#and deciding to make this new account was a big step for me and y'all have made it worth it

[arsenicflame]

there was going to be a sappy post about how much my life has changed in the past year since starting this account here but i feel i have bothered you all enough with my feelings on that in recent weeks

thank you all for being here with me, i love you, and happy birthday to this blog :)

[bomberqueen17]

Matcha Top Sewalong #5

Done! All I need to do is hem it.

But. For sewing-alonging-purposes here's the last day of work on it. And once I've hemmed it I need to like. Measure it and then make my decisions about what adjustments to transfer back to the paper pattern for my final draft. Because of course my buzzy brain wants to immediately move on to a new shiny thing (we're gonna make leggings next) but the actual smart thing to do is to make this over again in a fair copy in really nice fabric. (In a drastically adjusted size.) Because I do like it.

So anyway, the breakdown:

So I think when we'd last left off, I'd decided I needed to unpick the shoulder detail and gather several inches of excess shoulder seam length under it. So I did that; I cut off a couple of inches of the faux-epaulette, and then put gathering threads along the seam and pulled those taut, pinned it down, and re-sewed it.

[image description: Blue fabric under the presser foot of an old sewing machine, with a stiffened piece of black fabric with embroidery on it lying over the top. I'm pulling on two thick white threads with my fingers, pulling the gathers tight prior to pinning the placket down and then distributing the gathers with my fingertips as I sew over them. Yeah I'm not a big fan of a thousand pins.]

Remember the whole point of this was that as the pattern isn't properly scaled, it was assuming that me having huge tits also meant my shoulders were vastly broad. And they're not. But I didn't want to cut off excess fabric because that would alter the shape of the armscye (that's the curved seam on the body of a shirt into which a sleeve is set, or that forms the sleeve opening in a sleeveless garment, and it's pronounced arm-sigh, for any of y'all who haven't done a lot of sewing youtubing yet lol)-- setting a sleeve head into an armscye is an exercise in patience and wizardry at the best of times, attempting to alter either one is likely to result in jankety disaster.

As it happens, this pattern already has you gather excess bodice width into the collar, to give its distinctive shaping. It turns out that gathering excess shoulder width under the faux-epaulette also looks baller as fuck, so I'm going to take that into consideration as I cut my next draft out.

So next was setting in the sleeves:

[image description: on a flowered ironing board, the blue fabric is sitting with the curved armscye carefully laid flat and the top of the sleeve head pinned to the top of the armscye curve. On top of all that, my perfect angel clingy cat is sitting on the garment with her tail curved right into my working space.]

The sleeves went on pretty easily-- I get why they have you do it before the collar but honestly it didn't matter that I did them after-- and then the last step was to sew up the side seams, which was so easy I didn't even pin it anywhere, I just matched up the underarm seams and pulled the seams straight either side of it, got the seam allowance to lay right, and then sewed it in one go.

Now for the try-on.

[iimage description: a mirror selfie of me in a large drapey blue garment with my arm held out to one side. The sleeve extends to my wrist, touching the back of my hand.]

These sleeves are supposed to be elbow-length but again, the scaling up in all directions equally does not take into account the fact that I do not have tits on my elbows nor are my arms plus-length. It's pretty safe to say I could cut a size 14 of this garment all around and still have plenty of ease. I measured, and have cut off six inches from these sleeves to hem them.

[image description: me half-turned wearing the drapey blue garment, showing the V-neck detail, the shoulder pleating (though the lighting isn't ideal to show it off, sorry), and the length of the sleeves. The background is partly blurred by the phone's Portrait setting, but not entirely; it is my mother-out-law's bedroom because she has a huge mirrored closet door. By my leg, my cat is sitting with her tail touching me because she was so clingy yesterday, and the silhouette of her ear looks like something's wrong with my calf.]

There's a lot of ease in this, which I get is the design of it; I am actually torn about sizing down at all. I might not! I love that it's so swingy.

As far as the length, IDK. I left two extra inches on the bodice panels for hemming, I always wind up with my hems uneven and I wanted to leave room to not have to cut it shorter than I wanted. The last smock I made is SO short in the back because i'd fucked up the cutting and there was one divot at a hem that couldn't be evened out any longer, and i'd meant it to be wearable as a solo layer but thanks to this i have to wear it over other layers, ugh. So. Anyway. IDK. it's hard to tell the length because depending where you set the collar on your shoulders it can vary so much. Next version should probably have a smaller size of the collar and shoulder details for sure.

[image description: a closer-up mirror selfie in bad yellow lighting of the shoulder detail and upper sleeve of the garment]

But the detail of gathering the bodice sleeve under the shoulder detail does look good, I do like it. So I'm going to do that again in my next draft. I'm just deciding-- do I size down overall, and then slash-and-spread to put width back in to gather up here? or do I just size down overall and figure there'll still be plenty of width?

I just have to decide. Either way, the shoulder detail needs to both be narrower and thinner, smaller every direction, and also I feel like the interfacing is actually too stiff. I might just interline it with fabric for the next version, I can't decide.

In the meantime, I'm going to hem this garment with the shortened sleeves and I think I will actually wear it a fair bit, it's comfortable and reasonably cute. Might shorten the overall hem too, need to decide on that.

Either way I need to write down my adjustments and probably make myself cut out the next version before I forget, and before I move on to the next thing, which as I said, is leggings, and I'm excited to work on those lol.

[hurting-fictional-people]

Betrayal Story - Part 6

Hii look at what I finally finished! sorry for taking so long to post this guys, I don't even have an explanation lol... I have something else already half written for the boys so hopefully I won't take so long to update the story again 🙃 anyways, I hope y'all like it <3

tagging @thelazywitchphotographer @swift-perseides @whump-it-like-its-hot @sunflower1000 @msrandonstuff @fromtheo-withlove @boxofsilence @lionhxartx @sometouchofmadness @paleassprince @livingforthewhump @1becky1 @shameful-indulgence @whatwhumpcomments @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams @starnight-whump @writingbackwards @noodlesandkareokee @mylifeisonthebookshelf @nightwhumpee

CW: forced sedation, manhandling, drugged whumpee, needle mention, aftermath of branding/burning

Part 1 here, continued from here

-

Liam can’t move. Every time he does, his arms do too and the mere brush of burned skin against pristine bandages is enough to get him on the verge of tears.

The room he’s kept in is too barren, too small to provide any kind of distraction from the constant pulse of pain – too much and never abating. No one listens or cares when he begs for medication, for anything to ease the agony. The doctor comes in to see him, give him antibiotics and check if there’s no infection, but barely looks at Liam when he whimpers under gloved hands.

The first time he takes a glance at the twisted skin underneath the wound dressing, a breathy, hysterical laugh slips out, quickly followed by a silent gasp as Chase’s initials weigh on his arms. He was always his, in the end, wasn’t he? Even after being betrayed and stabbed and kidnapped, he could never get the agent off his mind. Now he’ll be on Liam’s body as well.

It takes all of his willpower not to rip the dressings off once the doctor and nurses leave, just to stare at the hideous thing his arms are now.

But in the silent room, with nothing to do but think and despair, Liam can’t stop looking at the bandages.

He doesn’t know how long he spends staring at it – at the white itchy gauze, and the burns that hurt underneath it. At the C and the R he knows are forever burned on his skin. Like fucking cattle, marked with his owner’s name. Like the stupid boy who thought he could give his heart away to the beautiful, mysterious man that smiled at him. If nothing else, it is a good reminder of how big of a fool Liam is. If he lives long enough for it to be useful, that is. If Jonah doesn’t decide he’s had enough of Liam soon.

Horror floods him at the thought, and when his heart speeds up, Liam can’t hold it any longer. He pulls off the bandages in one swift movement, holding his breath when a wave of fire licks his arms. It doesn’t stop him from ripping out the second bandage though.

His hands tremble on his lap as Liam stares at the skin above his wrists, red with blood and raw skin disfigured into letters. It looks just as ugly as it feels.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until a tear drips on his thigh. And then another and one more, until he’s openly sobbing, chest heaving and stomach twisting.

Lost in tears and the sight of burned skin that sinks into his heart and burns everything there too, Liam only realizes there are people in the room when a hand grabs his forearm.

“What did you do? I just bandaged that,” the nurse complains.

This time, this one time, he moves. Liam yanks his arm away from their grasp and stumbles out of the bed, away from the nurse that stares at him with wide eyes and a startled frown.

“D-d-don’t touch me,” he hisses, holding his hands as close to his chest as he can, and hissing again when sore skin rubs against his shirt. “Stay the fuck away!”

But instead of moving back or so much as talking to him, the nurse calls for the guards and starts walking in his direction.

Liam takes a step backward and presses his back against the wall, wild eyes searching for an escape, a weapon, anything, but salvation is nowhere near. “Please, don’t. Leave me alone.”

When the guards open the door and enter the room, Liam slides to the ground, as small as he can make himself, elbows on his knees, arms protecting his head.

“Get off!” he screams when hands grab at him, and thrashes in the hold. His foot connects with soft flesh, his knee with someone’s chin, but there are too many men. Too many hands for too little strength, no matter how desperately Liam fights.

They drag him through the floor as Liam writhes with every last bit of stamina he has, panic driving him to fight like he wishes he could every time he’s hurt.

A different kind of pain blooms as he squirms uselessly in unforgiving grips – one deeper, familiar, warmer. Liam still doesn’t stop.

“Fuck, he reopened the stab wound,” someone shouts over the cacophony of pain and panicked struggling. “Hold him down, now!”

Liam is pushed to the floor, and when someone squeezes both his arms to keep him there, right over the exposed burns, the world turns red, and a scream tears its way out of his throat.

“No, no, no, get off!” he sobs, kicking out even when a needle sinks into his arm. “n-n-nggh off, get, get o-off,” he tries again, but the world is already slipping through his fingers. He kicks out and thrashes as best as he can, but it isn’t enough. There are stronger bodies over him and the movement is barely there at all.

As much as Liam tries to keep his eyes open, they weigh too heavy, the drugs stronger than he is.

What isn’t?

Liam’s body relaxes against his will, slumps under harsh hands and angry stares, and all he can do is whimper when they drag his limp body to the bed.

-

Chase moves through life like a ghost, only a shell of helplessness and worry, and for the first time, his team notices. He hasn’t slept in days, not with Liam’s face twisted in agony ready to wake him up each time he closes his eyes. Has barely eaten, no appetite left when all he can think about is the boy he loves being hurt on his account.

How can he be free when Liam is locked up? How can he be the one who isn’t hurting when he is the only one who ever deserved it?

“Come on, I know that there’s something wrong,” Zoey says, crossing her arms.

If he could simply flee, he would, but with the hacker standing right in front of him, Chase knows it isn’t worth it. Even if he did leave, she wouldn’t stop trying to get the truth out of him. So Chase sighs and looks down at the blond woman who looks ready to commit murder.

“We all know it. You look like shit. What’s going on?”

It takes all of his strength to plaster a smirk on his lips and lean against the wall with a casual tilt of his head. “You guys worry too much. I’m fine, Zo. Probably could do with a little more sleep, but who couldn’t?”

As convincing as he hopes he sounds, Zoey doesn’t seem at all impressed by his acting. If anything, her frown deepens. “I know you, Chase. And you know me, so you know you can trust me. You look even worse than you did after that mission with the newspaper boy.”

Newspaper boy. If that was all Liam meant for him, maybe Chase’s heart wouldn’t be this tattered.

“Zoey. I am okay, I p– I promise.”

I never lied to you, he had said to Liam as he bled out in Chase’s arms. I betrayed you, yes, but not once did I lie. Stay alive and I’ll prove it to you.

But that was just another lie, wasn’t it? Liam is as alive as ever, and all Chase’s done is cause him more pain than any of them ever imagined possible. All he’s proven is his failure to keep Liam safe.

What is another lie when he’s already filled with them? Maybe that’s all he was always meant to be, all he will ever be – a betrayer. A traitor. A liar.

With a casual shrug that makes his stomach twist, Chase sidesteps his teammate. Before he can move farther away though, she grabs his arm and pulls him back.

“You are good at lying, but I can see the way your eyes have gone dull. I’m not going to force you to say it, but when you get tired of pretending to be fine, I’ll be here. Okay?” When Chase doesn’t answer, she takes a deep breath and nods. Zoey leaves him standing there, feeling dirty and raw, something stirring inside his chest and begging him to tell her everything.

Chase opens his mouth, the truth one breath away, and takes a step towards Zoey’s back. And then his phone buzzes, and reality comes crashing back as he looks at the screen and she disappears down the corridor.

Wanna see him?

It’s the first message he’s gotten from Jonah in days, and Chase holds his breath and freezes for a second at the words.

He’s rushing to his car even before his mind has caught up with his legs.

He’s standing in front of Jonah’s building in a matter of minutes, heart racing but mind weirdly quiet. Static silence, fear building up.

Jonah waits for him in the lobby this time, leaning against the open door of the elevator with a smile on his lips.

“Chase! Long time no see.”

“Where is he?”

“Straight to the point, huh. Boring as ever,” Jonah rolls his eyes. “I was feeling generous today, thought you might want to say hello. I’m not sure our dear boy will answer you, but you can try for yourself I guess.”

“What the fuck did you do?” Chase hisses as Jonah nods for him to get inside and presses the button.

“Nothing bad. He was just fussing about the pain, so my nurses gave him have a little something to relax.”

Chase steps into the elevator, two guards close behind, and fears he’ll shatter his jaw from how hard he’s clenching it.

“He also doesn’t really like his new… adornments, I don’t think. Ripped the bandages earlier today, wet the whole bed with tears.”

Jonah’s voice is light as he says it, the tone one would use to talk about something meaningless, something that doesn’t make Chase sink his nails into his palms and hold his breath. The man’s eyes are the telltale, shining with dark glee, and Chase can see the way Jonah follows his every movement like a predator, reveling at the little cracks in his unruffled façade.

“So when I offered him something to calm down, he didn’t even think before accepting,” he continues.

The doors slide open before any of them can say anything else. A small mercy.

The walk to Liam’s room is as quick as it is infinite. They stop in front of the door so incredibly soon, yet so painfully late.

“Be nice to him, I think he’s going through a phase,” Jonah chuckles as he nods for one of his men to unlock the door. “And don’t forget that this is your fault, dear.”

He barely realizes he’s entered the room until the lock clicks behind him. And then Chase’s eyes find Liam, and the world stops on its tracks, just like it always does when they are in the same room together.

He’s lying on his back, arms open and hands hanging off the bed, bandages covering the skin from Liam’s elbows to his wrists. His eyes are open, but unfocused, slow blinks that lead to nowhere even when Chase takes the first step towards him. His chest rises and falls slowly, rhythmically, a shallow blow of air through parted lips, and despite everything, Chase is happy that Liam isn’t in pain.

It is only when he stops beside the bed that Liam’s head lolls on the pillow, a sunflower looking for the sun even though no real light can reach him here. Still, he looks, and half-lidded eyes roam around the room before finally stopping on Chase’s face.

“Hey,” Chase says, curling one hand into a fist while the other clutches the edge of the bed.

“Mmgh,” Liam slurs with a shuddering breath and a crease on his forehead before trying again. “I, mm, I’m not, n-uh not feeling… well.”

“How can I help?” Chase’s voice is hoarse and low, pained, but Liam hears it. He hears it and he whimpers, shaking his head no.

Make it stop, his mouth forms, but doesn’t voice.

I can’t, Chase wants to scream, I’d give anything to make it all stop but I can’t. Instead, he softens his voice and tries to smile. “What if I do something to distract you? I… I was told you are under some strong drugs.”

Green eyes blink at him, and Chase is happy there are only the two of them in the room. He might actually lose it and punch Jonah square in the face if the man was here.

“How about I tell you a story? You’ve always liked them.”

Liam swallows, eyes darting around the room again, and even though Chase knows he isn’t listening, not really, he sits on the edge of the bed and starts talking.

“It’s about a boy who thought he could change the world, but instead changed the person who was sent to stop him.”

“Sou-sounds like a shit story,” Liam mumbles.

“Depends on how you look at it. Or who’s the one telling it, I guess.”

There’s a pause, and Liam sighs softly before talking again.

“Are you… are, are you really… here?”

The words slam into his chest, shattering anything left in there, and though Chase holds himself firmly still and keeps his face carefully free from anything but tenderness, something collapses inside of him. Maybe it’s his heart. It feels like it, and he wants to cry, to grab Liam and leave, but he can’t, and Liam strains to focus on his eyes, so Chase smiles like there isn’t burning agony rippling through him.

“Do you want me to be?”

“I, I don’t, I don’t know.” It is only a murmur, but Chase knows he’ll hear its echo in his nightmares for a long time – the uncertainty, the fear, the sadness. The helplessness.

I’m here. I would be here forever if I could.

But the words are only that – words. He can’t be here forever, nor erase all the pain he’s caused and continues to cause. So Chase picks up the pieces of his heart and pretends it doesn’t hurt to smirk and brush Liam’s hair away from his forehead like he used to do so long ago.

If he can’t take Liam away from this nightmare, the least he can do is pretend it is a dream.

“Then you should stop dreaming about me.”

“Ca-can’t,” Liam frowns, staring at the hand Chase just touched him with. “Will, will you leave? Again?”

“Only if you want me to.”

Liam looks up again, and something is missing in those eyes. A spark of life that was still there the last time they saw each other, but isn’t now. As Chase searches for the hope he always loved in the depths of Liam’s gaze, what he finds instead is sadness.

“Don’t go,” Liam breathes. “I, I, my h-head, it it it feels weird, Chase.”

“I know, love,” Chase says calmly, nothing of the wild desperation that rages inside of him seeping through the words. Not when Liam is this lost, this vulnerable. Not when it is the first time he has called Chase by his name after the betrayal. “It’ll pass.”

“I’m scared,” he murmurs, shifting on the bed. “But, I, I don’t remember… why.”

“You are okay, Liam. I promise. You’ll be okay.”

Liam closes his eyes and shakes his head, and when he speaks, his voice is only a whisper, gone even before he finishes. “I don’t believe you.”

Chase bites on his lip and creases his forehead, but none of it shows when he takes Liam’s hand in his own and gives it a little squeeze.

“I know. That’s okay too.”

But Liam isn’t there anymore to hear it. His body sags on the bed, taken away by the drugs, and Chase is left alone in Liam’s cell, watching the boy he’d kill and die for fall asleep. As he does, all Chase can think about is that he needs to get Liam out of here. Somehow, he needs to get him away, no matter the cost of it.

An hour goes by, and though it is one of the worst hours of Chase’s life, is it the first time he doesn’t feel like a part of his heart is bleeding in days. Not when he can see the bleeding part right in front of him.

He wants to wake Liam up, to hear his voice while he can, before he’s forced to leave again. But there’s peace on his face as he sleeps, and Chase can’t take him back to reality when he looks like he used to, like he could wake up at any moment and kiss Chase with a smile.

And then the door opens, and the memories vanish as Chase reluctantly gets up. As soon as he does though, Liam stirs on the bed, frail hand reaching out and grabbing Chase’s wrist before he can move away.

“You promised me… a… um, a story.”

Liam’s eyes open for a moment before closing again, but he doesn’t let go. Chase shoots one look at the guards waiting by the door and knows that nothing good will happen if he waits. He has to play nice if he wants to get Liam out.

Chase looks down at Liam again, and when he finds half-lidded eyes struggling to stay open, he can’t stop his voice from breaking mid-sentence.

“It’ll have to stay for another time, okay? I’ll see you soon, love.”

Liam’s eyes flutter back closed with a soft sigh. His voice is soft as the tears that sting Chase’s eyes when he speaks. “You al–, you always leave in real life too.”

Chase can’t find an answer before he is dragged out of the room by a firm grip he knows better than to fight. He yanks his arm away as soon as the door locks him and Liam on different sides, and hears the words rattling around his head while he is lead to sit in Jonah’s office to hear what the man wants next. All the way back to his house.

He doesn’t think when he calls Zoey. All he hears is Liam.

All he can see is Liam’s lost gaze, the life fading out of his eyes. All he knows is that if he lets him in Jonah’s claws one more second without doing anything, he might actually, truly, crumble down until he can’t pull himself back up.

He is sitting on his couch, hands over his face and elbows on his knees just like they have been since he got home, when his friend opens the door.

“Oh, Chase,” she breathes as soon as she sees his face and sits beside him. “What happened?”

He doesn’t get to crumble down. Not when it’s Liam the one being hurt. The one branded and tortured and kidnapped and betrayed. Still, when Zoey’s gentle arms wrap around him, he hugs her back.

“It’s Liam,” he says, fighting to get the words out through his heaving breaths, trying to force his mind to put them together long enough for someone else to know it too because he can’t do this on his own. He thought he could, he thought he was enough, but he isn’t and he needs to get Liam out, no matter what, no matter how, he has to, he has to before the light goes out in that beautiful green gaze. “He, I, he’s caught and it’s my fault and I thought I could keep him safe but I can’t and now–“

“Chase, breathe,” she commands, and he answers. It’s all he knows how to do, isn’t it? Answer orders. Look at what happens when he’s left on his own. “Let’s start from the begging.”

So Chase does.

(next)

[elliesguitarstrings]

promises, promises || part one: what used to be

masterlist || series masterlist

tom holland x reader

summary: you're crying over someone you haven't seen in two years, tom is straight up depressed, your friends are trying to set you up, and sam is just trying his best to help

warnings: ANGST, language, mentions of sex, little bit of fluff, probably typos

A/N: PART ONE IS HERE!!!! i absolutely love this fic and i hope you guys love it as much as i do :)

p.s. this ended up being really long sooooo i decided to make it into a series instead lol if y'all haven't figured that out

wc: 5k

~~~~~~~~

"I got the part! Holy shit I actually got the part!" Tom throws his computer across the bed in disbelief, almost hitting you.

"Wait, like THE part? Like Spiderman?" you question excitedly.

"YES!!! Check the Marvel Instagram right now!" he crawls over to you as you whip out your phone and quickly search up the account. You scan the page to see a post captioned, "Click the link in our bio to see who the new Spider-Man is!" You quickly find the link and impatiently wait for the page to load. And then you see it, boldface print and giant letters across your phone.

The new Marvel Cinematic Universe Spider-Man will be played by: TOM HOLLAND

"HOLY SHIT TOM! You're fucking Spiderman!" you tackle him with a hug, squeezing him so tightly that he has to fight for breath. "I'm so proud of you, I knew you were gonna do big things." you smile brightly.

"We have to go tell everyone else, come on!" Tom pulls you off of him, dragging you out of his bedroom and down the stairs to give his family the big news.

The rest of the Hollands were already together in the family room, and they immediately took notice of yours and Tom's excitement as the two of you are bounding down the stairs.

Out of breath, Tom sprints to the center of the room. "Attention everyone, I have an extremely important announcement to make!" He pauses for dramatic effect, his family waiting in anticipation. "I'M GONNA BE SPIDERMAN!"

This causes an outburst of cheers and applause from his parents and brothers, each one of them getting up to hug Tom and congratulate him on this huge achievement.

Paddy pipes up, "How did you get the news? Did they call you or something?"

"Um, not exactly. They posted it on their Instagram and on the Marvel website as well, wanna see?" He turns to you, "Y/N, show them your phone!"

You pull out your phone and open the screen you were just looking at, showing the Hollands the Instagram post and article.

"No way, they're totally hacked." Harry remarks, earning disapproving looks from Nikki and Dom. "if you were really gonna be the next Spiderman, they would have called you."

Before Tom has the time to argue back, his phone rings, as if on cue. Tom pulls it out of his back pocket and nervously studies the number across the screen.

"Well, what are you waiting for div, answer it!" Sam chirps impatiently.

The rest of the room is silent while Tom listens intently to the person the other line. You can't make out what they are saying, but the eventual smile on Tom's face completely gives it away.

"Yes, thank you. Thank you so much for this opportunity," he holds while the other person talks again. "Yeah, I'll be in touch, definitely. Thank you again." Tom ends the call and lets out a sigh of relief. "That was fucking Kevin Feige! I got the part! I actually am gonna be the next Spiderman!"

You and the rest of his family cheered even louder than before, enveloping him in a giant group hug.

"I say we celebrate!" Nikki announces. "How about we go out for a nice dinner?"

Tom smiles, "If I'm honest mum, as nice as that would be, I'd rather just stay in and celebrate here tonight. I like your cooking better than any fancy restaurant anyways."

"Of course honey, I'll make your favorite. We can have a nice big family dinner, how does that sound?"

"Sounds perfect mum, thank you."

She dashes into the kitchen followed by Sam, the aspiring chef of the family, while Dom, Harry, and Paddy go to dress the table.

You take this as your cue to leave, seeing as you don't want to disrupt the rest of Tom's night with his family. "I guess I should get going then," you turn to Tom, hugging him once again. "Congratulations again, I'm so proud of you Tommy." you smile as you head to grab your things before you leave.

"Nonsense! You're staying for dinner too!" Tom stops you.

"Tom, I can't, you should spend this night celebrating with your family." you try to reason with him.

"But I want you here too!" he pouts.

"And you are family!" Nikki pipes in from the kitchen, earning nods of agreement from the rest of the family.

"See, everyone wants you here Y/N, please celebrate with us?" Tom cups your face.

"Are you sure? I really don't want to-"

Nikki cuts you off, piping in once again, "Y/N, I insist you stay for dinner with us. You've been a part of this family for so long, and you know that. So please stay and celebrate with us!" she smiles.

You giggle, "Well, I guess I can't say no to that." Tom smiles, giddily engulfing you in another hug.

After a long and delicious dinner, you and Tom now lay under the stars in the treehouse in his backyard. Dom had built it for you two when you were eight years old, and it's been your special place ever since then. Obviously, it has been upgraded and redecorated since then, now that you and Tom were both eighteen, but it still takes you back to the old days when you were just carefree little kids.

You cuddle into Tom's chest, looking up at the night sky through the small window in the roof of the treehouse. "I wish we could stay here forever," you whisper.

"Me too." Tom pulls you closer, kissing your forehead.

"Everything's gonna change you know. We're graduating in two weeks, and then you leave for America. I don't know what I'm gonna do without you." A small tear rolls down your cheek which doesn't go unnoticed by Tom.

He wipes the tear off your face with his thumb, cupping your chin to make you face him. "Hey, hey, look at me. Things might be changing, but that doesn't mean we have to. I'm only gonna be gone for a few months, and then I'll be back. I love you so much, and a few hundred miles is never going to change that. I will never let anything come between us, ever, okay?"

You smile softly, "You promise?"

"I promise darling. It's you and me forever. I'm never letting you go. Never in a million years." he kisses you lovingly, and you swear you could just live in this moment forever with him, and only him.

That was six years ago. And what Tom said was true, everything had changed. You just wish everything else he had said that night was true too.

Now, Tom is a world-famous actor, living a luxurious life out in Hollywood. You, however, have stayed in England, living only thirty minutes away from your childhood home with your newfound best friends Julia and Finn. You are no longer a part of Tom's life, and he is no longer a part of yours. But that doesn't mean you've forgotten about him.

How could you possibly forget about Tom? Your entire childhood was spent with him. From the ages of two to twenty-two, you were inseparable. To this day, you still remember when you first met, and you think about it often.

"I no wanna go! I stay home and watch princesses!" you cry, defiantly pulling away from your mother's firm grip as she tries to stuff you into shoes that are much too small for your rapidly growing feet.

"I know honey, but we have to go welcome the new neighbors who just moved in across the street. We made them brownies, remember?" she smiles.

You scrunch your face up, " No! I stay home!"

Your dad chimes in, kneeling down to your level. "Listen peanut. How about we make a deal. You come with us and say hello to the new neighbors, and then after we get home you can watch any princess movie you want and maybe even have some ice cream, how does that sound?"

You smile, "Ice cream with rainbow sprinkles?"

He rubs your head, "With rainbow sprinkles."

"Okay. I go then."

Your parents smile, and you hold their hands as you walk across the street to meet the neighbors. Your mom rings the doorbell, and the door opens to reveal a red-headed woman, smiling at you and your parents. Hiding behind her is a small, curly-headed brunette boy about the same height as you.

Your mom introduces herself, "Hi! My name is Y/M/N, this is my husband Y/D/N, and this is my daughter Y/N. We live right across the street, and we just wanted to welcome you into the neighborhood." She outstretches her arms, holding the brownies, "I made these for you as well, I hope you like them!"

The woman smiles, "Oh, wow, thank you so much, you are so sweet! Would you like to come in for a bit?"

"Of course, as long as you'll have us."

She ushers the three of you in and you stay close to your mom, still wary of entering a stranger's home.

As she closes the door behind her, she introduces herself as well, "Sorry, the house is a little messy, we’re still getting settled in. But I'm Nikki, my husband Dominic is unpacking in the kitchen, and this is Tom." She motions to the boy behind her, "Tom, say hello to the nice people!"

He timidly steps forward, waving at you and your parents. "Hello." he says quietly.

"Oh my, he is adorable!" your mom gushes. She walks over to him, "How old are you Tom?"

He holds up two fingers, "This many."

She smiles, "Two years old? Wow, you're so big! Guess what, you know who else is that many?" Tom shakes his head no. "My daughter Y/N!" She motions for you to come, and you shyly walk forward.

You wave at him, and that makes him smile. Nikki taps Tom on the shoulder, "Do you maybe want to show Y/N your toys upstairs?

He nods his head, smiling at you, "Wanna go play?" he asks.

You smile back, looking at your mom for permission. She nods her head and pushes you forward. "Okay, we go." you respond. He takes your hand and pulls you upstairs, seemingly coming out of his shell. You don't know what it is about this boy, but he makes you feel warm, like a hug. It's something your two-year-old brain can't quite comprehend, but suddenly you couldn't care less about watching princess movies or eating ice cream.

Sometimes you wish that day had never happened, that you had never met him. You wish your little two-year-old self had fought harder against your parents so that you wouldn’t have to endure the years of pain he would cause you later in life. But you can’t go back, and in part, you’re glad about that. He was your first friend, your first crush, and your first love. But he was also your first heartbreak, and that’s something you can never forget.

You're snapped out of your thoughts by a sharp knock on your bedroom door. "Hey, are you almost ready? We have to leave in ten or we'll be late!" you hear Julia's muffled voice from the other side of the door. Finn is hosting a gala tonight for his art studio, and being his best friends and roommates, you and Julia are basically required to go.

"Uh, yeah, I'm about done, I'll be out in a minute!" You haven't even started getting ready, but you don't have any more time. You quickly raid your closet and find a short v-neck black dress and matching heels. You wiggle into the dress as you make your way into the bathroom. You had planned on straightening your hair, but you have no time, so instead, you brush it back into a sleek low ponytail and spray it with a bit of hairspray. There's no time for the elaborate makeup look you had planned either, so you quickly throw on some concealer, blush, mascara, eyeliner, a bit of highlight, and you're set. As you walk to the door, you grab your purse and slip on your heels, making sure you have your phone and keys. Finn and Julia are already waiting in the car, both with disapproving looks.

"What the fuck took you so long? We were supposed to leave five minutes ago! You know I can't be late for this thing." Finn complains as you slip into the backseat.

"Sorry, I, uhm, don't feel well. A little nauseous." you lie. You don't feel like telling them that you were actually crying about someone you haven't seen or talked to in two and a half years like you do every other night.

"You're not pregnant are you?" Julia chuckles.

"Oh please, we all know that Y/N hasn't gotten any since he who must not be named." Finn replies for you.

"Thanks Finn, what a great friend." you joke sarcastically.

He's not wrong though. Since you and Tom broke up, you haven’t slept with a single person. You’ve been on a few dates and kissed a few guys, but nothing past that. The closest you got was about a month after Tom broke it off with you. You were looking for someone to take your mind off of him, so you found a random guy named David at a pub and took him back to your place. But as soon as he took off his shirt, you saw a birthmark on his back that looked eerily similar to Tom’s, and you promptly broke down crying.

No matter what you do, you just can’t seem to get him off your mind.

"Alright bitches, we're here." Finn sighs. "Help me bring my stuff in, we don't have much time thanks to someone who took ages to get ready."

You give a halfhearted apology as you grab Finn's paintings from the back of his car. Julia stops you before you follow Finn into the venue, "Babe, are you sure you're doing alright?"

You smile lightly, "Yeah, I'm fine. I'll be fine."

"Okay, if you say so. And sorry about Finn mentioning... him. It's been two years, he should know better."

"Oh, no. No, don't worry about that. It's okay. I don't care." you lie.

She gives you an encouraging nudge on the shoulder, "Hey, who knows, maybe you'll find a hottie here tonight and finally get back out there! What do you think, huh?"

"Yeah, that would be great, actually. Maybe Finn can introduce me to his friend James, I know he's pretty hot." you say just to get her off your back. You know for a fact that you won't be going home with anyone tonight, but you want to ease her conscience, so you continue to lie.

"That's the spirit! Good luck hun, love you."

"Thanks Jules, love you too." you smile.

Halfway through the gala, you already want to go home. Finn is over at the bar flirting with some guy, probably trying to get him to buy his artwork. Meanwhile, Julia has disappeared into the bathroom with her boyfriend Ollie, who she invited about thirty minutes into the event because she "got bored."

You look at your phone and realize it's already midnight, and you know the event won't be ending anytime soon. You slowly make your way over to Finn through the sea of people and tap him on the shoulder, drawing his attention away from whatever guy he's flirting with.

"Hey Y/N, how's it going with James?" he asks excitedly.

"Oh, um, it didn't work out, thanks for introducing me though. I just wanted to come tell you that I'm still not feeling well, so I think I'm gonna head home, sorry."

"Oh, okay, no problem. You're probably gonna be alone tonight though, just a heads up. Jules is going back to Ollie's for the night, and" he starts to whisper, "I think I might be going home with this hunk."

You laugh, "Okay, thanks Finn, see you tomorrow then."

"Bye babe. Do you have a ride?" he questions.

"Uh, no, I'm just gonna Uber home, it's no problem."

Finn gasps, "Not this late at night you're not! Let me drive you, hottie with a body over here can wait."

"No, no, don't let me ruin your night. I'll just call Sam then."

His eyes widen, "Like... his brother Sam?"

"Yeah, we're friends still, it's not a big deal. Trust me."

"Okay, fine. But text me when you get home, okay?"

"Okay, love you Finn, see you later." you give him a quick hug and walk outside to call Sam.

You aren't lying, you and Sam are still good friends. Back when you and Tom were together, Sam was the brother that you were closest to, and you felt that it would be unfair to cut ties with the rest of the Hollands just because Tom was a dick to you seeing as they were as much of a family to you as your own parents were, maybe even more. He was attending culinary school in the area anyway, so you decide he’s the best person to call.

As expected, he's happy to drive you home, and about ten minutes later he arrives at the venue where you are still standing outside.

"Hey Sam, I'm sorry for calling this late, but thank you so much for picking me up." you smile as you slide into the passenger seat.

"It's no problem, I wasn't going to sleep anytime soon. How've you been?"

"Fine, I guess. How about you?"

"C'mon, I know that look. Something's up with you." he pries.

"I told you on the phone, I'm just not feeling well." you lie, hoping he doesn't catch on.

"It's Tom isn't it?"

"How the fuck do you always know?"

He chuckles. "He is my brother, remember? And you're basically my sister too. I've known you both for literally my entire life, so trust me, I know when it's about him."

You sign in defeat, "I don't know why I can't get over him Sam. It's been nearly three years since we broke up, and I haven't seen him since. My roommates think I'm overreacting, and honestly, I'm starting to agree with them. I should be moved on by now, but I just can't stop thinking about him."

"Hey, hey, don't listen to them, you aren't overreacting. You and Tom were literally attached at the hip for twenty two years, and you weren't even dating for most of them. It's completely normal for you to feel like this, trust me. And I know it doesn't help much for me to say this because I've said it a million times before, but Tom's a complete dick for what he did to you. He's my brother, and I love him, but he's a dick."

"Thanks Sam. I just wish I knew why, y'know? Why, after twenty-two fucking years, he just completely cut me out of his life." you feel your eyes brimming with tears.

"I wish I could have an answer for you Y/N, I really do. But I haven't got a clue. Hell, I honestly don't even know if Tom knows why he did it."

You sigh, "Well, he must have had a reason. Plus, he seems to be doing great in Hollywood. He seems perfectly happy without me."

"You've been stalking him on Instagram, haven't you?" Sam chuckles.

You laugh, "Shut up." That's the great thing about Sam. He can always lighten up a situation, no matter how serious or how sad. Tom did the same thing, that was one of the things you liked most about him.

You and Sam sit in silence for a few minutes, until he finally breaks it. "He's not, you know."

"Huh?" you question, confused.

"He's not happy. You said he seems happy without you, but he's not. He's doing terribly, and it's not just from stress or his work. He won't admit it, but he misses you." he pauses, "I know I shouldn't be telling you this, but he asked about you the other day. About how you were doing and shit like that. I think he would take it back if he could."

You want so badly to believe him, belief that Tom actually still cares about you after all this time. But false hope is the last thing you need right now.

"Well, he can't, can he?" you say sharply, tears still threatening to flow out.

You and Sam sit in silence for the last five minutes of the ride back to your apartment. As he slows the car to a stop, Sam looks over at you sympathetically, "Look, I'm sorry if what I said made things worse. I just wanted you to know that your feelings aren't... one-sided I guess."

You know better than to yell at Sam, he was just trying to make you feel better, so instead of spitting out the sarcastic remark that was on your tongue, you manage out a half-hearted, "It's okay, thanks Sam." and shut the car door.

As soon as the door of your apartment closes behind you, all of the emotions come crashing down on you. A mixture of sadness, anger, guilt, and regret crushed your heart, smashing it into a million little pieces. It feels like two and a half years ago, when he first broke up with you, all over again. Everything was fine until Sam brought him up again, and the memories just all flooded back in. You fall to the floor, clutching your chest in pain, wishing someone was here for you. Wishing he was here for you. At the moment, it feels like you have no one. In reality, you do; you have an entire support system of people who love you so much and would do anything to protect you. But you only want him. You need him. He is the only person you have ever wanted, ever needed, and he's gone.

You want to hate him, you really do. He's caused you more pain in the past two and a half years than anyone or anything has ever caused you in your entire life. But you can't. You can never, and will never, hate him. Which makes you hate yourself.

After what feels like hours of crying, you finally calm down. There's no one at home to talk to and it's too late to call anyone at this point, so you flip on the tv. There's nothing good on Netflix or Hulu that you haven't seen yet, so you scroll through the other apps. You remember that you just got a free Apple TV subscription with your new phone, so you check to see what's on there.

And there it is. Cherry.

His face right on the screen in front of you, lighting your dark bedroom red. You know it's a bad idea and you know you'll regret it, but something draws you to watch it. You need him right now, and this is about the closest you're going to get.

It's fine at first. It's actually nice to see his face again after so long. He looks basically the same as the last time you saw him, just a little more mature. You feel good supporting him, even if he doesn't know it.

But then it's not fine. His character had just gotten into a fight with his girlfriend, so she comes to visit him in his apartment. They talk, and eventually he reveals that he joined the army and has to go away for two years.

"It's just a couple years. Just a couple years and a lifetime together." he whispers.

Then it all hits you, and you break down crying once again. You can't help but think back to that night in the treehouse, and how the conversation is so eerily similar. You wonder if Tom was thinking about it too, while he was filming the scene. Obviously, the circumstances were different, but it still makes you wonder.

You quickly shut the TV off, unable to bear it anymore. With nothing else to do, you try to sleep, but your thoughts keep you up. And as much as you try to fight it, your mind drifts back to the day you so badly want to forget. The day that it all ended.

"Hey, Tommy, what's up? I'm excited to see you tonight!" you pick up the phone. Tom is supposed to come back to London after filming his first solo Spiderman movie, and you could not be more excited to see him. It's been almost a full year since he left for America, and you miss him so much.

"Yea, uhm, about that. Plans have, er, changed a bit." you can hear the solemn tone in his voice.

"Oh no, what happened? Did your flight get delayed or something? I know there's some rough weather in Atlanta, but I didn't realize it was that bad."

"No, no, it's not that. I don't really know how to say this," he sighs, "I'm not coming home."

Your heart drops to your stomach. "What?"

"Yeah. I'm, um, I'm staying in America for now. I found a house in LA, it's nice."

"Well when are you coming back then?" you utter in disbelief.

"Not anytime soon. I have work, so it's just easier for me to be in America. I'm sorry." his tone is stiff.

"But what about us? I miss you so much, these past few months have already been hell for me. I don't think I can survive much longer without seeing you."

No response.

"Tom, are you still there? You know I can't move in with you. I'm already enrolled in university here in London, I can't drop everything and come to America if that's what you want."

"That's not what I want." At this point he seems to have no emotion in his voice, as if he's reading directly from a script.

"So then what do you want?" you start to really worry, tears already stinging your eyes.

"I think you can probably figure that out by now, Y/N."

"Tom, no. You seriously can't be thinking-"

"Yeah, I am thinking that. You've already said that these past few months have been hell, and I'm too busy with work, so I think that's the only option."

You plead with him, "Tom, please! We can figure this out, I love you so much. We can't break up Tom, I can't lose you." You're sobbing at this point, scared to lose the one person you need the most.

"No, we can't figure this out. We have to break up, there's no other choice."

"What happened to you and me forever? That- that night in the treehouse you said you wouldn't let anything come between us!"

"We were kids, Y/N! We had no idea what our lives were going to turn out like. That was a stupid thing to say and I never should have said it, okay? You can't keep every promise you make, especially when you're eighteen. But we're mature adults now, and the mature way to handle this is to break up. Understand?" His voice is booming through your phone speaker, and it's nothing you've ever heard come from him before. He was always calm, looking for a way to work things out. But now, he's completely giving up.

"Tom, please, I-"

"No, Y/N, I don't have time for this right now, I'm sorry. Goodbye."

He hung up. He's gone.

That was the last time you spoke to him. You didn't even get to properly say goodbye, let alone see his face before he was gone forever.

Unbeknownst to you, that phone call is still, to this day, Tom's biggest regret. Almost immediately after he hung up, he wished he had never called you in the first place. He was stressed from work, he was angry at his management team for making him stay in America, but most of all he missed you. So he did the only thing he could think of to take it all away - separate himself from you. He thought that if he broke up with you, he would feel better about his career choices and he wouldn’t have to wwc:orry about missing you anymore because it would be over.

He was wrong.

Every day since then, he’s wanted to call you, text, you, or somehow contact you to apologize; explain why he did what he did and how he still loves you, still needs you, still misses you every second of his life. But he knows he can’t. You would never be able to forgive him for breaking it all off so suddenly. There’s no way in hell you could still love him after something like that.

So he’s stayed out of reach from you for good. And he hopes that maybe one day he’ll be able to move on, find someone new like you’ve probably done by now. But deep down he knows he never will.

You’re still unable to sleep, and now that it’s almost four in the morning, you decide that you probably won’t be able to for the rest of the night. Not knowing what else’s to do, you begrudgingly roll out of bed and go to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. As you fill up your mug with warm water, you hear a knock at the door.

Who the fuck would be coming to your apartment this early? You suspect it’s Finn, as he always manages to forget his key. Maybe his night with the mystery bar hunk didn’t go as well as he had planned. You quickly set a tea bag in your mug and walk to open the door.

“Back so soon Fi... what the fuck.” your heart drops to your stomach.

It’s him. The same brown-haired, brown-eyed, British boy that you remember, staring down at you from outside your apartment at four in the morning.

“Hey.”

~~~~~~~~

tags: @pxkajesus @roseke @agentsofparker @lifeasjazzz @damnrancidchicken @tomhoelland01 @iwannabekilledtwice @rafehogwarts @non-eexistent @rosiexx8 @nearlydanger9 @realityisabitch07 @midgardassassins @jbreenr @cap-marvxl @ellesmythe @deepestcolorgiantopera @that-one-person @nevertrustapanda16 @rxmanxff @bubbleskz @quinn-spn58 @idkkkkaaw @aayaissaa @pjmjams @tiredstudenttrinity @isabella-bby @hollandprkr @pure-ghost @ladykxxx08 @white-wolf1940 @runawayolives @geekgirleve @thathurtbrolol @lost-girl24 @justafangirlduh @emistrash @writingrem @hallecarey1 @adayasgeorgia @mathletemadison @paulaabellag @miraclesoflove @captainamirica @mlmarint @quaksonhehe @laneybobeczko-g @peterspideysense @hollandstanevans @anna-sofia

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

I've never met ANYONE who actually likes the Chibnall era. Would you seriously say that it's objectively good?

Brace yourself for unpopular (albeit positive) opinions.

Objectively? I don't know, I tend to feel like media is very much subjective and down to opinion. But on the whole...yeah. I'm gonna say yeah. I think the Chibnall era thus far is every bit as good as the Moffat Era and Davies Era were. It actually blows my mind to see the fandom come together and almost universally agree that the show has gone downhill. It's part of the reason why I kind of stepped away from the Doctor Who fandom because there's something very demoralizing about re-watching clips from Season 12 and seeing literally every comment just talk about how the show is ruined. And if I re-watch old clips, very often I come across comments that talk about how the show "used to" be good, and should have ended with Twelve, etc. I know a little reluctance toward the new Doctor can be part of the transition process, but normally the fans are over it by now.

Things haven't really changed.

I've been re-watching Twelve's era, and found a new appreciation for him. But I re-watched Thirteen's era right beforehand, and you know what? It holds up. Season 11 is remarkably strong. I can't think of a single "bad" episode in that season. It focuses on the characters, and thus it doesn't have nearly as strong ambitions, compared to one of the Moffat seasons, which were clever but often convoluted. They couldn't always stick the landing. (Looking at you, Season 6) But every has it's good parts and it's bad. The same man who wrote The Wedding of River Song and betrayed the entire season's storyline in the process...also wrote The Doctor Falls, which is probably my favorite final episode of any season ever. The Chibnall Era is the same way. The Tsuranga Conundrum isn't really a bad episode, it's just kind of forgettable, apart from the Pting. But then it is immediately followed up by Demons of the Punjab, which is an exceptional story in every way. I want the Thijurians to return for Thirteen's regeneration, I'm saying it.

My point being that even if there are episodes you can't stand in the new era, is that really exclusive to Chibnall? All the way back in Season 1, they had The Long Game, which I remember disliking, but it was sandwiched between Dalek and Father's Day, which are in my opinion, the two best episodes of that season. A lot of people don't like Orphan 55, for example. But it's followed up by Nikola Tesla's Night of Terror. Does anyone really dislike that episode? You're valid if you do, but I think it's really good. Ask me about any episode in the Chibnall Era, and I'll find something to like about it. (Except maybe Arachnids in the UK...and that one's not even bad, just kind of weak.) Because like I said, there is good and bad in every season...and I do think that the fandom has overblown how "bad" the Chibnall Era is...though that may be in part because I think this era is generally good? Incredible companions, solid episodes, a great Doctor, and hey...this era actually made the Daleks scary again. That is impressive. Even most of the hated episodes, like Orphan 55 as I mentioned...I enjoy them.

I stand by that. I think this era is great. If anything, I don't like that they reduced how many episodes we get, because some of these stories, like The Witchfinders and It Takes You Away especially Fugitive of The Judoon, are just begging to be two-parters. Spyfall is the only real two-parter we've had, in my opinion (Ascension of the Cybermen and The Timeless Children feel like two separate stories to me) and the episode was much stronger for having the extra time. If I have one genuine criticism with the Chibnall Era as a whole, it is the stark contrast between Seasons 11 and 12. I love Season 11, I thought it was beautiful. I like it far more than most people. I also truly enjoyed Season 12. But they are worlds apart, with Season 11 feeling so standalone and Season 12 picking up with a big storyline that really hadn't been hinted at all in the previous outing. The tone is also different, with The Doctor and "the fam" having a distance between them that seems to have developed offscreen in between seasons. It was as though Chibnall wanted to give everyone a breather from big overarching plots after the Moffat Era, but then after one season he decided "break's over" because he wanted to tell his story. And that's okay! It is. But it's jarring. Anyway, let's talk about Chibnall's storyline. You know where this is going.

"That" episode.

I meant what I said before. There isn't a single episode that I actively hate as much as say, Listen. Now let's get very controversial, because I know what y'all are thinking. "Not even The Timeless Children?" And I'll just get this out of the way right now: I don't think The Timeless Children, or it's twist, ruins Doctor Who. I don't think it gets anywhere close. I mentioned before that I was demoralized reading the comments on a clip of Doctor Who...to no one's surprise, it was this episode. Now, I may just be biased...after all, I didn't even hate Hell Bent. But while I have my criticisms of Season 12, The Doctor's revised backstory accounts for exactly none of them. You want to know what really bothers me? That we had a seven season buildup to Gallifrey's rescue, a nine season buildup to it's return...only for the show to do nothing with it, and then just destroy it again a couple of seasons later. As someone who loved The Day of The Doctor, I'm mad about that. Among other reasons, destroying Gallifrey is the kind of card you can really only play once.

So no, I don't think The Timeless Children is perfect. The Doctor had a seven season character arc culminating in them learning the lesson that using The Moment would be wrong, and that it was never okay to do something like that. To hear her even consider using The Death Particle, that "Or, a solution" line in response to Ryan appropriately reacting in horror? Yeah, that upset me. I don't like that Gallifrey is gone again, and even if The Doctor wasn't the one to do it, she almost did, and she left someone else to do it in her stead. That bothers me more than The Timeless Child ever could. That being said...the Timeless Child doesn't bother me. Seriously, it blows my mind that people act like this twist ruins Doctor Who. It...really doesn't, guys.

It does not insult the legacy of William Hartnell. He is still The First Doctor. It's not like there isn't a precedent for secret incarnations from The Doctor's past. We didn't start calling Christopher Eccleston The Tenth Doctor after we found out about John Hurt. Nothing can change The First Doctor's status or take it away, nor do I think Chibnall is trying. He is doing what I've actually wanted Doctor Who to do for a while. Give us a story about The Doctor's childhood. (Listen doesn't count, I don't care, that was all kinds of bad.) Let me ask you, what does this really change? I've seen people complain about the revision of The Doctor's history...but there's a precedent for that too. We could play bingo with how many times Clara fundamentally altered or influenced the show's history. She is the reason he started traveling, the reason he chose his Tardis, and the reason he saved Gallifrey. Why doesn't that bother people, if this does?

I also understand it if people dislike this change because they feel as though it makes The Doctor a kind of chosen one, compared to them having just been an average person who wanted to make a difference. I get that. However, this is down to interpretation, and there are so many ways to interpret The Doctor. Some people love it when The Doctor goes dark, other people cannot stand it and view it as out of character. Some people love it when The Doctor is heroic and badass, when they save the day...others would prefer that they take the backseat, teaching the humans how to save the day themselves. "The man who makes people better." And which interpretation you get, where it falls on the spectrum...it will vary from writer to writer. Moffat loved to make everything about The Doctor, and Davies frequently compared him to an angel or a god. This is not the first time that the show has portrayed The Doctor as a godlike being. It's not even close to the first time. And honestly? I don't think this makes The Doctor special or supernatural. I think it makes them a victim, nothing more. A victim of child abuse.

People also disliked this episode for removing the mystery behind The Doctor...but I fail to see how it did that? There are so. Many. Questions. That this finale opens up. Where did The Doctor come from? How and why did they get to our universe? What exactly is The Division? What went down between them and The Doctor? Where is Tecteun? (No, she's not Rassilon...) As the Masters asks, "What did they do to you, Doctor? How many lives have you had?" Amid all of the comments that made me sad, I did see a great one about how the original creator of Doctor Who actually didn't like it when they introduced the Timelords, because she felt that it boxed the show in and removed the mystery behind The Doctor, and how "She would have loved this episode." I agree with that. (Still salty that they destroyed Gallifrey though...) You know, I am genuinely interested in this story and where it's going to go, especially with the sixtieth anniversary approaching. But it depresses me that they might scale it back now, after how much the fandom has risen up against it. Not that I'm saying the fans shouldn't be happy, but...it's clear that a story is trying to be told here, and I think it should have that chance.

To each their own, of course. But I will never understand why this era is so hated.

[roadtripzine]

Lucheek's Road Trip Journal (Page 1)

Gravity Falls: Road Trip is only $6 USD away from having raised a total of $400 for HOCHTX!!

Let's keep this convoy going- download the zine here and set your own donation amount! The zine's sale period will end on September 4th!

Before the sales period ends, I'll do some little journal pages like this for fun!

This was the first zine I ( @Lucheek ) have ever organized! I'll tell you a little bit about how the zine came to be in this first Journal Page, below the cut.

Highlight:

Even if you're not a contributor to this zine, I would love to see any work you create that takes the theme- the characters of Gravity Falls at locations around the world discovering the weird and wonderful.

...

If you create anything, feel free to tag me and I'll give it a look over and a reblog.

Inspired by @project-summerhome, another wonderful Gravity Falls fan work, I was thinking of ideas for a continuation of the series. (I enjoy fan-work!!)

The show itself had always reminded me of my experiences as a child, where in the summer my parents would take us on two week long road trips across the country and pack the entire trip with multiple stops a day at places akin the Mystery Shack. My family's tradition was while we were driving, we'd practice writing by writing journal entries in a shared notebook about what we did that day on vacation. (My mother is a teacher who was always eager to find ways to educate us, as well as a scrap-booker.) I'm so glad we did, because now I can look back at these journals and remember so much.

(My favorite journal entry is from my older brother during our trip to Roswell, New Mexico. My brother had a kind of... deadpan cynical X-Files flare going on. It's a hilarious read.)

I didn't want my hypothetical fan-work to seem too similar to the original premise, I wanted to shake things up enough to be distinct, because I wanted to honor that the story had ended, but keep the heart. Now, especially with the information from Journal 3's release- that the town Gravity Falls was a magnet for weirdness- it made the show even more rooted in it's locale. A traveling theme would help create a very distinct point of view, but stay connected in the weirdness, the kitsch, and the characters.

I planned a whole AU for "Road Trip"- with a villain, plot points, original side characters, and how the canon cast had aged. I put the idea on my twitter, and a friend linked me to the "Roadside America" website. It was hugely inspiring just to see what was out there.

However, I realized that it was all... very likely not something I would ever finish. (You may not know this if you don't follow my main account, but I have way too many projects already!) I was completely enamored with the concept though, now that I was seeing so many potential "weird" stories in the locales I found. I decided to make the zine as a way to sate my own apatite to tell stories of the characters beyond the Falls, and to inspire the creation of those stories in others. (My comic in the zine actually references plot points I had in the original complete AU!)

I also thought a for-charity fan-zine would be a good way to "practice" zine organization, something I'd be interested in doing before. As with many things, I rushed in, and put together the zine's logo and this blog just a few weeks after the original idea. I thought, since I was not a "big name" in the Gravity Falls fandom, it wouldn't get much attention. I was wrong! I was blown away by the response I got, and I continue to be blown away!!

Zine organization is tough, and I wouldn't have been able to get through this without the support of the contributors- who offered guidance and moral support every step of the way. Thank y'all so much. I had... quite the year of big stressful events in 2021, so having the forgiveness of my contributors was a huge relief.

Even if you're not a contributor to this zine, I would love to see any work you create that takes the theme- the characters of Gravity Falls at locations around the world discovering the weird and wonderful. I honestly am still so hyped for the potential this concept has. If you create anything, feel free to tag me and I'll give it a look over and a reblog.

(Have you heard of the Corn Palace? How about a Corn Palace made of Human Teeth?)

[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf

Ok, so I’ve tried and tried several times to get this posted, we’ll see if this is the time it goes through. Half the reason why this review series has slowed down is not just the multitude of real life stuff I have to deal with, but also Tumblr just refusing to work with me and deleting my posts. I also can’t save my work else where due to Tumblr messing up the formatting. It’s been a frustrating mess and so far no one @staff​ has come up with a tech solution or work around. 

Summary: Rapunzel helps to rebuild Old Corona, (after its near destruction from the Black Rocks) which will become the permanent home of Red and Angry, who have returned to Corona to settle down. However, she begins to notice strange footprints around the area, as well as the livestock becoming more unruly and fearful. The group comes across a monster hunter named Creighton, who explains to the group that the area is being stalked by a werewolf, who possessed one of Corona's citizens. Aiming to save this person rather than kill them, Rapunzel sets out to find who it is. 

When Was This Decided?

No seriously, when was this decided? It’s a pretty big leap go from ‘the rocks makes various towns inhabitable’ to ‘let’s rebuild!’ What’s changed here? Cause the rocks haven’t been removed and Rapunzel failed in her mission to nullify their power. In fact the rocks were not only reawaken in the second season finale but shown to be under the power of someone who’s intentions were made unclear to the heroes.

So I ask again; who thought this was safe thing to do now? What provisions have been made to accommodate the rocks? They blocked the well, remember, and destroyed the fields; how are the people getting food and water? 

And most importantly why wasn’t the audience informed beforehand? When you change up the status quo in a story you need to provide just cause to the viewers. I legit thought I had accidently skipped an episode when I first watched because this plot point was not set up properly.  

Why Were They Ever Left Alone to Begin With?

In a story where neglect is a central theme and motivating factor for all the main characters, it is super tone deaf to have those same characters perpetuating neglect themselves. The decision to live on their own should not be left up to Angry and Red because they are children. Children are not mature enough to provide for themselves neither emotionally nor physically and when placed in situations where they have to do so it psychologically damages them. Which the series already showcased with Varian so why is this suddenly deemed ok? 

This Completely Undermines the Past Two Seasons

The entire conflict of the past two seasons was the rocks forcing people out of their homes. Eugene was made an orphan from them, Varian lost his entire support group because them, they drove out the Saporians from their encampment which prompted them to invade Corona, and Rapunzel and company spent an entire year on the road trying to find a way to stop them from spreading supposedly. 

All of that has now been flushed down the drain with this decision. And its super insulting to watch because it’s the writers telling us that we’ve wasted our time caring about this plot for two years. You don’t resolve major conflicts off screen and without explanation; it’s lazy!  

Also Where Is Varian and Quirin During All This?

This is not only their home and legal charge, but it’s also the ending to their ongoing story, and they’re not even here in a silent cameo. 

Wouldn’t Quirin be overseeing the rebuilding of his town? Wouldn’t Varian be using his skills to find workable engineering solutions for them, fulling his season one goal of saving his home and making his village better with his inventions? Also wouldn’t Edmund want to catch up with his brother and help out now that he’s here? 

In fact not a single person who actually lives in Old Corona is to be found in these opening shots. 

Oh, But We Do Get Earl

Earl might be from Old Corona, or he might not be. We’ve literally never seen him before. The artists had to create a brand new character model for this character, the writers had to write new lines for him, and the casting director had to hire an actor and have him record these lines for only less than a minute of screen time, never to be seen again. Even though they legit had shepherd models already to go from season one that they could have used. It’s a waste of resources and a prime example of the mismanagement going on in this show. 

It’s Too Late In the Series to Waste Time On a New One Off Villain

Speaking of a waste, Creighton might have more story reasons to appear in this episode than Earl does but her inclusion is still a poor decision. The show already has an overabundance of villains, so many in fact that they shipped the bulk of them off in season two, and this is the final season; the season where we should be wrapping up plots and minor characters stories not kicking off new ones.

Taken on her own Creighton isn’t a bad character presa, she works for the episode, but when we could have gotten a resolution to Caine’s, Hector’s, or the Disciples’ story arcs instead it highlights how misused the series assets are. 

All This Lore Will Be Forgotten In Just a Few Episodes Time

We finally get like some magical rules and backstory only for future episodes to ignore it from here on afterwards. Red can turn into a werewolf whenever she pleases, night or day, with little explanation as for why.  

Just Arrest Her Rapunzel

You’re the acting queen. You have the power and the right to arrest or even merely detain someone who is threating your citizens and refuses to leave. In fact it’s kind of your job. You don't even have to throw her in a dungeon if you thought that too cruel. Just lock her up in a nice room somewhere in the castle until you’ve sorted out the mess yourself. 

The series wants to treat Rapunzel as the underdog when she isn’t, and her failure to wield her power effectively doesn’t make her look ‘nice’ it just makes her look stupid and grossly incompetent. This is a conflict that didn’t need to have happened and Rapunzel let it happen.  

Oh, So Now Y'all Riot

You didn’t complain when the king orphaned children with his crack down on crime. You rolled over as he dolled out overly harsh punishments to poor people who committed minor offences. You gleefully went along with the royals as they  scapegoated a child for their mistakes, even as they endangered your homes.  And ya’ll sat on your asses while invaders pulled off a coup and enslaved you. 

But this is what you get mad over? A rumor about a mythical creature existing that your princess has zero control over. Seriously? 

Man, I hate the townspeople in this show. 

Pointless Dream Sequence Is Pointless

This scene tells the audience nothing new and just wastes screen time. 

This Is the Wrong Lesson to Focus On Rapunzel

We do not tell the 12 year old to unload their phycological issues onto their baby sister!

You’re telling me parents were involved in writing this show? What the hell!?

Rapunzel you are the adult here. At 20 now you should be more adept to handle listening to the deep seated emotional traumas of a little girl than a fucking 10 year old! And if you’re not, or don’t want to, then it’s your job to find another adult who will. 

That’s the core problem with this entire episode. It treats Red’s and Angry’s problems as some eternal issue that they need to work out and not as the inherent failure of the adults around them that it is. 

It is neither Red’s nor Angry’s decision on weather or not they get live on their own. Nor is it their responsibility to be each other’s therapist. Yes, a change in living arrangements is always stressful and for children with abandonment issues it can be hard to readjust, but that’s when you need to step it up and deal with the problem; not shove it off onto the kids themselves! 

Monty Is Useless

Is this all Monty is good for? Being a red herring in ridiculously simple mysteries? Is this why we wasted a whole episode introducing him back in season one? Really?

Why Are We Still Treating Old Corona As Being Separate from Corona Itself?

Look, I get that it’s a joke, but it’s a joke that highlights how poorly thought out the worldbuilding is in the series. Is the Coronan government in charge of Old Corona or not? If so then you can just make those lease laws yourself as the acting regent Eugene. If not then Frederic shouldn’t have had any say in the matter of relocating Old Corona’s citizens nor putting a child outside of his jurisdiction under arrest.

But more importantly this is a just a repeat of that vague level of responsibility Rapunzel has for people who live off the island. She can’t order a whole village to be rebuilt while simultaneously claiming that she bares no accountability for Varian and Quirin’s problems in season one. 

Replacing Guns with Crossbows Isn’t the Safe Option That the Censors Think It Is

I find it kind of amusing that censors will ban showing a 17th century blunderbuss but allow it to be replaced by a weapon that is still mass produced today and can be bought in any Walmart across the country. Like I’m a major advocate for gun regulation in real life, but even I have to find this to be a bit silly. Crossbows aren’t some fantasy weapon. People still own and use them. But it would be seriously hard to get ahold of a working antique firearm.  

Seriously This Is How the Girls Have Been Living and the Adults Haven’t Done Anything About It Until Now?

I feel like I’m beating a dead horse by now, but it’s so engrained into the episode I have to keep bringing it up. The show itself is visually telling us that Red and Angry can’t keep living this way, but it never wants to call Rapunzel and the other adults out for not rescuing them from this life sooner. 

So All This Tells Me Is That Rapunzel Could Have Easily Checked Up On Varian In Painter’s Block, But Didn’t.

Remember they’re right next to Old Corona; meaning that Janus Point is also right next to Old Corona. Meaning that Rapunzel could easily have checked up on Varian right after Painter’s Block and choose not to. With each passing episode Rapunzel has less and less excuse for her behavior in season one. 

Yeah Remember that Plot Point That Wound Up Being Entirely Irrelevant to the Story?

In jokes don’t cover your ass when you make poor writing choices. Quite the opposite in fact as all you’ve done is remind the audience of all the various dangling plot threads that you will fail to follow up on. The disciples plot goes no where and serves no purpose, and it should not have been introduced as this big important thing if you weren’t going to do anything with it. 

Nice Idea, Poor Execution

I’ve heard fans of this episode tell me that they enjoy it because of this scene with Red. If you’re a naturally introverted person or neurodivergent and have trouble communicating at times then Red’s speech here can strike a cord. Which is cool; I’ll never deny someone’s feelings and if a piece of media speaks to you on a personal level for whatever reason that is great. What I’m here to discuss though is story structure and whether or not the story’s themes are presented well in context of what it’s set up. 

The conflict here does not work from a pure structural standpoint because it’s a surface level deflection of the real issues. Red’s problem isn’t that she is being ignored, it's that she’s been abandoned. Now communication issues can arise from that abandonment and feeling heard can be step forward in working those issues out, but Red’s central trauma isn’t going to be magically fixed by people ‘listening’ to her, i.e. being granted whatever she wants, but by providing her with a real home and with a real guardian to look after her. 

Because what Red wants on a surface level is harmful to her, and the reasons why she wants what she wants needs to be addressed more so than then sedating her angry outbursts in the moment. This is treating the symptoms not the cause.

So What Is or Isn’t Real About the Curse?

Once again, we finally get some actual lore and rules for magic and the writers are already throwing it away during the same episode they are introduced. I now have as little context for how the wolf curse works within the Tangled world as I did before the episode started. 

This Is Sweet, But Once Again Context Brings It Down.

So just to reiterate, this a surface level resolution to the conflict of the episode that doesn’t actually address anything. It might feel like an appropriate ending but only if you ignore the fact that Red and Angry are orphans who’ve been abandoned but the adults. 

Angry apologizing here to Red does not solve any of their problems, especially since Angry, as a child herself, is not responsible for her sister’s behavior, feelings, nor well being. That falls to the adults and they fail to address Red’s core issues and their own failings to her in their apologies as well. Not to mention that the very next scene undermines any optional progress that could have been made here. 

Listening to Someone Does Not Mean Giving Them Whatever They Want

This does not fix anything. Red and Angry are still left to live on their own without any real supervision. Giving them a big play house is not providing for them, it’s spoiling them. Would you let all the other orphans in the local orphanage roam free without an adult to take care of them? No!? Gee I wonder why? Could it be because letting a 12 and 10 year old raise themselves is a very stupid idea? One that will potentially damage them later in life assuming that they don't get themselves killed in the meantime. 

Moreover this is yet another example of the series overall problem with not understanding that compromise and resolving conflicts does not mean rewarding the characters at the end with everything that they want without having them work for it. That’s not how life works and it’s not how good story telling works. 

This Is Beyond Irresponsible

No! Bad Show! Bad! 

You do not get to pretend that negligence is the same thing as compromise. Yes I know Eugene said to come to him when they have a problem, but as demonstrated by this very episode children do not always know when to ask for help nor can they always find it when needed, that is why parents exist!  

Nor does the show get a free pass for turning it’s main characters into child abusers who neglected three minors multiple times now. Even when they themselves are victims of that same abuse!

How utterly blinkered do you have to be to not see the problem here? 

It’s the Return of the Pointless Parallels

Let me count the ways for how stupid this is. 

Red and Angry’s conflict has no impact on the on going narrative. Even with them now being reoccurring characters they still manage to contribute nothing to the future storylines involving Cass. 

Neither Rapunzel nor Cassandra learn anything from Red and Angry’s spat; Rapunzel because she refuses to acknowledge her own flaws and Cassandra’s not even here for any of it. 

The sister’s dynamic between Raps and Cass is not well established and the writers mange to piss all over it by series end because of gay baiting and poor writing. Therefore relying on lazy parallels to other siblings in the show to bolster this connection falls flat.  

Red and Angry’s argument has nothing in common with Rapunzel and Cass’s current fighting. One is about abandonment issues and the other is about shallow validation. Trying to tie these two themes together actually winds up undermining both conflicts. 

Red and Angry are children. Rapunzel and Cassandra are not. That very much matters. 

Red and Angry didn’t drag innocent people into their petty bitch fight and endanger them because they wanted to feel special. 

This Makes Zero Sense

I don’t know; she looked pretty happy during Crossing the Line. 

She was also able to control the rocks just fine then, so what happened? 

Not to mention soon after this Zhan Tiri is telling her she needs some sort of incantation to control the rocks, despite being able to already control the rocks.... 

It’s almost as if the writers are full of shit and don’t actually know what they’re doing. 

So Are We Remembering the Burnt Hand or Not?

Does the hand matter or not? Is it ever a motivating factor in what Cassandra decides to do? Is her waning control over the rocks connected to her burnt hand; even though having a burnt hand is what allowed her grab the moonstone in the first place? Did the moonstone heal the hand? Does Raps singing the healing incantation later on heal it? Does Cass have a forever burnt hand? 

Who the fuck knows! 

Not the writers that’s for sure, cause it never comes up again. 

Don’t introduce plot points and then not resolve them. That’s writing 101 guys. 

Wait if she needs the incantation to control the rocks and the angry thing is a lie, then how the heck is she controlling them just now? Make up your dang mind show! 

I swear I lose brain cells whenever I have to rewatch the evil Cassandra plot. It is so dumb  you guys.... so, so dumb. 

Conclusion

It’s not the worst thing ever but series has far better episodes on offer than this one. Even in a season as suck ass as season three. 

So there’s praying that this review posts this time and if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me in my projects feel free to leave a tip on my Ko-Fi. Thank you. 

https://ko-fi.com/rachelbethhines

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Domesticated

M/F Pairing: Y/N x Bang Chan (Stray Kids) 

Genre: Married Life AU

Warnings: Smut, language, some mentions of cheating (but not with the main pairing)

Word Count: 19,922 (I might break this up later on)

Summary: Marriage was something Y/N had been dreaming about since she was a little girl. But now, ten years later, she’s married to her college sweetheart, but their relationship isn’t entirely perfect. There’s the issue of her new boss, aka her ex-boyfriend Seo Changbin, and Chan’s younger brother Felix who insists on calling her Medusa. Yet, through it all, Y/N is positive she wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Notes: Y'all are really out here sleeping on husband Bang Chan and I won’t allow it anymore. Because Chan is 100% husband goals.

“Where do you see yourself in five years?”

I slowly exhaled after disregarding my somewhat passable resume, courtesy of one of those sketchy website builders, to look at the interviewer who waited for my response, pen poised over his expensive notebook. I swallowed hard as I struggled to compose myself under pressure. Because there was a professional answer somewhere in the back of my useless brain, but a dozen other responses, far more honest than his expectations, were waiting on the tip of my tongue.

Such as: 

Waiting at home for my husband because all I do is stare at the clock, counting down the minutes until he walks through the door. I kinda miss when we were in college and could see each other sporadically between long lectures, grabbing lunch at the Wendy’s on South Campus. Now, the most exciting thing that happens is the occasional blow job before we pass out on the worn mattress in our master bedroom.

Or

Sometimes Chan will host dinner parties at the house for his expensive doctor friends. He won’t spare me a single glance while I rush to fill glasses with rich-tasting wine, keeping an eye on Han Jisung because he can’t take more than three refills before he’s trying to dismantle the house. I’ll also have to ignore the really old surgeon who Chan admires because he likes to touch my ass when I pass through the living room. Maybe I was suited to be a sugar baby in another life.

Or

On the rare occasion when Chan actually uses his cock, he’ll pant in my ear the entire time because he’s worn out from long hours at the hospital. Chan will cum before me most of the time and I’m lucky if he’s cognizant enough to eat me out so that I can finally fall asleep from my post-orgasmic haze. Heck, I’ll even take his fingers on my clit if it means an assured eight hours of sleep.

Shit, I miss being young.

I cleared my throat, deciding on the professional answer because I highly doubt Seo Enterprises wanted to hire a desperate housewife.

I was sprawled out on the couch in our living room when Chan came home that evening. I barely acknowledged his rushed greeting, watching through narrowed eyes as he ran into the kitchen. “Babe,” came his anticipated whine. “There’s no leftovers?”

“I didn’t feel like cooking,” I said, turning over to bury my face in the throw pillows decorating the cushions. It really wasn’t that comfortable since Chan insisted we get the stiff, fancy leather futon as opposed to the appealing sectional that could actually recline. 

“You didn’t cook?”

Chan’s voice was closer this time but I still ignored him, sensing an impending headache. “I had an interview.”

“That was hours ago,” Chan pouted.

I sighed loudly. “The interview went great, honey, thanks for asking.”

“I’ve been at the hospital since 5 this morning,” Chan went on, weight dipping beneath the couch at the opposite end. “I didn’t even have time for lunch because Jisung almost fucked up a patient’s IV.”

“Remind me again why he still has a job.”

“Because he somehow graduated from nursing school and has a license claiming he’s qualified,” Chan said. “Plus, he’s my friend.”

“You have shit taste in friends,” I said, protesting when his hand landed a firm smack against my ass. 

“Minho tried to wreck the Corvette when he ran out of cigarettes.”

“Minho is loyal.”

“He still wants to fuck you,” Chan grumped. “Ten years after college and he’s trailing after your ass.”

“Darling, you don’t have to be jealous when I’m wearing your ugly ring on my finger 24/7.”

“It was my mother’s!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Bang Chan,” I snapped while grabbing one of my support pillows from beneath my weight, launching it at my husband’s head. Sadly, Chan dodged at the last minute, much to my chagrin, smirking as he dug his fingers into my sides, forcing loud, high-pitched giggles as we both unceremoniously fell into the spotlessly clean floor. “Channie,” I groaned as he rolled on top of me, pinning my hands above my head before deciding to offer me a sloppy kiss with far too much tongue. “You’re fucking gross,” I said, biting at his lower lip in revenge.

“Yeah? Well, you’re fucking sexy,” Chan purred, nuzzling his head between my breasts. 

“Stop it, you oaf!” I grumbled. “My period starts tomorrow. My tits have been sore all day.”

“Maybe I should have a look,” Chan teased, a free hand working loose one of the buttons on my shirt.

“And what good will that do?”

“Well, I am a doctor.”

“You just want to see my tits so you have something to jerk off to in the shower tonight.”

“Shower with me then,” Chan suggested. “I’ll fuck you against the wall.”

“Will you have the stamina?” I questioned. “You poor thing, how can you get it up when you haven’t eaten all day?”

Chan frowned at my mocking tone. “Are you turning down my cock?”

“You’re only half-hard,” I said, lifting my thigh against the tight bulge of his scrubs.

Chan let out a sigh, but his smile was endearing. “What if I order takeout? Then we can fuck in the shower.”

“Channie,” I cooed. “You always know how to talk dirty to me.”

I stand by my belief that email was now an archaic form of communication, but the number of big businesses that forced their employees to make an account @ their company name was ridiculous. But if I wanted to find a job in this big ass city, then I needed to play by the rules. Surprisingly, my most recent application was progressing with far more success than I could have anticipated, and I had read over the new email from Seo Enterprises at least half a dozen times:

Dear Mrs. Bang,

Thank you for taking the time to interview with our staff yesterday afternoon. After carefully reviewing your file with our CEO, he has asked us to schedule one last consultation. Please let us know your earliest convenience.

“That must be a good thing,” Minho remarked, digging his spoon into my ice cream since his bowl was empty and I wasn’t in the mood to argue with him. 

“I guess,” I said, formulating a quick reply because I really wanted this fancy, high-paying Secretary job. I mean, sitting at home all day was definitely not high on my list of accomplishments.

“What’s the hurry anyway?” Minho asked as he licked his spoon clean. “Bang has enough money that you could just smooch off him for the rest of your life.”

“That’s not fair,” I said. “I want us to be equals.”

“Wasn’t that the point of marrying a doctor, Y/N?” Minho asked. “Otherwise, you could still be screwing around with me.”

“Except we aren’t 18 anymore,” I pointed out, frowning in his direction. “And says the guy who works part-time at his sister’s pet shop.”

“Hey!” Minho protested, shoving his spoon in my face. “I’m helping the strays. Population control and shit.”

“So what? You’re snipping some dog penises, good for you.”

Minho sat back with a disgruntled sigh. “What do you want to do after this?”

“I’ll bring Chan some lunch since he didn’t get a chance to eat yesterday,” I said. “Interested in accompanying an old friend?”

“Not really,” Minho said. “But I don’t have anything better to do.”

I maintained a long list of places that I truly despised and the hospital was number one. I always tried desperately not to let it show when I visited Chan because it wasn’t really his fault. I had a bad history when it came to hospitals and the memories lingered like the permanent smell of alcohol that Chan brought home with him on his scrubs.

“Did you see that guy in the waiting room?” Minho asked after I checked us in at the front desk. “He was seconds away from bleeding out on the floor.”

“Don’t talk about blood,” I shivered, hurrying to the elevator while frantically hitting the corresponding floor number.

“This reminding you of Freshman year?” Minho asked since he was a total airhead and missed out on the memo where I specifically told him to keep his mouth shut about that stupid Frat Party.

“There are five reasons why I hate hospitals,” I said, holding up my hand in front of his stupid face. “Don’t make me spell it out for you.”

“Is Freshman year one of them?”

“Shut the hell up, Minho.”

A quiet chuckle resounded through the empty elevator while I impatiently waited for our stop. “You’re feisty today,” Minho remarked once the doors reopened.

I ignored the nasty linoleum floors, heels clicking with every step I took in the direction of Chan’s office. “I’m eating with Chan and then we’re never coming here again.”

“Agreed,” Minho said, keeping pace with me while cringing at the gurneys being pushed through the hallways at an alarming rate. 

We had almost made it to the end of the floor when I heard a lazy voice call out my name from one of the surrounding rooms. I closed my eyes because I could recognize that voice anywhere since it basically haunted my worst nightmares. He might not know it yet, but Han Jisung was the last person I wanted to run into because maybe, just maybe, he was one of the five reasons why I hated this place.

“Guys!” Jisung gushed, smiling brilliantly. “I’d hug you but I just finished cleaning piss off the floor.”

“Jesus, Han,” I said, wrinkling my nose against the overpowering smell of ammonia. “Is Chan in his office?”

“He was supposed to meet with our new superintendent,” Jisung said, grinning like a complete idiot when he shoved his gloved hands towards Minho who now looked a few beats away from losing his ice cream.

“You’re really pushing your luck today,” Minho growled at him.

“The meeting room is the last room on the right,” Jisung said, finally proving to be useful for once in his life.

I grabbed Minho’s arm because he was close to decking Jisung in the face and I didn’t need the security guards to tell Chan that I let my best friend attack one of his nurses. “Come on,” I said, urging him away from the potential crime scene.

“He’s this close to finding himself with a bloody nose,” Minho complained. “You know what’s funny? I’m pretty sure Han Jisung wouldn’t even know how to help himself.”

“You’re probably right,” I agreed, straightening the collar of my blouse as I peeked in through the tight blinds obscuring the glass wall of the room Jisung had indicated. “There’s Chan...” I started, trailing off when I noticed that he was engrossed in deep conversation with an unfamiliar woman.

“Oh, she’s really hot,” Minho remarked, wincing when I shoved my elbow into his chest.

“Commentary is not necessary,” I said, folding my arms across my chest as I tapped my foot against the floor. Who the hell did this bitch think she was?

“Jealousy isn’t a good look on you,” Minho teased and I swallowed my pride, trying to ignore the way she reached out to touch Chan’s arm.

Thankfully, Chan finally noticed me outside, offering me a cheesy wave which I refused to reciprocate as he said something to the woman. I waited outside the door, attempting my best stern expression even if Chan completely ignored my efforts, encasing me in his powerful arms. “Y/N,” he cooed.

“Chan,” I choked out, struggling against his strength.

Minho snorted at the display. “I’m going to find the cafeteria. Text me when you wanna leave, Y/N.”

I waved him off once Chan eventually released me. I sucked in a few grateful breaths while holding up the takeout bag I had brought. “Is there somewhere we can go?”

Chan nodded, reaching for my hand. “Sorry I took so long, I was meeting with the new superintendent.”

I pursed my lips at that revelation. “She doesn’t look old enough to be a superintendent.”

“She’s around my age,” Chan said and I frowned because that just made everything worse.

The hospital’s staff room was small, the smell of coffee heavy in the air as Chan closed the door behind us. “Nobody should come in.”

“Good,” I said, choosing the only table that looked halfway clean before sitting down with a sigh. “I brought you lunch.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” Chan said, gratefully accepting the bag from me while he sat down on the remaining chair. I glared at him from across the table, watching as he dug into the cheap Japanese like it was his last meal on earth. “Is something wrong?” he asked over a mouthful of noodles. Something college Chan would have never done when we first started dating, but I suppose that’s what you get with marriage.

“I saw you were pretty close with your new superintendent,” I said.

“Oh yeah,” Chan replied cheerfully, stuffing even more food into his impossibly wide mouth. “She’s super smart. Like, Harvard graduate smart.”

“Of course she is,” I murmured. “Do you like her?”

“As a boss I guess,” Chan said, still horribly naive to the real problem. I cathartically drummed my fingernails against the surface of the table. 

“Are you coming home early tonight?” I asked him. “I’ll fix your favorite.”

Chan’s eyes lit up because, despite the food sitting right in front of him, he always got excited at the prospect of another meal. “Really?”

I nodded. “I’ll put the good whiskey on ice.”

Chan sat back with a dramatic groan. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Where is all this coming from?”

“I’m just being a good wife,” I said, taking on a dismissive tone.

Chan grinned. “Do you want something, sweetheart? You know I’ll buy you anything.”

“No reason,” I chirped. “I just want you to remember how good am I to you.”

“Of course I know that,” Chan said, reaching across the table to squeeze one of my hands. “I didn’t just marry you for your beautiful face.”

“That’s not what you said when we first met,” I reminded him cheekily, enjoying the way his ears grew red. “Should I do a reenactment?”

“That’s not necessary,” Chan said, quickly dismissing the topic. “Did you hear back from your interview?”

“Oh I did,” I said. “They want me to come in and meet the CEO.”

“What for?” Chan scoffed, returning back to his meal.

“Well, I am taking on the secretary position,” I said. “Maybe he wants to make sure I have good phone etiquette.”

“Yeah?” Chan grumbled. “Or, he wants to make sure you look pretty for him so he has something nice to look at all day.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” I asked him because I loved it when Chan got possessive.

“I don’t want some rich bastard drooling over my wife,” Chan said, chopsticks clenched tightly between his fingers.

“Yeah? Well, it works both ways, you know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on, Chan,” I sighed. “Your superintendent was totally flirting with you.”

Chan put down his chopsticks, eyeing me cluelessly. “No, she wasn’t.”

“Yes, she was,” I immediately countered, reaching down for my purse. “I watched her the entire time.”

“Were you spying on me?” Chan asked with a smirk.

“Minho’s probably waiting for me,” I replied instead, smoothing down my skirt as I stood up from the table.

“Don’t you think that’s too short?” Chan asked, pointing at my lower section as if personally offended.

“Work hard, honey,” I grinned, leaning over the table to peck him once on the lips, offering a cheeky wave on my way out the door.

My palms were sweaty and, despite my repeated attempts to wipe off the nasty residue on my skirt, the condition persisted. Hyperhidrosis, Chan might tell me, nerdy glasses falling down his nose. I grinned at a distant memory, one of the first dates I ever had with Chan. A younger, less confident version of my husband, frantically peeling his suit jacket from his body, complaining about the heat in the restaurant, only to cower moments later when he realized his armpits were totally drenched.

“Mrs. Bang?”

I looked up at the young man bowing in front of me. “Mr. Seo will see you now.”

I nodded, holding my tongue before I let the intern know that he sounded just like a passage from Fifty Shades of Gray. Oh, shit, what if I was about to meet Christian Gray in the flesh? Some sort of young, hot billionaire with the world at his feet, buying up other companies like they meant absolutely nothing.

It was a believable scenario, and I don’t know how I managed to get my feet to work, but I followed the intern with exaggerated steps. “The boss has been looking forward to this,” the intern told me, pausing outside the office door.

“He has?” I wondered, glancing around the grandiose lobby. Did I really make that much of an impression?

“You can go in now,” the intern smiled, politely holding the door for me as I wordlessly walked inside.

Of course, I was expecting something extravagant, considering the layout of the lobby, but I was still deeply impressed by the spacious, but oddly cozy interior. Could you really call this room an office? Considering how massive it was in size. I mean, was it really necessary to basically live in an apartment when you arrived to work every day? Complete with stylish hardwood floors that looked like something out of an edition of House and Home magazine. I’d bet my entire life’s savings that the CEO hired some kind of fancy architect to design the place because those engravings on the mahogany walls were quite difficult to achieve. “It’s nice isn’t it?” a disarmingly familiar voice asked, and I found the dark figure leaning against the desk in the center of the room, sleeves rolled up to show off his impressive arms. “I was surprised to see your application, Y/N.”

Fuck, Christian Grey would have been way better.

“Changbin?”

He met me halfway across the room, now completely visible beneath the low hanging lights, tan skin washed with a comfortable glow. “Shocked?”

“You could say that,” I said, suddenly feeling like I was 18 again in college, lusting after the object of my affections.

“Have a seat,” Changbin offered kindly, extending his arm towards the matching armchairs neatly tucked around the electric fireplace.

“Okay,” I nodded, unable to take my eyes off Seo Changbin as I stumbled over my heels like a complete lovestruck teenager meeting her musician idol for the very first time.

But, holy fuck, Changbin looked good. Why the hell did he not age or turn prematurely gray? I held back a whimper, eyes looking everywhere around the room except at Seo Changbin. How did I not put two and two together when I first got the notification for the Secretary position at Seo Enterprises? I mean, what are the chances that this Seo is my Seo...Or, at least, he used to be my Seo. 

“Y/N,” Changbin said, flipping through my file with lazy movements. Where did he get those pants from? They fit him sinfully good, hugging his thighs and if I look close enough, the outline of his...“How are you?”

I startled at the question, drawing my eyes up to meet Changbin’s familiar gaze. “Oh, I’m uh..” I trailed off anxiously, trying to put meaningful words together because he was making the English language harder than it needed to be. “I’ve been alright.”

Changbin smiled and I crossed my legs because that kind of smile could literally drench a girl if he wasn’t careful. “I was really happy to see your name on my list.”

“Were you?” I asked, fingers digging into the cushion of my chair.

“I’m always happy to see a familiar face,” Changbin said. “It’s been a while.”

“College,” I choked out, completely out of mind with anxiety, like the time Minho stole my phone and made me think someone had stolen it, even encouraging me to call the number only for him to hang up every time.

“You’re still beautiful.”

“Changbin...”

“I know,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s all in the past.”

“That’s right,” I said, wondering if now would be an appropriate time to snatch my resume out of Changbin’s veiny hands and flee the premises.

“And you’ve married Bang,” Changbin said, pointing to my wedding band. “Which isn’t surprising.”

“Five years,” I said, trying my best to think about Chan and only Chan despite the literal embodiment of my every erotic high school fantasy sitting right in front of me.

“This would be strictly professional,” Changbin said, holding up my resume. “You were our best applicant, but I thought you should know everything about this place before taking the position. Including me.”

“Is that so?” was all I could think to say in return to his unexpectedly thoughtful comment.

Changbin lowered my resume slowly. “The job is yours, Y/N.”

“I’d still have to talk to Chan first,” I said because there’s no way I could just start working for Changbin without Chan knowing everything about the situation. Unfortunately, I could just about anticipate Chan’s response.

“That’s fine,” Changbin agreed. “You can call us tomorrow.”

I allowed a shaky nod, wondering if Changbin knew how much of an effect he still had on me all these years later.

Chan might be one of the smartest men I know, but he was, at his core, just a man who was quite whipped for his wife. Like all men, he was a sucker for lingerie, which is why I slipped on my best matching set, squeezing myself in the little black dress that I knew he really loved. 

The hem barely touched the middle of my thighs.

I was also cooking his favorite meal, the smell filling the kitchen pleasantly as I stood at the stove. My plan was quite simple: dress pretty for Chan and surprise him with his favorite food to soften him up. Maybe then he wouldn’t have a complete meltdown when I broke the news to him about my newest employer. 

But I still shivered when I heard the door open. “Y/N!”

“I’m in the kitchen,” I called back to him, attempting several meditative breaths to try and keep myself together.

“Holy shit,” he cursed, freezing in the doorway as he undoubtedly took in the sight of his wife wrapped in a tight black number.

“I’m making dinner,” I said, flashing him an arrogant smile, amused by the way he openly gaped at me while still wearing his oversized doctor’s coat. A result of an excited, freshly employed Chan filling out his form request with sloppy handwriting.

“You look hot,” Chan told me bluntly, eyes glued to my body as he eliminated the space between us with a few quick-paced steps.

“I got the job,” I said, letting out a nervous giggle as I continued to push around the searing bulgogi with a shaky hand. “Consider this a celebration.”

“That’s great, sweetie,” Chan said, standing behind me to wrap his arms around my middle, pressing soft kisses to the back of my neck, roaming hands feeling my body. “I guess the CEO liked you.”

A hellish double entendre. “Yeah, he was really nice.”

“I’m glad it worked out,” Chan said, voice next to my ear. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured to get a job or anything. I’m proud of you no matter what.”

Was it his intention to make me feel guilty? “Channie,” I sighed, turning around in his arms. “I have to tell you something.”

Chan cocked a brow. “What is it?”

“The company I’m working for...” 

“Yeah?”

“The CEO is someone we know.”

“Is that it?” Chan chuckled, accent thick as those adorable dimples filled out his smile. “Who is it, babe?”

“He used to go to school with us,” I tried, hoping that maybe Chan could just learn how to read my mind and save me the effort of mustering some kind of courage.

“Minho?” Chan teased.

“We’re not exactly friendly with him,” I said.

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention, but I’m not exactly friendly with Minho.”

“You jerk,” I huffed, half-heartedly pushing against his chest. “You really, really don’t like this person.”

“There aren’t many people I really, really don’t like,” Chan said. “Come on, Y/N, just tell me who it is. Are you afraid I’ll be upset with you?”

I swallowed hard. “Yes.”

Chan’s smile vanished in a minute. “Y/N.”

“Seo Enterprises,” I said. “The company name.”

Realization dawned across Chan’s face. “Are you saying...”

“Changbin,” I murmured, looking down at my feet. “He’s my new boss.”

Chan let out a rough exhale because he knew exactly who Seo Changbin was and I’m pretty sure he associated the name with deep hatred. “Are you fucking serious?”

I winced at Chan’s tone because he had quickly shifted from sweet, caring husband to angry, sinister Mr. Bang in the blink of an eye. “Yes?”

“The Seo Changbin,” Chan reiterated. “The guy you fucked for like six months Freshman year?”

“That would be the one,” I said, forcing myself to meet his gaze before immediately regretting the decision.

“Why the hell would you take a job as his Secretary?” Chan demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. Normally, I would admire the sight of Chan’s arms stretching the thin fabric of his t-shirt, but now I was just intimidated.

“Because I really wanted the job,” I said. “And I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“Oh, it’s a huge fucking deal,” Chan said, glaring down at me. “You think I’m okay with the idea of you working for someone you once told me you were, and I quote, definitely gonna marry?”

“But I’m married to you,” I tried, attempting a sugary-sweet tone that usually broke Chan’s resolve.

Except for tonight.

“Yeah,” Chan nodded, “You are, and I told you I would take care of you. I have enough money to support both of us, you don’t need to work at all.”

“Chan, you know I’m not comfortable sitting at home,” I said.

“I get that, Y/N, but Seo Changbin? I could get you a Secretary job at the hospital.”

“Channie, this is a position at Seo Enterprises. One of their biggest assets is New York Publishers! It’s like the perfect opportunity to get my foot in the door.”

“Y/N,” Chan groaned. “I can’t stand the thought of you working for Changbin under any circumstances.”

“I get it, Chan,” I said. “But it’s different than college. I’m married now, and Changbin is nothing more than my boss.”

“Does he really get that?” Chan asked. “I’m putting my foot down, Y/N. I don’t want you working for him, okay? You can call them tomorrow and say you’ve got something better.”

“But Channie!”

“No, Y/N,” Chan growled. “You can look for something else.”

I frowned once I realized Chan wasn’t going to back down. It didn’t matter that I wanted the job or that I had dressed up and cooked for him. For the first time since we met, Chan was refusing to give me what I wanted. “Chan, you really don’t have the right to tell me what to do.”

“I’m your husband,” Chan said, justifying his unfair demands with such patriarchal reasoning. 

“Fine,” I muttered darkly, ignoring the way his hand reached out for mine.

“Don’t be this way,” Chan said, following me as I marched to our bedroom, slamming the door closed behind me. “Y/N!” Chan shouted against the door, knocking loudly on the wood. “This is my room too!”

“Not tonight,” I informed him tersely, opening the door only to harshly shove a spare blanket and pillow at his chest. “Goodnight, darling.”

“This is Y/N,” I said into the phone. “I’m calling about-”

“One moment, Mrs. Bang, we can transfer you to Mr. Seo right away.”

“But you don’t understand...”

“Hello?”

“Changbin!” I squealed loudly into the phone, wincing at my shrill tone. 

“Y/N,” Changbin said pleasantly, voice as deep and gravelly as I remembered. “Is this the phone call I’ve been waiting for?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, making myself comfortable at the kitchen counter since I was a notorious pacer when it came to difficult conversations. “It depends on what you’re expecting.”

“I’m expecting to hear a confirmation,” Changbin said. “This is a perfect position for someone with your qualifications.”

“I know,” I groaned. “But I’m calling because I can’t take the job.”

“Really?” Changbin asked. “Can I ask why?”

“Chan isn’t comfortable with the idea,” I said.

“Is that so?” Changbin inquired, innocently enough. “I hope it isn’t because of college.”

“T-that’s not entirely why,” I stuttered because Changbin was apparently intuitive now that he owned some big, fancy company.

“I hope not,” Changbin said. “It wouldn’t be fair of Chan to keep you from a potential opportunity because of something like that.”

“It’s just a lot right now,” I said. “I haven’t had a job in a year. My last position was really good, but the company went bankrupt and I was laid off, so I’m just trying to be careful.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about anything like that here, Y/N,” Changbin said. “This is a great opportunity for someone looking for a fresh start.”

Did he read my Facebook bio?

“I’m sure it is, Changbin, but I can’t do something that would make Chan uncomfortable.”

“But he’s not the one taking the position,” Changbin pointed out. “I can assure you, Y/N, you won’t find another position like this.”

“God, you’re good at negotiating.”

“Take the job, Y/N. I promise you won’t regret it.”

I could blame it on my desperation later, but I actually really liked the position. It promised a lot, especially considering the publishing company attached to Seo Enterprises. That would be my ultimate goal, to spend my days reading promising manuscripts while sipping expensive Starbucks coffee.

“I guess I can’t say no.”

“Then I’ll see you on Monday.”

Message to Channie

I took the job. I’m sorry but the opportunity was hard to pass up.

It only took a few seconds for Chan’s contact name to flash across my screen with an incoming call. I muted the sound like a coward, ignoring him completely while I started the ignition to the Corvette. A one-year anniversary present from Chan who was somehow more excited than I was when he first handed me the car key.

I drove to Minho’s apartment because I didn’t want to go home and I really had nowhere else to go. Plus, at least Minho was a reliable friend who really didn’t care if I crashed on his couch while he shoved cheap wine down my throat. In fact, Minho might be glad to see me since he was constantly complaining about his new hours at the shop.

“You look like shit,” Minho commented when he answered the door, standing aside to invite me inside. I shrugged off my coat, tossing it against the wall before slumping down onto the cheap sofa in Minho’s living room. The only piece of furniture he could afford in his ridiculously small New York apartment. “What happened?”

“I took the job with Changbin.”

Minho’s eyes widened in surprise. “You did? I can only assume Chan is lying somewhere on his deathbed.”

“No,” I snorted. “I took the job even though Chan asked me not to.”

“Savage,” Minho exhaled and I rolled my eyes at him.

“It’s a great opportunity!”

“When do you start?” Minho asked, feet propped up in my lap as he made himself more than comfortable next to me.

“Monday morning,” I said, mindlessly taking the remote to scroll through his limited TV channels. 

“And Chan is mad?” Minho repeated, glancing at me for confirmation. “Can you really blame him though?”

“Why?” I frowned.

“I mean, Chan’s been in love with you since high school. He used to trail after you all the time, but you only talked about Seo Changbin.”

“You’re not being a good friend right now,” I said, remembering with perfect clarity the image of a sixteen-year-old Chan, hair untamed and clothes mismatched. Chan was a constant presence in my life, even if I preened after another boy who certainly had no intention of remaining faithful.

“Go home to him, Y/N,” Minho said with far more seriousness than I was used to hearing from my still immature best friend. The same Minho who couldn’t find work for an entire year after graduation because he was too busy sleeping with any woman that walked on two legs, living with various girlfriends while slowly draining his savings account.

“Since when are you the voice of reason?” I grumbled.

“Well, we all have to grow up one day.”

I hated the rare occasions when he was right.

The house was eerily silent when I unlocked the door, spotlessly clean just as I had left it which made me feel bad because it meant Chan didn’t even try to eat anything. “You always make me worry,” I muttered, toeing off my shoes as I decided to check the bedroom. 

When Chan had first bought the house, he wanted it to look as close as possible to the random design I had pointed out at the local fair when we were Sophomore students. The plaque had deemed it the “house of the future” and I was enamored with the idea of the future back when my whole life was waiting right in front of me. A big dreamer who was already making wedding plans the moment Chan got down on one knee and proposed with his mother’s wedding ring.

“Channie,” I whispered into the darkness, cautiously tiptoeing my way to the side of the bed where Chan was facing away from me, sheets tucked in around his waist to leave his chest exposed. “I’m sorry.”

Chan let out a sigh. “What are you sorry for, Y/N?”

“I hurt you,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “I took the job with Changbin and I didn’t think about how it would affect you.”

“I fucking hate him,” Chan said, tone bitter and laced with venom. “I hate what he did to you Freshman year and I hate that he was the first person you loved.”

“Chan,” I sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I was really young and stupid back then. I should have never slept with Changbin. But he was just a fantasy, even when we were together, and I certainly never really loved him.” I leaned in closer, brushing his hair away from his forehead. “I’ve always loved you first. You mean the world to me and I’m sorry that I went behind your back to work for Changbin. But he’s definitely nothing more than a mistake from a past full of them. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Chan shifted from next to me, rolling onto his back. His eyes were looking at me like I was literally his entire world. “I’ll always worry, sweetie. You drive me insane these days.”

I grinned at the use of his pet name for me, reaching out to run a soothing hand along the defined lines of his stomach. “Don’t worry about me, darling, when you’re the one with a supermodel for a boss.”

“Fuck, we’re both screwed,” Chan said. “Does she drive you mad with jealousy?”

“Of course she does,” I said. “She has bigger tits than me.”

“Well, I like your tits,” Chan insisted. “Don’t even think about bringing up plastic surgery again.”

“It would be to your benefit,” I pointed out. 

“And the detriment to my savings account. Plus, I don’t want some old bastard fondling your tits while he pumps silicone in your chest.”

“Of all the things to worry about,” I sighed. “Does this mean we’re okay again?”

“You could probably step on me and I would still thank you for it, sweetie.”

“What if I sit on it instead?” I asked, moving my hand down to squeeze his flaccid cock.

“Makeup sex?” Chan gasped. “You don’t have to sell yourself out like this, babe.”

“Yeah? Well, I want to,” I said while proceeding to straddle his waist, smirking when Chan’s hands instantly moved to my hips. It was almost like a magnet, the reaction automatic after years of marriage. “You’re already hard,” I teased, reaching back to palm him over the sheets. 

Chan always slept in boxers which I certainly appreciated because it made the rare nights of our passionate lovemaking even more accessible. Chan lifted my shirt, groaning low when he saw that I was wearing nothing but a pair of satin panties. “This is why I’m already hard.”

“You don’t see me walking around the house in underwear,” I quipped playfully.

“It’s comfortable,” Chan whimpered, moaning when my hand found the smooth velvety head of his cock. 

“Something you never did when we were dating,” I said. “I spent weekends with you in the apartment.”

“Wanted to make a good impression,” Chan grumbled, eyes closed as he rolled his hips in time with my careful strokes. 

“So you don’t have to impress me anymore,” I said, glancing back at his cock, hot and heavy in my hand. “But I guess you still do.”

Chan moaned even louder at my words, fingers tightening in my wrinkled shirt. “Don’t make me cum yet.”

“Why not, darling?” I asked him cheekily, twisting my wrist just right, watching as a stuttered gasp fell from between his gorgeous pout.

“Wanna cum inside,” he said, biceps straining as he pulled me closer, kissing me with a desperation that only demonstrated just how gone he really was.

“Yeah?” I smirked, tongue tracing the ridges of his full lips. “I guess you deserve it after putting up with my bullshit all day.”

Chan nodded fervently and the sight was oddly endearing. It reminded me of when Chan and I first met in high school, a nerdy sixteen-year-old boy who had just transferred schools all the way from Australia. He had a thick accent, foreign and rich, just like the untamed mass of curls covering his deep brown eyes. Chan wore thick-rimmed glasses and he had a light dusting of freckles like the main character from Freckle Juice, one of my favorite childhood novels. He was nerdy and shy, sitting alone in the cafeteria at lunch and walking between classes with his shoulders hunched like he was afraid one of those horrible jocks would try to steal his bag again.

“Y/N!” he whined loudly, forcing me out of the memory.

“Alright, Channie, you want inside?”

I sat up on my knees to work down my panties, ignoring the way Chan’s fingers tried to interfere, pulling at the fabric like he could possibly make them disappear any faster. I grabbed the hem of his boxer shorts, teasingly pulling them down his thighs before brushing a kiss across the weeping tip of his cock, precum bitter on my tongue. For a moment, I admired his thick erection, remembering how nervous Chan was the very first time we had sex back before we were even old enough to drink alcohol.

I held his cock as I positioned myself over his lap. “I’ll do all the work tonight,” I said, listening to Chan’s sweet moans the entire time I slowly lowered myself onto his cock, enjoying the way he always filled me so deeply.

“Oh yeah, sweetie,” Chan grunted, hips moving messily as he tried to find a rhythm. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

 “Really?” I asked, swallowing down a moan when Chan hit just right, movements growing more and more confident as I returned every thrust. “I thought I was in charge tonight.”

Chan’s hands gripped my waist firmly, eyes wide open as he focused on where we were connected. “I’m always in charge.”

“Definitely,” I said, bracing my hands against his firm chest for balance because I was weak for this version of Chan. A complete contradiction to the one I first started dating, sweetly doting as he did everything in his power to make me happy. An image of a beautifully innocent Chan looking up from his position between my thighs. “It’s good?”

“So good,” I whispered aloud, peppering kisses across the pale expanse of Chan’s creamy skin, laving my tongue against a sensitive nipple which forced a temporary break from his regular tempo.

“Don’t play dirty, sweetie,” Chan said, giving me no warning before he was pushing me onto my back, hovering over me with his irresistible bedroom eyes. His hands spread my thighs wide, giving himself more room to fuck inside, movements growing faster with every step closer to what was beginning to feel like an intense orgasm. I’m talking about the kind that I could feel between my legs for days after I tried to walk straight again. “Do I need to touch you?”

“Fuck, I think you’re doing just fine,” I said. “Where the hell did this come from?”

“You woke up my competitive side,” Chan said, hitting deep like we were suddenly 20-years-old again sneaking quickies between lectures. Back then, Chan could literally fuck me against a wall, my legs wrapped around his gorgeous hips while he knocked the breath out of my lungs. Thank god, Chan decided that college would be his glory years, working out aggressively in the gym until he had muscles filling out the places where he had previously been soft. But I would always miss his pudgy stomach, even if his ass was now something out of a porn magazine. 

“Well fuck,” I moaned. “I’ll have to do this more often.”

“I’d do it all the time if I wasn’t working until 3 in the morning at the hospital,” Chan said.

“Good point, should I come in at lunch then? You can lock us in one of the empty rooms.”

“Oh shit, sweetie, you shouldn’t talk that way,” Chan growled and it was one of the sexiest sounds I had ever heard.

“I’m close,” I warned him, digging my fingers in his scalp as his teeth teased against my collarbone.

“Me too,” he said, breaths uneven as he punctuated his words with a series of harsh ruts that sent my eyes rolling into the back of my skull. His fingers found my clit, thumb pressing down hard enough to trigger one of the best orgasms I had experienced in a long time.

I tightened around his stuttering cock, moaning when I could feel his cum deep inside, warm and wet. “Shit, you’re so good at that.”

Chan pulled out slowly, eyes growing wide at the sight of his cum leaking down my ass. “Left a fucking mess though.”

“We can shower later,” I said, grabbing his arm to encourage him to lie down next to me, burying my face against his chest, scarlet-red from the exertion.

“Was the dick that good?” Chan teased, running his fingers soothingly along my spine.

“Your dick is that good,” I replied. “The genetics are strong.”

“I’ll be sure to tell my parents,” Chan said, giggling as I shot him a warning glare. “I love you, sweetie.”

“Mmm, I love you more.”

1 Week Later

Lee Felix is the spawn of the devil and nobody could convince me otherwise. Because ever since we first met, when Chan invited me over to his house for a project, Felix had decided that I was his number one enemy, deeming me “Medusa” because he was enamored with Greek Mythology. But the unfortunate nickname had stuck throughout the years, even when Felix visited our college between breaks, forcing me to sleep on the couch while he shared the bed with his step-brother. 

Recently, Felix had just finished his Master’s program for some kind of fancy Philosophy degree that would probably do him absolutely no good in the real world. But Chan was proud of his baby brother, inviting him to stay with us after graduation until Felix could stand on his own two feet. The decision was met by my instantaneous protest leading to an argument that I inevitably lost because Chan was still using Changbin as a winning point. However, even before my employment with Seo Enterprises, Felix was the cause of at least 95% of our arguments and I was not exaggerating in the slightest.

The sound of the doorbell ringing was suddenly a lot louder than I remember. “Death is here,” I said solemnly, ignoring the way Chan scoffed at my claim. I followed behind him somberly as he opened the door, letting out an excited cheer when he saw Felix waiting on the other side. Felix dropped his bag and practically screamed, which would likely wake up the entire neighborhood, jumping into his brother’s arm as the two embraced right in the middle of my foyer. 

“Could you be any louder?” I snarled at the younger Bang. 

“Maybe I could, Medusa,” Felix shot back, eyes narrowed as he picked up his bag. 

“Come on, Felix,” Chan said, nodding at the kitchen. “I bet you’re hungry.”

Felix nodded, putting on his best smile for his ignorant brother, shoving his bag harshly at my chest as he walked by. “You can take care of that for me, right Medusa?”

“You little bitch,” I muttered, meeting his glare with one of my own.

The only thing worse than going out with Felix was including Han Jisung in the equation. For whatever reason, Jisung and Felix always riled each other up, chugging down alcohol like it was fucking water or something. However, Felix wanted to see Jisung again and Chan never said no to his little brother. This is why I was currently seated next to Chan at a cheesy bar in downtown Harlem, listening to Felix and Jisung try to talk over one another as Chan looked on with fond eyes. The only good part of the night was the fact that even Chan had allowed himself to get a little tipsy which meant he was doing his absolute best to feel me up in public. I always found it amusing, knocking his hand away when his eager fingers started to trail up my skirt.

“Felix,” Jisung whined. “How can you say that?”

“Oi, there’s no way you can put Nickleback and Green Day in the same fucking category.”

I rolled my eyes at the stupid argument, smacking Chan’s hand when he started to finger the waistband of my skirt. “Chan!” Jisung pouted. “Tell him that he’s wrong.”

“Tell the philosophy major that he’s wrong?” Chan asked, accent on full display as he reached out to playfully ruffle Felix’s hair. “You can’t even answer the phone at the receptionist’s desk.”

Felix loved the attention and I hated it when he came over only to occupy Chan’s every waking hour with his never-ending thirst for affection. But I wasn’t going to let him get away with it tonight. I cleared my throat, stretching my arms back behind my head because I knew how good it would make my breasts look in the rather low-cut shirt I had chosen for tonight’s affair. I glanced over at Chan, smiling victoriously when I saw the way his eyes had glued themselves to my chest. Even Han Jisung was looking, which would normally annoy me to no end, but I was putting on my best behavior tonight. “Chan!” Felix shouted, trying to regain his brother’s attention. “Did you hear that I scored the highest honors on my research project?”

And just like that, Chan’s attention was redirected to Satan, eyes glowing with pride. “That’s amazing, Felix!”

“I can tell you all about it,” Felix said arrogantly, tossing me a cocky smile which left me absolutely incensed. “The board was so impressed, they offered to publish my results in the University’s magazine.”

“Are you serious, Felix?” Jisung asked which was an even bigger blow because the only two things occupying Jisung’s thoughts were women and alcohol. 

So I decided to push my luck, tugging down my skirt before shifting over in the booth to plant myself directly on Chan’s lap, wrapping my arms around his neck before nuzzling into his warm chest. “Channie,” I cooed while glaring at Felix from the corner of my eye. 

“Do you want something, sweetie?” Chan asked, smile blinding as one hand wrapped around my waist, leaving the other to tease the bare skin of my thighs. 

I reached for Chan’s beer, shoving the glass at him because nothing made Chan hornier than thighs and alcohol. “Should I come to see you at work tomorrow? Like we talked about before?”

Chan’s eyes lit with recognition and I smirked victoriously when I felt him grow hard in his tight jeans. “I’d really like that.”

And to seal my victory, I leaned forward to kiss my intoxicated husband, ignoring the sloppy way he reciprocated, breath musty with the taste of beer. Felix growled lowly from across the booth and Jisung let out a wolf whistle at our blatant display. But I was on cloud nine, satisfied to have won Chan’s attention because it meant Felix was going to be quite unhappy for the rest of the night.

“Medusa, aren’t you going to make me breakfast?”

I groaned as I glanced over at the alarm clock which informed me that it was only 9:00 AM. “Fuck, Felix, go back to sleep.”

“But I’m hungry,” he whined, reaching across the bed to tug on my arm.

“It’s Saturday,” I hissed, barely clinging to the wonderful promise of more sleep which would do wonders for my hungover state.

“Chan wouldn’t be happy with you,” Felix reminded me. “Should I call him at work?”

“Get out of here you little maggot,” I snapped. “I’ll fix you some damn breakfast.”

“Now!” Felix ordered like he had every right to make demands of me, but I didn’t want Felix to say anything to Chan because that would only lead to another needless argument. 

“You’re a fucking menace,” I said, throwing off my bedsheets while briefly mourning the loss of my precious sleep. But I don’t want anyone to ever say that I was a bad wife, especially when I put up with Lee Felix just to make Chan happy. 

Felix was already seated at the counter when I finally drug myself out of my bedroom, groggily reaching for a clean pan from the cabinet. “You get eggs and bacon,” I told him. “I’m not a gourmet chef.”

“Whatever,” Felix said, ignoring me completely in exchange for his cell phone. Which Chan was now paying for to help “lessen Felix’s financial burden.” 

“Chan,” I remember telling him. “You’ll spoil him if you keep doing things like that. He’ll never want to leave!”

“What’s wrong with that?” Chan had shot back as if the idea of living with his younger brother for the rest of our married life was perfectly acceptable.

“A million things,” I muttered now, cracking one of the eggs against the side of the pan. 

“I hear you’re working for Seo Changbin,” Felix abruptly spoke up, and I could practically feel his eyes on me. “He cheated on you, right?”

“It’s really none of your business,” I informed him brusquely, grabbing a spatula while wondering if I could teach Felix a lesson if I hit him a few times.

“My brother isn’t happy,” Felix continued as if my warning meant nothing to him. Probably because it didn’t. “I think it’s a bad idea, but your satisfaction always comes first, right?”

“Why the fuck did Chan tell you this?” I gritted out while aggressively slamming the fridge closed, pack of bacon gripped tightly in my hand.

“He tells me everything,” Felix said smartly. “Because he trusts me.”

“Good for you,” I huffed over my shoulder. “I’m glad you have such a close relationship with your brother.”

“Jealous?” Felix taunted, expression smug when I roughly placed down a glass in front of him.

“Is orange juice, okay?” I asked him in a faux sweet voice.

“It’s fine,” Felix shrugged. “But whatever is most inconvenient for you.”

“What a sweet little boy you are,” I said, pouring him a generous amount. “How long do you plan on staying here?”

“Chan says I can stay for as long as I want,” Felix said, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

“Of course not,” I muttered. “Two Bangs are better than one.”

“That’s right,” Felix said brightly, taking a sip from his glass. “Ugh, does this have pulp in it?”

“Drink your fucking orange juice, Felix!”

The invention of video games was a godsend because they could occupy Felix’s attention for hours, leaving me in relative peace as I tried not to let him destroy every last bit of my resolve. I was currently having a bath alone in the sanctity of my bathroom, shoulder-deep in soothing bath salts which I kept well-stocked in the cabinet underneath the sink. The aroma was pleasant, sending me to a place somewhere far away to where Felix’s were strictly prohibited.

For the entirety of the day, Felix had been doing his best to get on my nerves. I cooked him breakfast and lunch, cleaned his disgusting laundry, and even held my tongue when he requested I drive him to the mattress store because the guest bedroom was unsatisfactory. But it had always been like this between us, ever since the day I first met Felix and tried my best to make a good impression. Unfortunately, Felix idolized his older brother, deeming any girl unworthy of his time and efforts, including myself. Of course, above anyone else, Felix thought I was the worst possible choice, reminding me every second that his brother deserved someone smarter, richer, and prettier. 

Suddenly, my phone vibrated loudly on the edge of the bathtub and I hesitantly glanced at the screen, half-expecting to see Felix’s name displayed like a caution sign. Surprisingly, it was Chan who had sent me a message to ask where I was, which meant Felix had lied through his teeth and said I’d gone somewhere. 

To Channie

Bathroom.

It was only a moment or two later when the door opened and Chan stuck his head inside, offering me a pleasant smile as he locked the door behind him. “You’re home early,” I remarked, vacantly staring up at the ceiling.

“It’s Saturday night,” Chan reminded me. “I thought the three of us could go out to eat.”

I groaned in protest. “What about takeout?”

“You love going out,” Chan said. “I’ll even let you pick the restaurant.”

“I have way too many problems right now,” I said. “I’m avoiding them by staying in the water for as long as I can.”

“Sweetie,” Chan said, taking a step closer. “You should’ve waited for me.”

“Why?” I asked him airily. “You’re one of those problems.”

“Me?” Chan asked, choosing to sit down on the edge of the tub. “What did I do wrong?”

“No arguments tonight,” I said, letting out a deep sigh. “This is the most relaxed I’ve been all day.”

“Aren’t you being overdramatic?” Chan asked, reaching down to flick a trail of water in my direction. “I was in surgery for 6 hours today.”

“Yeah? Well, I’ve dealt with Felix since 9 this morning.”

“Ah,” Chan sighed. “I figured it had something to do with my brother.”

“Just forget it,” I whined. “You know we don’t get along.”

“I do know that,” Chan said. “But I wish you both made a better effort. We’re family after all.”

I shivered at the idea of Felix belonging to any family of mine. “You can keep him on your side, then. I grew up as an only child, look at how much better I turned out for it.”

“You told me you had imaginary friends growing up because you were so lonely,” Chan teased.

“Asshole,” I muttered. “That’s sensitive information that I told you in confidentiality. You should know all about patient-doctor confidentiality. Didn’t you have a whole lecture on it?”

“Y/N,” Chan lightly chastised, reaching for a towel on the rack next to the counter. “Get dressed, we’re leaving in an hour.”

“You’ve condemned me to death,” I complained, watching through lidded eyes as he stretched out his arms.

“I’m serious, Y/N, at least try to get along for my sake.”

“That’s all I ever do,” I muttered to his retreating form.

Hwang Hyunjin is a willing accomplice to the devil himself who never misses an opportunity to throw out some lascivious comments about my appearance. He was Felix’s best friend and partner in crime, sharing his goal of making my life as miserable as possible. He was also coming out to eat with us tonight and no matter how much I whined to Chan, he remained adamant that Felix should spend some time with his friends. “He’s only young once,” Chan told me, ignoring the way I glared at him with every ounce of hostility that I could muster.

“Did you paint those pants on, Y/N?” Hyunjin asked the minute he sat down in the backseat next to Felix.

“I did, actually, thanks for the unnecessary observation,” I told him shortly, still focused on the staring contest I was having with Felix in the rearview mirror.

“Don’t mind her, she’s probably on her period,” Felix said and I took in a deep breath because I was very close to turning around in my seat to choke the life out of Felix’s pencil neck.

“How have you been, Hyunjin?” Chan asked, one hand on the steering wheel as he calmly navigated us through the permanent traffic of New York.

“I applied for a job with Amazon,” Hyunjin replied. “I don’t wanna brag, but I definitely nailed the interview.”

“Yeah right,” I muttered under my breath. Hyunjin had the worst people skills in the history of mankind. He was almost as incompetent as Han Jisung, but ten times worse because of his sarcastic attitude.

“You’ll get me Amazon Prime for free, right bro?” Felix giggled and I resisted the urge to mock the sound.

“I’m proud of you, Hyunjin,” Chan said. “I know you worked hard.”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Hyunjin said. “But the chick who interviewed me was really hot and I think I appropriately swept her off her feet.”

“Big tits?” Felix asked because that’s all those stupid boys cared about.

“Of course,” Hyunjin said. “But I’m still waiting for you, Y/N, whenever you’re ready.”

Felix scoffed. “You could do better than Medusa.”

“How about some music?” I snapped loudly, reaching down for the radio knob to block out the sounds of Felix and Hyunjin’s voices.

Monday mornings were the worst thing to ever happen to mankind next to Lee Felix. I was sipping at my morning coffee, cold now because Felix had spent way too much time ordering me around the kitchen before I left home. But it was better than nothing and I desperately needed caffeine to get through the day. “Morning, Y/N,” Changbin greeted me smoothly, suit well-pressed and fitted to hug his arms and thighs just right.

“Sure,” I said in reply, trudging to my chair in slow motion. 

“Are you always this lively in the mornings?” Changbin remarked, leaning against my desk as he looked through his mail.

“Just on Mondays,” I said, booting up my computer so that I could answer the dozens of emails likely waiting for me, most of which would come from annoying sponsors who wanted Changbin to be on their dumb podcast. 

“Well, you still look gorgeous,” Changbin said.

My cheeks flushed at his comment. “You still need to call Mr. Kim back, he’s left another voicemail.”

“Just one call?” Changbin smirked, eyes dancing dangerously. “Have you been scaring everyone off, Y/N?”

“I did just as you asked, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me sir,” Changbin chuckled, carefully engrossed in his cell phone now as he graciously returned to his own office.

I shivered as I glanced at my computer screen. Changbin was still as notoriously flirtatious as he had been when we were younger. In fact, it might be worse now that he had finally grown into his sharper features which made him look ridiculously attractive. “I love Chan, I love Chan,” I quietly repeated to myself, even as a distant memory suddenly forced itself back into consciousness.

An 18-year-old Seo Changbin walking inside my lecture hall wearing a dark button-up tucked into the tightest pair of skinny jeans he probably owned. Every eye in that lecture room had suddenly turned to him because he was an irresistible force, impossible to ignore. “Y/N?” 

Be cool Y/N, I softly chastised myself as I offered him a friendly smile. “Hi, Changbin.”

It was purely coincidental that Changbin had ended up at the same University as me, but that didn’t stop my fragile teenage heart from declaring it as something akin to fate. “It’s been a while,” Changbin said, pulling out the chair next to mine.

I swallowed hard because my mouth was as dry as a desert. “I didn’t know you were enrolled here.”

“It was my first pick,” Changbin said. “My father is an alumnus.”

“Really?” I asked, ignoring the arrival of the professor in exchange for mapping out every single one of Changbin’s gorgeous features.

“This class is just for gen ed,” Changbin said, pushing a hand through his neatly styled black hair.

“Oh, same for me,” I nodded. “I heard it was pretty easy.”

“Is that right?” Changbin asked while flashing me an award-winning smile. Roll out the red carpets because this boy was cool enough to be in an action film co-starring Tom Holland and Ancel Elgort.

But what were we talking about? “I’m majoring in English.”

“Political Science,” Changbin returned. “And Business.”

I deflated a little because, in comparison to my lousy arts degree, Changbin seemed like a certified genius. He would be educated in the art of entrepreneurship and big money while I struggled to comprehend the meaning of Great Expectations. “Have you met anyone else from high school?”

“Not yet,” Changbin said. “What about you?”

“Well, Bang Chan’s enrolled here too...” I started, only to trail off when I realized that Changbin probably had no idea who Chan was since he never paid attention to him in high school. Actually, Changbin would have been more likely to join the football jocks who liked to steal Chan’s stuff only to tie his underwear to the flagpole outside the gym.

“The nerdy Australian kid?” Changbin chuckled. “That sucks.”

“Oh,” was all I could manage since Changbin obviously didn’t know that Chan and I were friends. 

“You don’t hang out with him, do you?” Changbin asked, peering at me closely like I was seconds away from losing the honor of his company.

“We have lunch sometimes,” I said, which was only partially true since I did like to meet up with Chan in the dining hall around 2:00 because it was never crowded. But Changbin didn’t need to know that I had spent the night in Chan’s apartment listening to him record one of his mixtapes because Chan had a newfound interest in music. 

“You could do better,” Changbin sighed. “Hang out with me instead. I’ll treat you to the nicest fast food joint on campus.”

My heart was racing, palms clammy as I nodded my head rapidly. “Lunch?”

“Whatever you want, love,” Changbin said, close proximity knocking every rational thought clean out of my head.

It was like my best fantasy coming to life right before my very eyes, and after our lecture ended I asked Changbin to wait for me while I made a phone call to Chan. “Y/N!” came his cheerful voice from the other end. “Guess who got to dissect a liver today?”

I wrinkled my nose at the nasty image. Chan was studying to enter the medical program which meant a lot of his daily life centered around the human body and all sorts of things that could go wrong with it. “Chan,” I whined. “You’re talking to someone who can’t stand the sight of blood.”

“I know,” Chan sniggered. “Does this mean you’re not gonna want to eat lunch with me today? You know I’ll pay, of course, I got a raise at the cafe.”

“Well,” I started, desperately searching for the right words. “I actually have to meet with my professor for this essay I’ve been having trouble with.”

“No problem,” Chan said. “I’ll bring you takeout for dinner. Doesn’t your roommate have practice tonight?”

I glanced back at Changbin with a guilty conscience. Why did Chan have to be so sweet all the time? “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“No liver talk, I promise,” Chan giggled and I hung up the phone before he could make me feel even worse than I already did.

“You want to get some lunch?” Changbin asked with his hands dug inside his pockets as he stood in front of my desk.

“Like, with me?” I asked warily because I wasn’t sure where the line stood on professionalism when it involves eating with an ex-boyfriend.

“Who else?” Changbin said. “I figured we could use a break from the phone calls.”

“I don’t know...” I answered hesitantly because Chan would probably lose his shit if he discovered I went out anywhere with Changbin.

“It’s not a big deal, Y/N,” Changbin said. “My job is to make sure my employees are well taken care of.”

“I guess,” I sighed, reaching down for my purse on the floor. “One lunch together won’t hurt anything.”

But Changbin seemed awfully smug, patiently waiting for me to gather my belongings, stuffing my phone with an unanswered text from Chan inside my side pocket. It’s almost like the universe was conspiring against me, doing its very best to try and force me into the worst situations possible. Here’s an irrational thought: what if Chan happened to decide to go out for lunch today? He might find me with Changbin and I couldn’t think of a worse scenario. Of course, I suppose it doesn’t necessarily have to be Chan who finds us. For example, if his younger step-brother was to suddenly wander in the building at this very moment...

“Medusa!”

Curse you, universe!

“Felix?” 

“I brought us lunch!” Felix chirped brightly, holding up a picnic basket as he waltzed right up to my desk with far more confidence than necessary.

I blinked my eyes rapidly, unable to process the idea that Felix was standing in the middle of the company’s lobby. “Is it poisoned?” I asked, trying not to alert him to any possible wrongdoing.

Felix ignored me, turning around to face Changbin with a critical gaze. “Seo? Is that you?”

“Felix,” Changbin acknowledged, frowning as if he was the last person on earth he wanted to see, and I could share the sentiment.

“Fuck,” Felix cursed, taking a step back. “You still look really young. I was surprised when Y/N told me you were her new boss.”

“I didn’t tell you that,” I said, opening the flaps of the basket only to let out a disgruntled sigh when I realized he had only brought a bag of chips and a tray of cookies.

“And what are you doing these days?” Changbin asked.

“Freelance work, mostly,” Felix replied as if he really needed to lie to Changbin about his lack of a suitable occupation.

“I forgot what you majored in,” Changbin said. “It was hard to keep up since you changed your concentration like a dozen times.”

I couldn’t hold back my laugh, even when Felix sneered in my direction. “Philosophy.”

“Interesting,” Changbin said, nodding his head. “I’m actually surprised to hear that. You never settled on anything.”

Seo Changbin needed to be careful because his charm points were dramatically increasing the more he mocked my husband’s step-brother. “I actually just finished my Masters.”

“Really?” Changbin said. “This coming from the same boy who used to party with Hwang Hyunjin at all the Fraternities, even if they were on a different campus.”

“It was just Freshman year,” Felix defended himself. 

“Well,” Changbin started, “I’m glad to hear about your graduation. Y/N and I were actually just about to head out to lunch.”

I winced at his words, withering under Felix’s accusing watch. “Is that so?”

Changbin carefully studied the two of us. “I’ll be waiting in my car, Y/N.”

I grabbed my bag while pushing the picnic basket back in Felix’s direction. “I swear to god if you tell Chan about this, I’ll castrate you in your sleep.”

“We’ll see about that,” Felix growled, and that was the moment I realized that I was treading very dangerous waters.

Changbin drove us to a charming restaurant about two blocks away from the main company building. He pulled right up to the sidewalk, handing his keys to the waiting carhop as if he had done this about a thousand times. But I guess that was pretty likely considering just how well-off he was ten years later. “Impressive,” I remarked to him, reluctantly accepting his outstretched hand as he helped me out of his car.

“Yeah?” Changbin said, offering me a wink. “Maybe I’m trying to impress you.”

“You’re a dangerous man, Seo Changbin,” I told him, bowing slightly to the waiting doorman who kindly ushered us inside.

This was why the pretty girls always lusted after Changbin. When we were both still in high school, Changbin epitomized the phrase #BoyfriendGoals because he was super attractive, incredibly smart, and athletic enough to earn himself a shining record after an impressive baseball season. And I was just as mindless as the rest of the zombies chasing him down in the parking lot at school or squealing his name in the hallways between classes.

“I eat here all the time,” Changbin assured me, flashing the hostess a dazzling smile while handing her his card. 

“Right this way, Mr. Seo,” the hostess curtsied, ignoring the long line of waiting patrons who apparently didn’t matter as much as my new boss as she led us to a private table. “Your waitress will be with you shortly.”

“Thank you,” I said politely, eyes wide as I took in the gorgeous chandelier dropping from the high-domed ceiling.

“Close your mouth, Y/N,” Changbin said. “You act like you’ve never been somewhere like this before.”

“Not exactly,” I said because the nicest place Chan had ever taken me was an Olive Garden and that had ended poorly after Chan accidentally knocked his shoulder against a poor server on his way back to the table causing an avalanche of salad and breadsticks.

“Bang should be taking you to places like this all the time,” Changbin commented, perhaps a casual observation to anyone else.

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “Chan and I prefer to keep things low-key.”

“Should I have taken you to Applebees instead?”

“How funny.”

“I’m kidding, Y/N,” Changbin said, reaching down to adjust the buttons on his coat sleeve. “You’ve changed a lot since college.”

“Since we dated you mean?” I asked with an arched brow.

“Well,” Changbin started, “if you want to think of it like that.”

“Hmmm,” I briefly meditated, studying Changbin’s expression carefully. “How else should I think about it.”

Changbin tsked, raising a hand to signal for a nearby waiter. “I don’t mean to suggest anything.”

The waiter approached our table with purposed steps. “How may I help you, sir?”

“A wine menu?” Changbin asked, nodding generously when the waiter returned with his requested selection. 

“You make a beautiful couple,” the waiter gushed while he pulled out a thick leather wallet, flipping to a fresh page.

“Oh! We’re not-”

“-A bottle of pinot noir, please,” Changbin said, returning the menu without bothering to correct the waiter’s observation.

“Right away, sir,” the waiter agreed.

I held my tongue until he was further away, bothering an older couple who were probably complaining about something to do with their food. “Changbin,” I warned him. “You should be careful.”

“It was a harmless mistake,” Changbin said. “How can I possibly come between you and Bang?”

I worried my bottom lip between my teeth because it sounded less like a dismissal and more like a challenge.

The sun was already setting by the time I returned home thanks to one of Changbin’s business partners who refused to leave the office building until they had a chance to speak to him. I was low on patience, tired from an exhausting day of dealing with telemarketers insisting our company needed the latest software for our clientele. There was only a limited number of times I could tell somebody to fuck off before inevitably shouting into the other end that I was in no way interested in whatever useless product they were trying to shove down my throat, complete with some kind of scammy discount and an opportunity to be represented on their website.

To make matters worse, my feet were blistered from wearing heels all day and my shoulders ached from slouching over my computer to answer emails and monitor the progress of Changbin’s latest project. My only saving grace was the message Chan had sent me earlier telling me that he had already clocked out at work, which meant I could probably guilt him into giving me one of his trademarked messages. I mean, all I wanted to do was curl up next to Chan in bed and sleep for the rest of the day.

But it looked like my desires would have to wait because as soon as I unlocked the door to the house, I could immediately sense that something was wrong. Taking a deep breath, I cautiously walked into the living room to find Chan and Felix busy with some kind of video game on our HD TV, volume high until I walked in the room. Chan waited until I called his name, reaching for the remote to mute the TV before tossing his controller onto the coffee table. From across the room, Felix’s eyes were alight with mischief.

“How was work today?” Chan asked with a tone that I only ever heard when my husband was feeling particularly pissed off about something, and I had a sneaking suspicion it involved me in some capacity.

“It was fine,” I said, deciding to play it safe while I kept my complaints to myself.

Felix smirked in my direction, whistling to himself as he reached for his game controller. “Felix told me something interesting today.”

“Oh did he?” I asked, wondering just how much pain Felix could tolerate if I marched over to him right now and hit him with an umbrella.

“He said he tried to have lunch with you.”

“I was busy.”

“With Seo Changbin?”

Felix was definitely going to die tonight. That little snitch deserved every ounce of punishment I was starting to formulate inside my head. “He invited me out instead.”

“I got that,” Chan snapped and I knew my husband was in a foul mood. I’m talking about the kind of mood that usually sent me scampering for the safety of the bunkers. Like the time some drunk asshole rear-ended Chan’s precious convertible while we were sitting in downtown traffic. Or the time when we were Freshmen in college and Chan confronted Changbin after finding out that he had been cheating on me.

But this time the problem was me which meant I couldn’t just hide from Chan and wait for things to go back to normal. “Honey,” I attempted to reassure him. “It was just lunch.”

“Yeah? But that doesn’t seem like keeping things strictly professional to me, Y/N.”

“He’s my boss now, I can’t just tell him no.”

“Actually, you can,” Chan disagreed, now refusing to look at me. “How would you like it if I ate with my new superintendent?”

“Depends on if she offered to pay or not.”

“Y/N.”

“Chan,” I pouted. “I’m really sorry! He just surprised me.”

“It makes me wonder what else you might be doing with him,” Chan snarked.

Meanwhile, Felix calmly continued to play his video game while wearing the biggest shit-eating grin. “Are you accusing me of having an affair?”

“Why not?” Chan shrugged. “Since we’re keeping secrets from each other.”

“It was just one lunch,” I shouted. “He’s never done anything like this before. Most of the time I’m alone in the lobby taking his stupid phone calls.”

“And that’s all I should ever hear about,” Chan growled. 

“You’re making this into a bigger deal than it needs to be,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes before remembering just how much Chan hated it when I did that to him.

“Y/N,” Chan addressed me sternly, deciding to abandon his seat on the couch to crowd me in the foyer. “If this was anyone else, I wouldn’t make it into a bigger deal, but this is someone you used to fuck while running around campus bragging about it to everyone who would listen...which was usually me!”

“He doesn’t mean anything to me,” I said. “I already told you that!”

“You’ve said a lot of things recently,” Chan said. “I’m not sure what to believe anymore.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s your brother’s fault since he’s always looking to cause a fight between us,” I said, glaring at Felix while he continued to play the part of the perfect little angel that Chan always considered him.

“Don’t drag Felix into this, he has nothing to do with anything!”

“Oh, don’t be stupid, Chan,” I huffed. “We fight more about Felix than we do about Changbin.”

“Stupid?!”

Oh, Jesus, Y/N, when are you going to learn to watch your big mouth? “Channie, I’m tired of fighting all the time. I feel like we’re always fighting.”

“Yeah? Well, you give me a lot of reasons to stay mad at you.”

“For fuck’s sake,” I groaned. “We never fought this much when we were dating.”

“Is that so? You think our marriage is the problem?”

I froze at his implications. At this point, Felix might as well drag out a bucket of popcorn because this was probably the most interesting drama he had watched all year. “Chan, you can’t honestly believe that.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” Chan said, shaking his head. “But maybe I’ll give you some time to think about it.”

“Chan!” I whined, fighting back tears as I watched him turn his back on me. For the first time since we had met, Chan was leaving an argument unresolved, choosing to lock himself away in our bedroom while I struggled to keep myself together in the middle of our foyer. 

“Goodbye, Y/N,” Felix whispered into the silent room, waving his fingers at me because he had gotten exactly what he wanted.

Felix’s birthday often turned into a multiple-day affair because he always wanted the best that money could buy. Since Chan and I still weren’t speaking to one another, Chan was taking the brunt of party preparations which meant Felix was practically over the moon with excitement. And why shouldn’t he be? He hit the metaphorical jackpot because he somehow got me in the doghouse while he soaked up all of Chan’s attention. 

“Y/N,” Felix whined. “My toast is burnt!”

“Sorry,” I murmured softly, taking his plate even though the bread looked perfectly fine. Meanwhile, Chan chose not to say a word, heavily engrossed in his laptop and doing his absolute best to pretend I was invisible. 

“What about this, Felix?” he asked, tilting his laptop screen so that his brother could see whatever it was that probably cost hundreds of dollars. On the other hand, I couldn’t even find the courage to ask Chan for his credit card so that I could replace the broken stool at our counter.

“That’s perfect, Channie!” Felix grinned, hanging off his brother’s shoulder like the little pest he was. 

Our Amazon shopping cart was steadily filling with Felix’s party supplies. But I guess it was just Chan’s account now since he had changed the password without telling me. I tried to order a new curtain for the bathroom, only to repeatedly watch the warning screen pop-up with every refresh of the page. “Who do you want at your party?” Chan asked Felix.

“Hyunjin, Jisung...” Felix started, listing out each name while I winced every time because our house would probably end up completely trashed at this rate.

“Whatever you want,” Chan said, apparently forgetting the last time Jisung came over only to break one of my grandmother’s expensive vases. Since it was my stuff, he probably didn’t care. “I have to leave soon,” Chan said, wordlessly clicking on the ‘place your order ’ button before logging off.

“Will you be gone all day again?” Felix pouted, jutting out his bottom lip and offering his very best puppy dog eyes.

23-years-old my ass.

“I’ll do my best,” Chan promised his brother. “Do you need anything while I’m out.”

“More chocolate cereal?”

10-years-old more likely.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Chan cooed to Felix, ruffling his hair before snatching his coat from my outstretched hand, refusing to even acknowledge my existence. 

Felix waited until Chan was gone to lean in across the counter. “You two are so cute, Medusa.”

“I fucking hate you,” I said, aggressively attacking the grease stain on the stainless steel pot I was currently washing.

“Whatever,” Felix shrugged. “Will you ask Minho to come to my birthday party?”

“There’s not a fucking chance in hell that I’m asking him,” I snapped.

“Why?” Felix posed the question as if he felt absolutely no shame. “I like Minho and I want him to be there.”

“Fuck off,” I retorted, drying my hands against the rough texture of the dishtowel.

Felix sniffled, reaching for his phone and holding it up to his ear. “Channie? Yeah, Y/N was being really mean to me-”

“-Jesus, fine, I’ll ask him,” I quickly interrupted the little Devil. “How old are you turning again?”

“24!” Felix grinned. 

“Then act like it,” I muttered while dialing Minho’s number.

There were only two rings before he answered. “It’s too early on Saturday for this bullshit, Y/N,” came Minho’s pleasant voice from the other end.

“You sleep too much anyway,” I returned. “I have something to ask you.”

“It better be pretty fucking important.”

“Will you come to Felix’s stupid birthday party this Friday?” I asked him, ignoring Felix’s bright smile as he tried to listen in on our conversation.

“Did you buy booze?”

“I’m sure Chan will buy the little bastard all the booze he wants,” I said, pushing Felix out of the way.

“What time?” Minho asked. “I’m a very busy man, Y/N.”

“The hell you are,” I snorted. “9:00 PM. Don’t be late! I’ll be the pathetic piece of trash sitting on the couch alone.”

“It’s about time you learn, Y/N,” Felix remarked, giggling when I threw the dishtowel at him.

“Still in trouble with hubby?” Minho asked. “I hear you have to stay separated for a year before the courts grant divorces these days.”

“You’re an asshole,” I said. “Should I put you down on the guest list?”

“Of course,” Minho said. “Underlined because I’m a VIP”

I hung up on him before he could dig his grave any deeper.

“Don’t burn that,” Felix scolded me, hovering by my side to play the part of Gordon Ramsay while I sweated my ass off to cook everything on his stupid party menu.

“It’s not burnt,” I grumbled. 

“I hope you’re not wearing that to my party,” Felix said, casting a critical eye over my outfit. 

I reached down to adjust the waistband of my skirt. “What’s wrong with it?”

“This is a classy party, Y/N, and you look like a hooker.”

“Go help your brother or something,” I said, doing my best to be nice since it was Felix’s birthday. I could manage some form of kindness even if he didn’t deserve it.

“Chan’s fine,” Felix waved me off even though I was certain I saw Chan struggling to hang up lights on the balcony just moments ago when I went to change my clothes.

I glanced at the clock above the stove. “Your fellow party animals will be here soon.”

“You’re not cool enough for those references,” Felix told me as he straightened his tie. 

“I wasn’t trying to be,” I said, wiping my forehead with a nearby towel. My makeup was probably smeared but I didn’t care. Who was I hoping to impress anyway? The only person I dressed up for was Chan and he could care less about my appearance.

And it was only a few minutes later when the doorbell started to ring. I took a deep breath to try and reassure myself that I could make it through tonight without another Advil. “Someone’s here!” Felix squeaked, knocking his shoulder against mine in his haste to answer the door.

“No matter who it is, I’ll still be in hell,” I muttered, closing my eyes when I recognized Hyunjin’s voice mixing with Felix’s.

“Y/N!” Hyunjin sang, poking his head in the kitchen as if he owned the place. “There you are! Looking all pretty for us.”

“That was the goal,” I half-heartedly quipped back, turning off the stove once I declared Felix’s stupid Tteok-bokki cooked enough.

“Your legs look good,” Hyunjin said, abruptly leaning in closer. “Are you even wearing anything under that skirt?”

“Hyunjin!” Felix shouted his friend’s name from the living room. “Come check out the decorations.”

Hyujin blew a kiss in my direction, tossing me a poor excuse for a wink. “Bye, Y/N!”

Maybe one more Advil wouldn’t hurt.

The party was in full swing by the time Minho finally arrived, greeting Felix with some kind of cheesy handshake. It was too late for me and I had already resigned myself to the futon of isolation in the living room, mourning the loss of one of my good dishes thanks to Han Jisung deciding to request something fancier than our regular set. “Sorry, Y/N,” Jisung had apologized. “I’m sure you can easily replace it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure my dead grandmother has another lying around somewhere,” I snarled in his direction, ignoring his wide-eyed look of disbelief as I searched for the broom.

Minho eventually finished his conversation with Felix, offering me a sympathetic look while occupying the last remaining chair. “Y/N?”

“Oh, I’m doing just fine,” I told him.

“You look miserable,” Minho informed me, throwing up his feet on my glass coffee table even though I had told him countless times before to keep his dirty socks on the floor.

“Chan hates me,” I said. “Felix is happy.”

“Ah,” Minho nodded. “Trouble in paradise?”

“It’s all Felix’s fault,” I sniped. “He found out I went to lunch with Changbin and told Chan because he knew it would lead to an argument.”

“He still doesn’t like you?” Minho snorted as if the idea were amusing.

“Felix has hated me since the beginning of time. He was brought to this Earth to cause me misery.”

“I’m sure that’s an exaggeration,” Minho said. “Where is Chan, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “If he wasn’t with Felix, then you might want to check the balcony. I think I saw him sneaking the Advil bottle out there earlier.”

Minho snickered. “You don’t even realize it, but you two are grossly similar. I’m sure Chan would have preferred a quiet dinner out somewhere.”

“Well, Felix always gets what he wants,” I said. “It’s been this way since high school.”

Minho considered me for a moment. “In his defense, Chan has always been Felix’s best friend. They’ve been attached at the hip since they were kids, but then you came into the picture. Suddenly, Chan isn’t as interested in spending all his time with Felix any more.”

“Are you saying I need to find Felix a girlfriend?”

“Y/N,” Minho said softly. “I’m just saying, maybe you need to think about things from Felix’s perspective for once. You were an only child, so you can’t understand what it means to share a close relationship with a brother.”

“Hmm, well you’re like a brother to me,” I teased him.

“Ugh,” Minho gagged. “You’ve had my dick in your mouth before, Y/N, please never say that again.”

“I was trying to be sweet,” I said. “But you ruined it.”

“Did I?” Minho smirked, glancing up at something behind me. “Are you having a good time, Felix?”

“We’re out of beer,” Felix interrupted, face suddenly mere inches from mine. 

“You shouldn’t drink like a fish.”

“Medusa,” Felix tried again, holding out a ring of car keys. “Make yourself useful and buy us some more beer.”

I rolled my eyes but acquiesced. “Whatever you want, your majesty.”

I hated winter in New York City because the sidewalks were icy all the time and I was constantly in danger of rolling my ankle. Nevertheless, I tolerated the snow and wind by trading my heels for rain boots and wrapping my body in the thickest coat I owned. Normally, I might consider walking to the convenience store, but tonight I knew my fingers would be nothing but frozen icicles if I attempted that perilous journey.

Thankfully, the traffic was fairly light this late at night which allowed a relatively quick drive to the store, parking my corvette at the sidewalk. I walked inside with a muffled greeting to the store attendant, searching down the aisle to where the beer was stocked in the freezers. “He didn’t even tell me what he wanted,” I scoffed, deciding on the expensive Corona from the bottom shelf since Felix always liked things more when they cost a lot of money.

“Having a party?” the store attendant joked, accepting my debit card after ringing up the cases. 

“Something like that,” I said, wondering if that was always his assumption if someone bought more than one bottle of the nasty smelling beverage.

Meanwhile, it had started snowing again when I walked back outside, popping the trunk to store the beer until I finally returned home. I switched on the ignition and turned on the heat to its fullest setting before sitting back in my seat to wrap my arms around myself, fighting off a series of chills. The action reminded me of Junior Year when Chan and I used to make late-night trips to the gas station near his apartment complex. We’d buy all sorts of unnecessary snacks, driving back together because we had planned a movie marathon of Harry Potter. Chan always complained about the films I liked, but he watched them anyway because he knew I enjoyed them.

I came to a stop at a red light, frowning when I noticed that nobody was coming in either direction. “Change already,” I ordered the traffic light as if it could possibly accommodate my request. 

“I’ll teach you patience, Y/N,” Chan once told me after we waited nearly an hour in a heavy downpour outside the comic book shop because he just had to have some kind of rare edition figurine.

The traffic light eventually turned green and I rolled out into the intersection, never noticing the reckless SUV until mere seconds before it crashed into the side of my car.

I had the worst luck in the world when it came to relationships. First, there was my tired rendezvous with Minho in high school, blowing my best friend in the bathroom because he’d always fuck me with his fingers afterward. Then, there was that slimy bastard Seo Changbin who I willingly gave my virginity to, thinking he was the love of my life. That was before I found out he was cheating on me with some sleazy cheerleader thanks to a couple of photos surfacing on Facebook. My heart was instantly broken, pride in shambles as I spent an entire week hiding out in my dormitory ignoring all phone calls and text messages as I cried over a boy who never deserved my attention in the first place.

I plucked a few strands of grass from the ground next to my feet, savoring the first taste of sunlight I had allowed myself since that unfortunate discovery. Who the hell did Seo Changbin think he was anyway? Playing with my heart like that as if it meant absolutely nothing to him. 

At least I wasn’t sad anymore, having spent enough time crying over the destructive boy. Now, all I could think about was smacking that stupid smug grin off his face while thoroughly purging my built-up frustrations...“Y/N?”

I turned around quickly at the sound of Chan’s voice, rising to my feet to brush the loose grass and dirt from my jeans. “Channie,” I said, nervously wringing my hands in front of me. Chan was probably mad at me since I had been ignoring him all week.

“Are you okay?” he asked instead, tone surprisingly gentle as he stopped in front of me.

“Not really,” I told him honestly.

“I didn’t think so,” Chan said, features hardening. “I’ll beat the shit out of Seo for you.”

I shook my head. “That won’t do any good.”

“But if it makes you feel better,” Chan said, reaching out to delicately swipe his thumb under my eyes. “You aren’t sleeping.”

It was more of a statement rather than a question, but I still felt the need to reassure him. “I promise that I’m okay.”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Chan said, offering me a kind smile. “I can tell, you know?”

“Yeah you’re good at that,” I groused. 

“I’m pretty good at a lot of things when it comes to you,” Chan admitted, eyes holding a pure kind of affection as they appraised me.

“I’m glad I have you,” I said, letting out a sigh as I allowed my head to rest against the center of his chest. “You don’t think I’m stupid for trying things out with Changbin?”

“You’ve always liked him,” Chan said with a bitter tone that sounded more like a jealous lover rather than a friend.

I chose not to say anything. “I hope the two of them make each other miserable.”

Chan chuckled. “Is this your form of revenge?”

“I don’t think it’ll work out in my favor,” I said, pressing myself even closer to Chan, pausing when my hand drug across his stomach. “Holy shit, Channie, you weren’t kidding about the gym.”

“Did you not believe me?”

“Who are you trying to impress?” I grinned, propping my chin against his sternum to make it easier to look into his eyes.

“It’s always been the same person,” Chan said vaguely, dimples on display as he considered me. “I hope Seo didn’t destroy your faith in relationships.”

“It wouldn’t be entirely his fault,” I sighed. “All my relationships have been complete failures.

“Y/N,” Chan whispered, brushing a light kiss across my forehead. “Maybe it’s because you’ve never tried the right guy.”

The memory was laced with something warm, an association that stood in stark contradiction to my current condition, slowly opening my eyes to a pulsing room, somehow much too bright for my pupils to adjust. Was I alive? I wondered because I couldn’t really feel anything which was certainly disarming. But then there was a familiar smell, rancid and burning, and it made me feel like I was definitely not in any sort of happy afterlife. There was also the problem of the blurry figure slowly coming into focus next to me, fiddling with an array of wires twisting together with the sounds of a machine distantly clicking in the background. I watched through hooded eyes as the now perceivable person in question handled an impressively large needle, pinching my skin painfully at the juncture of my elbow. 

“Han Jisung,” I began, startling him from where he was checking the IV. “Just put a fucking needle into my arm. What hellish realm have I descended into?”

“Y/N!” Jisung squealed loudly, leaning down to press a sloppy kiss against my forehead. 

“What the hell was that for?”

“For not dying,” Jisung sighed in relief. “When you came in, there was nothing but blood and glass everywhere!... Oh, and Chan may or may not have a fine against him for beating the living shit out of the asshole that hit you.”

“Why are you so loud?” I groaned, palming my forehead because the room was still swimming into focus. “What happened?”

“You probably don’t remember,” Jisung said. “It was a pretty bad concussion, but you were in a car accident.”

“I was?” I questioned, struggling to recall anything past a few minutes ago when I first realized that incompetent Han Jisung was sticking pointy objects into my veins.

“Chan was so upset,” Jisung said. “He wanted to do the surgery, but the superintendent wouldn’t let him.”

“Surgery?” I repeated. “I had surgery?”

“Cuz’ of your ribs,” Jisung said quietly as if finally realizing that he probably shouldn’t be saying all this to me at once, especially if the persistent beeping of the heart monitor was something to be concerned about.

“What’s wrong with my ribs?” I asked, somewhat panicking as I felt down my chest, noticing the thick bandage wrapped around my upper body. 

“Chill, Y/N,” Jisung placated, reaching around me to adjust the monitor. “Now I can’t get an accurate reading!”

“So sorry to inconvenience you,” I said with a hoarse voice, reaching up to quickly wrap my hand around my throat. “Is there something wrong with my voice?”

“Well, you’ve been out for three days so...”

“Three days!”

Now I was definitely panicking, full-on hysteria as the heart monitor loudly detected the irregular contraction of the muscle thundering aggressively against my chest. It was enough to alert the doctor on duty, walking into my room to check on his patient, scolding Jisung harshly as he filled a syringe with a clear liquid. “Don’t worry, Y/N,” he said kindly, injecting the fluid into my IV. “Just relax.”

My eyelids fluttered closed, overwhelmed by a disjointed sense of calm that gradually pulled me back under the current of drug-induced bliss.

“Sweetie.”

My eyes flew open at the sound of his voice, the best wake-up call in the whole world. I slowly turned my head to the side, taking in the sight of my disheveled husband, eyes blood-shot with heavy dark bags haunting tight circles against his pale skin. “Channie?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Chan sniffled, fresh tears swelling his cheeks as he leaned in closer to grip tightly to my hand. “It’s all my fault.”

I considered him closely, wondering what he could possibly mean by accepting blame for whatever was causing him obvious pain. I faintly remember Jisung telling me about am accident, but it was difficult to really think back any further, like a wall had enclosed around my brain, refusing to allow anything else to come into consciousness. But Chan didn’t need to cry, he was usually the best part of my life, waking up in bed together to share sweet kisses or eagerly waiting for him to come home and swoon over my newest K-Drama obsession. “Why are you sad?” I asked him, reaching out to do my best and wipe away those nasty tears.

“You wouldn’t answer your phone,” Chan cried, heart-wrenching sobs that broke my heart with every heavy inhale. “I didn’t know where you were.”

“Is that why you’re upset?” I asked, wiping away a few mischievous curls that had wandered into his eyes. 

“I found you in the intersection,” Chan whispered. “And the car...” he trailed off with a choking gasp as if the details were too horrific to describe. 

“I’m here now, Channie,” I said, desperate to relieve his sadness. “I didn’t go anywhere.”

Chan nodded furiously, pressing a wet kiss to the back of my hand. “I can’t lose you like that, sweetie.”

“Well, I plan to stick around for a while,” I said, earning me a half-smile in return. “Channie,” I whispered, glancing around the room conspiratorially. “Is there anything good to eat in this place?”

This time Chan did laugh and it was the best medicine I could possibly have.

“Vitals?” Chan asked, lingering around the poor nurse who clearly wasn’t expecting this much attention over one patient when she clocked in this morning.

“I already checked them,” the nurse informed him, writing down something on the chart clipped to the edge of my bed. I sipped my water as I watched the two of them, wondering if Chan had been this overbearing the entire time.

“Temperature?”

“98 degrees.”

“Blood pressure?”

“122/75”

“Respiration?”

“Chan,” I whispered softly, immediately drawing my husband’s attention who was at my side in an instant. “I think the nurse knows how to do her job.”

The poor woman shot me a grateful smile as she re-clipped my chart, hurrying out of the room as if she couldn’t possibly escape fast enough. “Sorry,” Chan said, taking his seat next to me. “I’m just worried.”

“I get discharged tomorrow,” I told him. “Pretty sure that means I’m just fine.”

“But your leg,” Chan whined, fussily messing with the large cast, tucking the blankets in securely.

“It’ll heal,” I said, frowning as I picked at the squishy jello the nursing staff had brought in earlier. “Isn’t there anything else to eat?”

Chan tsked. “That’s good for you, Y/N. It’s full of necessary vitamins.”

I should have known better than to ask my doctor husband if I could possibly have something that actually had flavor to eat. No matter how much I begged and pleaded, Chan refused to waver from the nasty daily meals I was brought, much to my disappointment. “I’d kill for a burger.”

“Too much fat,” Chan said, turning down the idea before I could possibly try to negotiate.

“It physically hurts me to eat,” I tried. “I think they’re secretly plotting my death.”

“Y/N,” Chan scolded lightly. “There’s a reason why we serve this to patients, alright?”

I frowned at him but shoved a spoonful of the nasty substance in my mouth, earning me a pleased smile in response. “Happy?”

“You can have better food tomorrow,” Chan said, pausing as he reached down to check his phone notifications. “Minho is here,” he grumbled. “I guess I’ll go get him from the lobby before he gets lost.”

“Thank you, darling,” I chirped, accepting his brief kiss.

“I’ve seen worse,” Minho declared, ignoring Chan’s disbelieving scoff. 

“You obviously weren’t here when she was first brought in,” Chan growled to him.

“How are you feeling, Y/N?” Minho asked, disregarding Chan who had gone back to check the dozens of machines somehow monitoring my every possible bodily function.

“Hungry,” I grimaced, pointing to my discarded container.

Minho lifted it curiously, bringing it his nose before he let out an unattractive grunt. “Is this garbage?”

“Don’t encourage her,” Chan said, reaching for my chart for the millionth time that day. “I’ll be right back, Y/N.”

“Okay,” I said, rolling my eyes once his back was turned.

I waited until Chan was gone before desperately reaching out for Minho. “You’ve got to help me, Minho! I can’t stand another day of jello and mashed potatoes. Get me a Big Mac and I’ll give you the number of one of my work acquaintances.”

 Minho raised an interested brow. “Scale?”

“Oh, she’s definitely an 8...please!”

“That’s impossible to turn down, Y/N,” Minho grinned. “Give me ten minutes.”

I snatched his sleeve before he could walk away. “Make sure Chan doesn’t see.”

“So ask Han Jisung to fuck something up, got it.”

“You’re my best friend in the entire world. The rest of my life will be spent in your servitude.”

Minho offered me a brief salute and I solemnly nodded my head while ignoring the way my stomach growled.

It was growing dark outside and I’m pretty sure Jisung had accidentally given me too much of whatever pain medicine I had been prescribed. I could barely keep my eyes open as Chan settled next to me on his chair. “Y/N,” he said softly, picking at an invisible string on his suit pants. “I want to talk to you about the fight we had.”

My exhaustion vanished in a flash. “Okay,” I said, even though I had been hoping Chan would just forget that the fight even happened.

“I owe you an apology,” Chan said. “For acting like a jealous prick. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

“It’s my fault too,” I said. “I know how you feel about him, but I still went out anyway.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Chan said, swallowing down the lie even though I could always read him like a book. “But every time I think about Seo Changbin, I can’t help but remember Freshman year.”

“You act like he broke your heart instead,” I tried to joke, but Chan was everything but amused.

“Yeah, he did break your heart, Y/N, and I’ll never forgive him for it. He was an arrogant bastard back then, and I’m sure that hasn’t changed much.”

“Not really,” I agreed, recalling our prior lunch arrangement.

“And I’ll never be okay with the fact that you work with your ex-boyfriend, but since you love the job so much, I can’t possibly fight with you anymore,” Chan said. “I should trust you as my wife.”

“I’m not remotely interested in Changbin,” I said. “It just sucks that he’s got good connections.”

“But if he tries anything on you...”

“Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “I would never do anything to hurt you, even if his thighs look super good these days.”

“Y/N.”

“I know, Channie,” I giggled, reaching for his hand. “Trust me, alright? I don’t plan to work there forever. Fingers crossed for a promotion to the publisher.”

“I’ll pray every night if I have to,” Chan said. “As for Felix...”

“Don’t worry about him,” I said. “I know that I should try harder to get along with Felix.”

“It’s a two-way street,” Chan countered. “I’ve spoken to him about everything.”

“You have?” I wavered. “What did he say?”

“Well, he feels really bad about the accident,” Chan said. “I think he realizes how much better things would be if you guys were on friendlier terms.”

“He really looks up to you,” I said, recalling Minho’s words from before. “I hope he doesn’t feel like I’m trying to steal you away.”

“Felix and I have always been close,” Chan said. “We both had a hard time moving here from Australia. But at the end of the day, we could rely on each other..”

“High school wasn’t very good to either of you,” I said.

“Well, except for you of course,” Chan said, attempting a smile. 

“They were mean to you, Channie,” I said, “and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

“I’ve gotten over that,” Chan insisted. “But Felix always took everything harder than me. He wasn’t very social until college.”

“He should have stuck to being an introvert,” I said. “Look at the kind of friends he ended up with.”

“Are you saying Hyunjin is a bad influence?”

“Have you been around for our interactions?

“I’ve definitely noticed, Y/N. Remember what happened that one time when we went camping-”

“Anyways,” I loudly interrupted. “It seems like we both have a lot of things to work on.”

“But that’s why we talk about it,” Chan said, pressing a soothing kiss to the wrinkled crease of my forehead. “That’s what married couples do, right?”

“Ah, Channie, when did you become a walking cliche?”

“Should I be more serious, then?”

“You’re getting there with the doctor’s jacket.”

“Really?” Chan asked, sitting back in his chair. “Is this your way of asking us to try some kind of kinky roleplay?”

“I don’t know, but it might be interesting. Can I call you Dr. Bang?”

Chan was positively beaming. “You can always call me Daddy instead.”

“Darling, I think they accidentally gave you my prescription of morphine.”

If anyone were to ever ask me, then I’d tell them that signing hospital discharge papers was about as difficult as applying for a loan. “How many more are there?” I wondered, scribbling a messy signature at the bottom of the last sheet Jisung had brought for me to sign.

“I think that’s it.”

“You think?” I snorted, watching Jisung sort through each page carefully like he really had no idea what he was holding.

“Each year they add more shit for the patients,” Jisung explained. “I’m pretty sure they do it just to confuse me.”

“Everything confuses you, Jisung,” I said, patting his arm sympathetically. “Has Chan come in yet?”

“He’s on his way with Felix.”

“Goodie,” I grumbled. “Are you working late today?”

“Someone has to help since Chan insists on taking the day off,” Jisung said.

“I hope they aren’t planning on letting you do the surgeries.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

I kept my mouth shut, deciding to let Jisung live in his deluded fantasy world where he could somehow manage to cure patients of their ailments as opposed to causing them. Unsurprisingly, since the moment I had first met him, Jisung had always been completely sure of himself even if he was whole-heartedly wrong. For example, when we were all seniors in college, Chan refused to speak to Jisung for an entire week after the two of them received an F on their group project. Apparently, Jisung forgot to submit the lab report on time and waited an additional week before approaching the professor to politely ask if he could still bring it to her after class.

“Channie,” I tried to console him. “You know Jisung didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Yeah, but my GPA will still suffer the consequences,” Chan had sulked, whining about how difficult it was to maintain a friendship with Han Jisung.

Yet, when Chan was first hired by the hospital, Chan sent in a very persuasive reference for Jisung, encouraging the higher-ups to offer him a nursing position. The three of us went out to celebrate Jisung’s new job offer, nursing shots of bad vodka while eating rather terrible sushi. “Chan,” a very tipsy Jisung had said. “I love you so much, man.”

“Oi, keep your hands to yourself,” Chan had grouched despite wearing the biggest grin on his face...

“Y/N,” Jisung interrupted my recollection. “I think Chan just got here.”

“Finally,” I sighed. “I thought I would never be able to get the smell of alcohol out of my nose.”

“Thank God you’re here,” I said the moment Chan and Felix walked into my hospital room. “I’m pretty sure I had to sign my life away to leave this place, but it’s totally worth it.”

Chan rolled his eyes playfully. “I see you’re feeling better this morning.”

“I’ve been better for days,” I said. “But my doctor wouldn’t allow me to so much as breathe the wrong way.”

“Is that so?” Chan asked, reaching down for my discarded bag. “Your doctor sounds like a real asshole.”

“Yeah, but he’s pretty hot. I’d totally fuck him if I wasn’t already married.”

“It sounds like you have a thing for doctors?” Chan asked. “Does this husband of yours know that?”

“He probably does,” I said. “But I feel like he’ll probably leave me to masturbate on my own for months because of this dumb cast.”

“Y/N,” Chan scoffed. “It’s important for you to heal properly.”

I groaned loudly. “Why are you so responsible?”

Chan carefully handed me my bag. “Make sure you have everything. I’m going to talk to your surgeon one more time before we leave.”

It was difficult to prevent myself from protesting, finally realizing just how quiet it was with just me and Felix in the room. “Hi, Felix,” I said, awkwardly adjusting my blankets once Chan had disappeared from sight.

“Y/N,” Felix said, gaze focused on some unidentifiable point on the floor.

“What have you been up to?” I asked, trying to sound cheery because I didn’t like the look of despondence on Felix’s normally bright visage.

“I owe you an apology, Y/N,” Felix said with a vulnerable tone I had never heard from him before. “It’s because of me that you got hurt.”

“Felix,” I hesitated because this was uncharted territory for the both of us, a distant cry from our usual taunting banter. “You don’t need to do that. Everything’s fine now.”

“Your leg,” Felix whispered as an unexpected tear slid down the side of his face.

“It’s just a fracture,” I shrugged. “I’ll be just fine in a few months.”

“Just a fracture,” Felix parroted back, voice thick with emotion. “Why aren’t you mad at me? Because you should be. I’m always getting in your way.”

“Is that what you think?” I asked, surprised to hear Felix’s true feelings. “Felix, you aren’t in anybody’s way. You know I don’t really care that you’re staying with us, especially after you just graduated. I just wish you’d be a little bit more respectful.”

“Because I’ve always been jealous of you, Y/N,” Felix said. “Especially since Chan likes you more than me.”

“Felix, you know that Chan loves you. He would do anything in the world to make you happy.”

“He’s always chosen you over me,” Felix said. “He stopped hanging out with me on weekends in high school, and he even went to the same college as you even though he was accepted into Harvard and Yale.”  

I was shocked by Felix’s true feelings, a rare moment of vulnerability that he was choosing to share with me. “Lixie,” I said. “Why have you never said anything before?”

Felix shivered at my use of his nickname. “I didn’t want to. You guys are so happy together and I didn’t want to hurt Chan.”

“Ya! Felix,” I frowned, “your feelings matter too. And if you really feel that way, then we need to talk about it together.”

“I’m just a burden,” Felix gruffed.

“No, you aren’t,” I insisted. “You’re part of our family, and if you’re ever feeling uncomfortable, then you deserve to be heard.”

“You don’t really mean that do you, Y/N?” Felix asked with glistening eyes. “I don’t want you to say these things just to make me feel better.”

“Felix, when have you ever seen me lying to someone just to protect their feelings?” I asked. “I always speak my mind, and this time I’m putting my foot down. When we get home, we’re having a movie marathon, just the three of us. And this weekend, you and Chan can go somewhere together out of town. I’ll have Minho stay with me instead.”

“Really?” Felix asked, swiping a sleeve under his bright red nose. 

“We’re in-laws you know,” I said. “That means we look out for one another.”

“Y/N,” Felix giggled and, for once, I didn’t feel the slightest bit annoyed. 

“Lee Felix, don’t you ever let me catch you crying like this again, understand?”

Felix nodded, smiling so brilliantly that I was reminded of when we were much younger and he was just an innocent little boy who idolized his older brother.

“Careful,” Chan said, holding the door wide with one hand while keeping a firm grip around my waist. 

“I’m not gonna break,” I grumbled, pausing in the doorway as I let out a grateful sigh. It was a huge relief to be back at home and not stuck in that hospital room surrounded by questionable smells. 

Chan carefully led me into the living room and I gave him my crutches before collapsing on the futon, ignoring the rigid fabric because I had never been happier to hug one of the matching throw pillows. “Comfortable?” Chan asked, helping me prop my leg up on the coffee table. Meanwhile, Felix lingered in the doorway, grasping my bag tightly between his hands.

“Come join us, Felix,” I said. “You’ll let out all the heat.”

Felix nodded, eyes wide as he locked the door behind him. Chan sent me a curious look as if he wasn’t sure what I was hoping to accomplish by inviting his younger brother into the same room. “I have something for you.”

I clapped my hands together eagerly. “Is it something loaded with carbohydrates and fat?”

“Not quite,” he said, handing me my cell phone. “Seo Enterprises called earlier today. I already contacted them about the accident, but I guess they need to hear from you.”

“Great,” I grimaced, dialing the number from memory. It rang for a few moments, and Chan and Felix were both messing around with the TV, probably trying to figure out what to watch. Because the only thing the two brothers argued about was whether action movies were better than romance.

“Seo Enterprises, this is Eliza speaking how can I help you today?”

“Hi,” I immediately cringed, wondering how many cool points I could possibly lose in one day. “This is Y/N, can I speak to Mr. Seo please?”

“I can transfer you right away,” Eliza spoke promptly as if she had already been prepared to receive my call.

“Y/N!” Changbin’s voice now answered. “I’m glad to hear from you.”

“Yeah, I’ve been having a lot of bad luck recently,” I said. “I guess you know about the accident.”

“I heard,” Changbin said. “How are you?”

“I’m alright,” I said. “But I might need some time away from the company. Apparently, a broken leg is a pretty big deal.”

“Take as much time as you need, Y/N,” Changbin said. “I’ve hired a temporary secretary until you’re ready to come back.”

“I don’t know, Changbin,” I said. “It might take several weeks. Maybe you should just hire a replacement.”

“There’s no need for that, Y/N,” Changbin countered. “I still believe you’re the best person for the job.”

“Well, if you’re sure...” I trailed off, shaking my head furiously at Chan when he held up our used copy of The Notebook.

“I’m definitely sure,” Changbin said. “Call me when you want to come back. We still have a lot of things I want to do together in the future.”

“You’re too indecisive,” Chan said, finally taking a well-deserved seat next to me on the futon. 

“And you have terrible taste in cinema,” Felix retorted.

“Yeah? Well maybe we should just let Y/N pick,” Chan suggested, mouthing a sweet kiss against my temple.

“I think Felix should decide,” I said, cuddling up closer to Chan’s side. 

“Really?” Felix asked, appearing entirely surprised that I would allow him such freedom.

“Why not?” I sighed happily. “I’ll even watch that weird anime movie if you want.”

Felix scoffed but a faint smile remained as he grabbed the remote. Chan chuckled and leaned down to press another kiss to the top of my forehead. “I’m proud of you, sweetie,” he whispered.

“It’s only because I love you so much,” I said while shrugging indifferently, but Chan could always read through me.

“Hmm, well I love you more,” he said, brushing his fingers through my hair as the opening credits rolled across the screen.

[anystalker707]

I’m always yours

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader Genre: Fluff Word count: 2 338 Requested by @thunderpurple (who apparently got their account deactivated, but I hope they read it anyways) Summary: Reader is a famous singer who dates Gerard and writes a song about their relationship.

"What are you smiling about?" The sudden question pulls me away from my thoughts. I hum questioningly at first – Gerard's curious face is the first thing I process, eyes flickering over me in an attempt of understanding what's in my mind. He sits on the couch across from mine, his elbow over the couch's arm while he supports his chin on his palm.

"Oh," I say when finally understanding the question, adjusting my position – with the motion, my pen almost falls from my lap, but I'm able to catch it. "Erm, nothing," I answer with a smirk, raising my eyebrows lightly, demonstrating I'm just not telling him about it. Certain frustration hits me as I look down at my notebook – it seems like half of the ideas I believed to have written down didn't even leave my mind.

Gerard doesn't seem like he's giving up soon, furrowing his eyebrows as pouting lightly. "Is it about me? You've been observing me way too much." He stands up from the couch to sit down beside me, but I close the notebook and set it between me and the armrest before he does so. "That's not fair," he complains, eyeing the notebook with furrowed eyebrows.

"Yes, it is," I chuckle and place a kiss on his cheek. "I love it when you're sulky, you get all cute. Not like you're not cute normally, but you get it," I smile, watching him try to put on an angry look, but he ends up blushing. I can't help but to chuckle again, pulling him for a kiss.

"Agh, ew, no fucking on the couch." A sudden voice says and we pull away to see Frank opening the fridge – and most likely having entered the bus without us having noticed.

I roll my eyes with a small lazy smirk, deciding to joke, "you don't even know what happens when you're not around."

"And I'll be happy if it continues this way." He takes a bottle of water in hand, shooting us a playfully reprehending look as making his way out of the bus again; Gerard and I laugh at him.

"Aren't you going to tell me what're you doing?" His head rests on my shoulder as Gerard looks at me from under his lashes. Grinning, I shake my head. He sighs, defeated, and adjusts his posture. "Okay then," Gerard shrugs nonchalantly before leaning in for another kiss.

He must think he's very smart, doesn't he? I can feel the exact moment his hand reaches for the notebook, but I immediately slap it away, shooting him a look once breaking the kiss. "The more you try to see it," I tell him, narrowing my eyes, "the less I'm convinced to show it to you. You'll find out soon enough." With last peck is pressed to his lips, I grabbing the notebook, planning to leave it back in my bus.

"You're no fun," Gerard presses a kiss to my cheek.

"I'm not supposed to be," I tease, standing up and reaching for his hand. "C'mon, I changed my mind, I was just gonna leave this in the bus and come back, but we're not continuing inside here. I want to stretch my legs and I'm tired of staring at a TV or at the wall, the bus makes me feel suffocated." I chuckle seeing him roll his eyes, though agreeing. Maybe some time together will help me having an inspiration.

We grab a coffee from the café of the gas station and take a seat on the concrete step in front of the convenience store, observing the cars passing by. It's quite peaceful – the sun already set itself, so the sky has this golden shade in the horizon, slowly fading into a grayish blue which contrasts perfectly with the clouds, which still have a pink tinge. A stronger breeze hits once in a while, making a few of Gerard's strands cover his face – he hooks them behind his ear just for another breeze to send them flying again. The frustrated grunt he releases makes me chuckle.

"Wait, don't move," I say as getting my phone off my pocket. Doing as said, he hums questioningly. "You look beautiful, all aesthetic," I saw as opening the camera app, taking a few pictures of him. He furrows his eyebrows a bit in a wordless complain, but doesn't do anything to stop me either. Once I lower my phone, he nods towards it as if asking to see the pics.

"Ah, no, wait a minute," I say, changing the camera to the frontal one and moving closer to him – leans in, his cheek brushing mine as I snap another couple of photos. "Imma post these of us later," I hand him the phone to see the pics like he asked earlier, leaning a bit closer to him to see it too.

"Not the others too?" He asks curiously, returning the phone.

"Nah," I shake my head, "these are for personal archive." His scoff makes me grin. "I don't share every pic I take of you, Gee," I let my cup on the ground to be able to hug Gerard, pecking the side of his face. "I can't expose too much what's mine, even more with so many people wanting too," I mutter against his skin, the corners of my lips curling up into a smile seeing him blush – knowing I can make him blush is just amazing.

He hums softly in a mockingly judging tone, turning his face so his lips meet mine. "You do a great job," Gerard mutters on my lips before locking them in a short, sweet kiss. "But don't worry, whether near or far, I'm always yours."

~

Besides blood, lot of thoughts flood my head as sit upside down on the couch, looking at the nothing. Gerard needed to do whatever, so, with him away, it's the best time to try to write this song. I just want it to be a surprise.

Ray approaches, eyeing me curiously before taking a seat too, about a foot away from me and my guitar – which's actually Frank's, one he lent me earlier. "Why are you sitting like this, kid? For how long have you been like this? You'll pass out." Certain concern is mixed with his confusion, though most of his attention is turned to the phone in his hand.

"'Waiting for inspiration to come." I say as sitting upright again. The room spins under my gaze for a second, but it quickly goes back to normal since it hadn't been long since I had decided to sit like that. "I'm writing a new song," I explain, taking the guitar back on my lap again. "It feels like all my ideas slip away just because I need one then, when I notice, I'm just staring at a white paper waiting for the ideas to show up, y'know?"

Ray chuckles a bit as glancing at me, his curls moving as he nods. "I understand completely. Good luck, tho," he shoots me a smile.

"Thanks," I smile back, playing on the guitar what I've written until now. Turns out I end up finally finding an idea and, getting too engaged on writing the song, I just notice how late it is when the Gerard and Mikey are walking back inside the bus.

"Don't you have your own bus?" Mikey asks playfully, nudging my foot with his before sitting down across from Ray and I.

"Ah, sometimes I forget I do," I set my guitar laying on my lap as throwing my arms over my head to stretch myself. "But I wasn't supposed to be here yet, I just got too carried away..." Seeing Gerard's hand furtively reaching for my notes again makes me interrupt myself, slapping his hand away. "You're so stubborn!" I furrow my eyebrows at him, shooting him a look as standing up.

The guitar is left in a corner, against the wall, and I sigh dramatically, my notebook safely hugged close to myself, "how Mikey's being so rude, I'm already leaving. 'Hope y'all have fun without my illustrious presence, then." My words make Mikey and Ray hum or scoff sarcastically – I throw my nose in the air while walking away, stopping in the last moment to look back and laugh with them.

"Let me go with you," Gerard says as following me, taking my hand in his. He blushes lightly at the peck I give him before we continue walking.

By the time the tour is over, the song is completely perfected – with a little fixing here and there in the lyrics, melody and adding a few other instruments. I smile as listening to the final result, all happy about it. Today completes exact five years since I met Gerard – I remember clearly internally freaking out when meeting him and the calls until four in the morning we started having not long later – so it's obviously the best day to release the song.

I'm anxious about posting it, mostly about Gerard's reaction; I never told him what was the song about and when I was releasing it. Breathing in deeply and exhaling to make myself calmer, I decide to finally post the announcement of the single. First on Twitter, then on Instagram, both with the same caption – I've been working on this song for a long time; it was difficult summing up in five minutes everything (or almost everything) between me and the love of my life, but here it is.

I bite back a grin as placing the phone inside the pocket of my hoodie – that's actually Gerard's, but I'll just return it when it doesn't smell like him anymore and grab another, maybe one of his green jackets – and look for Gerard around the house.

Gerard's in the kitchen when I find him, preparing himself a mug of coffee. Not saying anything, I simply observe, quietly moving to the counter, leaning forward with my hands on the cold surface. He takes a quick glance at first before looking at me properly, humming quietly in acknowledge to my presence. Grabbing his mug, he gives me a peck on the lips in his way out of the kitchen.

He's most likely returning to his office, since there's where he was when I last checked, not long ago. I wait for a moment before following him, but I find him in the living room and wait until he goes up the stairs. Again, after a moment, I'm already after him, however, I almost jump three feet in the air when turning around the corner and seeing Gerard there – he eyes me unamused, sipping on his coffee.

"Why are you following me?" He asks, narrowing his eyes.

I blush, playing with the hem of the hoodie's sleeve. "Ah, um," I think for a moment. "It's a big house," I shrug, remembering the excuse he gives when following me around my house or his own – he always walks in the room about a minute later and blushes, getting all fidgety, when finding me staring at the doorway, waiting for him with a knowing look. "I feel alone...?" It ends up sounding more like a question and I try to crack a convincing grin in the end.

He chuckles softly as stepping closer, pressing a peck to my lips, leaving behind the bitter taste of coffee. "You can stay in the office too, y'know," he raises an eyebrow at me, nodding towards the said room. "I also enjoy your company."

I'm about to agree when it suddenly comes to my mind – maybe he'll check his phone when getting back there and I don't want to be around, watching his reaction to the song. "Ah," I look away, stepping back again, "no, actually, I'm fine," I force a grin, ignoring his questioning gaze. "I'll go watch something on the TV."

Before Gerard can question me, I'm already turning around and going down the stairs, throwing myself on the couch once in the living room. The TV ends up turning into just another detail in the background, losing my attention to my phone as I read the comments on the new song.

There are these hate comments as always – most of them are attacking me about for just wanting to use Gerard and MCR, which simply doesn't make sense since I was already famous before meeting them and our relationship didn't come out to the public until about a year ago.

People started suspecting about it and the media was also annoying a lot, trying to figure out the truth. So, in an interview to MCR and I before a concert I was opening for them, when the interviewer asked us about it, I just kissed Gerard in front of the camera and walked away. I remember how Gerard just shrugged at the guy and followed me while Frank watched with a grin – he had already figured out about us by himself – and Mikey and Ray stood there containing amused smiles.

The comments do make me feel bad sometimes, but I believe people would like it to be in my place, so I try to not bother too much. There are the people who actually like me, above all, and who support us together. Not like we need their approval, but that's it.

Arms being wrapped around me suddenly pull me away from my thoughts – I blush as coming back to reality and remembering everything, shrinking a bit while Gerard covers my face with kisses. "Gerard!" I say through a chuckle, in a reprehending tone, interrupted when a last kiss is pressed to my lips.

"You're the best," he says, kissing me deeply before giving me a chance to answer. "I love you so much, you make me feel so special, you're literally the best thing that ever happened to me." Once again, he kisses me.

As much as the kiss is good, I pull away a few seconds later to answer. I grin sheepishly, "you too, Gee, I love you too."

[daisukissed]

❧ pairings: karasunoxreader, nekomaxreader, fukurodanixreader, shiratorizawaxreader, seijohxreader

❧ synopsis: ever wondered what it feels like to be the national volleyball team's manager?

❧ genre: headcanons, fluff, fluff, fluff and??? ? crack??

❧ warnings: cursing, bokuto mentioned your underwear like once

❧ pt.2 here!

Karasuno High

- should really buy earplugs before applying to become their club's manager

- literally bickering EVERYWHERE and ANYWHERE

- hinata and kageyama arguing,, , noya and tanaka fanboying,,, daichi scolding all those four,, ,, suga just laughing at the background,,, , it's a never ending list really,,

- daichi probably often asks you for help in calming them down cause they somehow always listen when it comes to you???

- like you would just clap your hand and ask them to tone it down in the calmest way possible and they magically do??

- when you first joined the club, noya, hinata and tanaka were ECSTATIC

- another cute new manager besides kiyoko and yachi????? what a Life™

- your arms would hurt like a bitch after joining the club, they'll often ask you to serve or toss for them. especially kags and hinata so be prepared.

- the third years helped you a lot when you were just starting!! giving advices on what to do, teaching you the rules of volleyball and even helping you clean up sometimes!

- yachi and kiyoko ADORES you, y'all besties and nobody's gonna tell me otherwise

- you werent really close to tsukishima and yamaguchi at first but as time past by, you guys just vibed y'know

- teasing kagehina is now a daily thing amongst you three now

- all in all, Karasuno's volleyball team is a HUGE pain in the ass but you love them nonetheless

Nekoma High

- wholesome as fuck

- yamamoto would stutter his whole sentence whenever you talk to him when you first joined. this goes on for like 2 weeks.

- lev probably stepped on you at some point because "you're too small to be seen"

- n e ways,, , you guys often go home together after practice and share foods from the convenience store

- yaku would most likely steal half of your food though

- but dont worry a good pull on his hair is enough to stop him :)

- gaming talks with kenma!!! and study dates with kuroo!!! you’re a frequent visitor of kenma’s favourite pc cafe and the coffee shop nearby your school now

- they BOAST the fuck out of you the next time they meet Karasuno

- cues yamamoto arguing with noya and tanaka about who's better, you or kiyoko

- being their first manager, they're very protective of you

- you were being hit on by a guy once from another school during the nationals and they just,,, , stood behind your back and glared until he left

- yaku at the back really think he did sum when it was kuroo, lev and yamamoto who intimidated the guy

Aobajohsai High

- literal squad goals

- team pics/selfies everyday and all day

- you guys have a joint tiktok account but it really just consists of you and oikawa doing popular tiktok dances. sometimes matsukawa and hanamaki joins in too

- poor iwa-chan always gets pranked on by the four of you but it's his fault that he always falls for it smh

- anyways, the guys were skeptical of you when you first joined!!!!

- since a lot of girls have joined just for the sake of being near oikawa

- so they were beyond shocked when you only talked to kunimi and paid no attention to the rest of the team for the first few days

- you later explained that it was because you and kunimi were already acquaintances by being in the same year. plus, you were really busy when you first started so you didnt have the time to converse w/ the other members

- that's when they know u the real og

- when seijoh lost to shiratorizawa during the finals, you guys bawled together for like an hour when you got back to the school's gym

- this resulted to a sleepover at your house the next day to de-stress and just get over it tgt <3

Shiratorizawa High

- you see, things started off rough with you and shiratorizawa

- you were as stiff as a statue when you first stepped into the club

- i mean, how could you not when you were surrounded by 6 ft volleyball monsters?

- so when tendou first approached you, his height looming over you,, , you sort of flinched and squealed,,, ,,

- which led to the members keeping their distance away from you cause they thought you were uncomfortable with them or smt

- and you're like wait no i'm not uncomfortable i'm just super nervous since it's the first day and all

- but you didnt say that cause you're a dumb bitch

- instead you tried talking to them again but it always ends up with the other party answering nervously and quickly avoiding you

- cues you being big sad :(

- anyways this went on for like days until you decided to crack a unfunny joke during break time

- "hey guys, how do you make holy water?"

- ......

- "you boil the HELL out of it!!! ha haaa ha haa... Ha..."

- no kidding the room went dead silent and you want to bury yourself down the sea

- until you heard someone snort???? ? and you're looking around and found out that???? it was ushijima????

- now you got the whole club rioting on how you made ushijima laugh

- and you really wonder to yourself how you were once intimidated by these crackheads

- but n e ways that horrible joke rlly helped you out and you guys are as close as peas in a pod now hihi

Fukurodani High

- manager of fukurodani? more like manager of bokuto kotaro

- like the other members, you would throw out any compliments to bring out his full potential for the match

- the different thing about you is that you do this 24/7, even outside the match or practice

- bokuto’s ego now feeds off you

- you’re not even purposely doing it?? it just became a habit during your days as a manager

- v v v v caring towards you

- you forgot your umbrella once so you came to morning practice DRENCHED

- konoha lended you his extra gym shirt while akaashi lended his blazer

- bokuto asked if your underwear was wet and if you wanted to borrow his spandex but we don't talk about that

- have i mentioned that whenever you forget your lunch they would share pieces of theirs??

- and that if you were to get sick one of them would immediately back-carry you to the nurse's office?

- you're basically the team's little sister, sorry i don't make the rules here

[messengerhermes]

Let's talk home maintenance. Let's talk about home maintenance when the home is you. Content Warnings: This post is about building coping skills in the face of depression and PTSD, and other mental health challenges, it will allude to suicidal ideation and suicidality. So here's the thing. You are your house. Your body, your mind, all of you, is the home you live in. Some of the shit in your house is stuff you inherited, some of it's been gifted to you, some of it's found it's way in there over time, but all of it informs the general ambience of your home. Likewise, the rooms, the layout, the color of the walls, where your floorboards creak, and how the pipes whistle and hum when you run the hot water are all shaped by the experiences you've had from when you were first spat out into the world. Hell, they're shaped by the experiences of those who raised you in this world to. Having a home can be an incredible experience. But it can also, sometimes, be hell, be boring, be painful, be overwhelming. Especially because throughout our lives, our homes will change. New rooms will spring into existence, old ones may jam themselves shut. A cupboard you've never been able to get open will suddenly bang it's doors wide in the middle of the night. All the knick knacks well meaning relatives have given you over the years will break through the attic floor raining a clashing decor nightmare into your living room. The poltergeist you've managed to ignore for ten years will suddenly start rattling every tchotchke you've got, screaming loud enough to break glass whenever you have guests, and rearranging the contents off all your drawers. A hurricane will blow through and break all your windows, or a deep freeze will burst your pipes and flood the place. And when the home is you, you can't just sell it and buy a new one. There are periods in our life where our home may feel smothering, or frighteningly alien to us, or broken beyond repair, or any myriad of things that can warp the way we experience it. We can begin making our own ghosts, tearing at the floorboards and ripping up the plaster. We can stop believing that anyone would want to visit this place. Stop. Breathe. Here's a secret that is not a secret: No matter how often someone comes over to our house, they will never match the amount of time we spend there. Yes, even the people who we've decided to share gardens with, who we've built connecting walkways with. Even when you are absolutely sick of your house because it is always there with it's drippy pipes and groaning furnace and the wallpaper you loved five years ago but now it makes you nauseas to look at, other people are not going to feel that visceral exhaustion about your house, because they only ever visit. And the truth is, sometimes they are as deeply sick of their own houses as you are of yours, and sometimes, going to visit each other can help ease that frustration, that loneliness, and exhaustion. Even if neither of you does a damn thing to work on your houses in that moment. Sitting together, letting each other witness the ways your houses groan and rock in the wind, the faded places, the half finished renovations, is enough. Alright, now that this post has gone on for ages, I want to talk about home maintenance, or "What to do if you're getting sick of your house." This is not complete, or perfect, but hopefully it helps. 1. Sort through everything. Create an inventory of all the features and traits in your home, all the things it can do. Marie Kondo that shit. Decide what you're keeping, what you're tossing, and what to pass on to someone else. Thank the things you're letting go of, they came into your house because at some point you needed them, and it's okay to be different now. If you're struggling to find anything you like, or anything worth keeping, invite others into the process. Ask them to make lists of shit they like about you, things they notice as strengths, traits that come to mind when they think of you, or positive memories. Actually sit with those answers, don't dismiss

them. Figure out which parts feel good and which parts feel like you're playing a role that doesn't suit you anymore. Sort accordingly. Keep the list of all the things you're keeping somewhere you can review it often. Add to it as new things occur to you or people in your life pay you compliments.

2. Identify places for updates. Now that you're offloading some shit and know what you want to keep, think about what things you want updated. Maybe you want to change that aforementioned wallpaper. Maybe the boiler needs fixing. Maybe you want to call someone in to see about that poltergeist. Maybe you want a new kitchen. Break down the places you want change to happen into smaller components, and if possible, figure out how much time they might each take. You're not gonna rip out your entire kitchen all at once and get it done in a month, that's shit for real houses, not metaphor houses. But maybe you can tile a new backsplash, and then refinish your cabinets. Maybe you can get a new fridge.

3. Break things Up. Break those updates up into categories based on how much time and energy they'll take you. Something like "Quick Fixes" for updates that are just swapping things out (say, a new haircut, changes in wardrobe, different accessories, rearranging the furniture in your actual meatspace living space), "Short Term Projects" (like finding a new job, picking up a new hobby, reconnecting with folks, finding a therapist or support group--things that may require more energy than the quick fixes, but can be done over the span of a few months), and "Long Term Projects" (things like, going to therapy or joining a support group, addressing a deeper trauma or hard thing via talking with friends, reading on the subject and shifting behavior patterns, et al, this list is made up of stuff that can take years). For the long term projects, see if you can break them down into items that fit into the shorter lists (for example, if a long term project for you is Transition maybe that can be broken up into smaller components of changing your hair/clothes/pronouns, talking with close friends, accessing support groups, going to social events, identifying what you want for your transition, accessing healthcare if you're interested in medical transition). 4. Pace Yourself. Now that you've broken up your lists, figure out the pacing that works for you. Maybe you can do five quick fixes in a week and that will be a huge help. Maybe you can do a quick fix here and there and cycle between a couple of the short term projects. Maybe two of your long term projects overlap in some of their components and it makes them easier to tackle. Figure out what is doable for you, but also check in with yourself. Maybe you'll have a very "go go go" six months where you blast through a big chunk of short term projects, or feel like you make huge headway on a long-term project but then you hit a plateau. Don't try and force yourself to keep that pace, let yourself move where you're at. 5. Tell People About Your Housework. I know, vulnerability. Awful, disgusting, terrifying. Too bad. Do it anyway. Okay, let me be kinder here: When you tell people that your home is not perfect, that you have to do work on things, that you want to make changes and are, it give them permission to do the same thing. That's community, that's power, that's care. When you share, be clear about how you're sharing and what you're wanting from them. Are you looking for advice? Are you proud of something and want recognition? Do you need to be hyped up for something hard? Are you looking to share about the rough stuff and have the other person also share their rough stuff and that's how y'all support one another? 6. Call for a Barn Raising. Remember how I said if you can't think of things to keep when you're sorting through your house, call in others? Yeah, keep doing that. Maybe that support looks like just having someone sit with you as you talk through shit. Maybe it looks like getting to go out and blow bubbles in the park or ice skate, or lie in the grass and watch the clouds. Maybe it looks like grocery shopping together, or eating together so you'll actually eat. Maybe it looks like joining a Discord or Reddit with the same interests as you and posting. Our house is our own, but we are not meant to live all alone way up on some hillside, and we're not meant to fix up our homes alone either. Relearn pleasure with others, relearn joy, and curiosity, and grief, and hope and be held in your sadness and hurt. 7. Recognize Your Home is Lovable. Love is an action. Love is joy, is laughter, is pleasure, is tenderness. It is also care and effort. It is not easy to love in deep ways. It takes work, sometimes it means going out of your way, sometimes it means doing things that are tiring. You are not bad or wrong for sometimes requiring effort to love. Needing dedicated attention, having places where you bristle and snarl, having periods where you struggle to hold your home in tenderness and need others to remind you of its wonder is human. Be accountable for the

places your actions have left hurts, change your behavior, accept how relationships shift in the wake of your actions. But do not let the shame monsters in your basement chew away at the floorboards above them til everything falls in that pit. Practice believing you are worthy of love, even in the painful moments where someone you love may no longer love you in turn. Yes, this step is hard as shit. When we lose a person's love, or are struggling to love ourselves, it can be easy to fall into the trap of thinking we are not worthy of anyone's love at all. But we are. It's as simple and profoundly difficult as that.

8. Rest and Feel Good. Literally, do nothing. Lie belly up in the sunshine. Read/listen to a good book, enjoy a show you love. Create emotional playlists and lose yourself in feelings. Paint, draw, sculpt, crochet, cross stitch, play an instrument, do it wonderfully, do it terribly, just do it if it feels good. Shove your hands in the dirt and make homes for tender seedlings, enjoy their journey, mourn when they wither, celebrate when they bloom. Cook things you've never made before, cook things you make all the time. Relish good food. Relish criticizing terrible food. Go to markets and shove your hands in the dry grain barrels, run your palms over fabrics and feel their textures. Smile at pretty strangers you have no intention of talking to and enjoy how the expression feels on your face. Tell people when you like their clothes. Find people to hold, to lie pressed up close in hammocks or scrunched up on the couch together. Kiss if you're the kissing type. Fuck if you're the fucking type. Dance if that moves you. Get your ass slapped if that moves you. Let yourself feel good without guilt, without suffering, without shame. Your pain is not a fee you must pay for pleasure. We are animals and are made for all the sweetness of life. Relish in that. I will stop here, since I have gone on long enough. This list is not a prescription, it is not the One True Answer, nor is it complete. But, if you decided to read all way through it, if you woke up this morning and put your head in your hands in a house that is haunted, is weighted down with strange rooms with inheritances you don't know what to do with, I hope you can move through the clutter and fix your hands on one thing you wish to keep in it all. And then another. And another. I hope you can be the home you dream of, again and again and again.

[lov3nerdstuff]

Wicked Game {Part 3}

~Professor Hiddleston AU~

*Tom Hiddleston x reader*

Part: 3/?

Words: 4k

Warnings: Professor x student (college AU)

Summary: After transferring to a new university for the last year of your master's, you meet Professor Hiddleston and soon find yourself unable to stay away from him.

A.N.: I really suck at summaries, I'm so sorry 😅 this is a slow burn romance with lots of pining 💗 so this is where things get really interesting!!! I've currently finished chapter 5 already and I honestly can't wait for y'all to sit squealing on the edge of your seats haha

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

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It was Tuesday, another day with another Hiddleston class. That was your first thought when you woke up two hours before your alarm, groaning and tired. After admitting to yourself last night that you were indeed crushing on your professor, you had hardly been able to sleep at all. Even if you'd never have any kind of relationship with him outside of an entire professional one, you still felt like the past four weeks were heavy weight on your heart. You needed to talk to him, if only to apologise for whatever you'd done wrong in that first week. However you saw that there were limited ways to actually do that without making the awkwardness between you even worse. For a moment you were tempted to buy him coffee once again, but quickly dismissed the idea. Maybe you could try to stay after class and talk to him… but then you'd be a small spark in the raging fiery pool of girls, desperate for his attention. An email? That seemed a little bit impersonal, even for your weird whatever-it-was. So you settled for a small note that you'd drop in his office before class. Rolling out of bed (despite it being so fucking early, dark and cold) you wrapped yourself in your blanket like a burrito and sat down at your desk. You wouldn't use any of your fancy paper or pens, that would've been a bit too much, but a plain white sheet and a plain black pen would do.

Dear Mr. Hiddleston.

I couldn't help but notice how, over the past weeks, things have been weird between us and I hate it and I want you to be nice again because I'm heavily crushing on you and this is fucking stupid.

You groaned and hit your head against the tabletop. That wouldn't work, not at all. You needed to talk to him, before class, even if it was only to briefly get your apology out. If things remained weird after that, at least you couldn't blame yourself for not trying to better thing between you. But you also wanted to do more than say sorry, you wanted to make him smile, to see him happy like on the first day you had met. So you got out another piece of paper and aimed for something entirely different...

After taking a long and hot shower, you got dressed in something cute and comfortable, did your hair with a little more effort than usual and packed your bag for the long day ahead, hiding your little letter between a stack of books.

"Hey Y/n…" Your roommate came sauntering out of his room into the hallway and you could already tell that this day had just taken a turn for the worse. "Uhm, I have this thing going on tonight and… well, I don't think it's gonna be a good place for a… woman." He mumbled, not even brave enough to look you in the eye.

"You do realize that this is also my apartment and I pay more rent than you do?" You groaned, crossing your arms in front of your chest. This was not the time to deal with the fundamental problems of your housing, but obviously he was being serious about that.

"I know, I know… but please, Y/n, it's really important. Can't you stay with a friend for the night?" He whined, walking too close to you for your liking.

"I'm sure I will be fine in my room tonight." You replied defensively, backing up against the still closed front door.

"Those guys… you know, who always hang here… they saw you in that little dress you wore last night and well..." He insisted. "They always get what they want, you must know that!"

As you frowned deeply at him, he continued.

"Look, I'm just trying to look out for you. You really really really don't wanna be here tonight."

"Stop inviting people who want to harm me then!" You shouted, definitely not in the mood for this conversation. He was a fucking creep and you seriously considered getting into debt just to get away from here.

"I didn't invite them! They…" He started shaking a little. "I kinda owe them a little for… stuff. I beg of you Y/n to stay gone for just one night. Then I promise they won't ever come back."

"Not ever?" You asked roughly. "No more destruction, no more shouting, no more shadowy business?"

"I promise!" He stood straight and looked more or less serious about this.

With a groan you returned to your room, grabbed all valuables you could stuff into your backpack (it weren't many for you'd always feared 'someone' would steal them), along with your materials for tomorrow's studies and then locked the door from the outside.

"I swear I'll call the cops if those guys ever come back. Or if anyone enters my room." You grumbled as you pushed past your roommate, repeatedly asking yourself why exactly you were doing him this favor.

"Thank you Y/n, I owe you!" He called after you as you stepped outside into the chilly morning air.

"Big time!" You called back, making your way to the Metro station. Only when you were starting to get uncomfortably cold, you realized that in the heat of the argument you had completely forgotten to put on your coat. With a sigh you decided that you wouldn't be outside for long anyway and just hurried even more on your way to uni.

After a short debate with your bank account you got yourself a large coffee before heading to campus. It was still super early and you hoped that Hiddleston wouldn't be there so you could still get stuff done before he arrived. Unsure if it was the right thing to do, you slipped into his office unnoticed, placed the letter on his desk and made your way to the lecture hall as quickly as possible to have some more alone time to relax before the madness of the day would start.

______________

When Tom got out of his car, he quickly debated whether or not he needed a jacket for the short way to his office. Deciding against it, he only took a few steps before someone called out to him.

"Hey Tom!" His friend Benedict shouted from over at his car.

"Morning…" Tom sighed, slinging his bag around his shoulders.

"What's got you so moody?" He inquired as he joined Tom in his walk towards the building.

"Nothing I want to talk about, Ben…"

"Oh, come on! Is it the freshman class? I told you those…"

"No, it's not the freshmen!" Tom rolled his eyes and glared at his friend for making him talk. "I… have issues with a student."

Now it was Benedict's turn to roll his eyes. "Oh don't tell me it still gets you all upset when you have to give people a bad grade. That happens all the time!"

"No, it's not about the grades." He sighed, digging his hands into his pockets.

"Is it those girls who appear seemingly out of nowhere to stalk you? We've talked about that before, it happens to me, too, all the time…" He talked on and on and Tom didn't know if he should laugh at his rambling or punch him in the shoulder.

"Just let it go. Please, Ben, I don't want to talk about it right now."

Benedict shrugged. "If you say so… but I'm here if you want to talk."

"Thanks…" Tom said as they walked through the main door, enjoying the warmth that surrounded him here in the hallway.

"Good morning! Mr. Hiddleston, Mr. Cumberbatch…" A female student squealed at them out of nowhere, making both men jump. To their luck, she walked away as quickly as she had appeared.

"Does this get worse every single day or is it just me?" Tom asked his friend as they continued their way to the faculty's tower.

"I think you're just having a bad day."

"More like a bad month."

"Is that when your 'issues' started? A month ago? But that was…"

"Yeah. First day of classes." Tom ran a hand through his hair and turned to Benedict sharply. "If you must know, I'm having a really, REALLY hard time not doing something incredibly stupid and it's slowly eating me up from the inside. Are you happy now?"

Benedict just stared at his friend in surprise, for Tom was the last person who would ever snap at him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to… well." Tom apologized immediately, sounding more like himself again.

"It's fine. Maybe you should try to get your issues with the student sorted out, even if it's annoying. Talk to them, today if you can. I can't have my best friend walking around looking like he might murder someone soon." Benedict gave him an encouraging smile once they reached his office, then he disappeared behind a stack of books on his desk.

Already feeling a little better, Tom made his way to his own office. Ben was right, he needed to do something about this mood he had fallen into. After all, he enjoyed his work and he enjoyed teaching. And that meant he would have to talk to you. Soon.

When he walked into his office, it took him a moment to shake off the gloom of the morning, but the prospect of talking to you today got his heart beating and the corners of his lips twisting upwards. Once he finally sat down behind his desk, he spotted a neatly folded piece of paper on pile of books. Frowning, he unfolded it and started to read.

I wish I wrote the way I thought; obsessively, incessantly, with maddening hunger. I'd write to the point of suffocation. I'd write myself into nervous breakdowns, manuscripts spiraling out like tentacles into abysmal nothing. And I'd write about you a lot more than I should. - Benedict Smith

For a long while Tom stared at the little piece of paper and the neat handwriting. He had read that quote before and thought that it held a lot of truth in it. If we would just write straight out what we thought instead of censoring ourselves, we would reach a deeper level of authenticity, and of understanding for literature. Whoever had placed this little quote here in his office must've known that he would appreciate it; probably one of his colleagues after he'd left last night. It wasn't really important who sent it, but that it made Tom smile. In fact, he was still smiling when he walked to the lecture hall for his literature class. Before he could even open the door, he already heard a quiet voice singing inside and his stomach started doing backflips. But he had wanted to talk to you and he would do it.

"Good morning." He announced his presence as he stepped into the room, his voice a little hoarse. You jumped, making him bite his bottom lip to suppress the smirk that wanted to force its way through his barriers.

"Good morning professor!" You replied in a voice that sounded just as nervous as he felt. "I'm sorry about my singing, again…"

"And again I say don't worry about it." He smiled at you politely. "I enjoy the song. Very much so. Wicked Game… it's one of my favorites."

"Oh…" You looked at the books in front of you and Tom asked himself why on earth he had to keep making you uncomfortable all the time.

"Uhm… Miss L/n…" He started, unsure of how to put into words what he needed to get out. "Would you… would you be so kind and help me put these papers on everyone's tables?"

"Of course!" Your reply came quickly and he couldn't help but genuinely smile as you tried to climb out of the tower of books you had built around yourself.

"I wanted to talk to you anyway, Mr. Hiddleston…" You said as he handed you a stack of paper. "I… I'm not sure what I have done wrong during the first week of class, but since then I feel like I'm on your bad side. And I would very much like to change that. I'm very sorry if I have overstepped my boundaries or been disrespectful."

When Tom looked at you, standing right in front of him with eyes so sad that he could drown in your unshed tears, he felt his heart break a little. His eyes went wide in surprise and regret and he couldn't blame himself more for your sadness. Yet, he found himself at a loss for words once again, opening and closing his lips like a fish stranded at the shore.

"You… you have done absolutely nothing wrong, I'm so sorry that I made you think that." He finally got out and saw you visibly relax in front of him. He, however, still felt miserable and it showed.

"Are you alright?" You asked, looking concerned. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No!" His reply came too quickly and his mouth felt utterly dry. "I… I'm sorry, I've had a rough month. If I made you feel uncomfortable or unappreciated… in class, I dearly apologize for doing so."

You let out a long breath, looking at the papers in your arms, then back at Tom with a small smile. "Thank you, professor. This was kind of really important to me, I absolutely love your classes and it was…" You stopped mid-sentence, looking away from him.

"Please do go on." He smiled at you, a sincere and curious smile and he watched you blush adorably.

"Well, it's just… I tried so hard to be good enough that I got quite far ahead." You bit your bottom lip and peaked up at him through your lashes.

"What's so bad about that?" He leaned his head to one side and kept smiling at you, unable to stop now that he knew that you weren't, in fact, mad at him.

"It's bad because I'm having a really hard time not interrupting you from time to time to throw in some new info that I read about." You laughed nervously. "I… kinda wanted to impress you."

Now it was for Tom to blush, he could feel the heat on his cheeks even before it became visible. At the same time however, a cold shudder ran from the top of his head right to his core.

"Well…" He smiled, which turned into more of a nervous laugh. From the red on your cheeks and the tiny smile on your face he could tell that you felt equally… hopeful about this conversation. "You already are the best student in any of my classes, that's for sure." He said. "And I would love to hear your opinion on the topics."

If he wasn't completely mistaken, there was a hopeful glimmer in your eyes, a spark of certainty and excitement that made him continue. "If… if you'd want that, you could… uhm… write down whatever you want to say in class, and whatever comes to your mind about the topics and give those notes to me at the end of class. I'll read over it and make my own comments, then pass it back to you and so forth."

Tom didn't know if he had just made his life easier or way more difficult, but when he looked at you positively beaming at him, he couldn't help but smile.

"I would love that." You replied with a huge smile of your own.

"You could call it extra credit, if you want…" He let out a breathy laugh and ran a hand through his already messed up hair.

"Nah, I don't want any credit for it." You grinned. "I'm just trying to learn."

"Not that you would need it anyway." Tom smiled back at you and after another minute of just being flustered and observing each other, he finally tore himself away from your captivating presence to pass out the papers before the rest of the class would take their seats. You did the same, humming quietly, but Tom could hear it nonetheless. As he placed paper upon paper on the tables his eyes kept darting between you and the task at hand. He felt like a giddy school boy, all tingly on the inside, but he forced his body and mind to calm down. He had wanted to ask you to discuss your opinions over coffee after the lecture, but fortunately he had realized soon enough that going out for coffee in the middle of the day would've been a bit too much. The idea with interchanging notes was both appropriate for a professional relationship and a good way to get to know you. Maybe, this arrangement would finally allow him to walk the thin line between his desire for you and his attempt to keep said desire to himself. However, your encounter today had also shown him that you wanted his attention, even if only on an academic level. And that you were by no means opposed to out-of-class time together. For a single day and after a whole month of pining on his part this was absolutely fabulous. So he didn't stretch his luck and went to prepare for his lecture.

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You couldn't believe your luck when you sat back down in your chair, hiding your huge grin by sipping on your water. Talking to him had been such a good idea, and even if it had only made you fall for him so much more, you could at least be sure now that he wasn't mad at you. And he was willing to hear about your thoughts of the topics. That was so much more than you had hoped for, and yet so much less than you had dreamed of. Digging through your backpack, you pulled out a journal that only had the first few pages filled. Those you ripped out carefully and done: you had a place to take notes for Hiddleston.

With a loud slump, Sky sat down next to you and immediately started talking.

"Y/n, you won't believe what just happened!" She sighed while the other students started to take their seats.

You could see Hiddleston grinning to himself, before you turned your head towards your friend. "Try me." You chuckled and rested your head in your hands while listening.

"Woah, what's the good mood about?" She asked with exaggerated surprise.

"You go first! What happened that is so incredible?" You laughed at her and poked her in the shoulder with one finger.

"I know I said I'm not into dating and stuff… but there's this amazing person and they… asked me out. I said yes, can you believe that! We're going for dinner tonight." Sky grinned at you and seemed genuinely excited.

You couldn't help but grin in return. "That's amazing! A nice boy, or girl, or whoever, will do you good."

"They don't label themself and I won't either. I'm cool with that." She shrugged. "I'm just really excited."

"Yeah I get that!" You laughed. "I wish you good luck with them and a very nice evening."

"Thank you!" Sky sighed and bit her lip. "Uhm… I know that's a really stupid thing to ask of you, but I'm kinda super broke at the moment and also kinda super hungry…"

You rolled your eyes with a smile. "I can buy you lunch after the lecture."

"Oh you're the absolute best Y/n! I'll pay you back, I promise!" She pulled you into a tight hug and you let it happen with a smile. Hopefully you still had enough cash to buy lunch for two…

"Alright, good morning everyone!" Mr. Hiddleston said loudly to get everyone's attention. "Let's get started on today's topic."

With a smile, you turned towards the front and started your written commentary of the lecture.

"What are you doing?" Sky whispered to you once she noticed that you weren't taking notes of what your professor said, but instead writing down little snippets of information or thoughts.

"... Extra credit?" You mused, only partially happy with your answer.

"Is that why you seem so happy?" She grinned. "Because you talked to our handsome puppy down there?" She motioned toward Hiddleston with her head.

You let out a way too loud snort at her words, which made a few people turn their heads towards you, but Sky didn't seem to mind. "Actually… Yeah, Hiddleston seems so much happier than usual. You did talk to him didn't you!" Sky playfully punched you in the shoulder. "Asked him out on a date yet?"

"Sky!" You hissed, blushing bright red. "He's a professor! Stop those wicked comments…"

"But you can't seriously tell me anymore that you're not crushing on him. C'mon Y/n! You're practically undressing him with your eyes!"

"Stop it! I'm not!" You tried to keep your voice down as much as possible. When Sky looked at you with an who-are-you-kidding expression, you rolled your eyes. "Alright, I… I kinda might have a little crush on him, okay? Can you shut up now?"

Sky pretend to zip her lips closed and you could finally focus back on the lecture.

After class was over and everyone was packing their bags, you thought about it for a second and then added can't wait to hear your thoughts :) to your notes. Then you flipped the journal shut, sealed it with the weird elastic that was attached to it and grabbed your stuff.

"You coming?" Sky asked as she made for the exit.

"Gimme a sec, I gotta talk to Hiddleston." You replied and ignored the knowing grin that Sky shot your way.

You kept your eyes fixed on him as you pushed your way through the usual crowd of girls and when you reached the very front, a few of them even started protesting and elbowing you in the ribs.

Once he noticed you, he simply ignored the babbling girl he was forced to listen to before and you could see the despair in his eyes.

"Uhm, professor, I… we have to go to this… meeting… with the board, immediately, you remember…?" You said loudly and motioned towards the door, hoping he would catch on.

And he did, after a mere second of doubt. "Ah, yes! How could I forget that!" He replied, grabbed his bag in an instant and started making his way through the crowd, following closely behind you. "I'm very sorry, but you all will have to come to my office hours or send an email if you want your questions answered." He called over his shoulder at the irritated girls, while he rushed towards the exit with you. At the door, you grabbed Sky by the arm and lead your group of three around the next corner before finally slowing down.

"What on earth was that?" Sky laughed, looking at you, then at Mr. Hiddleston.

"That, Miss Monroe, was a brilliant save in the last second." He replied with a chuckle. "Miss L/n here saved me a good thirty minutes of meaningless questions from attention seeking students."

You held out the journal to him and grinned. "Did it for utterly selfish reasons. I didn't want to wait to hand this in."

He took the black notebook from you and held it tightly again his chest. "Thank you nonetheless." With another smile he bowed ever so slightly, making Sky giggle.

"Have a nice day, you two." He said then and walked a few steps down the hallway, before turning around once again. "Oh, and Y/n! I'll let you know when you can pick up the notebook." With that and a huge grin, he made his way towards his office, rounding a corner and then he was out of sight.

"Oh well, that was something…" Sky laughed, starting into the opposite direction to head to the cafeteria.

You however remained frozen to the spot, staring after your professor.

"Y/n? Are you okay?" Sky asked with concern once she noticed that you weren't coming.

"He…" You frowned, feeling hot and cold, numb and very much alive at the same time. "He just used my first name…"

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General Tags:

@its-remy-not-ratatouille @wegingerangelica @thidls12333

Wicked Game Tags:

@just-the-hiddles @inmyworstlies @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @foodthatsgoodforyoursoul @jessalynjones1989 @dark-night-sky-99 @hiddles-lobotomy @shockwavee @laudylovesyou @maze-lt101 @cupcakeangelness @fairlightswiftly @lys-syl @ordinarygirlfromasmalltown @pinkzz123 @spookycatqueen @exygon @izzy10718 @jenna-sakura @hiddlescastle @starklymydear @darkprincessloki92 @kinghiddlestonanddixon @alt-er-love-er-alt @timetraveler1978 @dreary-skies-stuff @daddys-littlewhitegirl @justthatfangirloverthere @lucantis @missvilsana

[shay-iamiam]

Communication

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Pairings : Dom! Steve | 18+

Summary : Steve is gentle until he's not. You always push his buttons and it's about to time you had a reminder of what's waiting at home.

A/n: @great-neckpectations Had this amazing request that she actually thought I could write (somebody actually had faith in me lmao.) I hope I this justice. ( I'm gonna run away frim my phone now lmao. Hoping y'all don't this.)

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Self indulging fics Masterlist

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Three hours.

Not one phone call, not one text message. Not one post on any of your social media accounts. Three hours that Steve was frantically trying to find you.

All his texts went unanswered. All his calls forwarded straight to your voicemail. The last three hours of stress Steve felt slowly began to piss him off.  

Steve loved that you were independent. That's what drew him in like a month to a flame. Your ability to be carefree but also chew someone the fuck out if they stepped out of bonds with you. Your brattiness and your mouth. Your need to always run it was the cause & reason behind the majority of his hard ons.

But when it came to him being your dom the rules were set in stone.

Your brattiness and your mouth. Your need to always run it drove him wild. He wanted you to be a good girl and listen to Daddy's rule's. But at the center of your core you loved disobeying him just a little bit.

Steve was a patient man. He was always gentle with you. He never wanted to pressure or control you. Which was what currently was confusing him. Why would you up and disappear like this?

Steve managed to trace your phone to some hole in the wall club I'm Brooklyn. He mounted his bike and speed across the city to get to you.

The club wreaked of cheap booze and cigarettes. Steve hated bars and clubs you knew that so why would you purposely disappear to one.

Steve stalked his way into the bar. The dim lighting made it hard to see. The music was to loud the people where to wild. Every step he took deeper inside the bar only chipped away at his resolve little more.

Steve went up to the bar hoping someone working at the club recognized you.

"Yeah some guy just asked her danced. She's over there somewhere.” The bartender pointed to the dance floor where you were throwing it back on some dude.

Steve stomped over to where you we're letting some random guy touch your body. Steve only saw him touching what belonged to him.

You were suddenly turned back from your dancing only to see a very upset Steve standing in front of you.

"I'm not happy with you right now." Steve voice was low and steady. He was a little to calm. You knew you fucked up when he mentioned not being able to reach you.

"You didn't answer any of my calls and not one of my text's." Steve was fuming.

"You got a good reason why you didn't answer baby? Huh."

You didn't speak. You just stood there listening to the anger laced in his voice. You didn't know if you should be scare or horny. Actually you felt a mix between the two.

You knew how Steve felt about your safety. It wasn't that he wanted to control you. He just wanted  to protect you. Knowing that you were safe wherever you were always set his mind at ease.

Until you decide to purposely turn your phone off and leave without saying anything. That's where you screwed up.

"Where leaving now." With a tug on your hand Steve lead you right out of the little whole in the wall you made your residence in.

Steve placed your helmet on your head. Making sure the straps where secure enough before mounting his bike.

You held on tight as Steve zipped through the busy New York Traffic. He pulled his bike into the garage, mounting off the bike pulling you along with him to elevator. Steve punched the button waiting for the doors to close.

The ride up to your shared floor was quite. You knew you'd pissed Steve off. He hadn't said one word to you since he pulled off from the bar.

The door slammed roughly causing the photos littered amongst the walls to shake.  

You followed Steve back to your room. Steve sat on the end of the bed. He took his boots off placing then to the side. He knew your mind was racing trying to figure out what your punishment would be.

"Strip. The only thing I want to see on you is your painties" Steve pointed to a spot that he wanted you to stand in while you undressed.

You tried to turn your back to him. But he wasn't having it.

"No need to be shy now. You weren't shy in the bar earlier." Steve was growing more irritated by the second.

Once you removed your clothes you stood there watching Steve. His face was unreadable. You didn't know what your punishment would be.

It felt like forever had passed before Steve spoke to you. He started at you while you waited anxiously for his next command.

Steve spread his thighs, motioning you over to him. "Lay down. This is a  little reminder. So next time you don't forget what you have waiting at home." Steve hand came down hard on your ass. The smack of his hand jumped across the room.

You tried to hold in your yelp at the first hit. You didn't want Steve to think you where enjoying this even though you where.

"Don't be quiet now. Any other time your mouthing on." You whimperd when his hand came down on your ass again.

"Daddy's been real patient with you tonight. You didn't answer any of my phone calls *smack" or texts."  He growled.

"You didn't follow any of the rules. That's a big no no baby." Steve spread your legs looking down at your soaked core. He couldn't believe you where already this wet. Seeing you like that only drove him even further.

"And you were giving another man what only belongs to Daddy."  Steve sucked his teeth as he thought back on your behavior.

"I don't think so."

"How do you think that made daddy feel? Huh."  You where a mess tears began to gather in your eyes. Steve's hand was steady after every smack he would rub your tender skin. His voice was as taunting

"Answer me."

"It- it made you feel bad." You sobbed out over his lap. You were ready to burst just from his hand on your ass.

"Your right it did baby. Daddy didn't like seeing you letting someone else touch you."

"But you won't do that again will you baby? Answer daddy."  his voice was soft and gentle all of a sudden. Like he knew you wouldn't make that mistake again.

"No I won't. Never again. I'm yours. All of me is yours."  You cried out, spreading your legs further apart.

"Don't forget it."

"I think you learned your lesson." Steve laid back on pulling you along with him.

"Now be a good girl and get to work." He retorted.

Steve placed his hands behind his head. It drove you wild when you rode Steve. The way he looked at you made you feel like your skin was on fire. It was a reward after the roughness on your backside.

You were still sensitive from Steve's spanking. Your skin burned a little bit with every moment. You straddle Steve sitting down slowly across him.

Steve notice that you where a little sore. He made a mental note to rub you down with aloe vera after.

"Wanna see you wrecked while your riding Daddy's cock." Steve pinched your perk nipples. Your head flew back at the pinch of sensation.

You where already sensitive due to Steve's punishment if you rode him like you wanted to than this wouldn't last long. You placed your hands over Steve's chiseled chest. Laying the palms of your hands down you sunk down onto Steve's long girth.

When you bottomed out you and Steve moaned out in unison.

Steve was in a blissed out haze. He watched with hooded eyes as tried to control your breathing. You where already wrecked and all he did was smack your ass a couple of times.

You had your sub space and he was in his blissed out Dom space.

You picked up the pace. Rocking your body back and forth grinding down hard. The drag of Steve's cock inside you knocked the air from your lungs.

Steve's gentle side began to shine through. His rough exterior you previously saw melted away. The side of him that told you he loved when you rode him and how cute you looked when you came.

He looked at you like you hung the stars and moon in the sky. This was the side of Steve he only gave to you.

The rest of the world saw him as a man of strength and honor. He was those things but he also wanted someone to take care of him the same way he took care of you.

The only sound that could be heard was yours and Steve skin connecting as you bounced up and down of his cock.

"Fuc- fuck baby. Keep going." Steve pulled at your nipples.

"You love riding Daddy's cock don't you?" You could only nod your head quickly your voice was completely gone. You loved when Steve got like this. That only meant he was close to cumming.

"Are you close to baby? Daddy's ready to cum." He wrapped his hand around your hips thrusting up into you. Pulling you down harder on his hips.

"I'm- I'm ready daddy. Fuck I'm ready."

"Come on baby. Soak daddy than."  The way he commanded you to cum. Only made your orgasm stronger.

One moment you could hear Steve crying out and the next you heard nothing.

________

You woke up to a warm towel being rubbed between your legs.

"I brought some aloe to help with the soreness. Once I'm done cleaning you up I'll rub you down."

"You're too good to me. I'm sorry for running off like that. I just had a shit day."  

"It's okay Y/n. You just scared me there for a moment. I wanted to make sure you where good and you didn't answer."  Steve couldn't help but worry. He worried that you would wake up one day and realize you didn't want him.

You knew him like that back of your hand.

Steve was a worry wart as you liked to call him.

"You know I'm always good when I'm with you." You looked over at him. And Steve couldn't help but smile. He knew he was good when he was with you. And he hoped that would never change.

_______

Self indulging fics Masterlist

A/n: When you leave feedback my heart skips a beat. I die for a minute. But foreal I really love hearing from y'all! Anything y'all say even a gif makes my day.

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

Say Something

Erik watched intrigued as his four-year-old godson Nasir, completely ignored his favorite show playing on the iPhone in favor of pretending to fix a customer's iMac that was sitting on the table. He was pushing the power button like it would do something. The computer was unplugged and even if it weren't, it had crashed.

"I'll fix this one and you fix that one," he instructed in his small voice with confidence.

"Oh you gone help me fix the graphics card," Erik teased watching the boy click the same button and stare at the dark screen before hitting keys on the attached keyboard. "I might have to hire you.. Aight, you work on that one. I'll leave it to you."

Erik was in the process of diagnosing a Dell laptop when his phone rang, muting the show.

"Nooo," Nasir complained.

"Hello?.. Yeah I do smartphones, is it an iPhone?.. Bring it by I can take a look at it." Erik hung up returning the phone to its previous position next to Nasir, letting the boy press play and turn up the volume. It was amazing to him how quickly kids caught on to technology. His attention switched to the glass front door as it opened triggering the bell overhead. Customers.

"How can I help you today?" Erik noticed the macbook in the black kid's hand.

"It stopped working and my essay is on it. I don't care what you gotta do I need this shit back up as soon as possible. My paper due Wednesday," he stressed. Erik counted. That was four days. "Sir, my teacher will fail me if I don't turn in this essay on time. She don't give a fuck about broken.."

Typically he'd have to let the customer know he'd need more time since he's always working on at least three different things at once and he's only one person.. the fixer, the receptionist, the accountant, and the boss. However, this black kid seemed to be in a true bind and if Erik had the power to help break down a barrier in a kid's education, he'd be damned if he didn't use it.

"I got you," he said taking the macbook. "The diagnosis is free. You'll get a quote once I find out what's wrong with it, but this type of thing happens all the time especially with Mac computers.. I'll have it up for you by Tuesday."

With folded hands, the boy bowed in gratitude. "THANK you." It felt good to help a young black man up.

Setting the macbook aside, he made eye contact with the young black woman who stepped up with a cracked cell phone screen wanting it replaced. Easy work. She snickered and he followed her eyes looking to see his godson grinning at her with all of his eighteen baby teeth. It must've been her shirt. She had on a graphic tee with the Avengers and Captain America was his favorite character, hands down.

"Captain America," he grinned approaching her breathily, his fingers in his mouth. Here we go.

"Yesss! You like Avengers," she smiled stretching her shirt for him to see more clearly.

"Captain America..," Nasir clarified quietly, "...I wanna marry him."

"Oh really," the girl gasped. "That's so cute, you just might!"

That was the first time Erik thought that his godson might be gay. He didn't know what to say in that moment, so he didn't say anything at all. He simply took the girl's phone and gave her the option to wait or come back. She decided to wait.

Two Years Later

Erik carried his gift through the group of kids who scattered around his calves running outside. There must've been fifteen children in the house and ten outside in the backyard. Parents gathered in various Avengers decorated rooms and out in the yard to chaperone and eat from the table of food provided by his mans Leon and his mans' wife Tori. They both greeted Erik immediately tasking him with the job of watching kids in the living room. Paw Patrol was on, of course, and Nala had just run into the room, cheesing when she saw him. He noticed immediately that she wore a Happy Birthday tiara with a blue denim shirt, blue jeans, a rainbow tutu and sneakers.

"ERIIIIIIIK!" She yelled rushing over to hang onto him tightly, dropping her weight. He picked her up and swung her in a full circle placing her back on her feet ignoring her silent plead for him to do it again.

"I just put your gift on the table with the rest. You got a lot of presents and a big cake mama."

"Look at my nails! Momma did it," she yelled jumping excitedly, showing off sparkly pink nails on her small hand.

"It's pretty!" Erik smiled feeling her joy. It was contagious. The simplest things made her ecstatic. Add that to the joy kids tend to feel simply because it's their birthday and she was definitely the happiest kid at the party.

His ears perked suddenly, hearing a certain slur he'd come to loathe just in the past two years. It was almost like a trigger now. The word was nearly inaudible since it was a whisper not intended to be heard, yet he'd heard it and to him it was unacceptable. Thankfully, Nala didn't hear it. Not that she'd fully understand it if she did, but she'd understand it one day and that day didn't need to come today on her sixth birthday. Hopefully by the time she was old enough to truly understand, the world would be a different, safer, and more accepting place.

He decided to let it slide since it was a birthday party and he didn't want to be the one to cause a scene. It was a talk he'd received a lot from his mans and Tori.. 'Don't cause a scene.. Let it go.. They're not worth it..' Time and time again, Erik had been seconds from snapping on ignorant muhfukkas in the name of his little goddaughter but held back like a pitbull on a chain.. with Leon and Tori selflessly holding said chain. Why anyone gave a damn about what a six-year-old wore or called themselves was a mystery to him. On top of that, Leon and Tori were the best and most loving parents he knew other than his own, so for anyone to insult their parenting style... he took it personally.

Still, their words echoed in his mind. 'Erik, let it go.'

The party progressed with kids running wild, high off sugar like miniature crackheads. The time came to gather around the Avengers themed cake with Happy Birthday Nala written in pink icing. Tori started singing and the kids joined in along with a few parents.

"Happy Birthday to youuu. Happy birthday to youuu!"

Erik chewed on swedish meatballs listening closely for variations while watching the adults.

"Happy Birthday dear Nas-Nalaaaa!"

A few kids got it wrong, but fixed it. It wasn't intentional... so close enough.

"Happy Birthday to youuu!!!"

Nala happily blew out the candles and started started clapping. It was time for cake.. as if the baby crackheads needed anything else sweet. He watched Tori wipe up frosting and sweep crumbs, not complaining once. She was a damned saint. That same voice cut above the others in Erik's ear again. His eyes zoned in on two black men.. fathers of a couple of the children in attendance, he presumed. He made eye contact and one nodded like shit was cool. It wasn't, but Erik would stay silent like he'd been asked to in the past. Or at least, that was what he planned to do until he overhead them talking shit again. He couldn't just do nothing. He started his walk toward the two men, stopping short when a young black woman stepped in front of them.

"Y'all should be ashamed of y'allselves," she whispered angrily as they stared at her unperturbed. "That is a child! How would you feel if someone talked about your blackass kids like that? The only reason Tori hasn't kicked y'all out of her house is because she doesn't want to punish the kids for their parents' ignorant behavior which says a lot that children behave better than you!"

She moved on and switched up their conversation, but it wasn't good enough for Erik. When they left, they'd say the same shit. Their kids would eventually pick up their toxic ideas and repeat the cycle. 'There's nothing we can do about it," Leon had said once when Erik was especially furious. "People will be cruel and think what they want to think," he said and Erik could feel the pain in his words.

"Our job is to love Nasir and build him up as best as we can so that he's ready for the world," Tori added. That was before Nasir decided that he preferred to be she and that she wanted her new name to be Nala like on Lion King. In respect of their child, Leon and Tori agreed and it'd been that way ever since.

Finally, it was time to open the gifts. There were a variety of toys, big and small, some with a lot of little pieces. It was a six-year-old's dream. When she unwrapped the Captain America figurine and kid-sized shield Erik had bought, she about lost her mind.

"Happy Birthday," he smiled.

The next gift was a bratz doll from a little girl who looked excited for Nala to see it. Nala grinned giving the girl a hug as cameras flashed capturing the moment.

"--Child abuse.. It's a boy. Putting a skirt on him doesn't change that," the voice whispered again and Erik looked at Nala. It didn't look like she'd heard but he knew for a fact that other parents had.. maybe some of the kids as well. Looking at Leon, he'd definitely heard and the Oakland neega looked to be on the verge of jumping out of him. When they made eye contact, Erik gave him the look. Just say the word, he thought, ready to cut loose, though he knew his friend. His friend was one of them good, wholesome niggas who believed in chances. He'd never drop the leash.

But Erik was getting sick of these niggas.. and now they were ruining his goddaughter's party? He had to do something. They had to go. He couldn't live with it if he didn't at least say something.

The kids who were still at the house moved into the living room sitting everywhere. The couch, the floor. Paw Patrol was still on, a marathon apparently and it brought the room of six year olds under control like they were being hypnotized.

Seeing his chance to speak up without making a scene, he decided to go over calmly and just talk to them. He made his way to the two men in the room, standing next to them with his red plastic cup of soda before they could make another ignorant comment. He'd spotted their kids and they were glued to the screen just like the others.

"Ay," he whispered getting the men's attention. "What's y'all issue with my goddaughter? Y'all really pissin me off."

"Nigga. That's a boy. You can't give him a girl name and expect him to be a girl, that's still a boy," the second guy whispered back as if Erik wasn't understanding.

"Nah, this nigga probably...," the first man tilted his hand back and forth, "That's why that boy ended up that way," he balked dismissing Erik with his eyes. Now they were flipping it on him. He had to laugh. These niggas had the nerve.. and he trying to be patient.

"Niggas think 'cause I'm soft with kids I'm pussy," he smirked staring at the screen up ahead. "I'll kill y'all both after Paw Patrol." They looked at him like he was tripping until he flashed a glimpse of his piece and they straightened up quick. He walked back to his original position, eyes meeting theirs.

Like the model parent she was, Tori made sure each kid got a gift bag before leaving the house, including the kids of those two men who ain't say shit about Nala for the rest of the party, which was a short time in comparison to their string of bullshit, but still. Erik's only regret was that he'd done what he did sooner.

"Aight," he said hugging Leon goodbye and shaking Tori's hand out of respect. Nala had crashed and was knocked out on the couch. There were only two kids still there and it was because the moms were talking. "Good party. I'll see you."

"Aight man, take care. Be safe," Leon said closing the door as Erik walked his car holding two full plates of food.

"Wait, wait, wait.. whew," a voice called after him. He turned. It was one of the moms from inside.. the same one who'd spoken up before he had. She'd come dashing out after him. "Glad I caught you," she smiled stopping a foot away from him and his car. "I actually.. I saw what you did in there. I wish more people the guts to say something."

He shrugged. "You were quicker."

"Perhaps. But you got the job done."

He looked her over. He wasn't gonna shoot his shot out of respect because it was Nala's party and she was there with her kid, but she was fine.

"I gotta get my kid," she said suddenly backing toward the house again before turning to walk back to the door.

"Ay," he called watching her stall and turn slightly, just enough to see his face.

"..You.. you like bowling?" Bowling, wtf? He didn't bowl.

"Bowling?" Her tone echoed his thoughts, but she smiled and that smile told him he'd done right by stopping her. "Yeah, my daughter and I like bowling," she stressed. He smiled. He could already tell she was a good mom.

"Maybe I could take you both sometime."

"Maybe...," she grinned. "You know Tori?"

"Leon's my nigga. Nala's my godchild," he nodded. That seemed to impress her.

Just then, they looked up at the same time to see a little girl running from the house.

"Mommy," she called running to the women's side and looking to Erik.

"I've gotta go," the woman said heading to a black car.

"Wait," he called after her, setting the plates on his hood to follow her. "What's your name?" He watched as she secured the small girl in a car seat.

"Shamidi," she said standing to face them. He nodded before facing the little girl who was still watching him. She had two thick puffs and looked just like her momma. "And what's your name, cocoa puffs?"

"Imani," she whispered. He was sold. Beautiful mom. Cute kid. "Do you mind if I take you and your mom bowling," he asked. Her face lit up.

"That's cheating," Shamidi sighed, humoured.

"Maybe," he shrugged playfully. "It got the job done."

"Clever," she smirked opening her car door. He watched as she got in, started the car, and began to pull off with a smile on her face.

"Hold up. What's your number," he yelled. She pulled out slowly and he followed the car as she got onto the street. He kissed his teeth when it looked like she really planned on leaving like that. Then she rolled down the window, the car never stopping.

"I gotta go! Get it from Tori," she yelled driving away. He watched as the car disappeared around the corner. He didn't expect this to happen. He came for a six-year-old's birthday party, not to play stepfather for a woman and her child.

However.. he wasn't mad at it.

Tucking the plates into the passenger seat of his car, he walked back to the house to find Tori.

The End

A/N: If these names are familiar to you that's because Shamidi and Imani are characters in Crowning Glory, another fic I wrote. This is kinda like a prequel.

@muse-of-mbaku @imaginewhoever @goddessofthundathighs @panthergoddessbast @thadelightfulone @misspooh @marvelmaree @youreadthatright @theunsweetenedtruth @bidibidibombaclaat @myboyfriendgiriboy @dameshaemonique @blackpantherimagine   @vikkidc @hidden-treasures21 @mysidefanting @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @syndrlla97 @winteroflife @thotyana-in-this-hoe   @texasbama @gingerylimonte @princessstevens   @magic-madness-heavensin @wawakanda-btch @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @wakanda-inspired @blackgirloneshots @thegucciwaffle @thiccdaddy-mbaku   @drsunshine97 @purplehairgawdess @trevantesbrat @indigoxsummers @cccccx1   @dynastylnoire @iamrheaspeaks @blowmymbackout @fonville-designs @they-call-me-le @theblulife   @raysunshine78 @sheisexcellent

[benjaminjofaiho]

The Captain Next Door Ch.1

Summary: You’re a doctor who also just so happens to be a fan fiction writer. You love lots of fandoms but Captain America is by far your fave, so what happens when you get a new job, move to Brooklyn and realize that the brownstone you bought is right next door to Captain America? Obviously shenanigans ensue.

Warnings: cursing, smutt (eventually)

Authors note: Ok guys, this is literally my first fanfic and it’s about the Cap. Please be gentle! Also guys I really do live for a slow burn so that will be present heavy, I hope you can stick with it. Let me know what you think and please, reblog, like and comment! Love y'all! P.S. I do not currently have a beta and the ‘f’ and ‘u’ keys on my keyboard are messed up so incase you see repeating letters anywhere they aren’t supposed to be feel free to let me know.

   You wiped the sweat forming on your head from the sweltering Brooklyn heat. You were from Texas but this was definitely more than you were used to, or expected from everything you’ve seen on TV about New York. You sat on the stoop of your Brooklyn Brownstone waiting and started to think back. Three months ago you were in your parents living room opening up a heavy envelope from a hospital you’ve only dreamed of. Your father beamed from ear to ear, chest swelling with pride and tears were already in your mom’s eyes the moment a paper cutter went through the envelope. Your eyes flew across the page “Y/FN Y/LN, We would like to offer you the position of Head of Cardiology here at Mount Sinai...” everything else had been a blur. All your sleepless nights in college, all the anxiety, stress, sacrifices of missed birthdays and family gatherings, all of it had lead up to this moment and it had all been worth it. Your job started in the next 5 months and you had to pack up your Texan life and move all the way to the ‘big Apple’ as your dad called it. Besides the fact that you were infatuated with the city since you were a little girl, you were ready for a change of scenery. There were so many good memories here in Fort Worth but thanks to your asshole ex, Daniel, there were also a lot of sour ones as well. Your parents and your younger siblings helped you pack up your little house that was just  15 minutes from theirs. You were able to get everything done in about 2 weeks. At the airport your family saw you off. Your younger brother, Benjamin, eyes were red.

           “Aww baby brother are you crying because you’re going to miss me?” you pinched at his cheeks.

           Swatting your hand away he chuckled “Nah, I’m just thinking about how you’re gonna be in a whole nother state bossing people around and how you’ll finally be able to mind your own business and stay out of mine.” You hugged him and he bent down so you could kiss his forehead. Even though you were 26, a whole 7 years older than him and 5’8, he still towered above you.

           Turing to your 3 youngest sisters, Joy, Faith and Hope. Their names a testament to just how southern and Christian your parents were. They were huddled together crying freely, looking like little black angels in a chapel. You hugged each of them while the youngest, Hope, held on the longest. You hugged her until she was ready to let go. You kissed Faith on the cheek and moved to turn to your parents. The third oldest Joy grabbed you and hugged you once again, fiercley. She whispered in your ear “Y/N, I don't know how to do it. I don't know how to take care of them the way you took care of us, what are we gonna do without you?”

           You looked into her brown eyes “Joy, babe all you have to do is love them. Also I’m just a FaceTime call away, PLUS I’m a big shot doctor so it ain’t nothing for me to hop on a plane for y’all. Girl I got monnneeyyyy” That managed to get a little laugh from her and you stepped back to look at your siblings. Technically yes, they were your younger ones but due to the large age gap you always looked at them as your children, your babies. The 4 of them huddled around you once more and hugged. You turned to your dad who was never one to shy away from his emotions, was all but balling.

           “Come on dad, you gotta hold it together man!” he laughed and wiped at his cheeks

“I’m just so proud of you baby girl, you inspire your brother and sisters to do more, your mother and I have always told you that, but I never told you, you inspire me to. I am beyond proud of you.”

           “Aw dad, I love you so much” Pulling you into one of his patented hugs he said “I love you too. You’re going to the big apple now Doc, make sure you take a bite” Kissing your forehead you turned to face your mom. Oh boy. Of you made it through this one you would be home free, no ugly snot face crying. She gave you the best smile she could and that was it. The dam broke and you were sobbing. She hugged you and told you how proud of you she was, how you were a shining light for your siblings and the family as a whole. She told you that she also packed some food from home in your suitcase so you could settle in a little easier. You looked at her with a heart full of nothing but love. You were a little neurotic, and had a tendency to be anal retentive, planning and sticking to strict schedule for everything, predicting 10’000 possible outcomes to any situation but your mother was always there for you. Always remembering anything you didn’t. You thought of how she was really the only one you would let see vulnerable and take care of you. You would miss that in New York. Picking up your hand luggage you were whisked through security thanks to your first class ticket. Turning once more now passed security you stood up on your tip toes and waved emphatically to your family, not caring who saw you or them looking crazy. Your family had already been a little above average but this new job allowed you to even buy your wants not just your needs. You settled down in your chair and noticed only a handful of people were in your cabin. A stewardess came to offer you some champagne and you politely declined. Looking out the window a few seconds letting the last tear fall you put your curly hair up, you had to get to work.

           So yes, you were a doctor and that was all good and fun but you were also a huge nerd. Huge. While most people went to the club, concerts and generally having pretty good times outdoors you were stuck at home. Even when not studying you were still stuck to your computer. Once your family insisted on going to six flags and you brought your ipad with the attachable keyboard and your family kept talking about how dedicated of a student turned intern turned full-fledged doctor you were. If only they knew… You were working on your fanfiction and your followers and subbies were a bunch of savages! If they didn’t get their fix from you and you didn't stick to your upload schedule, your inbox would definitely be a madness, all sorts of threats and your lovelies would call you everything but a child of God. You’d been away for about a month and a few days now and your beta, Jay had started texting your actual phone. You met Jay on Tumblr a few years before, there had been some light flirtation always present but never anything serious. You worked better as friends and when you decided to get into fanfiction to blow steam off, he proved a good beta reader.

TXT From Jay: Doc! Where the hell are you at? Your rabid readers are jumping down my throat trying to you. Why you would leave a major cliffhanger for Captain America, and Sonia I have no idea. They want to know what’s happening next, low key I do too.

           You giggled. You thought of everything, you knew setting up a completely unaffiliated and untraceable account for your writing was a good idea. 1- you didn't want angry people in your inbox losing their minds. 2- You’ve been going for interviews and you didn't want a case where a potential employer would google your name and see all the filth you think about earth’s mightiest heroes and other people who don’t even exist. No way, you couldn't have that type of rep attached to you.

TXT From Y/N: Jaybaby, I’ve been going through it. Sorry, just been in the process of moving and you know life can get a little messy. Plus I really needed a break. Funnily enough I’m working on The Dangerous Dame right now. I’ll send the new chapter to you within the week. XO

Thinking back to seeing the avengers save New York you were grateful for them. They were kicking ass and taking names. Keeping all of us safe but damn if they weren’t all so fine. And you did mean ALL. To be honest that Natasha could. Get. It. All of them could get it. But there was something about that Captain America. He was sort of shy and had a boyish charm about him but that body made you think of pure sin. You wanted to wrap yourself around him and never let him go. You wanted to do nasty things to him. You wanted him to completely demolish you. So you did what everyone who is obsessed with anyone does. Try and consume as much media about said person as possible. Hey, It is the golden age of technology after all. After having your fill of random fan pictures, blurry videos of him in action you needed more stimulus. Where better to turn than Tumblr. Much to your dismay, there was barely any Cap Fanfic and when there was there was so little reader insert. And even then, there was literally less than 10 where he was actually into a black woman. This wouldn't do, you thought to yourself. That’s how Doctor Chris was born. Of course his name was Steve but he always sort of looked like a Chris to you. You didn’t just write about him but other people too, your stories took off and were a good escape from your hectic life.

           A car pulled up to you on your empty street and a short round man with a very stereotypical New Yorker accent shouted up to you, shaking you our of your memories

           “Ay lady, are you” his beady eyes peered at a piece of paper “Y/N? Are you Y/N?”

           “Yes that’s me”

           “Alright come get your unit, and not to be rude or anything but could you make it snappy? I got to make 15 more deliveries before the day is over.”

You slowly rose “Alright, I understand. However I paid for the delivery service? Aren’t y’all supposed to put it in my house?”

           “Lady you paid for the delivery service, not the installation service. That's another fee.”

           “I understand that” You replied still confused “ But I thought you would deliver it into my home.”

           “No way lady, that’s the set up service. You paid for the delivery service. That's an entirely different fee.” He repeated.

           “Understood” Your lips pulled into a flat line “Well sir could you at least help me get it into the first floor of my house?”

           “Did you pay for transportation insurance?”

           “….no…I didn-”  he cut you off “Well sorry Lady, I can’t help you.”

           “You can’t help me off load this huge AC and just carry it up 7 measly steps with me?”

           “Nope, can’t do it. It’s against company policy. Say I should look up at a pretty bird cuz the day’s so gorgeous and what not, then your unit slips out of my hand, there goes your cool breeze. Who’s gonna pay for that? Certainly not the company, cuz you didn’t pay for the transport insurance. That's a different fee. Now you’re angry at me, I mean technically it was my fault for being so clumsy and distractable and what not. But guess who else isn’t gonna pay? Me! Then guess whos gonna be upset and take me to court but loose horrifically because my brother in law just passed the bar? You! So lady no, I can’t help you. Why don’t you get one of the other tenants in the building to help you?”

           “Well, not that it’s any of your business, but I own the brownstone and I live alone. So there’s no one that could help me.”

           “You had enough money to get a brownstone but not enough to pay the fee?”

           “Alright thanks whatever your name is. I’ll just take my AC Now.”

           You looked at him while you struggled for 15 minutes just to get the AC out of the truck and the second you safely had it on the baking concrete of the curb you heard the back of the truck slide down and heard a door slam. You turned around to see the truck driver starting up the car and he shouted over the roaring engine.

           “Thanks for shopping with Coole Breeze, your number one cooling solution  in the tricity area, have a frosty day!” and with that, he was off.

           Even though you were wearing a  pretty airy romper and you did work out about 3 times a week, that was nothing against that heavy ass air conditioner and that Brooklyn heat. You put your hands on top your head and squinted up the sky. You again thank God your street was empty. You must have sweated out your Twist out and edges by now. You were convinced you were looking crazy. But hey, It was a Tuesday at 1. Everyone who was someone was at work, kids were in school so it was just you and this behemoth air conditioning unit.  Getting into classic Y/N calculations your decided what you were going to do. Yes, this AC was, technically for your room but you won’t be able to get it all the way up there by yourself right now so you can create a pulley system and pull it through the window. Huffing and puffing to your started mimicking your father.

           ‘Buy a fixer upper baby girl, it's a great investment. You could build your dream home and sell it eventually , it’ll be fun! Your brother and I will fly up there to help you whenever you need us or have free time. Matter of fact I’m pretty sure my army buddy Wilson still lives in New York…Not sure the part though. But I know he and his boy are engineers of some sort. I can even ring them up to help you when I can’t make it myself. This will be a terrific family project honey!’

           “ Sure dad!” you shouted at no one in particular “ who’s going to help me now though?!” At least your mother had the foresight to buy you a fully equipped toolbox, 12 foot ladder and a whole bunch of things that a new homeowner/renovator needs. It took a bit of maneuvering but you were able to get the ladder out the door and down the steps. You were now atop of it, building and hammering away at a pulley system. You were determined to sleep in a chilly 50 degrees tonight, by any means necessary. You saw two men one white and one black, approaching from your left through your peripheral vision. You steeled yourself to any cat calling that may occur, from the angle - to what you had on, it wasn’t a good situation. You couldn't make out faces but you could see that one was visibly bigger than the other. They stopped walking a little behind you and you couldn't tell which one asked but you heard someone say

           “Hi, do you need any help?”

           “O fanks” You replied with a slight lift of your hand with a screwdriver hanging out the side of your mouth and a heavy covering of sweat on your forehead. Using the back of your hand to wipe the sweat off you removed the screwdriver from your mouth and cleared your throat then repeated “No thanks” In a clearer manner. Thinking to yourself how could these guys even help me? While screwing and grunting softly you weren’t mentally present. You were trying to solve the problem you created. You had written yourself into a corner and you were trying to figure out a way out of it. You started to get the thread of an idea that you were mentally trying to work into a tapestry for your readers, however, while still trying to flesh it out something else was fighting for your attention. In the back of your mind you heard his voice again.

           “Are you sure? We may be able to be of better help than you thin-” Remembering your mothers call the night before talking about a movie she watched on lifetime where people in the ‘big city’ would help you get something into your house as supposed good Samaritans then come back and rob you, or do worse you decided against it instantly.

           “Listen, thanks but no.” You huffed out “Apparently I paid for the delivery service and not the installation service as the lovely delivery man told me. This however does NOT include carrying my AC up the 4 flights of stairs to my bedroom because that's apparently another fee. So no, there isn’t anything you gentlemen could do for me” You heard a little chuckle behind you and heard a quieter deeper voice say:

           “You have to pay the fees, that’s where they get you” his voice was full of laughter. He wasn’t outright laughing but you could still somehow hear it in his voice.

           Momentarily forgetting you were on a ladder you whipped around to give the guy a piece of your mind. But all it takes is a moment. And in that moment, you were falling backward off a 12 foot ladder. Back, back, back, you go thinking this is how it would end. You dead on the concrete. You hadn’t been to china town yet! Why hadn’t you been to china town? Or the empire state building! OR the statue of liberty! You shouldn't have rushed your mom off the phone last night. You would have given anything to hear her aimless ramblings and numerous ‘be carefuls’ one last time. OH GOD! You hadn’t had sex in a year and a half! This is how you were going to die. Trying to tell off some harassers with an uncompleted house in your name before you started your dream job. You squeezed your eyes shut and braced for impact

           Your body hit something that was hard like cement but was warmer and…. Somehow smelled like leather? And Christmas? And Home somehow? You opened your eyes to see a face partially obscured by a blue baseball hat pulled down over the front and a full beard. You couldn't see who he was and he was leaning in close to your face while he held you. There was something so familiar about him, but you couldn't place it. His voice kept fading in and out of your head.

           “Ma’am? Ma’am! Stay with me!”

Sounding like echos of screams and whispers bouncing off the inside of your skull all at once you blinked slow and mustered out what you could:

           “Don't…Tell me what to do…Asshole” and everything faded to black.

_______________________________________________________________________

Okay guys! thats about it for the first one. I would really appreciate the feedback! Is this something you would want more of? Or should I move on to some other fic ideas I have? Let me know and thanks for reading!

[swannsjack]

I still can't wrap my head around the fact that of all people in Hollywood, people decided to hate Johnny Depp. That man had gone his entire career with good reputation. Everyone that'd ever known him said the nicest things about him.

but then one day this person comes up with some seriously suspicious allegations with suspicious circumstances (arrested for dv herself, only asking for a divorce at first, sending a damn extortion letter, and making allegations just days after his mother's death, avoiding deposition three times! to name just few from the very long list) and all goes to hell. His entire previous life is forgotten. like it didn't exist. all that exists are unproven allegations.

“Johnny is one of the nicest people that I know—to the extent where it’s almost heartbreaking how kind he is"

Y'all really think he just woke up one day as he was nearing his 50s and became an abuser? everytime an abuser is revealed, it doesn't come as surprise. even if she were to be his first physical "victim" it would still not be a shocker. there are always signs. always something that makes you look back and see things in a new light, maybe not casual acquaintances, but definitely people that had spent with them more time. yet, Depp's exes spoke up in his defense. people who know him personally, even staff at events, they all have said that's just not him. but especially his exes are the most important. he would absolutely have a history of questionable behavior. but he doesn’t. oh sorry, I forgot he chased away paparazzi after politely asking them to leave his family alone and they didn’t. what a jerk, protecting his family from vultures, ugh. and don’t tell me “can’t know what happens behind closed doors” Vanessa Paradis lived with him for over a decade and she sent a handwritten note defending him. and no, she did not do it for the kids. where is the logic in that? if their father was abusive, don’t you think she would make sure her kids are safe from him, protect them from him, instead of defending him?! 

yet they all said he's gentle, kind, caring. I saw two of his less famous ex girlfriends tweet about him last year, not about the allegations, just posting or commenting some pictures of them together. there have been people speaking up, saying he was the victim (people now question why he hadn't come out early with his allegations against her, but you fail to realize that he would have, he didn't sell his stuff to tabloids for all of you to see (I know, the audacity!) unlike her, but he was ready to do it properly through the court of law, but the case was dropped with prejudice (!), a NDA signed and he was never given the chance to clear his name, he even says in the new lawsuit that he was going to challenge the RO before they reached an agreement (+ his evidence list does have a photo of himself from december 2015 and while we do not what the photo is about, there’s a pretty compelling argument to be made that she injuried him that month - watch this video at about 14th minute) but there have been people saying it. saying she lied and there were no bruises, including TWO POLICE OFFICERS, at least one of them being a woman (so that's two female officers of the law speaking out against Heard - first being the one that arrested her for assaulting her then girlfriend/wife) yes, there are new witnesses saying the same but a lawyer that lived in the building said Heard was seen without make up and no bruises even back in 2016! that's not news, the same person also tweeted something about helping the real victim...

Johnny's friends all had agreed she treated him badly but they were too afraid to tell him that, said they watched her:

"f*ck with him at his weakest, or at his weakest from being f*cked with"

how do things like that not make people take a step back and consider that maybe, it's not the hundreds of people defending him that are trash? that he didn't pay all of them to lie (and how interesting to now have witnesses saying Heard asked them to “help” her by lying for her, that she said she had contacts in PEOPLE magazine, how interesting that all the things people accused Depp of, were actually something Heard did). he is willingly going back to court. he has invited her to show up at the court if she wishes to, “we are looking forward to that [her] evidence” his lawyer said.

why can't you just consider that it's the one shady person that is the piece of sh*t. a person who's "witnesses" are two of her friends who lived in Depp's home rent free. witnesses whose stories kept changing or didn't match her own. Even Heard kept changing things. At some point it was said she made a decision not to file a police report. later she said her LAWYER advised her not to file it (??? im sorry what? what lawyer would give that advice if something truly had happend?) and so many other things. honestly, how does that not make you suspicious?

and then we have the video, the video people think is proof that he abused her, even saying "there's a video of him hitting her, throwing glass at her blah blah blah" when he does NO SUCH THING. go watch it, I dare you to show me where exactly does any of that happen. all that happens in the video is that he's upset, but he's trying to ignore her. she keeps making it about herself despite the fact that he tells her it's not about her. and he slams some cupboards shut and throws a glass into the sink or something. damn I'm glad no one has filmed me when I was being abusive, by slamming the door behind me or throwing something a little harder than necessary when upset. no one does that unless they abuse their loved ones. still, Depp's not one of the smartest guys, is he. he sees his "victim" filming him while he "abuses" her and doesn't think to delete the video. sad

believe women is all nice and good, but not at all cost, not when there’s all that evidence against her. and what about all the women defending him? the list is pretty long, including JK Rowling who you've been bullying despite the fact that it was implied that she knows things that weren't made public at the time (and there's absolutely no excuse whatsoever for the bullying Johnny's daughter received for defending her father, you wanna pretend you don't support abuse? don't f*cking bully children) what about the female officers, one that witnessed Amber Heard assaulting her then partner, and the other who saw no bruises, no redness, no swelling on her face, no property damage, no disturbance (which Heard claimed was there) whatsoever? 

who made the choice that, in all of this, Heard is the only woman to be believed?

not every case is the same. some people are truly guilty, but some are not. false allegations happen. and Depp was never found guilty, the restraining order request (a reminder that's all the case was about) was dropped WITH PREJUDICE. Another fun fact, the money she got was for the divorce, she got no compensation for the “abuse” as people like to say. they were married, when divorce happens, there is money involved, allegations or not, surely people know that. And guess what, being the abuser that he is *not, for some reason he did not have a prenup. funny isn’t it? one of the richest, most famous actors in the world, and he marries his “victim” without a prenup. 

And let's not forget that according to the new documents in the Sun lawsuit it says she admitted to causing him multiple serious injuries. Oh yes, sure, she was just defending herself from her "bigger, stronger husband" as she said, because that's a perfectly natural way to phrase it. sure doesn't sound like a rehearsed manipulative bullsh*t to force you to picture this big bad MAN and the helpless fragile woman.

oh my God there's so much more to say. so much not only disproving her lies, but also showing she abused him, but it’s been said before and my venting is pointless, but I'm just so sick of people hating on a victim.

everytime those ignorant haters call him derogatory terms, make fun of his looks, or his social anxiety - which causes him to speak slower and stammer (which he's had his entire life but even more so now, while evil people were making fun of him at the tCoG premiere for having a hard time getting his point cross, saying he was high or drunk, I WAS FREAKING PROUD OF HIM for even standing up there in front of all those people, after two years of getting unfair hate and backlash against his casting in said movie) - it makes me sick. 

Absolutely sick that this has been done to one of the most genuinely nice people in the hellhole that is Hollywood (”he doesn’t belong in show business, he belongs somewhere better” SJ. Parker). it feels like I'm in an alternative universe where it's all backwards.

I truly want to hope that things can turn around and people will hold the real perpetrator accountable for what she's done. But then I see the foolish hate, the lies (so many crazy, disgusting lies made about him by vile nobodies on the internet just to support the "bad guy" image when everything else fails and they have nothing but lies), the twisting of facts and truths, the misguided, ignorant support of Heard because she's a woman, and she had a pretty wig in Aquaman or whatever, and it feels hopeless again.

But he deserves better. Johnny Depp deserves better. And this may be too long and pointless, because who cares what I have to say, but I just had to vent, at least for my own good, because it’s been so frustrating. 

Johnny Depp was a victim. He deserved love and support. Instead he got hate and bullying. Will people apologize and admit their mistake? No. Most will not.

But Johnny Depp deserves better.