#and it wasn’t about her but maybe that’s worse

[gguk-n]

Hello there! Love your work on the Max Verstappen x reader fiction. If it isn't too much, can I request an angst based on the song " All I wanted was a coffee" by Samantha Ebert? You can decide the ending but, a gut wrenching angst with kelly is appreciated. Thank you!

I hope you like this, I tried to use the song in the way that I saw fit. The reader has many insecurities and bit of mommy issues. Mention of cuts and bleeding.

I wish you loved me

{Reader’s POV}

Max and I started dating soon after he got out of a really long relationship with his ex. With Max being a Formula One driver; the details of his past were general knowledge, did I wish I didn’t know? Yes. Because in the pictures of Max and Kelly, you could see his eyes sparkled and he would smile so bright sometimes and I felt like I never got to know that Max. But every relationship is different; I couldn’t compare it, could I?

Max was loving, I mean every boyfriend is. He would sometimes forget important stuff but he was a busy man with an even busier job.

But it hurt when I saw Max with P or Kelly for that matter. His eyes would light up; I just felt like crap every time he met them, but Max never noticed. At the end of the day, Max was always around P while she was growing up, it was a given she missed him, right?

It got worse when Kelly started coming to races and meeting Max. The worst was yet to come; the other girlfriends started to side eye me whenever me and Max would interacted as if Max was Kelly’s boyfriend.

I was in the bathroom when I heard them; they were talking about how Max and Kelly looked cute together, they were the model family, that Max deserved better. Kelly even talked about all the gifts he got her and P recently. I just sat there in the cubical for a very long time.

I waited, I was dumb I know but no one’s loved me before and the fact that Max was willing to love me even for a moment felt like relief. I didn't want to let him go, I could not when there was a chance he would come back.

I waited like always, Max was always away having dinner with P since she missed him. She missed him a lot ever since we started dating. I never said anything since Max was like her father figure but it hurt.

One of those nights, I was sat drinking whiskey, it was in Max’s alcohol cabinet. The bottle was almost over. The snacks dried up soon after the third glass. I was sat on the floor, glass in hand when Max walked in. “World’s best dad everyone” I sang. “How much did you drink?” He laughed. He laughed at me. “You know my mother was right” I said, trying to get up. “She wasn’t really the best mom, now was she” Max commented. “Yeah but she was right about a lot of things and she was right about how difficult to love I was” I laughed. Max looked at me with sadness in his eyes, “don’t pity me Max.... How could Kelly steal you from me?” I cried. Max said nothing. “No no sorry sorry, how can something be stolen from me when it was never mine to begin with.” I laughed bitterly taking the last swig from my glass. “The alcohol’s gone Max, just like your feelings for me or did you ever have them to begin with?” I slurred.

“Y/N I” Max began. “No Max, you’re not at fault. It’s my fault for coming between 2 lovers. You should’ve told me that you loved her, I would’ve never dated you” I cried for the first time tonight in front of Max. As I steadied myself, the whiskey bottle fell and broke, and I tried to pick up the pieces but ended up cutting myself. “Hehe look Max I’m bleeding” I giggled holding up my hand. “Y/N let’s clean that up” Max said trying to hold my hand. “NO, Kelly won’t like it. I’m not a home wrecker...or maybe I am” I laughed bitterly. “Let me help you” Max pleaded. “You look at me with so much concern for the first time since we started dating” I pointed out. Max’s eyes bore into mine. I tried to walk away but ended up stepping on the glass. “Look I’m bleeding from my foot now too. At least now people can see that I’m hurting since I’ll have bandages all over me. My heart ache gets missed every time, you know. Maybe now, they might see my hurt, for once” I said with fresh tears forming.

“Mothers are always right. I’m unlovable, always been. If only I was pretty, if only I was a model, if only I was thinner, if only I was….Kelly Piquet, then you would’ve loved me. But I’m me, I’m plain old difficult to love, Y/N that’s why I’m unlovable” I chuckled. “Let’s go to the hospital” he pleaded again. “No, I’ll take care of myself. Don’t worry about me anymore. I’ll be out of your hair before you know it. Then you can have your happy ever after with Kelly” I laughed bitterly. “Did you ever love me?” I asked. Max was quiet. “I was just a rebound wasn’t I. Tell me you really loved me even for a second” I begged. “I’m sorry.” He said.

I grabbed my phone with my other hand while bleeding on to the floor; “don’t worry. I’ll clean your place before I leave” I said looking at the trail of blood I was leaving and dialled my phone calling the only person I knew in Monaco, the only person who didn’t hate me or talk badly about me, Lewis. “Lewis, Hi....I need to go to the hospital. I’m bleeding” I giggled. “Are you drunk? How did you hurt your self? Where are you?” He asked concerned. “Yes, yes, home no wait, Max’s home” I answered. I heard him sigh. “Where Max?” He asked. “He’s here” I said looking up at Max. “Ask him to take you now?” Lewis suggested. “NO, we broke up, and ex-boyfriend’s don’t take their ex-girlfriend’s to the doctor” I explained. “What?” He asked shocked. “Please Lewis, it hurts. Can you come soon?” I asked. “I’ll be there soon” Lewis said and cut the call. I sat there and looked at Max, “The whiskey tasted sweet as always and you sobered me up so fast” I sighed looking at the mess I had made.

Lewis came to take me to the hospital; he did not speak to Max. I guess even he knew what was going on. I didn’t see Max again after that either.

[soft-persephone]

You know You Love It

MDNI // Explicit!!! // WC: 1.5K// Warnings: slight dom sub dynamics, but not really, somone making you do things you don’t want to do, you know how consent works. I’m not your Momma. // mastierlist

AN:// this was way shorter than I thought it would be.

Real AN://, this fic is heavily inspired by @megamindsecretlair go check out her Terry Fics if you haven’t already. This one is def exist becaue of the recent one she put out based of a request.

Terry was tired.

He had a long day at his new job; he wasn't sure if he cared about it.

How long this would last, he wasn’t sure, but he had a reason to have one now. You were good for it.

He sighed when he saw you in bed, still sleeping. The sheets were rumpled, no corner left unturned from his side to your side. You were currently on your stomach, leg turned up towards your face and your other leg hanging off the side of the bed. Your eyebrows fitfully scrunched together, your lips pulled tight in a frown.

Bad sleep was still sleep, and you needed every bit you could get.

He took a shower, taking his time to wash the frustration of the day off of him.

When he was done, he walked into you now on your side with one hand by your face. Your other guarding your side.

As if hearing the towel pat against the skin, or maybe it was the soft rustle of his t shirt and loose pajama pants sliding along his skin, but your eyes fluttered open.

“T,” you softly called out, your voice thick with sleep, “is that you?”

“Yeah, I just got home.” He sat on your side of the bed, reaching out to touch you wherever was closest. He caressed the skin of your leg. Your skin was always so soft, if not a little warm. Despite only having a tank and the slimmest shorts you could find to keep cool because you can’t stand being hot at night, you were still hot to touch. Somehow, no matter how little clothing you wore, it didn’t work.

You sat up, and moved towards him. Straddling his lap.

“You don’t have to get up. You should sleep.”

“Don’t want to.” Your tone was playfully apathetic. “We can sleep later.”

He clenched his jaw, fighting to not show his frustration. No matter how wide your eyes got, how you batted your eyelashes at him, you were putting on. Always putting on.

You knew when you were irritating him and showing it only made you put on worse.

“What are you doing?” He said even and calmly as he could, hiding the bite in his voice.

You slid down onto your knees in from of him. Your expression soft and innocent.

“You promised.” You batted your eyes up at him.

He kept his gaze even and cool, unwavering.

“Terry.” You pleaded.

“Okay, just. . .” He sighed. . .“okay.”

You flashed your teeth in a smile that was oh so pretty. Your shoulders relaxing into a normal position your eyes fighting their sunken state, showing in the sweetest way just how alive and in it you were.

How could he said no no to that.

Not breaking his firm steady gaze, he pulled himself out of his pants, already half hard.

Despite your sweet face, it was cruel how slowly you dragged your tongue from the base to tip. Tenderly, you massaged the tip with your tongue, lathing the bit of precum before placing small wet kisses on it.

His hips dipped on the bed and his back arched slightly, his dick bobbed against your lips, eager for more.

“Cut-cut that out.” He stammered fighting to keep his voice stern. “Just put it in your mouth.” He managed to scold you.

You ignored him, placing wet kisses down his length, your breath fanning across his sensitive skin with each one. Slow, so terribly slow, you lathe at his balls with your tongue.

“Fuuhck.” He balled his fist at his sides, squeezing the sheets so tight his knuckles were two shades lighter.

He didn’t want to get so loud because that shit only made you worse, but when they were finally wet to your liking, gingerly wrapping your mouth around one, you slid your tongue around it in small circles, not too harsh or too soft, he couldn’t help the low drown out groans that spilled out of his mouth.

You let it go with a pop before moving on to the next one.

He was leaking so much. It was spilling down the sides of his dick, it was dripping from tip.

His balls tightened in your mouth and with a hot gasp you pull off.

“Shit,” your tone too normal and light, like you haven’t been teasing the fuck out of him, “I don’t mean to do that for that long.” You looked up at him like you were sorry. Your long lashes batting up at him apologetically.

His dick stuttered, threatening to bust.

“Fuck you.” He strained out in a wine. His eyes dark and stormy through their just blown gaze.

“Oh. . .” Your eyes went wide before fluttering elsewhere, darting around the room.

You took it too far and now he was upset. You frowned with a pout, but he promised. How can he get so mad if he promised.

Not wasting time, you took him in your mouth, his hips pushing his dick past your lips just as much as you were taking in, desperately thrusting up.

Now that you could set your own pace tonight you didn’t have to take him all the way so soon at the start, you could take your time, jerk the rest of him with your hand, and finally savor the taste of him in your mouth, the smooth velvety skin and the natural musk he exuded from every pore.

You sucked a little harder hollowing your cheeks as you did, eager for more.

“Ah,” he hissed, “wait, fuck. . .baby wait.”

It was too late, he was already filling your mouth.

You spit whatever was left in your mouth and latched back on him.

He roughly pushed at your forehead, making you wince, but the more he did that the harder you sucked his softening dick to keep it in your mouth. His stomach and chest heavily heaved up and down as he breathed in and out.

“Quit. . . Playing.” He strained against gritted teeth, fighting the whimper bubbling up his throat.

You swatted his hands away.

Eventually as you slowly mouthed at his dick, he got hard again and his groans and whimpers subsided.

Satisfied, you moved your head back to let go and sit on top of him. Your pussy wet and desperate to finally have him inside, but a large hand firmly grasped the nape of your neck as he pushed himself to the back of your throat.

“Where the fuck you think you going?”

He set a hard and brutal pace.

The wet sound of his dick sliding up and down your throat as you whined around him made your pussy ache around nothing. The hair of his base roughly tickling at your nose as his balls slapped occasionally on your chin.

“If you love my dick so much,” he emphasized his point by holding your face against his hips, savoring how your throat clenched and unclenched around him as you choked on him, “why do you keep spitting it out?”

He looked down at you with a smirk, wiping a stray drop of his cumb that leaked from your mouth before shoving it back inside with his dick, pushing just a bit more for you to make a sloppy choked sobb on his dick and finger he pushed inside with it .

“You know how much that hurts my feelings.”

It was Terry’s favorite sick game he liked to play.

The first time you ever sucked his dick, without thinking you just spit it out when you were done, he was taken aback, almost offended. The way his face fell and his eyes dropped was almost cute, big, wide, and cloudy with somber soft gray blue clouds, but it didn’t stay that way. He liked to force you to swallow sometimes, and you never knew when that day would be.

Tonight was one of those times.

His grip on the back of your neck tightened. His hips started to thrust down your throat with as much fervor as his grip on you was shoving you towards him. With a low, drawn huff of a groan, he spilled down your throat. The thick hot spurts of his cum sliding uncomfortably through your body, filling your belly with a particular warmth you weren’t too fond of.

You meweled against his softening dick as the tightening of your muscles released. Your thighs starting to seize and tremble as you came undone, unexpectedly coming in a way you did not want to as well.

“Shh.” He rubbed your face with a thumb as he came down your throat and you spilled around nothing. “You know you like it.” He murmured.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Crash Course

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Word count: 798

Pairing: Lando Norris x driver!reader

Summary: As Y/n recovers from her injuries, an unexpected visit from Lando leads to a heartfelt confession, shifting their relationship from fierce rivalry to the possibility of something more

______________________________________________________________

Y/n lay on the medical bed, her side wrapped in gauze, the sharp sting of the injury finally dulled by painkillers. The medical team had assured her it wasn’t anything too serious—just a few cracked ribs and a deep cut from the impact. She'd be back in the car soon enough. But as she stared up at the ceiling, her mind wasn’t on the injury.

It was on Lando.

The way he had looked at her, the worry in his eyes, the unexpected softness in his voice—it all played on repeat in her head. She had spent months thinking of him as nothing more than a rival, someone she needed to beat, someone who annoyed her with his smug attitude and relentless determination. But now, the walls between them seemed to have crumbled in a matter of moments.

The door to the room creaked open, and Y/n instinctively tensed, expecting a doctor. Instead, Lando slipped in, quiet and cautious. His usual cocky smirk was gone, replaced by an expression she barely recognized—concern, maybe even something more.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice low as he moved to stand beside her bed.

Y/n forced a smile, trying to play off the awkwardness that had settled between them. “I’ve been better, but I’ve also been worse.”

Lando’s lips twitched upward in a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He looked down at her for a long moment, like he was wrestling with something, then pulled up a chair, sitting beside her bed.

“Listen, Y/n… about earlier—” he began, but Y/n cut him off, shifting slightly to sit up straighter despite the protest from her ribs.

“You don’t have to explain anything,” she said quickly. “We both screwed up. I was pushing too hard. We crashed. End of story.”

“It’s not just about the crash,” Lando said, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His voice was steady, but his eyes flicked nervously to hers. “I was angry, sure, but… when you nearly collapsed like that—” He hesitated, his gaze softening. “It scared me. More than I thought it would.”

Y/n stared at him, her chest tightening—not from the pain, but from the weight of his words. This was the Lando she had never seen, the one behind the constant rivalry and playful arrogance.

“I didn’t realize I was hurt,” she admitted quietly. “The adrenaline… I just wanted to get to you and tell you off.” She tried to laugh, but it came out weak and half-hearted.

Lando’s lips curled into a small smile. “Yeah, I figured. You always have something to say.”

She looked down, avoiding his eyes for a moment. “You said you don’t hate me,” she whispered. “But… all we’ve ever done is fight.”

Lando let out a slow breath, leaning back in the chair, his gaze never leaving her face. “That’s because I didn’t know how else to deal with it. With you. I wanted to win, to prove I could beat you, but… I also didn’t want to admit how much I admired you.”

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. “Admired me?”

Lando shrugged, his expression softening. “You’re fierce, Y/n. You fight for every inch on track. You don’t back down, not from anyone—not even me. It drove me crazy because, deep down, I knew I liked it. Liked you.”

For a moment, the room fell into silence, the weight of his confession settling between them. Y/n searched his face, trying to find any hint of mockery, but all she saw was honesty. It was disarming.

“I’ve been so focused on beating you,” Y/n murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I never stopped to think about anything else.”

Lando leaned closer, his voice soft but intense. “Maybe we should start thinking about something else.”

Y/n’s gaze flicked up to meet his, and in that instant, the tension between them shifted. It was no longer fueled by competition or rivalry, but by something deeper, something that had been building beneath the surface for far longer than either of them had realized.

Before she could say anything, the door creaked open again, and a nurse stepped in, breaking the moment.

“I’m sorry, but we need to check on the patient,” the nurse said kindly, though her presence felt like a bucket of cold water over the moment.

Lando stood, nodding to the nurse before turning back to Y/n. “I’ll… I’ll check on you later,” he said softly, his eyes lingering on hers for just a moment longer than necessary.

Y/n nodded, watching as he left the room. As the door closed behind him, she sank back into the bed, her mind reeling from everything that had just happened.

Her rival. Her competitor. And now… maybe something more.

[itneverendshere]

lovee bartender!reader and rafe soo much, theyre daydream content fr!!! <3 if it takes your fancy, maybe a little piece where readers tired so she puts her pride away and does go to rafe for help (even if only for something very small) and hes just elated, ecstatic, all the words for it! that man is always so stressed, need him to have some peace LOL

she eventually becomes a little less headstrong about his help so this when she finally really understands that’s is okay to need someone else sometimes 🙂‍↕️🫂 thank you for the request! and also thank you for loving them too 🫶🏻

year dark night and now i see daylight - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

You wiped down the bar for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. 

The lights glinted off the glasses, making you squint. You were so tired. Your legs felt like they would give out at any moment, and the tension in your shoulders was making your neck ache, but there was no time to stop. 

There was never any time to stop.

You’d been running on fumes for days now—maybe weeks?—but who was counting? Not you, clearly. Because taking a break or slowing down?

That just wasn’t in your vocabulary. You were fine. You could handle it. You always handled it. You didn’t need help.

The headache you’d been ignoring was getting worse, though, creeping behind your eyes, making you blink more than usual. Your hands were shaky, and if you were being honest with yourself (which you rarely were these days), your body was running on empty. But still, there was work to do, and people needed drinks, and you weren’t about to let anyone think you couldn’t do your job.

You paused, gripping the edge of the bar a little tighter than necessary when the room seemed to tilt, just for a second. That was new. You sucked in a slow breath, trying to steady yourself. 

Nope. Not now. Can’t do this here. 

There was no way you were going to break down in the middle of your shift, in front of everyone. You’d tough it out like you always did.

“Hey!” Your co-worker voice cut through the pain, snapping you out of your thoughts. He was waving you over to another table where more customers had just sat down.

Perfect. More people. Just what you needed.

You forced your feet to move, pushing through the exhaustion as best you could. 

You felt that familiar wave of anxiety, your new best friend, but you shoved it down like always.

You could handle it. You had to. Because asking for help? Letting someone see you weren’t doing okay? That was never an option. Except…maybe this time, it was.

You hesitated behind the bar, staring blankly at the group that had just sat down. They could wait a minute, right? Just one minute to pull yourself together. You’d earned that, at least.

Before you knew it, your phone was in your hand, thumb hovering over one name in your contacts: Rafe.

You hated asking for help. He worried about you enough as it was, constantly telling you to slow down or take it easy. You usually brushed him off. But tonight…tonight felt different. You were running on nothing but pride and stubbornness at this point, and even that was starting to crack.

Swallowing hard, you hit Call.

It rang twice before you heard his voice. “Hey, baby, what’s up?” Rafe sounded surprised—probably because you never called him when you were working. You could hear the concern creeping in already.

You squeezed your eyes shut, hating how vulnerable you felt just by calling him. “Can you—uh, can you come pick me up? I’m kinda…done.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end, like he was processing the fact that you, of all people, were asking for help. When he spoke again, his voice was almost relieved. “Yeah, ‘course. I’ll be there in ten. Don’t move, okay?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, the tight knot in your chest loosening just a little.

Hanging up, you slumped against the counter, finally letting yourself breathe. Ten minutes. You could make it ten more minutes.

Rafe arrived faster than you expected, his tall frame pushing through the double doors of the club. His eyes locked onto you immediately, and the second he saw you, his tough guy expression dropped. You didn’t realize how close you were to falling apart until you saw the way he was looking at you. 

“You okay?” he asked, crossing the bar in a few quick strides, his hand already reaching for yours.

For once, you didn’t brush him off with a quick “I’m fine.” You just shook your head, letting out a shaky breath. “Not really.”

He didn’t say anything right away, just pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you in that way that made you feel safe, like it was okay to just not be strong for a second. You hadn’t noticed how badly you needed this—how badly you needed him—until now. Rafe’s chin rested against the top of your head, and you could feel his heart beating under your cheek.

When you finally pulled back, he didn’t let go right away, his blue eyes searching your face. His brow furrowed as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing softly along your cheek. You must’ve looked worse than you thought because the worry in his eyes was impossible to miss.

“You really weren’t kidding about being done, huh?” His voice was gentle, but you could hear the hint of frustration in it. Not at you, but at the fact that you’d been pushing yourself this hard without saying anything sooner.

You gave him a weak smile, trying to shrug it off. “Yeah, I guess I went a little overboard this week. But I’m fine now. You’re here.”

He sighed, shaking his head but pulling you closer again, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your lower back, “You’re gonna give me a heart-attack before thirty.”

You bit your lip, that familiar guilt settling in your chest. You knew he was right. You knew he worried all the time, every single day. But admitting you needed help—especially to him—took a lot of energy, like ripping away the last bit of control you had. And control was how you survived. How you kept everything in check.

He wasn’t going to think less of you for it. If anything, he looked elated that you’d let him in, that you trusted him enough to ask. You nodded, feeling the tears start to prick the back of your eyes. “I know. I just—” You broke off, not really knowing how to explain it. “I keep doing this. I’m sorry.”

“I got you,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s get you home.”

The quiet of the truck felt like a much-needed break from everything, the engine lulling you into something close to sleep. You hadn’t realized just how tense you were until now, with the night air coming through the window and Rafe’s hand resting on your thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your skin.

You leaned your head back against the seat, watching the headlights of passing cars flash by. It felt weird to not be constantly thinking about what came next, what else needed to get done, or how much work you still had to finish. For once, it was like your brain was actually giving you a break, like it was saying, “Yeah, okay, you can relax now. You’re not alone.”

You glanced over at Rafe, his jaw set in concentration as he drove, but the way his fingers held onto you so gently told you everything. He hadn’t said much since you left the club, but you didn’t need him to.

“Are you hungry?” 

You blinked, realizing you hadn’t even thought about food. You weren’t really sure if you were hungry or just exhausted. “Not really,” you admitted. “I just wanna get home.”

Rafe nodded, giving your leg a gentle squeeze. “Okay. Almost there.”

You let out a breath, grateful that he didn’t push. He never did. It was one of the reasons being with him felt so easy, even when everything else in your life felt overwhelming. He never tried to fix things for you, never made you feel like you were weak for needing help. He just showed up—every time.

The minutes passed, and before you knew it, you were pulling up to his place. The sight of his house—your second home at this point—made your anxiety loosen even more. You didn’t have to do anything here. No one needed you to be “on.” You could just…exist.

“You good?” he asked, offering his hand to help you out.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you mumbled, though your body still felt like it might give out if you let yourself relax too much. You took his hand anyway, letting him help you down.

Once you were inside, you kicked off your shoes and practically collapsed onto the couch, feeling the cushions sink under you like they were the softest thing in the world. You pulled your knees up, wrapping your arms around them as Rafe moved around the room, grabbing a blanket and tossing it over you before sitting down next to you, close but not smothering.

He knew exactly how to handle you—how to be there without overwhelming you. He just sat there, his arm slung over the back of the couch, waiting for you to speak or not speak, whatever you needed. And that’s when it hit you how lucky you were to have him.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, not really sure why the words came out, but feeling like you had to say something.

Rafe frowned, his hand brushing over your shoulder. “For what?”

“For… I don’t know. For not telling you sooner that I was struggling. For always acting like I can handle everything when I clearly can’t.”

He shook his head, giving you that soft smile that made you feel like the most important person in the world. “You don’t have to apologize for that, baby. I know you. You you don’t have to be perfect all the time.”

You bit your lip, “I just don’t want to feel like I’m dumping all my shit on you.”

Rafe leaned in a little closer, his hand now resting on your knee. “You’re not dumping anything on me. We’re in this together. I love you, and I want to be there for you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, but this time it wasn’t from stress. It was from the realization that he was right.

He’d always been right and you knew it, it just took you months to process it.

You exhaled, leaning your head against his shoulder, “I love you too,” you whispered, the words feeling more powerful now, more real.

Because this wasn’t just love. This was trust.

He kissed the top of your head, his fingers gently running through your hair as he pulled you closer. He wasn’t frustrated or upset. He was just there, in that patient way that made you fall for him in the first place.

"You’re really too good to me, you know that?" you said softly, tracing your finger over the back of his hand.

He shook his head. “Nah, you deserve it. Besides, it’s not like you make it easy for me to help.”

He said it teasingly, but there was truth in his words. You knew you had a habit of trying to do everything on your own, shutting people out when you felt overwhelmed.

You looked down, feeling a little sheepish. "Yeah, I know. I’m working on it."

"Hey," he said, gently tilting your chin up so you were looking at him again. "I’m kidding. I’m here for you, okay?”

Your heart did that little flip thing it always did when he said stuff like that, like you couldn’t believe someone could love you that much, but at the same time, you knew it was true. 

“If I mess up again, just remind me that you said I don’t have to be perfect."

He chuckled, pulling you back into his arms. “You know, you’re probably gonna fall asleep on me right here.”

You smiled, your eyes already half-closed. “Maybe that’s the plan.”

You knew he was grinning without looking, feeling it he leaned down to kiss the top of your head again.

“Okay, but you’re definitely not getting out of taking care of yourself tomorrow. I’m making you pancakes in the morning. You’re eating, and you’re not gonna fight me on it.”

“Mmm, pancakes sound good,” you mumbled, already feeling the pull of sleep creeping in. “But only if you make the chocolate chip ones.”

“Deal.”

Wrapped up in his arms, the world outside of this little bubble didn’t feel so overwhelming anymore

[sepublic]

We give Belos way too much credit for feeling bad about his dead brother and Grimwalkers because like. He’s a racist white guy who’s murdered a culture and damaged its land across centuries but only feels guilt for his white brother and clones. He doesn’t hallucinate any witch or demon in FtF. He never got close to any of them sure, but that’s because of his racism which just further proves the point.

What this means is that for all his ‘guilt’, Belos doesn’t think his actual motives and goals as a witch hunter are wrong, just that human (adjacent) white guys shouldn’t be hurt in the process, but if they need to be they will. There’s the external setup for Belos to maybe change because of that remorse, but the internal setup that he won’t because he doesn’t even consider what the actual crux of the issue was, that being who he killed Caleb for fraternizing with, who Caleb died to protect, who has been brutalized far more than the Grimwalkers ever have been. Mind you, Belos is still killing the Grimwalkers because he doesn’t really regret it, he’ll keep doing it because abusers are paradoxical like that. The ghosts just reinforce what’s wrong with him, instead of suggesting otherwise.

I think those fics and fanart of Belos being ganged up on in the afterlife by the Grimwalkers are missing the point, to Belos it would validate his racism by saying the only people whose suffering mattered, who deserve revenge, are the white guys he wasn’t explicitly targeting. I think a good take on the Belos suffering in the afterlife trope would have him be attacked by all the witches and demons and palismen he brutalized, without a single Grimwalker nor Caleb in sight.

As you can imagine, this is another reason why Eda and co. killing Belos works; Because once again he’s focused on Luz, whose framing parallels Caleb’s ghost from FtF, and talking about how only humans matter and Belos deserves to be spared for being human. Only for the witches and demons who were the actual emotional core of the issue that Caleb died for (one of whom is the descendant of the child he saved, not that Caleb factors to her motives because it’s not about Caleb) to step in and reiterate, Nah their suffering and anger is just as important.

People set up Belos’ fratricide and murdered nephews as the worst thing he’s ever done because they also think the white boys’ suffering is more important but tbh? It pales in comparison to the irreversible damage he committed to the Boiling Isles’ environment, its culture and history, its thousands of people as a whole, etc. The Titan is dead and its arm displaced because of him. To quote Castlevania and what a revenge-seeking anti hero was told before encountering real evil, “There are worse things than betrayal.”

[lvnleah]

ik your requests are closed but do you think you’ll ever do a part 2 to movie nights where beth and leah finally find out lia and r are together

Secret’s out | Lia Wälti

your wish is my command 🤭 actually had so much fun writing this so thank you!

find part one here! :)

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a few months later…

It had been a few months since you and Leah had confessed your feelings for one another after a team movie night and since then things had been perfect. Lia ended up staying that night and the next morning you talked about how you wanted to do things.

You both agreed to take things slow and not to rush anything, neither of you were going anywhere and there wasn’t any need to rush. The following weeks after that night were spent mostly together and mostly sneaking around.

You wanted to be with Lia all the time and whenever you got the chance, you took it. Although you will admit, sneaking around without your friends finding out was proving harder than you thought it would be.

Beth and Leah had their suspicions, they always had, but their suspicions only grew even more when they saw the way you and Lia looked at each other. When in private, a part of you was always touching Lia but when you were around your friends you couldn’t and it was hard to keep them away.

“So,” Beth began as you finished getting changed in the changing room. “How's everything going with you and Wally?”

You shot her a warning look, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening. “Beth, nothing is going on.”

Leah joined in, throwing an arm around your shoulder as you packed up your bag. “Come on, we’re just looking out for you. We want to know all the juicy details.”

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “There’s nothing to tell. We’re taking things slow.”

Beth rolled her eyes. “You’re no fun! We just want to know all the gossip!”

“We just want you to be happy,” Leah added, “It’s good to see you both smiling more. We love you guys and you’re cute together!”

Before you could respond, Lia appeared, looking between the three of you with a raised eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

Your heart raced as you scrambled for a response, but Leah beat you to it. “Just checking up on our girl here,” she said, giving you a pat on the back.

Lia didn’t look entirely convinced but nodded anyway. “Well, we’ve got a meeting with Jonas in ten. Better not keep him waiting.”

The meeting with Jonas went smoothly, but the atmosphere in the changing room lingered in the back of your mind. It was getting harder to keep up the secret, especially when Beth and Leah were as observant as ever. You and Lia exchanged a knowing glance as the team gathered, her eyes holding a mixture of amusement and concern.

After training, you and Lia left together, using the excuse of grabbing dinner to avoid any more prying questions from your friends. You could practically feel their eyes on you as you walked out, Beth’s whisper to Leah not going unnoticed. You sighed as you got into the car, resting your head back against the seat.

“They’re onto us,” you muttered, glancing at Lia.

She chuckled, starting the engine. “They’ve been onto us since the beginning. We’re just making it worse by trying to keep this a secret.”

You couldn’t help but smile at her words, the truth in them settling in your chest. “You’re right. Maybe it’s time we stopped sneaking around.”

Lia reached over, her hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Let’s talk about it tonight, yeah? We’ll figure out how to tell them. There’s no rush to tell them, love.”

You decided to have dinner at your favourite little Italian place, a cosy, tucked-away spot that had quickly become your go-to whenever you wanted a quiet evening together. The atmosphere was warm and intimate, the soft hum of conversations mingling with the clinking of glasses.

You and Lia had grabbed a corner table, candlelight flickering between you as you sipped your wine. The waiter had just taken your order, leaving you both in a comfortable silence. Lia was playing with the edge of her napkin, her eyes focused on the soft glow of the candlelight. There was a subtle tension in the air, a lingering question that neither of you had fully addressed yet.

You reached across the table, your fingers brushing against hers. “What are you thinking about, darling?”

She glanced up at you, “I’m thinking that this is getting harder,” she admitted, her voice quiet but steady. “Hiding us, I mean. I don’t like keeping this from everyone.”

You nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. The past few months had been amazing—stolen moments, whispers between you, and the kind of intimacy that made your heart swell with every touch. But it was also exhausting, constantly looking over your shoulder, worried that someone might catch on before you were ready to share.

“I know,” you said, your thumb gently tracing circles on her hand. “It’s been tough, and I don’t want to hide anymore either. But I’ve just been scared, you know? What if it changes things with the team?”

Lia’s eyes softened, and she turned her hand over to link her fingers with yours. “I get it. But I think… I think they’d be happy for us. Look at Beth and Leah—they’ve been suspicious for weeks. I think they’d just be relieved to finally know the truth.”

You laughed softly, remembering the countless times Beth and Leah had tried to pry details out of you, their teasing relentless. “Yeah, I guess they would. I just didn’t want to rush things between us.”

Lia squeezed your hand, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. “We’re not rushing. We’re taking our time like we said we would. But keeping this a secret is starting to feel like more work than it’s worth.”

You bit your lip, thinking it over. She was right, of course. The sneaking around, the whispered goodbyes, the way you had to consciously keep your distance in public—it was all becoming too much. You wanted to be able to hold her hand without worrying about who might be watching, to share the happiness you’d found with the people who mattered to you.

“What if we just tell them?” you suggested, your heart beating a little faster at the thought. “The team, I mean. We can keep it between us for now, but at least we won’t have to pretend around them.”

Lia nodded. “You think we should?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I do. They’re our friends, and they’ll support us. And if they don’t, well… that’s their problem, not ours.”

She smiled a slow, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat. “Okay,” she said, her voice filled with hope. “Let’s do it. But we should probably break it to Beth and Leah first.”

You laughed, the sound light and free. “Definitely. They’ll probably say they knew all along.”

“Of course they will,” Lia agreed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “But I think they’ll be happy for us.”

The waiter returned with your food, setting down the plates in front of you. You thanked her, but your attention was still on Lia. You both dug into your meals, the conversation flowing easily as you talked about everything and nothing. The tension from earlier was replaced with a sense of shared excitement and anticipation.

“So, how do you think we should tell them?” you asked, twirling your fork around a mouthful of pasta. “Just drop it casually in conversation?”

Lia grinned, “Maybe we should make it a bit more dramatic. Show up to the next team dinner holding hands or something.”

You laughed, the image of your teammates’ stunned faces flashing in your mind. “That would definitely get their attention.”

“Or,” Lia continued, “we could just kiss in front of them. That would shut Beth up for once.”

You laughed, almost choking on your food. “I think that might be a bit much excitement for the poor girl.”

Lia shrugged, her smile softening. “Whatever we do, I just want it to be honest. I’m tired of hiding.”

You reached across the table again, your fingers brushing against hers. “Me too,” you said softly. “I just want to be with you.”

Her eyes softened, and she turned her hand to lace her fingers with yours. “You are with me,” she murmured, her voice filled with warmth. “And soon, everyone else will know it too.”

You sat there for a moment, just holding her hand, the rest of the world fading away. It was a small, simple gesture, but it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Dinner stretched on, filled with laughter and quiet, meaningful glances. By the time you left the restaurant, your hands were still intertwined, this time with no worry.

A few weeks later, the team had just wrapped up a particularly gruelling training session, the hot summer sun bearing down on you as you made your way back to the locker room. You and Lia had settled into a comfortable rhythm, balancing your relationship and your football. But the more time you spent together, the harder it was to keep your feelings from spilling over in front of your teammates.

Beth and Leah were relentless in their teasing, and it was only a matter of time before everyone else caught on. You could sense their curiosity growing, the way they’d glance between you and Lia whenever you were together, whispering and giggling like schoolgirls.

After a quick shower, you were just pulling on your training top when Beth teased you again, her eyes narrowing playfully. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Lia lately,” she remarked, her tone light but probing.

You shrugged, trying to keep your voice casual. “We’re friends, Beth. It’s not a big deal.”

“Friends who leave together after every practice and arrive together for every match?” Leah chimed in, leaning against the lockers with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes, but before you could respond, Lia entered the room with a few bottles of cold water from the canteen.

“What are we talking about?” she asked, looking directly at you.

“Beth and Leah are convinced we’re more than friends,” you said, shooting them a playful glare. “And they won’t drop it.”

Lia’s eyes met yours, a silent conversation passing between you. Then, with a soft smile, she turned to the girls. “What if we are?”

Beth’s jaw dropped, and Leah let out a delighted gasp. “Wait, what?” Leah sputtered, looking between you two with wide eyes.

You bit back a laugh, stepping closer to Lia. “We wanted to tell you all, but we didn’t know how.”

Beth recovered first, her eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms over her chest. “So all those times we asked and you said nothing was going on…?”

“We were taking things slow,” Lia said, reaching out to take your hand. “We didn’t want to make it a big deal until we were sure.”

Leah’s eyes softened, a warm smile spreading across her face. “You guys are adorable, you know that?”

Beth huffed, pretending to be annoyed, but you could see the happiness in her eyes. “I can’t believe you kept this from us for so long! We’re your friends, we want to be there for you.”

You squeezed Lia’s hand, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “We know, and we’re sorry. We just needed some time to figure things out.”

Leah stepped forward, wrapping you both in a tight hug. “We’re so happy for you,” she murmured, her voice filled with genuine affection. “You two deserve to be happy together.”

Beth joined in, her arms wrapping around the three of you. “I guess we’ll forgive you, but only if you promise not to keep any more secrets.”

You and Lia exchanged a look over their shoulders, smiling as you both nodded. “No more secrets,” you promised, relief and joy filling your chest. “Although we are thinking about getting a puppy.”

“A puppy!” Beth smiled, “Do it! A little friend for Myle!”

Later, as you and Lia walked out of the training ground hand in hand, you felt lighter than you had in months. There were still challenges ahead, still things to figure out, but you knew you could face them together.

[ninyard]

I’ve played field hockey for 11 years literally until last November and I wasn’t captain or anything but I’d still shout instructions and uhhh advice??? Idk the correct word rn English is stupid but anyway I would shout things at people though mostly positive or neutral bc constant negative criticism without being constructive in a team sport is useless but under my breath I would say it when no one important could hear

So I propose:

Kevin or Dan shouting criticism. For Dan it’s mostly constructive out loud and then under her breath she’d be like ‘Nicky you little bitch if you lose that ball I’m going to fla— and you lost the ball here I go goddamnit I just made a sprint’ or like ‘No Neil, there is a backliner there and you can’t go through him this is toddler knowledge why is it so difficult’

For Kevin on the other hand it’s both absolutely scathing remarks worse than what he already has (‘Neil you absolute piece of shit can you do anything at all’) or it’s compliments but sometimes they’re kinda patronising/condescending (eg: ‘Andrew if you- there we go. Wasn’t so hard now was it.’ * Aaron passes a ball perfectly around a backliner * ‘finally. A decent pass. Now the rest of the team’)

Allison would do like smash or pass or smth. Actually maybe Dan too

Dan would be like [under her breath] "jesus christ what was that-" before yelling out "REALLY NICE TRY!!!! YOU'VE GOT THIS NEXT ONE!!"

i love the idea of kevin giving passive aggressive patronising criticism on the court because he can't be a complete asshole when he's mic'ed up.

Kevin: [pointing, with a lowered voice] Do you see where that goalkeeper is rn?

Neil: [listening as if kevin is about to give him a top secret tip] Yeah?

Kevin: And you see juuuuust behind him?

Neil: What about it?

Kevin: When you're shooting the ball, you want to aim there. That's how you score. You don't get a point for hitting outside of that little box. Do you think you can try that next time?

(+ someone, dan, neil, yelling out for matt or aaron to watch out for someone and allison playing smash or pass that's so funny

Neil: Look out for 19, guys

Allison: Smash. but pass on 20.)

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Nights of Endless Love Part 26

A fic set in Vegas in 1971 at the start of Elvis' first residency that year, where he meets a Vegas showgirl who isn't interested. Smutty, fluffy, angsty drama.

To catch up with the other parts, go here. As always, thanks go to @vintagepresley for the idea in the first place and continued inspo! And many thanks to @eapep for her editing skills!

18 and over only.

Pairing: Elvis + OC - Mia, a Vegas showgirl

Wordcount: 3.3K ish

TW: Drug abuse, health issues, angry!Elvis, a little bit of violence, crying, oral (f receiving), then much fluff.

A/N: This is the final part! I fully sobbed when I finished writing this. It's been a real labour of love and I will miss Mia and Elvis and their little world. Not to say that we might not go back and see how they're doing from time to time, but for now this is the end of their story.

“I’m so tired. Elvis this schedule is impossible.” Mia collapses down onto the sofa, still in her stage outfit. They’re more than half way through the stint in Tahoe, and she only has a two hour break before she’s due back on stage again. Things have got worse since she started going on with him to do a song or two in the middle of his set. 

“It’s not impossible. You just need one of these shots,” he looks over to Dr Nick. “Nick, give her a shot.”

Dr Nick moves warily over to Mia. She pulls a face and puts her hand out to stop him. “Dr Nick do not give her a shot. She has autonomy over her own body.”

Elvis is standing over the other side of the room, still in his jumpsuit, sodden with sweat. One of his legs is jiggling about and he's fiddling incessantly with one of his big rings. Two of the tell-tale signs that Nick had been in here giving him a shot before the second show. As if she didn’t know already.

“Well don’t blame me if you can’t hack it.”

Mia stands up, annoyed now. “If I can’t hack it? You’re the one taking enough pharmaceuticals to floor an elephant.”

Dr Nick moves from foot to foot awkwardly. Mia wasn’t often in the room when he was treating Elvis, but he’d already got the impression she wasn’t keen on all of the drugs. He isn’t keen on all of the drugs either, but Elvis will only find someone else if he stops prescribing. He’s never seen them fight before, and he would like to get out before it turns nasty. He knows Elvis has a temper.

Elvis starts moving towards her in that ominous way he has, his lip curling, blowing furious air out of his nose. “I need them. This is none of your damn business woman.”

“None of my business! I’m only living with you and engaged to marry you!”

“Well maybe you need to learn to do as you’re told.” He grabs one of her arms and starts trying to manoeuvre her towards Nick, who is looking quite alarmed by this point. Mia wriggles and tries to get him off her. She sees his other hand coming to grab her and aims a kick at one of his shins. “Ow!” He almost shrieks. She uses the opportunity to pull her arm free and then slaps him across the face for good measure.

“You are not the boss of me!” She screams.

“You come back here,” he hisses as she stands, panting in front of him. 

She thinks that she hasn’t actually gone anywhere and he could grab her from here if he really wanted to.

“I’m not having a damn shot, Elvis. I’m sick of seeing you take all this stuff. I’m sick of waking up in the night and checking if you’re still breathing. I’m sick of worrying about you all the time. I want you to rest,” she finds herself faltering, holding back tears. “I love you.”

He closes the gap between them, and for a moment she can’t tell if he’s going to kiss her or hit her. He pushes her the few steps back it takes to hit the wall, and then his mouth is on hers, his tongue pushing insistently into her mouth, his hands grabbing her arms and pressing them against the wall next to her head. Somewhere that sounds like a million miles away she hears the clunk of the door. Nick must’ve finally had enough.

“Baby I love you too,” he says, when he finally comes up for air. “I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

He starts slowly unzipping her catsuit, kissing her newly exposed skin as he goes. He stops briefly to pay her nipples some attention, but it’s clear where he’s headed, as he presses kisses to her stomach and slides the zipper down all of the way to where it finishes between her legs. She gasps when he first licks her clit, firmly and repeatedly, looking down to see him on his knees in front of her, worshipfully. His tongue dips down lower, tasting her properly, his lips and chin slick with her juices. She whines, desperate for more contact.

“Put your leg on my shoulder baby,” he says, the words buzzing against her.

She does, feeling his fingers spreading her cunt so he can better access it, lapping at her, pushing his tongue inside. His thumb moves to rub her clit as he carries on licking, the fingers of his other hand digging into the skin of her thigh and ass. She moans, grabbing her breasts and rubbing her nipples. She’s so turned on even just at the sight of him kneeling in front of her like this, burying his face in her cunt, licking and sucking like his life depends on it.

He moves to suck on her clit now, looking up at her as he does it, his hair soaked with sweat from the show earlier and her arousal all over his face. He slides a finger inside her and curls it slightly, waiting to hear her reaction. She groans, feeling him hit that spot inside of her and wriggling to try and get more contact from his tongue.

“Hold my head Mimi. Do whatever you want with me.”

She shivers at the words. She loves it when he tells her to use him like this. 

“Another finger…please,” she just about manages.

He nods and slips a second finger inside her.

She reaches down and takes hold of his head, fingers digging into his damp hair. She starts to roll her hips so that her clit rubs against his tongue, holding onto him gently and then as the pleasure starts to build she finds herself gripping him desperately, pushing her cunt into his face, not really caring anymore if he can breathe. She’s so close now, all she can think of is reaching that high. As her orgasm washes over her she grips his head even more tightly, crying out and feeling tears falling down her cheeks. She shakes and cries, finally letting him go and sliding down the wall, somehow getting her leg off his shoulder and ending up sitting in a little pile at the bottom of it.

“Fuck, honey.” Elvis is beet red, and he’s taking great gasping breaths.

She looks over at him, and realises she might’ve actually been suffocating him. “Oh shit. Are you alright?”

“Honey. You’re crying.” 

Mia laughs, even though she’s still crying. “I’m crying, you’re nearly suffocated, this is all going great.”

He moves to try and kiss her and she holds her hands up in front of her face. “Ahh. Wash your face!”

He laughs and grabs her arms, pinning them to her sides. “No,” he replies, kissing her on the mouth. She can feel the slickness of his lips, covered in her juices, and taste herself on his tongue. “If you’re going to smother me the least you can do is kiss me afterwards.”

She laughs, and then he pulls her into his arms, leaning against the wall himself. “Baby why were you crying? I thought you were enjoying yourself.”

“I just felt overwhelmed. I love you so much and I really want this to work, but it’s just fucking exhausting. I’m sorry I nearly killed you.”

He chuckles into her ear. “It’s okay, I asked for it. In more ways than one. And I love it when you’re so uninhibited like that, especially all over my face.”

She squeals. It smells like sex and sweat all around her. They really need to shower before the next show.

He nuzzles her neck. “I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have got mad at you. You’re right, we can’t carry on like this. But I don’t know what else to do.”

***

They somehow finish the Tahoe commitment but tell Jerry and the Colonel that there’s no way they can keep up that level of work. It was what they’d suspected would happen, and although the Colonel has his views on how many shows Elvis and Mia should do, for once he keeps his mouth shut. Jerry has been a good influence on him from that perspective. He’s learning how to diversify, has even thought of taking on one or two more clients. Jerry suggests one show a night is more reasonable, tours could be longer but there would be more gaps between dates and fewer residencies. Mia and Elvis both agree, and leave the meeting somewhat relieved. 

Mia knows the amount of shows isn’t the only problem though, and so she decides to broach something with Elvis as she watches him rubbing his belly and grimacing.

“What do you think about checking yourself into a hospital?”

Elvis almost jumps. “What? There’s nothing wrong with me!”

Mia puts her hand on top of his. “You’re not in any pain just now?”

He sighs. “Okay, but… hospital?”

“Please. For me. I’ll stay in there with you. We can order in whatever food you want. But I think you need to go and get checked out, and… maybe you need to come off some of what you’ve been taking.” 

She’s very nervous about the last part of the sentence. He’s never taken interference in the drugs he takes very well in the past. She had thought she wouldn’t interfere in that part of his life, but the shows at Tahoe showed her that she had to. She watches his face twist into a variety of different expressions, as if he’s having a not-very-internal battle with himself. 

“You’ll stay with me the whole time? Even if they want to do things to me? Look for stuff? You’ll be there? You promise?” He’s starting to sound a little panicked, but it seems like the agreeable Elvis has won this time. 

“Yes. I won’t let them throw me out of the room. I’ll be there with you the whole time I promise.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Okay then.”

***

Mia keeps her word. They check into the hospital together and she’s there holding his hand as they do blood tests, check his blood pressure, put drops in his eyes. When they tell him he needs a colonoscopy he looks at her and she tells him it will be okay and she will hold his hands and talk to him the whole time. He nods like a frightened child but does whatever she says. They slowly take him off the complicated mixture of pharmaceuticals he’s been taking since he was in the army, working out exactly what he needs rather than what he wants. Mia stays up a lot of the nights, lying in the bed with him, stroking his hair and wiping his brow as he sweats and twists and turns uncomfortably in his sleep. With the best will in the world, his withdrawal is still horrible and he begs her to let him take something for it, crying in her arms. 

A week after they first got there, he’s sat up in bed as she lays dozing after another tumultuous night. 

“Hi there.” A voice Mia can’t quite place, deep and sonorous. She tries to ignore it, but Elvis’ response makes that impossible.

“Lawrence! It’s been so long!” 

Elvis is feeling good for the first time since he checked into the hospital, and seeing Larry has made him genuinely excited, dropping the book he was reading and sitting up properly in bed. All of this jostles Mia so much she sits up again with a groan. 

“How’re you doing, man?” Larry asks, sitting down on the armchair in the room. 

“Great. So much better. They’ve taken me off a lot of things and… I do feel good for a change, Larry. They’re bringing me all these fresh fruits and vegetables and Mia is helping me decide which ones I like.”

He looks over at Mia, whose hair is absolutely everywhere, eyes barely open, looking like she needs to sleep for a week. He strokes her face. “Baby, why don’t you go to the room across the hall and get some proper sleep?”

The hospital staff had reserved them another room in case Mia wanted to sleep somewhere separately sometimes, but she hasn’t left his side for the whole week. 

“You sure?” She replies, groggily. 

“Of course, Angel. Larry can keep me company for a while and you look like you need to sleep somewhere comfy.”

She nods and shuffles off across the corridor. 

“I hear you’re getting married?”

Elvis grins. “Yeah. When the divorce is finalised with Cilla, we certainly are.”

“I’m so pleased for you Elvis. Things really seem to be turning out well lately.”

Elvis is beaming. Things were turning out well. He has an idea to make them even better. “Say, you wanna be my best man?”

Larry is taken aback. They hadn’t been in touch much recently, a hair cut here and there and a few chats, but nothing like the intensity of their relationship previously. He’d been wondering if they were just drifting apart. 

“I’d be honoured!”

Elvis reaches across to shake the other man’s hand, firmly. “Wonderful. I’m sure Mia will be pleased too.”

***

Mia had never thought she’d be so nervous on her wedding day. What is there to be nervous about? Fluffing up the words? Tripping over her dress and falling on her face? Actually, both of those seem like pretty bad options. She smooths her dress down and looks at herself in the mirror. Life on the road hasn’t exactly stopped the ageing process. If anything, it’s accelerated it. She had her grey hairs dyed back to brown in readiness for today, there’s a lot of strong elastic holding her not-so-little belly in and a face full of make-up hides her tired eyes and wrinkles. But she finds somehow that she doesn’t mind so much any more. Elvis’ hair is still white and he is completely unapologetic about it. He gets his reading glasses out when he needs to and he ignores the jibes from the guys. They worship one another’s bodies, no matter whether they find wrinkles or extra fat there. Elvis is particularly delighted by the fact that she’s put on a little extra weight on her ass, kissing and kneading it at every opportunity. Every morning he tells her how beautiful she is, or sings Mia In The Morning, no matter how many times she hits him with a pillow and tells him to shut up. The tests at the hospital showed that he has a problem with his intestine that makes his belly swell from time to time, and Mia makes sure to show him how much she loves him whenever it happens. He’s given up trying to push her away when she pushes his shirt up and kisses him all over. In fact, he almost looks forward to it.

Mia smiles at her reflection. It had been one helluva year. When she’d started 1971, performing on that stage in the Tropicana, she had no idea things would turn out like this. That she’d be getting ready to marry one of the most famous men in the world. That she’d be so in love with him.

“You ready?” Amanda asks. Mia had to spend an entire drunken day catching her up on everything that had happened over the past couple of months, but she was the only person she wanted as her maid of honour. 

“As I’ll ever be.”

Her dad walks into the room, blinking back tears at how beautiful she looks in her dress. 

“Time to go, pumpkin?”

Mia nods and takes his arm. Elvis had encouraged her to get back in contact with her parents, so she’d invited them to the show when they visited her hometown. She was surprised when they came, and even more surprised how proud they were of her. She suspects it has something to do with Elvis, who put on the world’s biggest charm-offensive when he met them, and who of course they loved instantly. Her dad was over the moon when she asked him to give her away at the wedding. 

She can feel herself shaking as they walk slowly down the aisle to meet the man standing at the end of it. Elvis is shaking too, he’s asked Larry approximately 15 times already whether he still has the rings, and until he saw her for himself a few moments ago, he had completely convinced himself that Mia wasn’t coming. The walk is interminable for both of them, Elvis sweating and worrying about stuttering his vows and Mia concentrating on not falling over her own dress. When she finally gets there and they turn to face one another, holding each other’s hands tightly, they both let out shaky breaths. And then they realise what they’ve done and both giggle. It’s like the rest of the world completely disappears when they look at one another. Until, that is, the celebrant starts to speak. 

“In the presence of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, we have come together to witness the marriage of Elvis and Mia, to pray for God’s blessing on them, to share their joy and to celebrate their love.”

Despite their fears, the ceremony goes smoothly. Larry hands over the rings. No-one declares a reason they can’t get married, and neither of them mess up their vows. Elvis stutters a little but it just makes Mia love him more, if that were possible. They kiss passionately when they’re told they’re now man and wife, and little Lisa-Marie is the first person to start throwing confetti. Mia briefly wonders if it’s odd to have your husband’s ex-wife as one of your bridesmaids, but then decides she doesn’t care. Priscilla is still such a good friend to her, she’d even helped to pick out Mia’s dress. 

The party that follows goes on well into the night. It starts with a first dance to actual Jackie Wilson performing (Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher and Higher, and sometime around midnight Mia finds herself still in her wedding dress, trying to teach Red West how to rumba. 

“Never thought you’d last, you know.” He says into her ear as she tries in vain to get him to stop standing on her feet. 

“Oh really?” She laughs back, pushing his hip with hers. 

“No. Thought he’d have enough of you being so bossy.”

“You should be concentrating or you won’t get any better.”

Red looks up at her. “I’m not really trying to get better, I’m enjoying you manhandling me if I’m honest.”

Mia bursts out laughing, shoving him back and away from her. “I’ll tell my husband you said that.”

“You’ll tell your husband he said, what?” 

Elvis is suddenly behind her, his arms around her waist. She leans back against him and smirks. “Red West is trying to get close to me, husband.”

“Oh, is that so, wife?”

“Hmm yes. But I wouldn’t worry about him, I’m not interested.” She spins around in his arms and puts hers around his neck. “I just feel sorry for him.”

Elvis looks up at her and chuckles, humming with pleasure as she leans her forehead down against his. “He is pathetic, you’re right.”

Red rolls his eyes and huffs, wandering off to find someone else to annoy. 

“How is my beautiful wife?” Elvis asks her as they sway back and forth to the music. 

“I’ve never been better. How is my handsome husband?”

“I’ve never been happier. Today has been perfect. You’re perfect. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“I can’t wait either, lover.”

The band starts playing From A Jack To A King.

From a Jack to a King / From loneliness to a wedding ring / I played an Ace and I won a Queen / And walked away with your heart

***

Taglist:

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @another-identityofmine @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog

[crescenthistory]

you are my favourite silence

Pairing: Paul Atreides x Reader

Summary: Jessica's lecture and the eventual nightmare-catalysed-reunion, from Paul's tortured, yearning perspective. Based on "in the silence, there is an us".

Words: 3.6k

Warnings: not proofread, angst, hurt/comfort, references to nightmares, intense yearning, descriptions of anxiety and panic, feeling like the world is demanding too much of you, being super in love but not able to say it out loud, cuddling, lady jessica being a c*ckblock/heartbreaker

***

In the face of change, of being pushed into the final phase of growing up, Paul wanted to cling to you like a lifeline. To the gentle rhythm that once existed between him and you, the one he felt becoming more and more unbalanced as the world around dumped expectations on you both. He almost had not noticed it happening at first. You had grown up beside him, a constant presence, and yet now, each time he glanced your way, he was increasingly aware of what could be taken from him. He was only just beginning to grasp how much he cared for you, and the idea that you might feel like you did not belong here, or worse, being shown you do not, made something twist deep inside him.

Sitting beside you in the library, Paul could hear his mother’s words – sharp and pointed, even as he believed they were meant to guide. His whole body felt tense, not because of Jessica’s talk of duty, or the future he would soon shoulder, but because of you. Because he knew what her gaze did to you, how it picked at the part of you that never felt enough. When Jessica moved on to discuss personal relationships, the weight of her underlying meaning came pressing down, and Paul could barely keep his attention on her. His eyes flicked toward you, searching for any sign that her words were cutting too deep. Even when scolded himself, all he could think about is how it would affect you.

He hated this. Hated the way his mother’s eyes would linger on you, as though you were being measured and found wanting. It wasn’t true, but he knew you felt it. He could see it in the way you lowered your head, trying to hide from the sharpness of her tone. His jaw clenched. You were not some distraction, you were his best friend, and that should count for something. You were the reason he could breathe when it all felt either too small or too big.

When the speech was finally over and Jessica left them alone, Paul let out a breath, half-realising he did not listen to a word she said towards the end. The silence between the two of you felt heavy, thicker than it should have been. You should have been able to laugh it off together, snicker at his mother’s dramatics, but he knew you would not do that anymore. He risked a glance at you. His heart sinking at the way you avoided looking back. 

“She didn’t mean it like that,” he said, voice low, unsure how else to cut through the tension. When you didn’t respond, he moved closer, needing to bridge the growing distance. “She’s just worried. That’s all. My mother –”

“Your mother is always worried,” you cut in sharply, and Paul flinched. The tone in your voice was one you rarely ever used on him, only in your worst moments. He knew what it meant. You were pulling away, not just from the conversation, but from him. He could feel it. He wanted to stop it, wanted to reach out and pull you back to where you belonged, beside him. “Maybe she has a point. I’ve been distracting you. I shouldn’t... I shouldn’t keep coming to you.”

No.

Paul’s chest tightened as you began to move, began to slip from his grasp. Before he could even think, his hands moved on their own, gently but firmly gripping yours, desperate to ground you. “No,” he said aloud, his voice more forceful than he intended. “You haven’t been distracting me. You’ve... you’ve been keeping me sane. It’s not the same thing.”

He didn’t have the words. Not really. Not for what he was trying to say. All he needed was for you to understand, to know how important you were to him, but no words were worthy in the moment. His mother could never see it the way he did, she was too caught up in her visions for his future to realise when the only future he cared about was right in front of his nose. She didn’t understand how all the qualities that could make him a good duke were the ones you brought out of him.

He could see your brows twitch in the way they do when you are holding back tears. “But your mother thinks –”

“I don’t care what my mother thinks.”

The words tumbled out before he could stop them, and for a brief moment, Paul felt a surge of panic. He blinked, startled by his own admission that he had not realised rang so true for him, but he didn’t let go of your hands. His grip tightened slightly, and he looked at you, willing you to understand all he could not say. “I don’t care what she thinks about the time we spend together,” he continued, trying to keep his voice level. “She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re drowning, like the world’s pressing in from every side, and you’re just. Alone.”

She doesn’t know you’re the lifeboat. 

“Whenever I’m with you, it’s the only time I don’t feel that way,” he confessed, his voice raw. He was laying it all out, unsure if he was saying the right things or making things worse, but he couldn’t stop himself. It felt like he was pleading a case. “You’re not a distraction. You’re the only thing that keeps me steady.”

He saw the way your eyes briefly squeezed shut, the blush still remaining in your cheeks, the slightly quivering curve of your mouth, all that internal struggle on your beautiful face. It tore him apart. You wanted to argue, he could see that, but something held you back. Paul wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. He felt you giving up instead of giving in, as you softly said, “We just need to be more careful.”

Careful. That word grated against his every instinct. Paul didn’t want careful. He wanted you, the way you had always been – close, inseparable. 

But then you said, “We can’t keep hiding away in each other’s rooms. We can’t... we can’t keep acting like kids.”

Paul’s heart sank, his body sagging slightly as he was giving up, too. Not on you, on himself, on his situation. He rubbed at his face, trying to shake the helplessness threatening to take over. You were right, but it felt painfully wrong.

“But we’re not acting like kids,” he muttered, trying to keep you from slipping too far away. 

“Aren’t we?” you whispered, your voice filled with something that sounded like heartbreak. “We’re literally sneaking into each other’s beds in the middle of the night, Paul. We’re still pretending like nothing’s changed.”

Paul didn’t have a response. Not immediately, too caught up with the ache in his chest as his disturbance turned existential. Why must sharing a close connection with someone, being tethered by someone, be a thing of only childhood? He felt he needed it more and more the older he got. Yet, he knew better than anyone all he had to do and all he had to be, and that it was time to step up to the challenge. But that didn’t mean he wanted to lose this, lose you, at least this part of you it felt he had always possessed. The idea that things had to change, that you couldn’t be the way you had always been – it was unbearable.

“Nothing has changed though,” he finally said, aiming for conviction. “Not between us.”

Deep down, Paul knew you were right. Everything had changed, just not in the way you were currently discussing, and he didn’t know what to do with it. He was not ready to face it. 

When you stood up to leave, the panic flared again in his chest. He wanted to reach for you, to stop you, to pull you back down beside him. Show you why you had to stay. He did anything but, he could only watch as you walked away, leaving him behind with the oppressive atmosphere of the library. His finger tips lingered on your seat as he clung to your promise: I will see you tomorrow. Even that small promise felt like a lifeline made of plastic.

Paul stared at the spot where you left, the weight of the future settling heavily on his shoulders. 

The following weeks, Paul did everything in his power to bury the gnawing unease that twisted inside him. He cherry-picked from his continuing lectures from his mother, trying to keep only the positives and leave out all the doom everyone seemed to hand him these days. The tension that hung between you only worsened in the silence of the castle’s long nights. You had always shared a restlessness after dark, a sort of curse that made sleep seem impossible unless you were together. But after his mother’s warnings about appearances and responsibilities, Paul felt obligated to put distance between you, to keep his emotions in check. At least for as long as you claimed that was what you wanted, too.

God, he hated it.

At first, he tried to do everything right, tried to focus more on his studies, his duties, his pretenses. He could not afford to slip up, not when he was being watched so closely, not when he was meant to prove himself a future Duke. But the more he tried to be the person he was expected to be, the more he felt himself, Paul, not the future duke of House Atreides, unraveling. 

Every moment spent apart from you gnawed at him, like a thread slowly being pulled loose from the fabric of his mind. His concentration splintered; during meetings, his eyes trailed to the door, wondering if you would ever walk in, during training, his movements felt sluggish, his mind always wandering to whether you were okay, whether you missed him too.

The longer you kept your distance, the harder it became to focus on anything but you and the looming elephant that was your friendship.

He soaked up every interaction you had like a parched man trying to survive in the desert. Even something as simple as sitting beside you during meals or brushing past you in the hallways felt like a lifeline. He clung to those moments, storing them away like precious memories, replaying them in his mind when he found himself alone. He knew you still saw each other a relatively normal amount, the amount usual friends dedicate to each other – but it was far from enough.

During it all you kept up your facade too well for Paul’s state. It was like you practiced it all when you could not sleep at night, you were polite, composed, like nothing had changed between you. Paul knew you better, of course. He could see through it, see the cracks forming beneath the surface. The bags forming under your eyes, the strain on your smiles, the flickering of your gaze when met by any member of the Atreides family now. You were just as affected by this distance as he was, but you were better at hiding it from everyone but him. It only made him want to reach out more, to break through that wall, to remind you that you didn’t have to carry this alone.

Paul sat beside you at the long wooden table in the dining hall, trying to act as though nothing had changed. The usual hum of formalities and business between his tutors, his mother, and the few remaining nobles blurred into a background buzz. All of it felt irrelevant compared to the tension sitting between you and him. He tried to tell himself the change was not that large, out of all the seats in the room, you were still sat together. 

He sneaked a glance at you from the corner of his eye. You were sitting perfectly still, your posture as composed and graceful as you had been trained to be, eyes downcast as you picked at the meal in front of you. On the surface, you looked calm, indifferent even, but Paul could see it so easily. The way your fingers gripped your knife a little too tight, the way your shoulders tensed as if trying to make yourself smaller, invisible. It’s not the same.

Despite his appetite having long since vanished, Paul tried to take a bite of his food. Beside him, you sipped your water, eyes flicking up just once to meet his before darting away again. The briefest connection, but it hit him like a shockwave. He was desperate for more of you, the real you, not this version that was carefully packaged to meet the standards of the room.

A thought ran through his head and before he could compose himself, Paul’s foot nudged yours lightly under the table. A small, almost childlike gesture. His heart raced, wondering if you would acknowledge it, if you would look at him like you used to. When you glanced his way, a flicker of a smile tugged at the corner of your mouth, a sign that you were still there, but it withered away fast.

You straightened in your seat, breaking eye contact, your attention turning back to your plate. A clear signal that you couldn’t do this, not here. Not now.

Paul’s stomach twisted, and he gripped his fork tighter, his knuckles white against the silver. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. There had been no distance between you before. You used to laugh together, share inside jokes over dinners like this. You used to sneak glances that said everything without needing words. Now, there was just this unbearable restraint. The longer it stretched on, the more suffocating it became.

He wanted so desperately to just be your best friend again, like when you were younger, when things were simple. When sharing a bed was not plagued by conventions or the expectations of his mother. Back then, it had been about adventure and laughter. Now it was about survival for poor Paul, it was all he needed to secure him. He wanted you to know how much he cared, how much he needed you. 

He remained silent.

When night fell, it became unbearable. Alone in his room, Paul felt the weight of everything pressing down on him—the responsibilities, the expectations, the growing distance between the two of you. Sleep evaded him. Each night felt longer than the last, and the silence of the castle, once comforting, now felt suffocating. 

He thought of you constantly. 

He wondered if you were having nightmares, the way you always did when there were no storms to distract you. You never reacted well to the stillness of nights like this, and Paul knew it. He knew you too well. 

Should I go to her? 

The thought flickered in his mind more than once, the worry gnawing at him more than usual, but something held him back. His mother’s words still lingered in the air between you, but more importantly your words. You asked for space, even if the reasons felt as tragic to him as they did. He could not risk making things worse, could not risk losing you completely by overstepping. Nevertheless, the longer he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, the more unbearable the thought of doing nothing became.

The hours drifted on, whisking away into the night air streaming in through his cracked open window. He had zeroed in on the sound in hopes it could form a lullaby, but to no avail. In the silence of his room, he heard footsteps in the hallway.

Before he could finish thinking, he was up and out of bed, hand on the door. He was fully expecting to open the door and be met with a wall of nothingness, forced to face how truly delerious he was becoming, but the possibility of any other outcome made him throw the door open without hesitation. 

His pounding heart all but lit up as he saw you standing in the doorway, almost hidden in the darkness. Surprise was etched onto your features and your hand was half-raised, presumably to knock on the door. A relieved smile made it onto your lips, and Paul briefly wondered whether you were aware, or if it was instinct. He breathed your name as a silent thank you to whatever forces brought you back to his doorstep.

In the half-shadows, you looked haunted, and he immediately stepped to the side to make room for you to step back into his world. He had been waiting for you. Hoping, somehow, that you would come to him, that you still needed him the way he needed you. 

You slipped inside quietly, and Paul closed the door behind you, sealing the two of you away from everything – his mother, the expectations, the fear that had been building between you for weeks. His chest tightened as he watched you, taking in the way your shoulders tensed, the way your eyes flicked to his like you weren’t sure if you should be here.

Paul had never been more certain of anything. He needed you here. 

As if your muscle memory controlled your actions, you moved toward the bed, and Paul followed hot on your heels, not willing to let you get too far away from him. There were no words, but there didn’t need to be. You both knew what this was. 

As he watched you climb into his bed, Paul felt something settle in his chest, something that had been fraying ever since the distance had started growing between you. He slid in beside you, immediately wrapping his arm as tightly around your waist as viable and pulling you close.

The quiet of his room that had just felt so suffocating now felt like a refuge. You were his anchor, his constant. For the first time in what felt like forever, the world outside didn’t feel so heavy. 

He heard your breathing slow as you nestled against him, your head resting on his chest. Without any real thought behind the action, he buried his nose in your hair and breathed you in, feeling every part of his body that was touching yours. He could feel the tremors in your body start to fade, and with them, the knot of worry that had been coiling tighter and tighter inside him began to loosen.

“Are you okay?” Paul whispered, his voice soft, almost afraid of shattering the moment.

You nodded against him, but Paul could feel the weakness in the movement, could feel the words you did not say. In response he held you tighter, his thumb tracing slow, gentle circles on your arm, offering comfort in the only way he knew how.

“I’m glad you came,” he murmured, his voice so quiet it almost didn’t reach his own ears. He had not realized how much he needed to say it until the words were out. “I wanted to come to you, but—” He trailed off, guilt wracking his mind while trying to somehow silence yours. His hand began to trace up and down your bare arm, needing to feel the warmth of your skin to remind himself that you were real, that this moment was real.

“I know,” you whispered, your voice hoarse with emotion. “I wanted to come sooner.”

Paul didn’t say anything, but his heart ached at the truth in your words. You had wanted to come sooner, but something had kept you back. The same thing that had kept him pacing his room, wondering if he should break the unspoken rules and go to you. Although he had always known, being told that the distance was killing you too felt oddly good.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. The silence between you now felt different, like the quiet after a storm, when the air is charged but peaceful. Paul’s hand drifted up to gently stroke your hair, the motion instinctual, as his other hand held your waist. It was one of the most intimate embraces you had had, and it felt so right, to the point where he did not even question it. He wanted to offer you more than comfort, more than just a place to escape your nightmares. He wanted to give you the world, guaranteed safety. Not just a reprieve or a shelter, but a true home, a good life. But the words weren’t there yet. He didn’t know how to say the way he cared for you, that it was more than just… caring. That you were the only person who had ever made him feel like everything might be okay.

Instead, he whispered, “I’ll always be here. I swear it.” It was close enough for now.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his in the dim candlelight, burning low. For a moment, Paul’s breath caught in his throat. He saw everything in that look – your fear, your doubt, your hope. Your care. He craved to kiss you, to close the distance that still felt like it hung between you. Instead, he pressed his lips to the top of your head, a tender, quiet gesture that said everything he couldn’t yet.

Neither of you spoke after that. You simply held each other, the world outside disappearing as you both drifted into a peaceful sleep. Paul finally felt safe.

[frogs00]

Hello:) can I request Regina or Janis x reader angst fic?

Reader avoids their partner because they’re struggling with stress from schoolwork or home stuff etc and uses restriction to cope. But partner finds out and confront reader so reader hesitantly admits it to their partner and they try to help

Tears

Summary: The request but worse

Warnings: Child/Domestic abuse, reader's home life sucks, Regina and Reader have daddy issues, depressing thought, alcohol abuse. Reader's discretion is advised. (Let me know if I missed anything)

Pairing: Regina George x reader

"Call you on the phone, you just tell me not to go. Baby, I don't want to be alone anymore."

"What the hell is wrong with you? " Your father screamed in your ear, right in your ear, waving the piece of paper in your face, "A 'C+'? On a math test? You're pathetic, if you don't get your grades up you'll fucking regret it.”

He shoved the paper back into your arms, and you held it to your chest with shaking hands, worried about what he might mean. It wouldn’t be the first time he had threatened you. Tears dripped onto the paper and you squinted your eyes shut, trying to blink your vision into focus.

You looked up after a moment and his hand was raised, and the next thing you knew the back of his hand connected with your face.

—

Your weekend was filled with studying. You always struggled with focus and motivation, but he threatened you. Threatened to take away the only thing keeping you here. Eyes never leaving the textbook, writing notes till your hand cramped, you ground your teeth. You were drained, so drained.

Bags had formed under your eyes, and you'd hardly eaten. You dreaded Monday. You didn’t want to face anyone, and why would you? Why would they want to face you back?

It was an awakening of the rudest sort, realizing that in the end, the only person that you have is yourself. You’ve been hearing this phrase all of my life, and sure you had Regina and you had your friends. But that all just had to be temporary? Because why would Regina George want a fuck up like you?

What was the permanent? The facts.

The fact that you weren’t worthy. The statistics didn’t lie, and your last test said you were nothing but average. You tried so hard on that test, and yet you still scored average. And did you hate it? Yes, with every fiber in your being. Who wouldn’t hate the feeling? The way your father treated you and how your mother did nothing to stop it. You couldn’t blame her, he scared you, and hurt you to the point you felt unsafe in your room.

But you had to push through if you wanted to accomplish your goals, your dreams, that aching need to escape the house you were raised in.

Snap goes the pencil in your hand, you hadn’t even realized how tightly you had been holding it. You let go of it with a shaky hand, and the splintered piece of wood and graphite fell on the desk. Tears stained your cheek and you let your face fall into your hand.

But, oh god, was It getting to a point where you had to ask yourself if the dream had become a nightmare.

—

Monday had arrived, you were tired, so fucking tired. Still, you had to try and make that less obvious. How did you do that? Avoid. You had practically mastered the art of ducking and dodging people around you, and it’s not like you felt they’d miss you.

Or maybe you had just gaslighted yourself into thinking that because it scared you to be loved and cared for. You couldn’t handle that… it was too much. It was all too much.

You walked the hall with your eyes downcast, backpack slung rather uncomfortably on your shoulder. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want your girlfriend, lying if you said your head wasn’t pounding, and lying if anyone bothered to ask if you were okay. Sucks to suck I guess.

You had been lost in thought as you turned the corner, bumping into someone. Thankfully, or maybe so so thankfully, it was Cady, “Sorry- Oh, it’s you! Hey, y/n, I’ve hardly heard from you all day,” she laughed then proceeded to eye you skeptically, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” You responded, putting on your best fake smile. It seemed to fool her, at least a little, because she asked if you were sure, when you nodded she then bid you goodbye and skipped away. She was always so happy, it almost made you jealous.

So I guess I’m a liar now. You thought as you darted into your class. You sat down in your seat and fought the urge to nod off, it was almost comical the fact that you already knew everything this particular teacher was talking about, at least the studying paid off, even if you were facing major burnout.

Class dragged on— Honestly, everything did; From how you pulled yourself out of your chair— to how you dragged yourself through the halls. Life was a drag.

Before you knew it, the day passed in a blur, and you were on your walk home.

—

The next day wasn’t that much different from the last. A foggy haze of numbness and meaningless conversations.

Well, mostly meaningless. During the passing period, your last one of the day, you were switching out your book from your locker when your girlfriend approached you.

“Y/n…” Regina's voice was a whisper, your throat clenched. She sounded worried. You hated that she sounded worried, because if Regina George was worried about you, then that meant you couldn’t wallow in that self-pity you made your home.

“Yeah?” You asked after clearing your throat, you didn’t force a smile though. She’d tell it was fake.

“I’m worried about you, you’re quiet. Did I like…do something? Or some shit.” She asked, her tone growing a bit irritated as she reached the last part, but that was just how she was. You knew it still came from a place of worry, in fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if that irritation was aimed towards herself. Just because you knew that didn’t mean it felt like it.

“No, Regina, you didn’t. I’m fine, just tired.” You shook your head, avoiding her gaze as you shut your locker. Lies, lies, and more lies. Well, you were tired, but that wasn’t just it. You and her both knew that.

“Baby, come on. Tell me what’s wrong,” Regina coaxed, her tone increasing as she spoke, making her sound angry. She was anxious, though, you could tell. Neither of you was great with emotions.

“Stop. I said I’m fine, leave it alone,” You snapped, turning your back on her, “You’re so pushy, god.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not a fan of watching the ones closest to me drift away!” She snapped right back, just like you knew she would. The perfect excuse to walk away… or retort her.

“I’m not your dad, Regina. I have a couple of bad days doesn’t mean I’m going to up and leave, okay? So stop acting like this is the end of the world.” You seethed, grinding your teeth. You glanced at her just in time to see her flinch, a wave of nausea and guilt washed over you.

“Wow.” Regina scoffed, collecting herself, “That was so unnecessary. I was just worried, and you…” She shook her head, you should see her tense, the ways she drew in a breath. She was trying.

You turned around to fully meet her gaze, and you could feel your eyes watering, “I’m sorry, I am,” You whispered, her face softened a bit, “I…I’m just stressed, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have,” Regina agreed, “It’s fine, I get it, or whatever.” You both stood there for a while, just staring at one another.

“I’m sorry.” You repeated.

“I know.” More silence followed, til she said, “Do you need a hug?” you smiled a bit, the first time in a while. You nodded softly and she wrapped her arms around you. You breathed in deeply, her vanilla and coconut shampoo soothed your mind if only for a moment. Maybe you’d find the strength to talk to her, but not now, you just let yourself be held and pushed through.

You both pulled away when the warning bell rang, and you left it at that.

—

You were home, or you were at your house. This place didn’t feel like home, not at all, not ever.

You were unpleasantly surprised to find your father sitting on the porch, beer in hand and lead tilted back. He was drunk, you could tell just from the sight of him, and it made your stomach churn. He could be so violent when drunk. You swallowed your fear and clutched the strap of your backpack, slowly approaching.

A silent caution always lingered when you interacted with him, always. That was unchanging even as he stopped you.

“Why are you home so late?” He slurred, glowering at you then pushing himself off the wooden chair he spent most of his day.

“I had to walk, Dad, the bus doesn’t run that way on Mondays,” You explained calmly, and he nodded. Your gaze flickered around and you noted that your little sister's shoes weren’t on the shoe rack, “Where is Ashley?”

His expression turned sour, “She’s at some friend's house, on a school night. A load of bullshit! Me and your mom got into it because of her, because of you dumb ass kids,” he growled, “Why do you care, anyways, huh?” He took a step towards you, and the acrid smell of both alcohol and cigarettes hit your nose, you grimaced.

“She’s my sister, of course, I care-” You started but cut off as you watched his irritation grow. You could see it in his body language, hands curling into fists.

“God, you kids are so fucking useless! You should be studying, you hear me? The least a mistake like you could do.” he grabbed your shirt and tugged you towards him, and your heart pounded.

His voice was heavily slurred and his eyes were wide and wild, breath hot on your face. You couldn’t take it, you couldn’t do this another day, and pushed him off of you then sprinted the other way.

He trampled after you to the edge of the yard, but he didn’t give chase, too intoxicated and not caring enough.

You were so tired of running, what exactly were you running to? You’re tired, tired of all this escaping. It reminds you of that part in all the horror movies, the ones where the characters are running for their lives. Because ‘It’s all so beautiful’ or ‘lf is worth living’, and shit. Well, maybe it was to them. But, god, was it a whole lot of hell for you right now.

Two blocks down, you stopped, panting. You sat down on the curb and placed your head in your hands. You pulled out your phone, lucky it wasn’t dead.

You called Regina. I mean who else would you call?

After two rings she answered, “Regina?”

“Y/n? Are you okay?”

“Not really,” you admitted, feeling those tears you’ve been holding back slip from the corners of your eyes, “Can you pick me up? My dad…” you trailed off, voice shaking.

“Your dad? Yeah, I’ve heard enough. I’m on my way,” you heard rustling over the phone, a jingle of keys, then her voice asking, “Where are you?”

“I’ll drop a pin,” you looked over your head, grey clouds were rolling in, and you just hoped it didn’t start raining before she got here, “thank you.”

“Of course.” she softly said into the phone, then hung up.

You sat there by yourself, a wind chilling you to the bones. You didn’t like the wind, never had. It flushed your face and made your hair a mess, but you liked the smell it brought in, the damp smell of leaves and coming rainfall, it was all so refreshing in a way you couldn’t place. You wish you could appreciate it more, but that was hard with tears rolling down your cheek still, adding to the icy feeling.

You wiped the tears away with the sleeve of your sweater, staring at the pavement. You hardly registered Regina’s mom's car pulling up, but you did register the footsteps approaching, lifting your head.

“Baby, oh god, are you okay?” She gasped out the question, looking you over and pulling you to your feet. You felt something wet hit your head and you looked up, not answering her question.

It was raining.

“Baby?” She repeated a concerned expression on her face.

“Yes, sorry. I’m okay. He didn’t hit me…right now at least.” You and she pulled you into a hug and then towards the car, she must not have brought the Jeep because she actually checked the weather.

You both got into the car quickly. You closed your eyes, she didn’t ask any more questions. She knew better than to ask right away, it was better to let you settle in. You leaned against the cold window of the car, your breath foging the glass, watching the downpour and the water streaking down the glass.

You liked the rain, you did. You liked the way it filled the world with white noise, it was soothing. You liked to run around in it with your arm spread out and head pointed at the sky. You enjoyed the things that came with the rain too. You like gray and wet and rhythmically noisy, you liked hiding under cozy blankets.

You were so lost in your thoughts, that when you felt a warm hand brush yours, you flinched. You turned your head, looking at Regina who was staring at you curiously. You intertwine your and the blonde's fingers together wordlessly.

“You’re cold, feel okay?” She asked and you nodded, you didn’t want to talk. You turned to stare at the red light that shined through the gloom.

You glanced back at her, she was still staring so you asked, “What?”

“Nothing, you always just look so thoughtful, I guess.” She shrugged, then stepped on the gas.

Sooner than later you two arrived at her house, you both were quiet when you two got back, Regina went straight to the kitchen and you sat down on the couch inhaling and exhaling slowly. Minutes late she returned with two mugs of hot chocolate. You gave her a tired, grateful smile. She smiled back.

You both sipped at your drinks quietly, it wasn’t awkward necessarily but you could tell she was itching to ask questions, so you turned to her.

“I’m sorry, by the way. For this, I know I’m a mess. My dad is a huge ass and it’s physically and mentally killing me,” You trailed off, swallowing thickly, “Still, I feel like It’s all my fault, I don’t know why I do this. I’m not used to this, to being loved. It’s hard to accept; it scares me so badly. It terrifies me and I run away.” It was easier that way, but you didn’t say that.

Regina sighed, setting down her mug then grabbing and clutching your hand, “It’s okay, I know. Dads can be pretty shitty. Yours is, mine is. But it’s not your fault. It isn’t, y/n,” she shook her head, “Avoiding others isn’t helping, though. I get it, trust me, I’m the queen of avoiding my problems. Hell! I avoided the truth I was gay for years, but I’m trying. We both are.”

You started crying again, it was hard to hold it in, “Thank you…” you breathed, “I don’t deserve you-”

Regina smiled a bit, “Don’t say that, it’s bullshit,” she rolled her eyes, then softened, “You have people in your corner, okay? You don’t have to do everything alone. We can both work on that.” She pulled you into a hug, you cried softly into her. Damn, did it feel good to get out, to be held.

You both remained like that for a while till she asked you if you wanted to shower, you agreed pretty quickly considering it was still pouring. You took a shower together.

You got comfortable at Regina’s side, rubbing circles in her lower back, “Your back okay? I know it can get achy when it rains.” you whispered, gazing into her blue eyes.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Regina shrugged, then yawned, “I kind of like the rain, actually. Not getting wet though, that’s disgusting.” she mused but didn’t elaborate further.

You let out a soft laugh at the sour face she made, Regina hated getting wet, unlike you, “Me too.” You smiled. You both lay in each other's arms, listening to the rain and wishing it would stay longer. The sound seemed to drown out all of your problems, or maybe just laying beside her made it all fade away.

A/N: Kinda proud of this one even though it took me forever

[redrose10]

Here is #6 from the photo game!

Warnings: Swearing, hints of cheating, anxiety, depression

A relaxing weekend spent at a cabin with your boyfriend sounded like an amazing idea at the time. No distractions, no work, just you and Yoongi spending a few days together. The fall time was the busiest time of the year thanks to the leaves changing and the brisk air making cuddling by the fireplace more desirable. To make sure you got the reservation and to get the best deal you booked the cabin six months in advance.

Then life happened and you and Yoongi got in an argument. It wasn’t anything new. You two had been together for four years and had arguments every now and then like any couple. You could tell something was different this time though. He seemed angrier, less willing to communicate and more closed off. You walked into the bedroom to give each other some space expecting to work things out later. Ten minutes went by and Yoongi walked in with red eyes and his cheeks soaked with tears.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I can’t do this any more.”, he whispered before shoving some of his clothes in a bag and running out the door. That was two months ago and you haven’t spoken since.

“Y/N you should go on the trip. Take a relaxing weekend for yourself. You deserve it.”, your best friend said over dinner.

The romantic trip you had planned with Yoongi was coming up. After all that happened you had forgotten to cancel it before the required date and now it was too late. The trip was non-refundable at this point. You thought about just loosing out but it was a lot of money.

“I don’t know. I wish you were available to go with me. Isn’t it kind of weird to go alone? Yoongi also helped pay so I don’t really think it’s fair for only me to go and even worse what if he shows up?”, you questioned.

“Y/N first off you paid for half the trip too so it’s just as much yours as it is his. Secondly I really doubt he even remembers it’s coming up. He looks pretty busy right now anyways.”

You followed her line of sight until your stomach dropped at what you saw. While you were barely able to function the last couple months Yoongi appeared to happily be on a date with another woman across the restaurant like he had moved on with no issue.

“How could he move on from me so fast?”, you asked rhetorically.

Your friend shrugged, “Maybe he’s known her for a while. He could’ve been cheating on you for all we know.”

“No he wouldn’t have done that to me. He wouldn’t have cheated.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”, she said pointing over in Yoongi’s direction. The woman he was with had turned around to grab her bag and you gasped, “Nari?”

You bit your lip trying not to cry. Nari was a producer that worked for the same company as Yoongi. She made you feel really insecure from the moment you met her. She was beautiful and smart and funny and worked as a producer just like Yoongi so they had a lot in common. You were suspicious from the first time you met her. It definitely crossed your mind a few times that maybe he liked her more than he lead on. He assured you over and over that she was nothing more than a coworker though and that you had absolutely nothing to worry about. You believed him. And now here he was staring into her eyes just two short months after breaking your heart into a million pieces. You started to wonder if maybe he really had been cheating on you that whole time. Your sadness and hurt began to change to anger the more you pondered that.

Suddenly you stood up grabbing your things. “Where are you going?”, your friend questioned confused.

“Home. I’ve got a trip to pack for.”, you gritted through your teeth.

The drive up the mountain to your cabin was a little scarier than you expected. You took your bag out of the back seat and entered in the code that the rental company had given you to gain access to the front door.

The cabin was adorable and you were really happy with your choice. It was tiny but enough for two people and more than enough for just one. The bedroom and the bathroom were at the back of the cabin and after your long stressful drive you wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower and lay in bed and relax for a while before dinner.

You were drying your hair after your shower when you heard the front door open and shut followed by some jingling keys. Immediately you went into panic mode. You were alone in a cabin in the middle of the mountains. You couldn’t run anywhere and no one would hear you scream. You grabbed the fire poker from the bedroom fire place to use as a weapon and then slowly tiptoed down the hall ready to fight whomever was entering the cabin.

“What are you doing here?”, a deep familiar voice asked before you could speak. “Me?! What are you doing here?”, you spat back at Yoongi who was glaring at you.

For a brief moment you were a little relieved to see him and not a serial killer ready to claim their next victim but that relief was quickly replaced with anger.

“Seriously Yoongi, why are you here?”

Suddenly it hit you, what if he was here with Nari? Like what if he brought her here to enjoy the romantic couples trip you had planned for the two of you. You felt sick at the thought.

“I paid for half of this trip too. I need some time alone so I can work and get some stuff done.”

“What too many “distractions” at home?”, you rolled your eyes immediately thinking about him and another woman.

“Yeah actually there are. Not that it’s any of your business.”, he clapped back.

That hurt and your angry confidence faltered. Your lip began to quiver. You knew you needed to get away from him before he could see you cry.

“Fine. Do what you want. I’ll be in the bedroom.”, you said storming off and slamming the door shut behind you.

When you woke up the room was completely dark. The curtains were still open and it was clearly the middle of the night. You didn’t mean to cry yourself to sleep but you must’ve been more exhausted than you thought.

You were stretching out on the bed when your stomach started to rumble reminding you that you hadn’t eaten since the morning. Slowly cracking open the bedroom door you were met with silent darkness. Maybe you got lucky and Yoongi decided to go back home. That would be ideal you thought.

You tiptoed down the hall only to be met with the sound of soft snores coming from the couch. You peaked over finding Yoongi sound asleep all wrapped up in a blanket. He looked so cuddly and warm and you missed falling asleep with his arms wrapped around you.

Thankfully your stomach grumbled again getting you back on the right track. Yoongi was not yours to cuddle any more anyways.

The kitchen was small but livable. As quietly as possible you poked around hoping to find something you could quickly turn into a meal. Unfortunately thanks to the events earlier you didn’t even think to go to the grocery store to stock up so the kitchen was bare. You chugged a large glass of water hoping it would hold you over a few more hours until you could go get breakfast somewhere.

You turned to rinse out your glass when you saw a note sitting on the counter. The handwriting familiar,

“Pizza in the fridge. Promise I didn’t poison it. Just didn’t want to wake you. -Yoongi.”

You wanted to cry. You wanted to be angry. You wanted to run into the living room and hug him. But instead you chose to just take a slice of pizza, conveniently with your favorite toppings which only made you want to cry more, and headed back to your room to hideout until the morning.

Somehow you managed to doze off again for another few hours. The bright sun shining through the crack in your curtains waking you up this time. You got ready for the day, putting a little more effort into your appearance than you had for the last couple months. You kept telling yourself it had absolutely nothing to do with Yoongi.

The kitchen was filled with the scent of pepperoni and garlic. Just as you walked in Yoongi was pulling what was left of the pizza out of the oven.

“This will have to do for breakfast. We’ll have to go into town and get some groceries.”, he said when he noticed you.

“Oh if you want to make a list I can just go. You said you had a lot of work to do.”, you replied wanting to avoid having to spend so much time with him.

But he shook his head, “It rained quite a bit last night. The roads might be rough. We’ll go together.”

You knew there was no use in arguing with him and maybe a small part of your heart warmed up at the thought that he still worried about you like that.

“Okay. We can leave after breakfast.”, you nodded.

The drive into town was silent and uneventful. The little town was cute to say the least. You even took note of the realty company there because you wouldn’t mind moving there some day.

At the grocery store you both quickly gathered what you needed. Mostly snacks since you were only there for one more night. You grabbed some fruit and a giant tub of ice cream. Yoongi grabbed a six pack and some instant noodles.

He surprised you when he suggested you both stop for lunch. You really wanted to say no but he was driving so you didn’t have much of choice anyways. You ended up at a quaint little cafe. The atmosphere was warm and welcoming even though the tension between you and Yoongi was ice cold.

You were sat on the back patio over looking the beautiful fall foliage. Several outdoor fire pits provided more than enough warmth.

“So how have you been?”, Yoongi awkwardly asked.

“Fine I guess. Not as good as you apparently.”, you replied harsher than you meant to.

“What is that supposed to mean?”, he asked confused.

You went to apologize but were interrupted.

“Alright did you two decide what you’re having today?”, the waiter Jin asked.

“Uh yeah just the classic burger for me.”, Yoongi replied.

“The harvest soup please.”, you said handing him your menu.

After he walked away the tension between you both was thicker than before.

You realized that Yoongi had been kind through the whole trip. Saving pizza for you, sleeping on the couch without argument so you could have the bed, heating up breakfast, taking you into town and paying for the groceries, now taking you to a nice cafe and trying to have a civil conversation. You realized you had been the one making things difficult.

“Hey Yoongi I’m sorry about what I sa-“, you began but his phone started ringing. He took it out of his pocket and you felt your blood boil when you saw the contact name flashing on the screen, Nari.

“Sorry Y/N. I have to take this.”, he said walking away from the table.

“Of course.”, you scoffed thankful that you didn’t fully apologize yet.

Feeling anxious and not wanting to just sit there any more you walked over to the balcony so you could look out over the property.

“They’re beautiful aren’t they?”, a guy said next to you. He pointed out to the field after noticing your confusion, “The trees.”

“Oh yeah. They’re gorgeous.”, you chuckled.

“They’re tulip trees. They’re even more beautiful when they bloom in the spring.”, he said, “I’m Namjoon by the way.”

He smiled flashing you the prettiest dimples you’d ever seen.

“Y/N”, you said, “Maybe I’ll have to come back in the spring to see them in bloom. That sounds quite nice actually.”

“Oh you’re not a local?”, he asked, “You know… if you want I could show you around the town a little.”

“I’d like that, but I’m just here on a little weekend trip. I leave tomorrow.”

“Oh Uhh are you here on a trip with your boyfriend?”

Your brows furrowed, “What? No I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Namjoon awkwardly chuckled, “Well um does that guy know that because he’s currently staring at us like he wants to kill me?”

You looked where he was pointing to see Yoongi standing there. His hands in his pockets while he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. And he was in fact staring daggers at you. You knew just from that look that he was furious.

“Don’t worry. He’s just a complicated friend thing person….”, you cringed.

“Okay well if you want to give me call I’d be happy to show you around. Maybe don’t bring your friend thing though.”, he laughed handing you his number.

You walked back to the table just as Jin dropped off your meals. You both ate in silence and that carried over to the drive back to the cabin too.

Once the groceries were unloaded Yoongi grabbed his headphones and laptop and went out to the back deck without a word.

You stood and watched him work for a while. The Yoongi that you knew all these years would never just give you the silent treatment. He discussed what was bothering him so that you could work together to solve it.

He answered another phone call. You figured it was Nari again so you walked away to give him some privacy.

You had just finished plating up dinner when Yoongi came walking back inside. He eyed the food and then you. “We didn’t have much to make a big meal but I put together what I could.”, you said shifting awkwardly under his gaze.

“Not hungry.”, he scoffed before turning to walk back outside.

“Seriously Yoongi, what the fuck is your problem?”

He stopped and turned to look at you, “I don’t have a problem. Why don’t you go out and have a nice dinner with your little friend you met earlier.”

You hated that you could feel tears already begin to form, “You’re one to talk.”

With three long strides he was right in front of you giving you somewhat of a startle, “Me? I haven’t done anything other than be a heartbroken mess these last two months without you but the minute a cute guy flirts with you then you’re practically trying to fuck him right there.”

You stared at him in disbelief. Your heart rate was skyrocketing. From his pocket you could hear his phone ringing again and it all came back to you.

“At least I waited until you broke up with me. You are the asshole who was cheating on me the whole time.”, you whispered as the realization of your words hit you. Tears began freely falling as you turned and ran back into the bedroom closing the door behind you.

You never expected that this trip would be filled with so much crying and hurt. It was supposed to be relaxing and fun.

You waited a while until you had calmed down and then decided you weren’t spending another night in the same cabin with Yoongi so you grabbed your bag and packed up your clothes. You did a double check making sure you had everything and with your car keys in hand you pulled open the bedroom door only to hear a loud thud followed by a groan.

Quickly you found the hall light switch flipping it on only to find a very buzzed Yoongi rolling around on the floor. The six pack he had gotten at the store now empty and tossed around him.

“Y/N please don’t leave. I need you.”, he slurred.

You looked over his face. He looked just as bad as you did if not worse. Clearly he had been crying. His nose was bright red and his eyes still teary.

“Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”, you sighed while helping him up thankful you talked him out of the twelve pack.

Worried that he would roll off the couch you decided to let him have the bed. You were leaving anyways so it didn’t matter. Once he was all tucked in you tried once again to leave but he grabbed your wrist, “Y/N you can’t leave. I already lost you once and I can’t…I can’t do it again.”

He started to cry. You started to cry. You agreed to stay.

When you woke up the next morning Yoongi was already staring at you.

“I never cheated on you with Nari. I know that’s what you think happened.”, he said getting right to the point like the Yoongi you knew.

You stared at him in silence. Your throat was sore and your head hurt from all the crying.

He took a deep breath before continuing, “Y/N, I broke up with you because that’s what I thought was best for you. Just it’s just that the last couple months I felt like I was drowning. Work was piling up, I was spending less and less time with you. My mental and physical health were deteriorating. I saw how worried you were about me. I saw how sad you were. How tired you were. All because of me. And then I had a realization that I didn’t bring anything positive to our relationship. So when we got into that fight I saw it as my way to get you out of this. To free you from me.”

He paused for a second. He used his thumb to wipe away some of your tears that you hadn’t even realized were there again.

“But after we broke up I realized how much you held me together. I couldn’t function without you but every time I’d pick up my phone to call you or every time I’d stand outside your door ready to knock I would remind myself that this was what’s best for you. You wouldn’t be able to live your life if I was there dragging you down. But I’ve been a complete mess since that night. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. My work was slipping so bad and that’s why I had that dinner with Nari. The one you saw me at. She’s a head producer now and technically my boss. She told me that if I didn’t get my shit together that they would have to terminate my contract. That’s why she keeps calling me, to check in and see how my progress is coming along. And I’m sorry about what I said about you and that guy. If you want to go out with him it’s none of my business. I’ll work through my feelings alone.”

You sat for a moment trying to process everything that you just heard because you had no idea that he was feeling that way.

“Yoongi I’m sorry that you felt like that but you don’t get to make that decision for me. I would go to hell and back for you and with you. Part of being in a relationship is being there through not only the good times but the difficult ones too.”

After you heard sniffles coming from next to you, you noticed that he was crying. You pulled him into your lap which he happily allowed wrapping his arms around you and pulling himself as flush against you as he could. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your next to soothe himself.

“I’m so sorry Y/N. I never meant to hurt you. I actually wanted was trying to do the opposite.”, he spoke through sobs.

“Shhh shhh I know. We can talk more about it later.”

And you did have a long discussion about all of the events that lead up to that moment. It was much needed and helped you both to open up and put all of your feelings out there.

You agreed to take things slow but you spent the rest of the day happily wrapped in each others arms by the fireplace just like you had originally planned .

[ikilledyvette]

(Part II of my seriously condensed 9-1-1 fic is here! Hope people enjoy, even though it's all a bit rushed!)

Part I

Sunday afternoon, Father’s Day. It’s always a hard day for Bobby, but usually, working helps him get through it. Today has been ... worse, and not just for him. Bobby finds Eddie on the couch, staring blankly into nothing. Bobby sits down beside him, a silent invitation to talk. Eddie doesn’t always take him up on it.

Today, Eddie says, “He hasn’t called,” and Bobby reminds him the day isn’t over yet. Eddie asks, “What if he doesn’t call?” and Bobby reminds him about tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. 

“Every day you’re both alive is another chance to make things right,” Bobby says. “Don’t give up on tomorrow just yet, Eddie.”

Buck comes by then, and Eddie takes off to give the two some space. Buck says, “So, I had dinner with my parents the other night.” Bobby asks how it went, and Buck says, “Yeah, not great. They had, uh. A lot to say about me, you know. Going through a gay phase, or something. Wanting attention. Getting too old for, I don’t know. Making stuff up, I guess.”

Bobby nods. Cautiously, he says, “Sounds to me like they still don’t know you very well.”

Buck huffs a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Thing is, everything they said ... it’s all stuff I’ve thought too, you know? Like, I’ve always done stupid things to get people’s attention. Their attention, Tommy’s. Yours. And if ... if what I’m feeling, who I am, is ... is real ... how could I have not known before, right? And I, I do know how I feel about Tommy—I like him so much, Bobby, you don’t even know—”

Bobby knows. Everyone knows. Buck’s joy is not subtle; it shines through him, a thing to behold.

“—but sometimes I still—” Buck breaks off and sighs. “Well, maybe that’s why I reacted so badly last night. Cause sometimes, I worry they’re right.”

“They’re not,” Bobby says immediately.

“How do you know that?”

And Bobby hesitates, not sure Buck is going to want to hear this right now. But still, he says, “Because I know you, kid.”

“Yeah,” Buck says, smiling a little. “You do. Bobby, I’m. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I do. Cause that night we talked about Tommy? You didn’t ask me to, to explain myself, or suggest maybe I wasn’t thinking things through. You didn’t need me to prove anything. You just accepted it, Tommy and me. You accepted me.” Buck shakes his head. “I told this to Maddie once, but sometimes it’s easier to lash out at the person you know is always going to forgive you. My parents, that’s not them, never will be. But you, uh. You’re safe.”

Bobby swallows a little at that. He wants to be that person for Buck—but Bobby know he isn’t, can’t be. He’s the reason his family is dead; he’s the reason so many people are dead. 

“I know I hurt you,” Bobby says. “If I hadn’t left the way I did, Gerrard would never have been captain, and—”

“You think this is about Gerrard? Maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought.” But Buck’s voice is teasing, lessening the sting. “Yeah, I mean, working under Gerrard was ... rough, for a lot reasons. But that’s not ... Hen was the one mad at you for that.”

Bobby is aware. Hen had forgiven him pretty quickly, but her attitude towards Bobby on his first day back had been ... cool, to say the least. Bobby understands why, had prepared himself for Hen’s anger, potentially Chimney’s, too. They both went through a lot, working under Gerrard the first time around. Bobby had expected them to be upset.

He’s not sure why he hadn’t expected Buck to be.

“I’m not mad about Gerrard,” Buck tells him. “I’m mad that you lied. You—you were saying goodbye all day, only we didn’t know, I didn’t know. And you just—you were just going to leave?”

“I didn’t want—”

“You didn’t want us to change your mind,” Buck says, now visibly upset. “You—you said goodbye, Bobby. I didn’t realize it then, what you were doing, but—if you were gone, if you left, and I could have done something to stop it, stop you from, from—"

And Bobby realizes suddenly that Buck isn’t just talking about Bobby quitting.

“Hey,” Bobby says. “Listen. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

“For how long?” Buck asks, and it’s not mockery this time. It’s pleading. Anxious. Young. For as much Buck has been through, for as much progress he’s made over the last seven years, Bobby is struck every now and then by how young Buck still is.

“That’s not up to me,” Bobby says and points up, skyward, at the man upstairs. “And listen, Buck, I won’t deny I was ... I was in a pretty dark place a couple of months ago. I should’ve been more honest about that. But I’m here, and I mean to stay here as long as I can. Okay? I’m not going anywhere without a fight, I promise.”

Buck inhales, a deep, shuddery breath, and Bobby hugs him, and Buck hugs Bobby back. 

“I’m sorry,” Buck says again. “I think, maybe. I think I’ve just been really scared.”

Bobby hugs him a little tighter and says, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, kid.”

Footsteps on the stairs interrupt them a few minutes later. “Not to break up this long overdue moment,” Chimney says, “but Buck, you’ve got another visitor.”

Buck turns with a little dread, expecting his parents and not sure he’s ready to face them just yet—but it’s Maddie. This time, it’s Bobby and Chimney who disappear downstairs to give the Buckley siblings some space.

Maddie tells Buck that their parents are flying home. “I told them to go,” she says. “And not to come back.”

“Chimney told you,” Buck realizes, resigned and more than a little annoyed.

“Of course, he did,” Maddie says. She’s slightly exasperated but mostly worried. “Why didn’t you?” 

She thinks he’ll say something about not wanting to ruin Maddie’s relationship with their parents or Jee Yun’s relationships with her grandparents, and Buck does lead with that. But mostly, Buck’s ashamed of how he petty it was, bringing up Daniel. “I didn’t want you to think that I, I resented him,” he says. “I really don’t, Maddie. He was just a kid, and he never got the chance to grow up and, and I wish I could’ve given him that chance. I wish I could’ve met the person he would’ve become.”

“I know,” Maddie tells him, and reminds him that it’s not his fault; it was never his responsibility to save Daniel. Buck says he doesn’t blame their mom for slapping him after what he said, and Maddie, steely, says, “Well, I do. For that, and also for how they talked to you—no, it’s not okay. What if Jee grows up and realizes she likes both boys and girls someday? I don't want Mom talking to her like that. Do you?"

Buck recoils a little, and Maddie nods. “Would you be okay if Mom ever hit Jee Yun?” she asks. “Even if she said something terrible? Even if she deserved it?”

“She could never deserve it,” Buck says, knowing what Maddie’s doing but unable to keep quiet, not when his sister looks so upset, not with the ghost of Doug so heavy in the air. He hates to think of how many times Doug must have told Maddie that she was to blame for everything he did to her. “But Maddie, I don’t think Mom or Dad would ever—”

“Maybe not,” Maddie says, “but that doesn’t make them safe. They screw up, and they always feel bad about it, but they never really apologize. They never put in the work. They just ... make excuses and expect that we’ll forgive them, but I think I’m done with that now. I’m done with relationships where it’s only my responsibility to try harder, to smooth things over, to say the right thing, to always forgive. Maybe someday, if Mom and Dad actually work on themselves, but for right now ..." Maddie shakes her head. "Enough is enough.”

Buck gets that, he does. But he admits he isn’t sure he’s ready to cut off his parents yet, isn’t sure he wants too. He still wants to keep trying, and Maddie says that’s okay. What matters is, they still have each other. And she won’t try to change his mind if he doesn’t try to change hers.

Buck offers her a pinky swear. Maddie smiles and hooks her finger around his.

*

Meanwhile, downstairs, a phone rings.

“Christopher?” Eddie says, and takes a few steps, turning away from everyone. 

It is Christopher. He calls to wish his dad a happy Father’s Day, but also to say he loves him, and while he’s not quite ready to come home yet, he still wants to come home, and maybe soon.

“I miss you,” Christopher tells him. “I don’t want to miss you anymore. But you have to stop lying to me.”

“I can do that,” Eddie promises.

“And go back to therapy.”

Eddie laughs. “Already on top of that one, bud. Maybe ... we could go together, sometime, when you come home?”

“Yeah,” Christopher says. “I’d like that. I love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, Chris,” Eddie says. He hangs up, takes a breath before turning around, and announces, “Christopher called!" as if everyone—including Maddie and Buck, leaning over the balcony—weren’t badly pretending not to eavesdrop.

Everyone cheers and rushes Eddie. 

“What did I tell you?” Bobby asks him. “What did I tell you?” Hen asks, too, and Eddie says, “Yeah, yeah,” to both of them, with wet eyes and a shaky, hopeful smile.

“This calls for champagne!” Chimney announces. “But since we’re all on duty ... cheap coffee and leftover Ding Dong, Gerrard is Gone cake it is!”

—All in all, it’s the best Father’s Day the 118 has had in a long, long time. 

(And that's it! Apologies, fellow Tommy fans, that he didn’t make it into Part 2—but you know. If Tommy’s at the fire house, who’s flying the plane? Actually, Tommy’s too busy babysitting Jee Yun, and—to both Buck and Chimney’s horror—introducing her to all the worst Star Wars movies. She loves them.)

Tag List @lavenderleahy @v88sy

[pharmacity-weekly]

THE PHARMACITY WEEKLY- FIRST EDITION- 9/23/2024

The first edition of the Pharmacity Weekly is here! For those of you who may not know, Pharmacity weekly is a weekly newsletter summing up the events of the project SEKAI pharmacy community. Inspired by @daily-vitamin-ena and the many other blogs that have popped up surrounding her, this paper's goal is to bring the entire pharmacity together! Thank you all for the MAJOR support this past week, I genuinely wasn't expecting so many people to enjoy this so early on, otherwise I would’ve polished things up here before going around, haha.. You can read more about the blog here! So, without further ado, here’s your FIRST PAPER!

PHARMACITY IS BOOMING-

The pharmacity is in full swing, and whilst many are on hiatus, lore is still coming left and right! Currently, we have Vitahona and their group reuniting for better or worse!! Vitasaki and the mysterious person + SakiAI, Vitaairi giving us the truth, and Vitan seems to have us going through quite the rollercoaster, with what's presumably anon passing out or dreaming constantly. I will be covering different lore every week, so please don’t be afraid to check out the lore threads to catch up! @daily-vitamin-tenma-siblings has made a community discord server! Linked here !! There's lots of silly things going on, it’s also open to both audience and pharmacity mods~

NEW PHARMACITIES-

new to the pharmacity? Pop into our asks and we’ll try to boost ya!

There’s only 2 new pharmacies as I’m aware of this week, which are- @vitalapis-daily and @daily-sekai-rin-vitamins ! Everyone welcome both Fumi and Pharmacist Adi <3 ____________________________________

LORE IN DEPTH-

Keep in mind that this bit of the newspaper will almost always have SOME guessing. The lore wouldn’t be Pharmacity lore without its ominous secrecy, after all..

Anywho. VitaAiri ( @daily-vitamin-airi ) seems to have us in quite the pickle! What were those memories, no one is quite sure yet. But, it seems anon has returned to taking their daily Vitairis consistently, for better or worse. Memories of hers seem to linger.. or are they ours?

VitAn ( @daily-vitamin-an ) seems to have anon passing out often, dreams floating them to places they really shouldn’t be.. they’d like to tell Anthea, but what exactly, the audience hasn’t decided. Their last lore post was an open ended question, maybe if anon answers a certain way in the reblogs or asks, we’ll get more info.

VitaHona ( @daily-vitamin-honami ) has dumped so much fucking lore on 22/9/24 10:48 MST that the summary would not do it justice. Mod bee will post that summary when she can because. how the fuck am i supposed to summarize lore that started FEBUARY 2023. YOU INSANE BITCH/LH

And of course, let’s not forget!

VitaSaki ( @semidaily-vitaminsaki ) whose lore arc seems to have recently began this month~! A missing Saki Tenma found in a computer, her AI an almost perfect version of her, and of course the mysterious person getting… no asks? Cmon guys, I thought we were after the mystery here! Even if the audience isn’t sure about trusting them, it’s still worth trying to ask both rather than one or the other~! Let’s go looking for some answers in those asks yall, chop chop!

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

PAPER UPDATES-

Temporary section of the newspaper~! This’ll be a quick section that lets yall know how far I am on threads like lore or theories, as well as any huge changes to the blog!

MODERATOR SITUATION-

I (mod bee) have successfully dragged an irl into the pharmacity~! She'll be helping me run the blog overall, and our oc lores may intertwine a bit~ She also runs @vitalapis-daily , so be sure to follow that if you'd like to peek into her lore!

LORE THREADS-

Mod bee got VitAiri confirmed updated, and I just need to go through and make the buttons. Thank god VitaAiri’s Pharmacist wasn’t too vague this time, otherwise my work would be cut out for me!

Next in my lore queue is:

VitaHona (drafted, unfinished though)

VitaNene (not started)

Tenmamins (not started)

VitaSaki (not started)

VitaRui (not started)

These are blogs/accounts mod bee will be at least LOOKING into lore for. Each blog will have their own doc that’ll be sent to their respective mod(s) and checked for accuracy, as well as asked if they’d like to keep reentry or sideblog posts!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

END OF PAPER! Thank you all for the support once again!!! We'll see you all on the next edition~ - Akko and Fumi!

Have questions or suggestions? Send em over in our asks!

[aceofstars16]

Next chapter is up!

It...took a while cause...creating anything has been hard but...here you go! I want to finish this by the end of the year but we'll see if that happens...And I want to make a cover too but...*gestures to feeling really burnout and unmotivated*

And as always, the chapter is below the cut as well.

Complications arise in the aftermath of the dragon attack.

“That’s not good.” Dipper muttered to himself. He had been on watch for a few hours now, and he could hear the sound of foot traffic outside the store room they had found shelter in. Thankfully, no one had tried to come in yet, but that was the least of his worries right now. As time ticked on, his arm had started aching more and more, as if the salve he’d used on it had stopped working. That shouldn’t be possible, every time he’d used it before, it had healed the wound after a single use. But as he unrolled the bandage on his arm, he grimaced. He had stopped bleeding, but the teeth marks were still prevalent, and his skin felt warm to the touch. Something about the dragon’s teeth - or maybe what had been in its teeth – obviously was too strong for even the salve from dimension 326 to solve.

At least I’m used to this sort of thing. Dipper thought to himself as he grabbed a new bandage and loosely wrapped it around his arm, there was no point in using salve unless he knew it was going to work. Biting the bandage with his teeth, he managed to tighten it enough. It had been easier last night. Mabel had helped bandage him up after he had taken a look at her leg.

Mabel! Dipper quickly looked at the younger version of his sister. Her wound had been much worse than his, and as soon as he saw her, he froze. She was pale, and seemed to be shivering. A chill went through his own body at the sight, though part of that must’ve been the fever from his own infection.

Quickly glancing at Stan, Dipper was relieved to see that he was still asleep. He didn’t want his nephew to worry. Then he looked at Ford, who Mabel seemed to have curled up against in her sleep. For a moment, Dipper debated what to do. He obviously needed to get help, for himself and Mabel. He could just leave, after all, the room had been secure until now. But he knew how quickly a safe place could become compromised.

Standing up as quietly as he could, Dipper carefully made his way over to Ford and tapped him gently. For a moment, it seemed as if Ford was still asleep, but then his eyes opened slightly and he seemed to scan the room before looking at Dipper.

“Something wrong?” He asked in barely a whisper.

Dipper bit his lip and nodded to Mabel, who was still sound asleep despite Ford’s movements.

When Ford glanced down at Mabel, he froze, his body growing rigid.

“I’m going to look for something to help.” Dipper said quietly and pointed to his arm. “I have a pretty good idea of what she’s feeling right now.”

“Are you strong enough to be up and about?” Ford asked, frowning slightly.

Dipper nodded. “I’ve been through worse.”

Understanding flicked across Ford’s face and he nodded. “Hurry.”

“I will.” Dipper glanced at Stan then Mabel again. “I shouldn’t be more than an hour.”

Standing up, Dipper carefully made his way to the door and slid the barrel out of the way. Then he slipped out into the alley. 

-----

The ground grew distant as Stan let go of the shutdown switch. He was weightless. The whole room was vibrating as the machine turned on. Then something started pulling at him. He aimed a punch at it but it wasn’t anything tangible. It was the portal, pulling him in.

“Grantie Mabel! Ford! Help!” He screamed, trying to reach out for something, anything to stop the pull.

“Stan!”

Ford cried out as he tried to swim towards Stan in the air, but he wasn’t making any progress and the pull was growing stronger.

“Stanford!”

“Stanley! Hold o-”

Ford’s voice died away as Stan was pulled into the portal. For split second, he could still see the basement of the shack. Then it was gone, and he was alone.

“Ford!”

Jolting upright, Stan looked around frantically, only to be met with an unfamiliar room instead of the vast space that the portal had left him in. His heart was racing and a heaviness grew on his chest as reality slammed into him once again.

“Stanley? Are you okay?”

Stan glanced towards the voice and saw old Ford looking at him, brow furrowed. Mabel was curled up next to his almost-brother, asleep.

“I…” Stan took a breath and nodded, trying to calm himself. When Dipper had first found him, Stan had nightmares every night. They’d gotten better but Dipper had always…

“Where’s Dipper???” The realization that his grunkle wasn’t in the room brought Stan’s anxiety back full force.

“He left to find some medicine.” Ford said, frowning in concern at Stan. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Swallowing, Stan nodded, but he must not have been very convincing because Ford raised an eyebrow.

“Dipper should be back soon. You…you can sit here if you want.” Ford patted the ground next to him, on the opposite side of where Mabel was curled up.

For a moment, Stan just looked at Ford. In one sense, it was comforting to know that there still was a Ford he could talk to, but it wasn’t his Ford and...he still couldn’t shake the feeling that this Ford didn’t like him very much. But the memories of that night still clung to him, and being close to anyone sounded good right about now.

Getting up, he made his way over to Ford and sat down, not quite touching his brother. As he did so, he noticed how pale Mabel looked and a different worry sparked in his chest.

“Is Mabel okay?”

Frowning, Ford glanced at Mabel before giving Stan a very forced smile.

“She will be once Dipper gets back with the medicine.”

Stan frowned a little, not even realizing he was matching Ford’s expression. “Are you sure?”

Silence. Stan looked up and saw Ford staring at the door, and in his gut, Stan knew he was worried but trying not to show it. Which didn’t exactly make him feel any better.

Then Ford returned his attention back to Stan and he sighed. “Mabel is strong, I…she‘ll be okay.”

“Yeah…she fought off a pumpkin monster one time.” Stan said quietly.

Ford quirked an eyebrow and Stan was pretty sure that meant he wanted to hear more.

“We were exploring the woods…kind of when we weren’t supposed to. But you wanted to find a-oh I mean…my Ford wanted to follow some instructions he found in Dipper’s journal so…we snuck off.” As he spoke, a weight grew on Stan’s chest again and he looked at the ground, trying to fight back the overwhelming sadness. He wished he could go back to that day, when the scariest thing was a stupid monster and Mabel was fine and Ford was…

“You miss him.”

Stan quickly looked up but old Ford wasn’t looking at him, he was staring at the wall.

“Of course I do…” Stan said quietly, then he couldn’t stop himself from asking the same. “Do you miss your Stan?”

Ford straightened at that, a frown replacing the thoughtful look on his face.

“I…it’s complicated.”

“…oh…” Stan mumbled, the weight on his chest growing as he tried to keep tears at bay. Apparently something could come between him and Ford. And if it happened in one universe…would it happen in his? Or would he even see his Ford again?

Another question came to Stan’s mind, one he had been too scared to ask, and maybe he shouldn’t voice it. He was already feeling awful but…might as well get it over with, right?

“Do you hate him?”

----

“That sure is a nasty bite.”

Dipper grimaced as he saw exactly what the doctor saw. His arm definitely wasn’t looking too great, and he felt a lot warmer and weaker than he had when he’d left the sanctuary of the store room. Thankfully, he had managed to find a doctor pretty quickly. If he already felt this bad, he didn’t even want to think about how Mabel was doing. The faster the doctor figured out what to give him, the sooner he could get the same medicine to Mabel.

“What did you say did this?” One of the eyes of the doctor looked up, while the other three continued to examine his arm – she reminded him a bit of a snail in that way, but she was much bigger and didn’t have slime or a shell from what he could see. Maybe a crab was more in line with what she looked like. Whatever, she wasn’t the weirdest creature he’d seen in the multiverse and apparently she was the best doctor in town. At least according to the store owner that he’d talked to.

“I didn’t say.” Dipper responded to her question. Sure, he could mention the dragon creature, but something in his gut told him that it was something to keep discreet. He had overheard some aliens talking about “The Shadow Death” in a way that sounded almost…spiritual, as if it was some sort of evil.

The doctor hummed – though it sounded more like a gurgle – then turned to her pack of medicines and rummaged through them.

A moment later, she pulled out a syringe and before Dipper could react, she had stuck him with the needle. Out of instinct, he tried to pull back before she could inject him, but she moved a lot faster than he expected. Man, was he really losing his touch?

“Don’t squirm. This will get rid of the infection. As for the bite…” The doctor pulled out a spray bottle and rag and sprayed his arm.

Gritting his teeth, Dipper tried not to show how much the spray hurt, but apparently he wasn’t the best at that because the doctor just chuckled.

“It hurts but it helps.” She said before wiping his arm – removing the foam that had arisen from the spray. Before quickly wrapping his arm again.

“There. All done.”

She started ushering him up, apparently she didn’t want him lingering around. Maybe she just had a lot of patients, or maybe she suspected what bit him and didn’t want him around longer than necessary.

“Wait!” Dipper said, planting his feet to keep from being pushed out the door.

“What? The medicine works. You already feel better.”

She was right. Strangely enough, he felt like his fever was already gone, but he couldn’t leave without getting medicine for Mabel too.

“Someone else got bit. A girl, my-my sister. She needs the same medicine…maybe more. She wasn’t looking very good when I left…” Just that thought sent a wave of anxiety rushing through Dipper’s body, but he tried his best to shove it down. He just had to hurry, that was all.

The doctor frowned for a moment, then grunted. “How big?”

Dipper stared at her for a moment, then realized she was asking about Mabel. “About…” Dipper used his hand to measure about how tall Mabel was. “Still a kid.”

For a moment, the doctor just narrowed her eyes at his hand, then she hurried back to her supplies. She rummaged around then came back with her arms full of different bottles and rags.

“Inject this first.” She handed him a prepared syringe with a strange orange liquid in it – different than the one she had used on him.

“Then this.” She gave him another syringe, this one looked like the one she’d given him.

“Clean the wound with this,” she handed him a bottle, “And this,” a spray bottle. “Then have her drink this.”

The last bottle was placed in his arms and Dipper frowned. “This is a lot more than you gave me.”

“A kid needs more, and different. Now go, I have more work to do.”

This time, Dipper let himself be ushered outside, and he could only hope that the different medicines would help Mabel as much as they helped him. He was tempted to use only the things that had helped him but…the doctor didn’t seem to have any ill will and she had helped him. So, he pocketed the medicines she had given him and stepped out of the medical building.

Quickly making his way through the crowd of people that had gotten much larger than when he’d arrived, Dipper did his best to avoid bumping into anyone. However, as he shuffled through the crowd, something seemed…off. Glancing over his shoulder, he tried to pinpoint what it was. Everything looked fine. The aliens were acting normal, so what-?

Dipper stumbled over his feet and barely stopped himself from falling. Moving as fast as he could, he made his way to an alley and immediately hid behind the wall of the building.

As carefully as he could, he glanced around the corner to search the crowd again. And there his fears were confirmed.

Freglo, the bounty hunter. Dipper had some experience with him in the past. He was ruthless and Dipper had only escaped by jumping into a wormhole as it was closing. If he was here…

Ducking back behind the wall, Dipper closed his eyes and tried gathering his thoughts. He wasn’t sure if Freglo had seen him, he didn’t think so. But it was only a matter of time before he tracked Dipper down, and Stan and…Mabel.

Letting out a curse under his breath, Dipper started making his way down the alley. Mabel didn’t have time for him to figure out a plan. His best bet was to get her the medicine and then figure out what to do about the bounty hunter.

Making his way carefully back to the storage room, Dipper did his best to make his trail confusing while still being quick. Freglo used scent to track, so if he could mix it up some, maybe he could confuse the hunter. Or at least give him enough time to help Mabel before facing the beast.

-----

“Do you hate him?”

A weight grew in Ford’s chest as the question lingered in the air. Stan was looking at the ground, his arms wrapped around his legs. The first thought that came to Ford’s mind was, yes. After all, Stan was the reason he was here, the reason Mabel was here. But even as that justification grew in his mind, his heart seemed to balk at the word. Hate. Did he really hate Stan?

“Never mind. I…forget I said anything.”

Stan’s voice was quiet and fearful, as if he was scared of Ford’s response. For a moment, Ford was taken back to Glass Shard Beach, after Pa had said some degrading things about Stan – like he always did. And now here he was, years later…treating Stan the same way. And yes, Stan made a lot of mistakes, and Ford would be lying if he said he wasn’t angry with his brother but…

“No…I don’t hate him.”

“You don’t?” Stan straightened up quickly, looking at Ford in shock.

Trying to squash down the pain that came from the surprise on Stan’s face, Ford let out a sigh and shook his head. “No…I…I might be a little frustrated with him at the moment but…that’s not for you to worry about. I…I don’t know if I could ever truly hate him…”

“Or me?”

For a moment, Ford just stared at the younger version of Stan in shock. “Of course I don’t hate you. I…you remind me of times I…haven’t thought about in a long time…but they were good times.”

“Like what?”

The ghost of a smile grew on Ford’s mouth. “A lot of things, but mostly summers on the beach, fixing up the Stan O’ War.”

Stan straightened up. “You had the Stan O’ War too?”

A small chuckle escaped Ford’s mouth. “Of course, in fact…” Taking a breath, Ford carefully put a hand inside his inner coat pocket, wanting to make sure he didn’t damage his treasure more than it already had been. Grabbing it, he pulled it out and looked at it for a moment before showing it to Stan.

A faded picture of Stan and Ford as kids, standing in front of the Stan O’ War.

“Is that…how…how old is that?” Stan stared wide-eyed at the picture, reaching out to take hold of it.

For a split-second Ford felt a familiar pull at the thought of letting go of the photograph. He had kept it for forty years, through countless dimensions, and he’d never let anyone else handle it. But he let Stan take it. After all, it was Stan, and if he was going to share it with anyone, it would be Stan – young or old.

Stan held the photo carefully, his eyes locked on it. And only after a moment did Ford realize he could see tears prickling in his eyes. A heaviness grew on his chest and he carefully rested a hand on Stan’s back.

Looking up quickly, Stan quickly wiped at his eyes. “Will I ever see him again?”

The question brought an unexpected sadness upon Ford. Not just for this Stan, but…for himself as well. When he’d first been pushed into the portal, he never imagined seeing Stan again, and now it seemed more impossible. But Stan had managed to turn on the portal once, and knowing his brother, he wouldn’t stop until it was back on again.

“I don’t know, Stanley…but…” Ford sighed and glanced at the picture. “Why don’t you keep that? I think you need it more than me.” Maybe that wasn’t true. The thought of not having the picture scared Ford. As if he was admitting that those two kids would never be that way again, would never be as close as they once had, and might never actually see each other again. But if he could help Stan, even an alternate version, keep up the hope that he had lost, well…he’d survive.

“Really?” Stan asked quickly, his fingers gripping the picture tighter.

“Really.”

For a second, their eyes met and an understanding passed between them. The tension that had been lining Stan’s body ever since he had first run into Ford disappeared, and the frustration that Ford felt at his brother’s recklessness eased. They were okay now.

A door flying open broke the moment, and Ford quickly grabbed for his gun, only to relax as he saw Dipper, who quickly closed the door behind him.

“What’s wrong?” Ford asked, immediately sensing Dipper’s stress.

“It’s…” Dipper’s eyes flickered to Mabel and he shook his head. “First things first.”

Ford tried to calm his nerves as he watched Dipper treat Mabel with a variety of medicines. He knew Dipper wouldn’t hurt Mabel, just like he wouldn’t hurt Stan. But still, he didn’t know what Dipper had gotten to treat her and with his hurried entrance and treatment, Ford knew something was wrong.

A few times, Mabel muttered in her sleep as Dipper treated her, especially when he injected her with one of the medicines, but she didn’t wake up. However, the pale tone of her skin seemed to lessen as Dipper applied an ointment to her leg.

“There.” Dipper pulled back from pouring a medicine down Mabel’s throat. His arms were shaking and Ford felt a similar tension in his own body.

“What happened out there?”

Dipper frowned and glanced at the door. “Bounty hunter.” He said quietly, seeming to want to keep Stan from hearing, but the kid had sharp ears and he sat up straight.

Dread pooled in Ford’s stomach as he looked at Mabel. “Did he spot you?”

Dipper’s eyes flicked to the door again. “I’m not sure, but…if he did…”

“We need to move.” Even as Ford said it, he knew that was impossible. Mabel was still recovering and moving her could make her worse.

Looking at Dipper, Ford saw the same concern in his eyes. For a moment, no one moved, then Dipper broke eye contact and looked at Stan.

“Get your stuff, Stan.”

“What?” Stan looked at Mabel and Ford, then at Dipper.

“We need to leave.”

“Now???” Stan glanced at Mabel again.

“Yes.” Even as he spoke, Dipper hastily packed the few items that had been scattered around the room – which wasn’t much. It seemed he traveled as lightly as Ford did.

Stan followed suit, only to stop as he realized Ford wasn’t moving. “Why aren’t you packing?”

Ford exchanged a glance with Dipper. “I’m staying here with Mabel.”

“What!?” Stan blurted out. “What…you can’t…we’re supposed to stick together, right? We-we just found each other and-”

Ford reached out and place a hand on Stan’s shoulder. “Stanley, you have to go. I…I’m not your Ford. We can’t-”

“You lied!” Stan snapped, tears growing in his eyes as he pulled away from Ford.

“No, Stan. I didn’t-”

“L-let’s go, D-Dipper,” Stan stuttered, grabbing at Dipper’s hand and pulling him towards the door.

“Stanley, wait!”

But Stan had already pulled a stunned Dipper out the door. He was gone and Ford felt just as horrible as he had the first time Stan had stormed away all those years ago. Only this time, he couldn’t make it right. Because he’d never see the kid again. He would always think that Ford didn’t want him around, when that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Grunkle Ford?”

Mabel’s voice shook Ford out of pain that was threatening to overwhelm him.

“I’m here.”

“How long have I…?” Mabel’s voice trailed off and as she scanned the room frantically. “Where are Dipper and Stan?!?”

[calliecwrites]

Pretending

Sometimes pretending to be a person is easy. Sometimes it isn’t. On the bad days, numbers start crawling on the page, straight lines curl, and I’ve got to remind myself to keep my face on. I want to stretch my other limbs, but the world down here is so thin, and so easy to tear. I have to be careful not to think too hard about anything, or it might start seeping through. You have no idea how much power you have, someone told me once, being able to create with a thought. And the children of my mind look too much like madness to humans.

Cases of madness worldwide are 1.3% higher on days like that.

But I don’t want to drive them mad. I’m here to protect them, not devour them. Not this time. So I have to pretend. Though with some of them practically throwing themselves at me, that isn’t always easy.

Writers are the worst. I let my ‘pretending to be a person is hard’ line slip into the coffee I’m nursing while my head pounds with the effort of keeping it all together, and her only response is, “Yeah, I know.”

“‘A writer is a world pretending to be a person’,” she quotes at me, and then, “That’s a deliberate misquote of something Victor Hugo said: ‘A writer is a world trapped in a person’. But I like my version better. If my soul wasn’t in a human-shaped body, sometimes I think I’d turn into a galaxy or something. Or maybe more than that. A multiverse.”

Humans are famously good at detecting things that don’t quite look human. I’m not doing a particularly good job of staying out of the uncanny valley today, but she doesn’t seem to have noticed. Or, worse, she’s noticed and likes it. Writers are like that sometimes. But I’ve been deliberately staying out of her mind. I can tell it’s twisty and complex, and I’m afraid the slightest touch from me would tip her over into madness. Or, who knows, maybe she’s right, and it would trigger her transformation into some kind of eldritch goddess that would put even me to shame. I don’t want to think about what that would do to the paper-thin world down here.

I’ve been so focused on my coffee, I’ve accidentally created another one. She hasn’t noticed.

“I do wonder what being a person is actually like, though,” she goes on. “You know, actually fitting in with all the weird rules humans have. Actually feeling at home here. And most of them only get to live one life, not all the fragments of all the lives we get to. Imagine that. They’ll never know what it’s like, being able to create with a thought.”

That last part hits too close to home, and I can’t resist taking just one quick peek into her mind.

“Oh, hello,” she says, and looks me in the eye.

I withdraw. No way she should have been able to feel that. And what I saw there – she’s practically a multiverse already, all jammed up there somehow into that tiny human brain.

“I always wondered if telepathy’s real,” she’s saying, “and now you’ve gone and proven it. Do that again, so I can see how you did it.”

No way, I’m not risking that – but she fumbles around and somehow does it anyway.

“There you are!” she says. I twitch back into my defences – why does this have to be happening on a day like this, when I’m barely holding it together anyway? The writing on the menu twists and curls, and customers start walking in circles. This time she notices.

“Ooh, eldritch abomination, is it?” she says. “Here, let me try.”

She squints, and now she’s holding another coffee, too. She takes a sip. “Mmm, just like in my dreams.”

Then she’s looking at me. Not just at my rapidly-slipping human disguise, but really looking at me, all the parts that no human should ever be able to see. But I don’t think she’s human anymore – I think she’s been right at that boundary for a while.

“You know, you really should pay more attention to that,” she says. “I find pretending is much easier if I do something like this—” and she does something, and my own human form snaps back into clarity. “There you go. Get those few things right and most people won’t even notice.”

Meanwhile, her own form is becoming more solid. That’s the only way I can describe it. Soon she’ll be so solid that her slightest movement will tear right through reality like tissue paper.

“Be careful,” I say, “you’re new to this, and this world is fragile—”

But it’s too late. She twitches in just the wrong way, and something tears.

Now everything is inverting. Everything that was packed up tightly inside her brain is becoming outside. The whole world is reforming around us, into one she considers home. I’m unaffected, but the humans are being completely rewritten.

“Hmm,” she muses, observing all the worlds at once. “Looks like I was right about myself.”

And she sees my dismayed expression. Avoiding something like this is exactly why I was being so careful down here. So much for that.

“Don’t worry,” she says, and gives me a reassuring pat somewhere in the fourth dimension. “There’s more than enough room in me for everyone.”

I really like that quote she uses, and use it myself. This story came from thinking - what if it was literally true, and not just a metaphor?

Tag list (tell me if you want to be added):

@avery-victoria-winterlight @dierotenixe @leahnardo-da-veggie @lunadook @mint-and-authoress

@sandyca5tle @scrubbinn @theriomythic-lesbian @void-botanist @wuwojiti

@zzzestyy

[nhasablogg]

lee logan howlett PLEAAASSEE🙏🏼 a lot of people write him out of character and i feel like you wouldn't, like no im not gonna imagine a grown man begging??

Victor was always rough with it, and Logan always protested. “It hurts, you fucking lunatic,” he would say, still laughing, because even though it was painful Victor still knew how to hit his worst spots. Claws all but digging into his lower ribs, curling just enough for Logan’s whole body to jerk. A physical weakness. It was embarrassing to have a physical weakness while being this strong, Victor always said and Logan almost believed him.

“How do you think you’ll survive if your enemies can just poke your fuckin’ side?” he would ask, pinning him to the ground as a way to get Logan to learn how to escape. It was never just a game. Logan didn’t always lose, but mostly he did. He did it rarely enough that it wasn’t a problem - they had other issues either way.

Kayla was always gentle with it. Kind, even as she teased him. “You’re so ticklish,” she would say, smiling, loving. Logan would never even deny it. Had never really done so. But he would whine. He would threaten revenge and he would pull through. But he always let her tackle him to the bed and curl her fingers over his ribs. Gentle even as she pulled him apart.

He had been unused to his sensitivity not being used against his nature. When Kayla teased, it was only because she found it endearing. He had blushed tremendously in the beginning about it, once he’d started realizing that maybe it was okay, and now he only groaned because he knew it would always result in him being tickled. Even if it meant he would get her back twice as bad. He was in love with her laughter. He assumed she was in a similar position with his.

Remy was always playful. Quick and daring and sometimes even merciless, but always grinning. Always laughing along. “For a tough guy, you’re very easy to disarm,” he would say, and Logan would at first be reminded of Victor but would get over it eventually. It helped that Remy was worse, which was hilarious to tease him about, but somehow he always got him first. Nimble fingers over his ribs. Laughter when Logan swatted him away.

The rare times he managed to fully pin him, Logan didn’t beg or scream, but simply laughed. Belly laughter, for just a moment. Carefree, for just a moment. His hands always found Remy’s sides, squeezing and making him fold, working on autopilot before his brain caught up, because being with Kayla taught him to tickle back. Wade was annoying about it and Logan never tickled him back, only because he somehow felt as if he wanted him to. And fuck giving that guy what he wanted.

(For now.)

Jean was always accidental with it. His interest in her was not simply delusion, but the way she would touch him made him feel more than just ticklish (although it was also sometimes quite ticklish).

And the professor? Well, let’s just say he’d given Logan one too many knowing looks after he’d been forced into laughter in entirely different parts of the mansion.