanced over and noticed that Parker probably had started it because he looked like he was in rougher shape than the others.

"Well crap Parker, you look like shit. You looked like you bumped into everyone's fist." You joked, Parker wasn't in the mood so he forced a smile, he groaned in pain as he shifted the ice pack on his face before quipping back, "You gotta see the other guys."

"Parker did started the bar fight, he did the first swing," Slug chuckled, the one time you decided to not go to the bar with the group you missed the most. You started to stitch up the wounds on Clown's shoulder then leaving her to go rest up.

"Okay Parker you are the last one," You spoke as you changed your gloves, rubbing your hands together before putting on a new set of latex gloves. "Nah I'm fine."

"Yeah nah my ass your fine." You grabbed disinfectant and cotton swabs, Parker swatted you away to no success. You firmly stated, "Parker either you let me help you or I will get the other's to hold you down."

You looked at the others to see who would help but they seemed to be more interested in the walls or their nails.

"You guys are useless."

You turned back to Parker, he looked grumpy and he repeated, "I can take care of myself I don't need your help."

"Yeah well you hired me and you know that I am a medic, you didn't hire me to stand around looking pretty. C'mon big boy move the ice pack and let me take a peak of how bad they fucked you up," You ordered, no longer asking nicely. Parker muttered under your breath, "Should have just hired you to stand around instead."

"I heard that." You weren't waiting anymore so you full on snatched the ice pack from Parker and tossed it out of reach from him. He attempted to move but you just did what you did best and wrestled him down. Falling off the couch.

"Get off me!"

"Stay still you big man baby!"

The rest of the group laughed till finally you had Parker pinned down, your legs pinning his arms down. He was giving up now, he looked frustrated and he muttered, "Bitch."

"Yeah yeah asshole." You responded back knowing that he didn't mean that and he knew that you didn't mean it either. His face was all bruised and cut up from the bar fight, you carefully did what you could best do in the given state. You flicked his forehead and chided, "Next time you get into a bar fight make sure you are wearing your fucking cloak dumbass."

"That defeat the whole purpose of making sure no one finds us you know? Can't be walking around in my cloak," Parker chuckles as he winces at the flick, you knew if John was here he would have beaten your ass for forcefully during your medical practice on Parker. You were about to get off when you noticed something on his neck that you knew wasn't a new tattoo. "Hey Park, you got something going on your neck."

You attempted to pull the shirt collar down but Parker grabbed your wrist and gave you the look that signaled that he wasn't going to be the same about the small cuts and bruises about it. This time you took the hint, you got off of Parker and told him, "You better get that checked out otherwise i will actually sedate you to check whatever you got isn't anything bad."

"Got it, now go to your room," Parker answered as he got up and left, you rolled your eyes because this was something you were going to pester him about.

...

The skin markings seemed to come and go but soon you let it go after Parker convinced you that he has it under control, he wouldn't tell you what it was though.

After you let it go, you decided to play a small prank on the group, you were all giggly as you placed the clothes on. Parker knew about your little tailoring and sewing hobby, he never asked about it enough to know that you were making a cloak that looked nearly identical to his. You placed it on, going up to the mirror to check yourself out.

"Oh you really outdid yourself. Hm well Parker looks good with or without the cloak. I definitely look good in the cloak," You giggled to yourself, pretending like you were wearing his cloak. Sure he may know about your small crush on him but you vowed to never bring it up to him since that would be odd. Dating your boss, didn't stop from you thinking about it. "Okay now time to freak out everyone."

You left your room into the lobby where almost everyone was at, you whistled grabbing everyone's attention.

"Okay honest opinion guys who pulls it off better, me or Parker?" You chuckled as you spun around in it before walking over to the mini bar. Slug, Clown, and the blood siblings were shocked.

"Parker is going to kill you!"

"You are in trouble!"

"You pull it off better."

Everyone bickered and fussed over how you were wearing "Parker's cloak". You were soaking in the compliments and smiling, the cloak despite not being Parker's you imagined it was his, pretending that it smelled or felt like his arms. You knew that Parker was upstairs doing god knows what but his cousin John was coming down seeming pissed as if he had an argument with Parker.

You didn't notice John was closing in on you fast.

"Yeah guys wanna know something funny this-" You were cut off by John grabbing the back of your head and smashing it right into the bar. A ruckus began as everyone was trying to pull John off of you as he was beating the crap out of you. You fell to the ground and covered up. The fake Parker cloak being ripped off of you and John yelled at you ready to attack you again as everyone was trying to yank him off you, "Why the fuck do you have Parker's cloak! I swear I will-"

You pulled John's knife out of his holster and stabbed it hard into his leg, he shouted loudly. Parker was running down the stairs and running over trying to find out what was happening.

Parker got John off and got between his cousin and you.

"The fuck is going on?! I heard a ruckus and I see you John beating up the medic." Parker barked wanting answers, you sat up a bit. Catching your breath, your lip was all busted up and you grabbed your ribs. John limped back a bit glaring at you. "They stole your cloak."

"It is a replica you shithead! If you took maybe a minute to hear me, I was going to say that I sewed one in my free time. But no you had to smash my face into the bar!" You shouted as John looked at the supposed cloak in his hands. Parker didn't even need to look at the cloak to know that it wasn't his, he let out a deep exhale. There was a lot of tension in the room. You snapped at John before Parker could say anything, "Oh yeah John guess what, I am not helping you out with your wound you shithead! You can go heal yourself."

You were refusing to tend to John which was fair but what he said was out of line and wrong, "This is why you fucking lost your job! Not doing your fucking job right!"

You were ready to tackle down John because that was out of line to rub the fact you lost your job as a trauma surgeon all because of a medical malpractice and not listening to your patient's family leading you to be here. Parker stopped you before you could lunge and attempt to beat up his cousin.

After sorting out everyone, Parker took you to upstairs to his office. You were on a short fuse and were gripping on the fake cloak tightly. He closed the door behind you.

"Parker get your guard dog on a fucking leash because why is it I'm guilty before proven innocent!" You snapped as you tossed the cloak on the ground, Parker walked over putting his hands on your shoulders, "Hey relax, I will punish John and give him a talk about what he did was fucked up-"

"I swear John makes me want to quit this fucking job," You shouted as you ripped yourself out of Parker's grasp, Parker knew immediately that he was not going to let you quit this job. "Hey none of that talk, you are not quitting."

You turned around to get up in Parker's face to announce impulsively that you were going to quit but he grabbed your face. Staring right into your eyes.

"Hey we need you on this team, I need you on the team. I don't know what the rest of the group or I would do without you. You take such good care of us," Parker murmured softly, he got all close with his body pressed up against yours and forehead against yours. You had gone quiet, you really wanted to demand him to prove it. That was the impulsive part of you, Parker's impulsive part of him was a lot more stronger than yours. He pressed his lips against yours, your eyes widened in shock, but that shock wore off fast because in the matter of minutes you were kissing back, arms wrapped around his neck.

You were still pissed but you felt like you were being a little less pissed off than earlier.

"My room?" Parker murmured as he smiled against your lips, his hands wandering down to your ass. He had that flirty glint in his eyes knowing damn well that he was planning a lot more than just going to talk you out of quitting. "Yes your room now."

Parker and you went to his bedroom with him only letting you go to grab the fake cloak replica off the floor. He had some plans on what he wanted to do with it with you.

You have never been inside of Parker's room before but holy hell did it just smell of him so strongly, you didn't care about the interior because you were busy kissing and taking Parker's clothes off. Clown was not lying about Parker looking hot shirtless but you got to have the VIP treat of getting to see him completely nude. He had tossed your shirt somewhere followed by your pants and undergarments but he slung the cloak on you. He murmured between kisses, "Do you want this?"

"Yes Parker."

"I think I may question later why you really took the job," Parker teased as he lets himself fall back on the bed with you on top.

AFAB Section (Pronouns are still neutral)

Parker wasn't a really patient man, you knew that by now but he wasted no time burying himself deep into your cunt. His actions were accompanied by your noises of pleasure and pain, he looked up at you and chuckled, "You may want to keep the volume down, you know how thin the walls are. Wouldn't want anyone to come over to my room and hear us."

Right as you were going to respond him, Parker like the shit he was sharply thrusted up. You gasped loudly and your hands went to his shoulders.

"Asshole," You muttered as you went down to kiss him but he stopped you with one of his hands on your chest. He was thrusting up into you and he responded, "You are going to just stay up there, I want a good view of you."

Your nails dug into his shoulders as you suppressed the noises that wanted to escape, you matched his pace. Moving your hips, pressing down on him with each of his upward thrusts. Parker's hand that was on your chest slide down to your clit that he paid attention too. Fantasizing what Parker was like in bed did no justice to the actual deed put into action.

The room filled up with the sound of skin slapping against skin, you failing at not letting any noise out and Parker panting from the work out he was getting.

"Parker," You whined as he kept on thrusting and rubbing circles on your clit firmly, Parker was definitely in some different plain of existence, he was in the zone just thrusting up into your cunt that was just clamping around him in all the right ways. He liked how the cloak replica looked on you, even though he knew it wasn't his, it made him think that he no longer wanted you as just an employee under him. Having you under him literally, that he wouldn't mind.

Parker finally allowed you to lean down to kiss him, swallowing your moans and grunting as he felt your hands go through his hair just to tug on his curls. He finally made you unravel all over him and he wasn't far behind. His hands relaxed and went to your thighs, letting out a shaky breath before giving you a smile. "You still gonna quit?"

"After this no."

AMAB Section (Same as the AFAB version, GN pronouns but different anatomy. It's a repeat of the other one but with a few things changed)

Parker wasn't a really patient man, you knew that by now but he wasted no time burying himself deep into your ass, he enjoyed seeing your dick twitch. His actions were accompanied by your noises of pleasure and pain, he looked up at you and chuckled, "You may want to keep the volume down, you know how thin the walls are. Wouldn't want anyone to come over to my room and hear us."

Right as you were going to respond him, Parker like the shit he was sharply thrusted up. You gasped loudly and your hands went to his shoulders.

"Asshole," You muttered as you went down to kiss him but he stopped you with one of his hands on your chest. He was thrusting up into you and he responded, "You are going to just stay up there, I want a good view of you."

Your nails dug into his shoulders as you suppressed the noises that wanted to escape, you matched his pace. Moving your hips, pressing down on him with each of his upward thrusts. Parker's hand that was on your chest slide down to your dick that he paid attention too, jerking you off at the same pace he was thrusting. Fantasizing what Parker was like in bed did no justice to the actual deed put into action.

The room filled up with the sound of skin slapping against skin, you failing at not letting any noise out and Parker panting from the work out he was getting.

"Parker," You whined as he kept on thrusting and jerking you off, Parker was definitely in some different plain of existence, he was in the zone just thrusting up into your ass that was just clamping around him in all the right ways. He liked how the cloak replica looked on you, even though he knew it wasn't his, it made him think that he no longer wanted you as just an employee under him. Having you under him literally, that he wouldn't mind.

Parker finally allowed you to lean down to kiss him, swallowing your moans and grunting as he felt your hands go through his hair just to tug on his curls. He finally made you unravel all over his stomach and hand and he wasn't far behind. His hands relaxed and went to your thighs, letting out a shaky breath before giving you a smile. "You still gonna quit?"

"After this no."

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Tw suicide attempt with some non graphic details

I think this is just a vent but if you have any advice on the matter I'm very happy to listen

So almost a year ago I got the closest I've ever gotten to killing myself and not a single person knows.

I had been walking home from work back to my on campus apartment and I saw my friends car in her parking spot. I genuinely did not have the energy to finish walking up to my apartment so I checked. It was unlocked. She leaves it unlocked with a spare set of keys in the glove compartment (it's a gated parking space but I've told her its unsafe).

I got in because I was just numb snd tired in every way. Nothing was wrong. There was no trigger. I had just felt empty all day and probably all week. I had plans that night. I should have been excited but I was so tired.

And after three hours of trying to get my strength up and finish walking home I thought... I could just drive the car into the wall right now. I could do it here at the wall across the way or to save my friends the trauma I could leave campus and do it somewhere else.

Normally when I feel suicidal I'll list the people who would be sad. But I just.. didn't care. It was a level of selfishness I was aware of and didn't care. I do feel guilty about that.

I was like I won't really do it but... I mean I could just get the keys out and start the car at least.

The keys weren't there.

They are always there.

I talked to my friend later and she mentioned to me that she had accidentally taken them in with her.

I don't know if I would have actually done it or not.

But what gets me is that no one knows. This is the closest to saying it out loud as I have ever gotten.

I mean ending it is something I had thought about for years but that is the closest I've gotten to doing it.

I want to tell some of my friends. I almost have a couple of times. One friend lives across the country but has talked me off of ledges before. The other is one of my best friends and lives a few hours away.

I admit I kind of want to tell the close one just for the shock factor.

I want to say "yeah the reason i was late to the party that night is because I failed at killing mysef" and for her to say "what? But you were fine at the party? I came over to your apartment after and we stayed up all night watching supernatural? What do you mean? Why didn't you tell me?" So that i can say "why didn't you notice?"

I want to text my friend who has talked me off of ledges and tell her so she can ask why I didn't reach out so i can say 'you wouldn't have answered for a couple of days. It was during the it takes 3-5 business days to get an answer from you time.

I guess I just want validation?

Like i want to tell someone but it feels so pick me. Like hey guys guess what i almost did lol

Idk

I've just been struggling with it as the one year approaches.

It bothers me that not a single person knew I was off, but I had been trying to hide it so it shouldn't bother me. I didn't want them to know but I'm still mad they didn't notice.

Hello, Anon.

I’d like to begin with letting you know it’s good to reflect on things like this because it helps with processing it.

Things like therapy, journaling, talking with friends are all good support and healing options.

It’s okay to feel like people might have failed you, but it’s equally important to remember that there won’t always be someone available even in times of hardship. Just as you had things going on, they could have as well. It doesn’t help much to pass the blame onto others who had no idea in the first place, and in fact can really hurt whatever relationships you have with them overall.

It sucks feeling alone, I get that. Exhaustion just sneaks up on you sometimes and the intrusive thoughts pour in. I highly recommend you work on some plans for when those feelings start to build up again, if they do.

Make notes of the physical symptoms, the emotional, mental. Think of ways to work to pull yourself out of those feelings, such as switching locations or listening to music with positive messages or nice fluctuations. Join support groups in person or online. Always aim to have a point of contact.

We hope things improve for you and that you can attain the proper mental health care and local support you need. Good luck to you.

-Amun

[haliotropes]

SAVIOUR COMPLEX (Mark Hoffman X F!Reader Pt. 11)

(Pt. 10) (Pt. 12)

Rated: E

Tags/TWs: sm*t (p+v penetration) dom!reader and sub!Mark if you squint/ aftercare/ language/ past abuse/ PAST ABUSE TRIGGERS/ coffinshipping if you squint???/Mark Hoffman being a c*p/reader's life is complicated/ Mark is protective bc it's his job but he's also problematic/because he's a c*p/ Detective Gibson is A MAJOR TW

His.

Despite his proud and possessive disposition, Mark hasn't had something that was only his. He never had John's approval, not like Amanda did. He even suspects that John was working towards getting rid of him, but died before he could carry out the act himself.

Perhaps that's why there is a potential third apprentice.

Yes, Ted deserved to be in a trap. But again, coincidences…

Mark doesn't sleep. All he can do is watch you breathe, your mouth slightly parted, hair falling in your face despite the fact that he brushes it back each time. Despite your big personality, you manage to curl up so small next to him. Like any part of you that isn't in his reach is in danger. The thought makes his stomach knot. You feel safe with him- you ever feel unsafe at all.

He can't explain it. He hasn't had any semblance of a genuine connection since Strahm and that was…well, not this. A hateful connection, a hunting and hunted connection. Exhilaration for both of them. But you. He's ready to do anything for you. He knows he'll have to.

He hates leaving you in the morning but you shower together, may or may not fool around before he dresses and heads to his destination for the day.

He walks out the door right as Gibson pulls up. Part of him feels guilty that you'll have to more than likely have a conversation with him in the car, but another part of him takes pleasure in Gibson knowing. Knowing that he's back in the saddle and that has you. Back in full control.

Mark and Gibson pass each other in silence but with even stares. When Mark gets into his car, he sees in the rearview mirror Gibson leaning against his cruiser, staring off.

Mark drives to the hospital, presents his badge at the front desk. The nice lady points him to an elevator for the third floor. Ah, Mark thinks, he's moved offices.

The nameplate is unmistakable: Dr. Lawrence Gordon, Chief of Surgery.

Mark raps at the door.

“Come in.”

He does. Lawrence doesn't look up at first until Mark closes the door behind him. When he does, Lawrence does a very good job of hiding his surprise. Not good enough, though.

“Dr. Gordon,” Mark greets, extending a hand. Gordon takes it. “Good to meet you. I'm-”

“Detective Mark Hoffman. Yes, I know. You've been on the Jigsaw case. You saved that little girl, yes?”

Mark wonders if Gordon would know all that if he weren't a suspect. As a survivor himself, Gordon may just keep up with the news.

“All part of the job. I was wondering if I could get your insight, being a survivor and all.”

Gordon smiles, clasps his hands together and leans forward.

“Of course. Ask away.”

Mark knows that this is the time to sit, but he isn't going to. He's going to tower over Gordon for as long as he can.

“I know it's been years, and I know you've been asked about a thousand times, but is there anything else you remember about that night? Anything that you didn't report, or might have come up after the fact?”

Gordon shakes his head. “I'm afraid not, Detective, though I've spent many a night toiling over it. I blacked out, got only flashes. By this point we know it was John Kramer that took me.”

They stare at each other for a moment.

It's him. It has to be.

“Well, some information is better than no information. I'll let you get back to your job, but take my card.”

Hoffman hands Gordon one of his business cards and Gordon takes it with a tight nod and a smile. Hoffman turns to leave but snaps and spins around like he just had an idea.

“Almost forgot. Would you happen to know a Jill Tuck?”

Once again, Gordon's good. But not good enough. He pretends to think.

“The name is familiar. Why?”

“John Kramer's widow.”

“Ah! Yes, perhaps long ago when Mr. Kramer was receiving treatment here. But not since.”

“And she's made no attempt to contact you?”

“Not that I'm aware of.”

Mark lets it sit, then smiles.

“Thanks, Doc. I'll let you get back to it. But don't hesitate to call if you think of anything.”

“Happily.”

Mark gives it a half second longer before leaving the room, not seeing the frown that breaks onto Gordon's face.

-

Just because he's off the case doesn't mean Mark can't look through the Jigsaw case files. His fingers flit through the folders in the filing cabinet before finding Gordon's file. And, for good measure, he grabs Jill's as well. His eyes linger for a moment on Amanda's, but he decides to leave it.

As he is leaving, Gibson enters the room and they bump into each other. Mark takes a patient step back and a deep breath. Gibson seems to do the same.

“Hoffman. Welcome back.”

“Good to be back.”

A beat. Gibson notices the folder.

“Whatcha got there?”

Mark knows he can't bullshit this.

“Couple of case files from the Jigsaw case.”

Gibson steps past Mark and into the records room.

“Now Mark, I'm pretty sure you're off the Jigsaw case.”

“Don't get cute. I'm allowed to access files same as you or anyone else.”

“But it don't look good, does it?”

“Why don't you let me worry about that.”

Gibson sort of meanders around, but catches Mark before he leaves.

“You know, I was pissed when I heard you were back. I won't lie. Might've even scared your girlfriend a little. Don't worry, I apologized.”

Mark grinds his teeth and turns back to face Gibson.

“Did it slip your fucking mind that I saved your life? That I was there that night?”

“Of course I remember and I'm grateful. But here's the thing. I still think you're a brash, arrogant son of a bitch that doesn’t know what he’s got.” Hoffman’s face must change because Gibson chuckles. “Not like that. Your job. You think it’s all guaranteed. And as soon as it wasn’t you were scrambling around like a kid who just got grounded.”

“Some would call that corrected behavior.”

“And those people are stupid. I see you, Hoffman. And I don’t know what you’re hiding, but it’s something.”

Fed up but refusing to cause a scene, Mark approaches Gibson who stands his ground. Mark dips his head down.

“If all of that were true, do you really think it would be a good idea to fuck with me about it?”

Gibson is quiet, but his eyes tell Mark everything he needs to know. He certainly suspects something, even if he’s not quite sharp enough to know what straws he’s grasping at. Either way, he’s becoming a problem that Mark can’t get rid of with violence. He needs to do it quietly.

When Gibson remains silent, Mark stalks from the room, that arrogant son of a bitch smile playing on his lips.

-

Of course the drive from home to work is uncomfortable. Not because Gibson says anything (and thank everloving fuck he doesn't) but because the tension of both of you knowing he knows is unbearable.

He doesn't even say anything when he drops you off, just drives away when you're out of the car. At this point, shrugging your bag up your shoulder, you begin to doubt his handling of the whole situation. So what? You and Mark are sleeping together. How is that any of his business.

You figure at this point that Gibson is determined to make an enemy of Mark for whatever reason and that you have nothing to do with it (you hope).

It's more the same at work. Now that things have started to settle, Mark has his job back, you finally got dicked down right- the restaurant almost seems too monotonous. Despite the public perception of waitressing you actually enjoy it. Sometimes it makes you want to tear your hair out, but you like the people and the constant running. Anytime you sit still is a time to stew. Probably why you still can't quite nail the knitting.

You get a corner booth. A kind looking woman- in her 40’s likely. Long and curly blonde hair, wide smile, and she makes eye contact as you approach.

“Heya friend! Welcome to Malone's. Can I get you started with something to drink?”

Your intro is rote at this point but the enthusiasm seems to get to the woman.

“Oh, sure! Nonsweet tea?”

“No problem. Lemon?”

“Please.”

“Alright. Be right back.”

You return to the alley and lament the fact that opening staff didn't label the tea jugs- again. You hate tea either way but force yourself to test one of the containers in a small styrofoam cup. You force yourself to not spit it out. Yep, that one is sweetened.

You get the drink and return it to the woman. She thanks you, smoothing out a napkin on her lap, and tucks her hands under her chin.

“Alrighty, you have any questions, or you ready to order?”

“Gosh, can I just say that you're so refreshing?”

You smile and blush. “Oh wow, thanks. Just part of the job.”

“Oh, don't I know it. It's that way in my job, too.”

You lean against the empty seat across her.

“What do you do?”

“I work at an emergency clinic.”

“Oh wow. Well thanks for your work. I can’t even imagine.”

“Well, good days and bad days, and I’m sure you get that. Anyway, can I get a Cobb salad, please?”

“Yeah, for sure. Anything else?”

“No, thanks.”

You smile at her and leave her table, punching in her order and continue through your section. You smile to yourself. It’s refreshing to meet nice people.

-

Gibson takes you home per usual. You wish that, all things considered, Mark could cart you back and forth. But off the case, you both know he could get in trouble for crossing lines.

Gibson notices your unusually chipper behavior.

“Good day?”

You sigh and run a hand through your hair. “Actually? Yeah. Better than the usual, anyway.”

He kind of huffs. It sets you weird, so you give him a look. He side eyes you, then sighs.

“Why are you a waitress, anyway? Seems like you’ve got enough of a brain to do something better for yourself.”

What?

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m just saying. It’s not an insult. I would just think with your pride that you’d do something else. Something more worthwhile.”

Oh, and that lights you up with indignation. If you weren’t so livid, you’d notice that this is unusual for, despite his occasional personality shifts.

But you don’t think that. You think about slapping the shit out of him.

“Fucking excuse me? You ever work in the service industry?”

Gibson chuckles in condescension. “Worked my old man’s auto shop in high school. What’s your point?”

“Day in and day out, I have to deal with people. Face to face, throughout the entire exchange. It takes every bit of personality, smarts, and looks as well. You know I get tipped better when I wear a certain bra? Like my tits have anything to do with my job performance?”

“Sounds like they’re linked-”

“You don’t ever, ever get to comment on my life. Ever. I’ve let it slide when you’re shitty about Mark, but say another fucking word about my job, or my apartment, or anything else and I’ll give you a reason to arrest me. Got it?”

You’re the kind of angry that has your heart pounding in your ears, the kind that fogs your mind over until all you can manage are the venomed words that spew from your lips. You know you’re red and you know you look like you mean it, because Gibson is watching you very seriously.

You don’t begin to come down until he pulls over and puts the car in park, and even then the fury is just replaced by paralyzing fear.

He’s gonna hurt you. He’ll take you into the woods and kill you.

Gibson turns to face you in the driver’s seat. Even though it’s purely because of the fear, you can at least keep his gaze and not crumble under it.

“Don’t ever threaten me again.”

Your next words are stupid.

“Or what?”

His fingers hook your jaw into a vice grip and any composure flees from your body as survival kicks in. You shoot out hands to free yourself but Gibson gets those as well with his free hand, caging them into the console. You wince at the force.

“I don’t know where you get off by being a stuck up bitch. You and Mark really are a match made in heaven.”

You try to move out of his bruising grip but you can’t.

“What did I do? What did I do???”

Maybe your panic and its root finally hits him because he releases you with a push.

“I just don’t like people that squander potential. To have opportunity and not use it.”

You shake and hold your chin, then narrow your eyes at him.

“…you sound like Jigsaw.”

He laughs. “Now that’s a laugh. If anyone of us would be Jigsaw, it would be Hoffman.”

You roll your eyes. You feel the banter trying to creep back in, but he put his hands on you. He hurt you.

“Don’t even joke about that.”

“Why? It lines up. You’ve never thought about it?”

No, you hadn’t. But as soon as he says it you know it’s all you’ll think about.

-

Mark comes over. You order pizza and sit on the couch, watching old horror movies with your legs slung across his lap. You get distracted occasionally by the way the blue light of the tv cuts across his face in the otherwise dark room. He doesn’t look any different- not in the literal sense. But he looks…domestic. He’s distracted. Vulnerable.

You yearn.

You swing your legs off his lap and crawl over to him. He’s surprised- not by the immediately movement but more by the dip in the couch next to him, and he doesn’t even look over until you’re kneeling beside him. When he notices you, finally, he gives you a smirk and narrows his eyes.

“What’re you doing?”

“I like you in this light,” you murmur. You swing a knee across to straddle his lap. Your nails rake through his hair and he hums in appreciation.

“Oh yeah? What do you like so much about it?”

Control.

“You look…sweet.”

Sweeter than-

“Sweet?”

“Sweet enough to eat.”

You bury your face in his neck and plant warm, wet kisses against his pulse. Hands roam from your sides to your ass, cupping the plump flesh there, leaving dimples with his thick fingers. You take a risk: bare your teeth. Nip at the sensitive skin under his jaw. He gasps and you lick away the quick pain with a stroke of your tongue. Between both your clothes and can feel his hardness growing.

“You want me to do something about that?”

You ghost your lips across his and cup the crotch of his pants; he bucks against your palm.

“Want nothin’ more.”

As if you needed to hear it. You slip off your sweats, undo his belt and pull down his pants. You grope blindly behind you on the coffee table where you know his wallet is and where, inside, you know is a condom. You don’t bother with your panties; you free his cock from the confines of his boxers and give him a few languid strokes, rolling on the condom, before pulling aside the fabric between your legs. You brace one hand on his shoulder and use the other to lower yourself down. You bottom out with a low groan and he tosses his head back against the couch.

When he tries to move, you put a hand against his chest.

“Wait-” you say, and he stills. Slow breaths. Focus on the feeling of being filled and the pressure of it. Your walls, begging for friction. His cock, twitching inside of you just yearning for movement.

He jerks on accident and you both moan. Breaths growing shallower. The urge gnashing and fighting to break from you both.

You think of Gibson’s fingers pressing against bone, of Ted’s hands marking every inch of you. Too long you’ve waited. Too much being bottled and refused and no, no more. Something has to change. Someone has to change.

With a purpose stronger than you could have expected, you roll your hips once, then twice, and Mark seems to let everything go before he takes your movement as a sign to start. And he doesn’t waste any time, grabbing onto your hips and bouncing you up and down, each impact hitting you deliciously and spanning stars across your eyes, electrifying your skin.

You dare to open your eyes. The muscles in his neck, the animalistic way his face contorts and the sounds he makes. If you weren’t so convinced of his feelings for you, you’d be afraid he’ll split you open.

It would be Hoffman.

But the thought blows like a candle as you cum, your hands flying desperately to find purchase on any part of him and he continues his movements. The overstimulation is driving you mad and you dig into his skin. When he cums, it sends you into a second orgasm.

You can’t help but chase the high and it isn’t until he stills your hips that you stop moving.

“Hey, hey hey,” he whispers, his voice thick and husky. You sigh, drop your head against his shoulder and whimper as you lift and then seat yourself next to him. He kisses your shoulder, maneuvers your body to cradle into his side.

“You okay?” He murmurs into your hair. A hand rests gently on your other shoulder and a thumb circles your skin.

“Are you?”

“Of course. But that was…”

Panic spikes through from your stomach to your mouth and you turn on him.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, I’m sorry. I don’t know-“

“Hey,” he shushes you with a kiss. “You didn’t do a damn thing wrong. You’re safe, I’m safe. We’re safe together, get it?”

“I just- I’m so…”

Gibson’s assault on you is not ideal pillowtalk. But you also know that if Mark finds out, when he finds out, he’ll kill Gibson. But then, he knows something is off, and when he asks why, how are you supposed to lie?

“Hey, where’d you go?”

You blink and you’re back.

“I just needed…to control it. You know? So much.”

He brushes fingertips against your temple to brush some hair away.

“Can you tell me why?”

No. You’d never live again. No matter what you’ve seen or what you think. Everything would be lost.

And even among the hyperbole your chin still throbs with the memory of Gibson’s fingers.

You shake your head.

“I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Did something happen? Something else?”

Mark’s fingers trace a little too closely to your chin so you sit up. Shake your head. Sigh.

“I’m sorry. I’m just tired.”

He opens his arms for you so you rest your head against his chest and tuck up your knees.

What’s happening to you? Your thoughts become fragmented and you can’t get a word out before your brain resets. You start to regret the evening. You start to regret the day.

“It’s not you,” you whisper.

“I know.”

“I-“

You want to tell him. You have to tell him.

You’re blowing things out of proportion.

No. That’s how it always starts.

“Something happened today.”

Mark doesn’t say anything but you feel him stiffen.

“I was riding home with Gibson-“

He flexes his fingers, takes deep breaths and forces his muscles to relax.

“We got into a fight and- he grabbed me. Not hard-“ liar. “But on my chin. It’s not a big deal, but it’s too much like…”

He can’t take it. He relinquishes some of his restraint and pulls you closer to him.

“You can’t hurt him. You’ll lose your job.”

“Better my job than you.”

The words sound so natural coming from him that you don’t register their gravity.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“No,” he says. “You’re not.”

[letthesunburnyourskin]

Aaron Minyard, cars, & driving

(sorry it'll probably be a long rant/headcannon dump)

TW for car accidents-ish (nothing gory but still)

I know a common headcannon for Aaron (or at least I've seen it a lot) is that he doesn't know how to drive because of Tilda's accident. And while I do like it, let me tell you about my hc

Aaron learns how to drive because it's control (and freedom, but we'll get back to it). If he's the one driving he doesn't have to put his life in someone else's hands. Every bad decision is his and his only. If he wants to be reckless or dangerous it's his choice. He has control, which he never had before. Control about whether he gets where he needs to be safely or not. (Which is also the reason why Andrew likes to drive, I think.)

It's also freedom, like I already said above. If he feels unsafe somewhere, he can just leave. Never had that before. He only had his feet to carry him places, public transport if he was lucky. But those two options are limiting, not quick enough. And Aaron wants his escapes to be quick. If he has to flee, he doesn't want to be caught. So driving it is.

Aaron is a cautious driver. Too cautious even, which is not a good thing. Being reckless is dangerous, but being too cautious is as well and he doesn't realize that. Aaron checks every crossroads, slows down even when he doesn't need to, puts his blinkers way too early. Because even if he has control, driving still scares him. He knows how easy it is to get someone killed with a car. He has that power and it's truly terrifying.

The fact that he can't take some roads or doesn't like to change lanes doesn't help either. I'm not talking about being anxious, but full blown panic attacks. Aaron can't pass by where Tilda died. He just can't. He tried, really really tried, but it's impossible. He tells people he knows a quicker route, or just that he likes the landscape better on that other road, but he just can't.

Like Andrew, he uses part of Tilda's money on a car. Nothing fancy, but something he feels safe driving with (after countless of research on the best second hand car to get). He never gets in a car with Andrew, even though Nicky insists almost daily. He just won't do it. Because he can't let Andrew drive. He needs to be the one behind the wheel. And also because he knows what Andrew did to Tilda and he doesn't want to be next.

He wrecks his car a few months before graduating high school. He lost control when it rained and ended up crashing into a lamppost. He got out of it without a scratch, but unable to get behind the wheel again. It's nightmares and more panic attacks at the idea of driving or getting inside a car again.

Andrew, in a very Andrew way, let this go on for a month or two before taking matters into his hands. He gets Aaron in the GS (which is not easy, as you might have guessed) and just starts driving around. A few miles a day until, eventually, Aaron rides shotgun without panicking. It'll take him almost a year to be able to ride in the back.

It's torture when Neil's the one driving, at first. But quickly, he realizes he'd rather get in a car with Neil behind the wheel. Because he is such a good driver. He drives the speed limit, turns his blinkers on, doesn't take risks, and always has a seatbelt on. Aaron will never tell him any of that.

Letting people drive him around, getting into the backseat eventually turns into a proof of trust. Aaron who needed to feel in control so much he drove while terrified lets other people behind the wheel because he trusts them not to hurt him, to keep him safe (and to not catch him when he needs to get out).

Aaron won't start driving again until years later, when he's settled down with Katelyn and she has enough driving all the time. And maybe he'll call Andrew to help him choose a car.

[flashthescalesian-art]

Service dog awareness rant

So, I went to Barnes & Noble with my friend on Sunday. My local B&N is pet friendly, so I brought my dog too, and my friend had her service dog. Anyway, we did our shopping, and my dog, who I’ve spent two years working on socializing properly, was SUPER good and stayed right next to me pretty much the whole time, which is what I want so she’s not bothering anyone or getting in the way.

My friend went over to get a drink from the Starbucks in the store before we left, but because I had my non-service dog with me, I waited over by the door away from the dining area. The security guard near where I was standing started talking to me, and he asked if my dog was a service dog, to which I replied that no, she’s not. If anything, I’m her service human because she’s almost 100% deaf. This guy goes on to say that I could just get her a service dog vest and be able to take her everywhere because she’s so well behaved that no one would think she’s not a service dog. I hate confrontation and was honestly just too flabbergasted to respond, but oh my word, N O. I would NEVER try to pass off my dog as a service dog just to take her places with me that she’s not allowed in because she’s a pet. And this guy was a SECURITY GUARD. My friend and I were both appalled because I told her about it on the way back to the car.

Like, I’m flattered that my formerly anxious mess of a dog behaves well enough to have multiple people (not just the security guard) think she was a service dog, so I know I’m doing something right with her training the past two years, but I’m also appalled that anyone thinks it’s okay to fake having a service dog just to be able to bring their PET everywhere with them. Just… no. Don’t do that. It makes things so much harder for people like my friend who NEED their service dogs. And not only is it illegal, but it’s also legitimately unsafe for your pet dog, and for anyone who has a service dog because many pet dogs aren’t trained nearly well enough to be safe around service dogs who are working.

And before anyone comes for me, my dog is safe around my friend’s dog because they know each other, and my dog doesn’t really react to other dogs unless they’re in her space and she doesn’t know them, but regardless, I wouldn’t ever ALLOW her to distract a working service dog. My dog and my friend’s dog get along great, and mine is not a distraction to her dog because he’s used to her. If my friend and I are going somewhere that’s not pet friendly, my dog stays at home, regardless of how well behaved she is in public.

[apricotbuncakes]

I Need Top Surgery ASAP

My dysphoria is off the charts. I've been doing literally anything I can to reduce the dysphoria around my chest but it is way too costly for me to buy trans tape that doesn't work well for me and chest binders that stretch out even with proper washing. Binding regularly makes it near impossible to breath and with my job as a lifeguard it's really unsafe to bind because of how hot the pool room is and the physical demand of the job. I end up having to bind anyway though because daily dysphoria is more crippling than milder dysphoria and some breathing troubles.

I've wanted top surgery since I was 14. For years I've had dreams of getting top surgery and crying when I wake up because it wasn't real. Now at 20 the possibility is finally here to make my dreams come true, for me to resolve my chest dysphoria and back pain, to make me feel more comfortable as myself. I've needed top surgery for YEARS but am just now reasonably able to get it.

If you donate ANY amount of money (a few cents, a dollar, five, ten, twenty, whatever!!) to this gofundme you will get your name personally written on a trans flag that I will share online! Anonymous donors will have their own section of the flag so you can still get recognition without your name being displayed publicly! So far the GoFundMe has raised $255! Through my own savings, the total money saved is a bit past $310.

Can't donate? Reblog, repost this GoFundMe to other platforms. Share with friends who may be able to financially contribute. Just share it around (and be sure to link the GoFundMe too!!).

More Info:

I realize some people are hesitant to just donate money to those they don't know so my ask box is open for any questions you might have about the GoFundMe, but I'll go over the broad strokes here too!

"Do you have someone willing to perform the surgery on you?"

I already have a surgeon willing to perform top surgery on me AND a therapist willing to write a letter to said surgeon to also verify that this surgery is appropriate for me!

"Why is it so expensive?"

The surgeon I chose has told me the price for the surgery itself is $8,500 BUT! My goal is $10,000 because of other costs associated with the surgery! Things like aftercare supplies (things to help with scarring, comfort items, etc), bills (car, phone, pet supplies, student loans) that I won't be able to earn the money for during recovery, and after surgery visits. There are other smaller expenses to take into account as well that I haven't listed. All of those things cost A LOT. I likely won't be able to work for a few months after surgery due to not only recovery time but also my line of work, which is why I'm including them in the surgery cost. All of these things have to be taken into account for the pricing, hence why my goal is $10,000.

"Why can't you just go through your insurance?"

The fuckers gave me an out of date list of surgeons in my area, most of which don't specialize in top surgery or related procedures, and SEVERAL of the surgeons on there are actually deceased. They have been of no further help on this. Of the surgeons eligible on the list, ONE responded (and he was an absolute dick who told me I had to lose weight before he would even consider performing it on me). They also have a load of requirements like being a whole year on HRT (I'm only 7 months at the end of April 2024), having a certain BMI (a bullshit requirement for ANYTHING), and a handful of other factors that I wouldn't be able to meet reasonably soon Truly, out of pocket is the safest and best option for me.

"Why can't you just get a breast reduction?"

What's the point of a reduction if I'm going to bind what's left anyway? I don't want my breasts. They distress me and make me dysphoric. Top Surgery is the best option for me.

"What happens if you don't need all the money you raised?"

In the unlikely event that I don't need all the money I'm asking for, I will likely use it for other important things in my life or donate the money to someone else who needs top surgery. I'll likely donate through GoFundMe, but I'll look around locally too in case there's someone who needs money in my community.

My ask box is open if you have any other questions not addressed here.

[kelpiemomma]

The screaming had lasted for hours.

Not screaming like someone was dying; Ingo would have intervened if that were the case.

In some ways, the argument he could almost hear was worse.

The twins had come round with Cori and Razz, picking up Akari and Rei and taking them out for ice cream when it had started. Ingo had asked Davis about it who had, reasonably, looked uncomfortable.

"Dizzy loves our brother, she really, really does. But she... takes his lifestyle personally. They're very similar like that." Davis had responded quietly. "It's an old argument with no end. This happens- not normally in front of the kids, so Khan had us take them out of the house when she started winding up, and Cor asked if we could grab Akari for ice cream and..."

Ingo had let them go, sitting at home and listening. He couldn't hear the words but he could hear the tone. How angry Dizzy was, how it would go quiet and then there would be another outburst. Only a handful of times did Khan raise his voice in return at his sister, but never for very long. Ingo couldn't remember having any arguments like that with Emmet. He didn't remember their childhood, but the memories he had recovered of their teenage years and before his accident... he didn't think he and his twin had ever been quite so volatile.

Then again, there had been no signs of this sort of conflict between the oldest siblings either. If he wasn't hearing it, he'd never have thought they'd fight like this. Given the lack of interference from the rest of the neighborhood he wagered Davis was right, and that the best way to deal with this storm was simply to ride it out.

When the argument finally ended he was standing by his window that looked into his neighbor's front yard, worried. Dizzy stormed out with Khan following quickly behind. Ingo had never seen him look so... small. It was hardly a word one would associate with the young man, given his height and stature, and yet it was the only word Ingo could think of to describe him.

He watched as Khan reached for his sister, only for her to turn and slap his hand away.

“Why can’t you even try, you self-sacrificing bastard? You never even try!”

She stomped down the sidewalk, slamming the door to her car shut before turning it on and pulling out at a decidedly unsafe speed. Ingo watched as Khan stared after her, shoulders still slumped, before he put a hand up to his face and turned to walk back into his home.

Maybe it would be better to leave well enough alone, to pretend he hadn’t overheard… _that,_ but Khan was… well. Khan was his friend. Things may have been shaky to start with between them, but they had smoothed out. Khan knew about Ingo’s amnesia and never once judged him for it. Now, Ingo knew about… this.

Still. He hesitated before walking out of his own home and down the sidewalk to his neighbor’s, glancing around at the rest of the homes on the street. Blinds were slowly opening, curious eyes peeking through to see what still stood in the wake of the hurricane argument. The door to Khan’s home was unlocked when he tried the handle and Ingo slowly opened the door.

“Khan?” He called out.

There was a sniffling sound, a familiar hitch of breath.

“Yeah?” Khan’s voice was thick and low when he replied. “What’s up, need something fixed?”

“No, I…” Ingo shut the door behind him. The house was in one piece. For all the screaming and noise it appeared that nothing had been broken. The argument may have sounded violent but nobody had gotten physical. “I heard what happened and I was wondering if you were… alright.”

“Oh, you… you heard that?” Khan hadn’t come out to find him and so Ingo continued towards his voice instead. “Well,  yeah. They could probably hear that on the moon.”

“Possibly. I was unaware that Dizzy’s volume could rival my own.”

Khan was sat in the kitchen, slouched down in one of the chairs he’d built by hand. A byproduct of one of the many jobs he’d taken to keep his siblings fed, homed, and safe. He still looked, to Ingo’s dismay, small. Defeated. Deflated of all life.

“Yeah, she’s got some pipes on her. Always has. About burst my eardrums when she was a toddler, the way she’d howl when she threw a fit.”

One hand was rubbing at his face and his shoulders were still shaking intermittently. Ingo paused, uncertain, before he rested a hand on Khan’s shoulder.

“I don’t know what happened, but if you’d like to talk about it… or if you’d prefer, I can leave?”

Khan was silent long enough that Ingo prepared to straighten up, head out the door, and pretend this had never happened.

Khan leaned forward, rubbed his eyes again, and shook his head.

“You can stay,” he said quietly, and Ingo pretended he didn’t see the tears falling onto the floor, “it’s fine. You can stay.”

[vaguehotels]

HEY HEY HEY !! TELL ME ABOUT SABLE!! SHAKES U!!! 🚗 CAR — does your oc have a driver's license? can they drive/operate any automobiles/machinery besides cars? 💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know. 🐉 DRAGON — what is your oc's favorite mythical creature? 🤍 WHITE HEART — what are three of your oc's neutral/questionable traits? ☕️ HOT BEVERAGE — does your oc prefer coffee, tea, hot chocolate, milk, water, or some other drink? how do they like to take this drink (ex. coffee with milk, hot chocolate with whipped cream, a specific kind of tea, etc)? 😞 DISAPPOINTED FACE — does your oc attract others, or do they tend to be left alone? 🤒 FACE WITH THERMOMETER — does your oc get sick easily?

Answer as many or as few as these as you'd like :3 Heheh

omg i thought i answered this earlier... oh well

🚗- old man CANNOT drive! back in his acting days he used to travel overseas by boat but once on land he's either being driven or relying on his teleporting boyfriend good pal kung lao or raiden

💯- 1.) due to him dying in a fire, hes uneasy around scorpion at best; 2. ) the blonde streaks in his hair only appeared after he died! before his hair was solid brown; 3.) he nests like how sables do (but with blankets and pillows) especially when hes stressed or anxious. he will pull his friends into a nest with him if he feels especially unsafe or panicked.

🐉- hes biased, but ghosts. what can i say. if he had to pick something different though.... maybe vampires? hes got sharp canines too :3

🤍- OOOH this is a good one. 1.) he's extremely prideful, and doesnt take defeat/loss easily. he believed he was the greatest actor in his troupe, and now hes determined to be considered the best fighter in all the realms.; 2.) he can put on a facade. years and years of being an actor has done some damage to his self-projection. especially if hes trying to hide a weakness or anger, he turns into a whole new person. it can be really frustrating. ; 3.) he doesn't know when to stop. whether its training, or teasing someone, or trying to vent his frustrations, he is full speed ahead. he needs someone to tell him when hes taken things too far.

☕️- he likes green tea!! spending time in america also introduced him to the magic of remix coke machines so theyre his guilty pleasure drinks. they will give him a horrible tummy ache though.

😞- despite his flaws, he is at heart an entertainer and he tends to draw people in. hes a bit of a social butterfly!

🤒- nope! due to his weird dual nature thing he has going on, hes still sort of... dead. so it'd have to be some weird magic happening to get him sick.

TYSM THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO ANSWER!!!

[smorpher]

Okay, after watching Halloween(1978) for the first time. Here are some of my thoughts.

Did not realize this took place in Illinois. I was sitting here thinking it took place in like Maine or some other north eastern state, but no. It's taking place in the midwest. That was really interesting to see because I'm all too used to anything taking place in the midwest to be something about how the corn is evil or small town cult or something like that. Not psycho murderer haunting the suburbs.

Really weird watching a movie from a time where seatbelts weren't standard. Like, I could tell none of them were wearing seatbelts in those cars and my brain just kept looping on how unsafe that was and how it just looked wrong. It's just such a natural part of cars to me and it's strange thinking about how new they actually are.

Michael Myers being 21 was not something I was ready for. Like, he committed his first murder when he was 6, then he was put in the asylum for 15 years. This kid is only just now old enough to drink and he's out here killing people left and right while looking like a solidly built 30 something.

For all that Annie was the first one killed, she lived longer than expected. Like, she didn't just make all the wrong choices for a horror movie. She made all the wrong choices for life in general. She was leaving doors open left and right, wandering around alone at night, ignoring suspicious noises, ignoring the dog, which even outside of a horror movie is the wrong move. Like, it's one thing to be sick of hearing the dog bark, but when they suddenly stop and start whimpering before falling dead silent? You know something's wrong.

That doctor was simultaneously very smart and also a complete and utter idiot. He knew that Michael was a danger, and yet stuck with explaining why in metaphors and vague warnings and just failing over and over to properly communicate the danger. Also, I understand it's fiction and Michael is supposed to just be evil for evils sake, but having a doctor running around saying he's the root of all evil and calling him an it and inhuman and an unthinking monster made me hate the doctor. Like seriously, he should not be treating a patient like that. Of course Micheal went on a murdering spree if that's how the doctor's been treating him for the last fifteen years!

I actually really enjoyed the use of music. I'm so used to the main song being used in parodies nowadays, but in the movie itself it was actually well done in my opinion. It didn't so much make me scared during the movie, but it certainly got me excited when it would start playing. The rest of the music was good as well. Set a good spooky or tense mood when needed and really helped immerse me in the scenes.

I will say, it was really interesting seeing all the tropes that have been used to death by horror movies now, because I know they hadn't been back then. In fact, I'm pretty sure this movie is the source of a lot of those tropes. So, that was pretty cool to see, even if they kinda helped me figure out what was gonna happen well before they actually did.

Overall, I enjoyed the movie.