#and it's so different from the other hotline calls too he's almost shouting to get his voice heard

[mirrorhouse]

This is Dr. Casper Darling. I have a classified message for the Director of the Federal Bureau of Control.

[helliontherapscallion]

Safe

Pairing: SBI family x reader (platonic, one shot), BASED OFF FROM CHARACTERS NOT ACTUAL PEOPLE

Warnings: child abuse/neglect, bullying, alcoholism, death of a parent, mentions of panic attacks, injury, mentions of a dog’s death, mentions of eating disorders, mentions of suicide attempts, depression

Word count: 7,730

(A/N): if you’re not feeling safe at home or are being abused, please contact the proper authorities. Here’s the abuse hotline: 1-800-799-7233, my DMs are always open if you want to talk 

You met Tommy and Tubbo when you were in third grade. You were a relatively quiet kid, the type to always keep to themselves and abstain from social activity. Mrs. Jansen, being the nice woman that she was, let the entire class choose their own seats.

“Welcome to your first day of third grade, class! I’m Mrs. Jansen and I look forward to getting to know all of you. As you can see, there are enough desks for all of you. You may sit with who you want.”

You shifted around uneasily and gripped your book in your hands as your classmates hurried to get the back seats. After every seat was taken, you walked to the only seat left in the front. You were between a girl and a boy. They introduced themselves as Dorothy and Samuel, and were relatively kind to you. 

As the class passed their second week, two boys that sat in the back row made themselves apparent very quickly. They were both rambunctious, always disrupting the class with their giggles and whispers. Mrs. Jansen had warned them multiple times that she was going to separate them, but it seemed that they didn’t think she’d do it. One day, she finally had enough.

“Tommy, Tubbo. I’ve given you plenty of warnings, I’m going to have to separate you. Dorothy, Samuel, can you please switch places with them?”

You could feel dread wash over you. Why was she putting you between them?! What did you do wrong to deserve this? You could swear that you’ve done all your chores, you even made your mom smile at you! She never did that. 

They pouted as they sat next to you, Tommy on your right and Tubbo on your left. You already missed Samuel and Dorothy. “Thank you. (Y/n), make sure they behave.”

You shrunk down into your seat as you felt Tommy’s glare burning holes into the side of your head. Tubbo, on the other hand, was watching the lesson with bored eyes and  his chin propped up in his hand. You tried to take notes, but you kept getting distracted by Tommy’s heated glare. You were going to fall behind, you couldn’t have that. Mama wouldn’t like that. 

After the final bell rang, you hurried out of the classroom to avoid Tommy’s wrath. You could hear him shouting for you to stop, but you never stopped until your hand was grabbed and yanked backwards in the empty playground. You fell back onto the pavement of the basketball court and whimpered at the sting in your palms. 

Tommy glared down at you, “you gonna cry? Serves you right. Never tell on Tubbo and I. Got it?”

You tearfully nodded and he grinned maliciously at you, “good. Tubbo, let’s go. Wil and Tech’s probably waiting for us.”

The brunet was staring at Tommy with a shocked expression, unmoving. Tommy rolled his eyes and huffed before he grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the crowd of families. Tubbo looked back at you with an apologetic expression and watched as you looked at your scratched up palms. 

You wiped at your tears as you stood up and started to walk home. Your neighbor’s dog behind the wired fence barked at you as you hurried past it. You never liked that dog; it was a drooling, angry, ugly furball. It scared you, but not as much as Mama did when she drank her adult juice. She was scary when she drank it. You tried hiding it from her once but she grounded you from eating dinner and snacks for half a month. You didn’t try to hide it again. 

You trudged up the creaky wooden stairs of your porch and tried to open the door only to find it locked. You tried to knock on the door but Mama didn’t answer so you just sat on the front porch waiting for her to open the door. She did so when the sun was setting, surprise and then anger shining through her hazy eyes. She yelled at you before she sent you to your room for the night without dinner.

The next day when you were sitting alone at a lunch table, someone plopped down in the seat next to you. You jumped and scooted away from them, looking up only to see Tubbo. He was smiling at you.

“Hey, I’m really sorry about Tommy, he gets mad easily.”

You eyed him warily and clutched your open book, “...it’s okay.”

He grinned and scooted closer to you, peering over your shoulder at the book. “What’re you reading?”

“‘Harry Potter’.”

“Oh I love that book! My favorite character’s Ron, who’s yours?”

Surprisingly, the conversation was pleasant before he was dragged away by a glaring Tommy. You might actually make a friend after all. Later that day after school, Tommy once again stopped you in the school yard. This time, he shoved you to the ground and started to shout at you. 

“You do not talk to him, freak! You’re gonna mess him up, he talks to me and me only. Do you unde-undastunend?”

You gulped and shakily spoke up, “yes, and it’s ‘understand’, not ‘undastunend’.”

His glare intensified before he reared back a fist. You yelped as you curled into a ball with your hands protecting your head. Before he could hit you, you heard the stomping of shoes against the concrete.

“TOMMY STOP.”

You could feel a hand on your back and a gentle voice asking if you were alright. You hesitated before you looked up to see an older boy with a mop of curly brown hair on his head and wire glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He reminded you of Harry Potter. Looking past him, you saw a tall pink haired boy glaring and lecturing Tommy, holding the struggling boy in place with a firm grip on his elbow. Tubbo was just behind him looking down and shifting on the balls of his feet.

“I am so sorry about Tommy, are you alright? He didn’t hit you did he?”

You shook your head and the boy heaved a sigh of relief, “that’s good. I’m Wilbur and that’s Technoblade, we’re Tommy and Tubbo’s brothers. What’s your name?”

“(Y/n).”

He smiled at you, “that’s a lovely name.”

“Wilbur, let’s go. This one,” Technoblade shook Tommy’s arm, “needs to talk to Dad.”

You watched as Tommy’s movements stopped and he looked up with wide eyes. “No, please don’t tell Dad. Please-” 

Wilbur stood and helped you up before grabbing Tubbo’s hand and lead him away, “you aren’t weaseling your way out of this.”

You watched the brothers leave, feeling guilt wash over you. You didn’t want to get him in trouble, punishments were the absolute worst. Even though he shoved you and almost punched you, he didn’t deserve any punishment. With guilt weighing down on your shoulders, you walked home. At least Mama was in a good mood, she made you some mac n cheese for dinner. 

The next day, Tommy trudged up to your desk and put a tupperware dish on your desk before sitting down in his seat and ignored you. Tubbo sat in his seat next to you and smiled at you.

“Open it,” he jumped in his seat slightly as he watched your expression change to shock. In the container laid five chocolate chip cookies. You had only had cookies once in your life and that was during a class birthday celebration a year ago. “They’re our Dad’s secret recipe, I helped make them! Um, Tommy wanted to apologize to you.”

You glanced at Tommy. He was glancing at you over his shoulder and blushed a bright red when he saw you looking at him. Tubbo cleared his throat and gestured at Tommy. The blond crossed his arms and looked off to the side. “Sorry,” he mumbled halfheartedly. 

After that, they started to sit next to you during lunch. Tommy was a bit cold towards you, but you found yourself beginning to relax around Tubbo’s friendly aura. Soon enough, you started to supply him with more than a few words per sentence. Tommy eventually got bored of eating in silence and would join your conversation. You three became thick as thieves that year, you even met their Dad. He was very different from Mama; he never yelled at you, he was always giving you snacks, and he even smiled at you often. 

That house became like a second home to you. Eventually, you ended up spending more time at the Minecraft residence than you spent at home with your mom. Over the years, she got worse with her drinking. She was always passed out on the couch and when she wasn’t, she was swaying on her feet in the kitchen staring at a portrait with dazed, wistful eyes. You can remember when you first realized that she had a problem and always being unhappy and drunk was, in fact, not normal for a parent. 

It was a warm spring day in seventh grade. Luckily, you had your health class with Tommy and Tubbo. You were currently learning about alcohol dependency and the effects it had on the body. The teacher listed all the symptoms your mom had; the uncontrollable urge to drink, the aggression, the shakiness and dizziness, everything. When you came to the realization that your mother might have a problem, the teacher started to explain the disorders and diseases that could come from heavy drinking, most of them having the potential to be fatal if the drinking persisted. You felt like you were drenched in icy water as your body seized up in fear for your mother. You stared unseeingly at your notebook at the symptoms of alcoholism and associated disorders. You didn’t want your mom to die. You had to do something before it was too late for her.

“(Y/n)?” You jumped and looked at the person who called your name. Tommy and Tubbo were giving you worried stares. “Are you okay?”

You shakily started to put your supplies away into your backpack. The class had been dismissed and you didn’t even realize it. “Y-yeah. It’s just- I’m worried.”

“Yeah, I’m worried too,” Tommy laughed as you followed the two out of the classroom and to the courtyard. “That essay’s gonna be awful.”

“Oh god we have an essay?”

“Yeah, Mr. Smithers assigned it to us before the bell rang, are you sure you’re okay? You’re usually on top of this stuff.” Tubbo threw a worried glance towards you.

“Yeah, just a bit distracted today. I uh, have to go home. Like right now, my mom wants me home right after school today.”

You sprinted off towards your house. When you reached your neighborhood and ran past the wired fence. The bulldog that lived there was now old and gray. You found out that his name was Buster and he was actually a total sweetheart if you slept next to him on the other side of the fence on more than one occasion. Buster watched from inside his doghouse as you sprinted into the house. Luckily for you, the door was unlocked and your mother was passed out on the couch surrounded by glass bottles. You locked the door behind you as you rushed over to her intensely watching for any sign of movement. She looked dead, her skin was pale, her hair matted, and her mouth gaping open showing off her yellow stained teeth. She wasn’t moving, were you too late?

Just as you started to panic, she snorted and started to breathe. You slumped in relief as you stepped over the beer bottles into the kitchen. The table was sparkly clean with a pristine picture frame resting in the middle, a stark contrast of the beer bottles that littered the floor and the piles of dirty dishes in the sink. It was of a man standing stiffly in a military uniform saluting at the camera with a stern expression. He was an exact copy of you. Well, you were an exact copy of him; that man was your late father.

“Hey Dad, how was your day? Mine was awful, I learned about alcoholism and cirrhosis today and- and I’m worried about Mom. She’s been drinking a lot lately.”

You stared at your dad’s face behind the glass as if expecting a response. You wanted some reassurance from the man. You wanted him to tell you everything was going to be okay and that he’d handle it so you could be a normal kid. Like usual, his steely expression didn’t budge one bit. 

You sighed to yourself sadly and trudged to the refrigerator opening the door. The beer bottles stared back at you tauntingly. Your fingers twitched on the fridge door as you contemplated the consequences of throwing away the offending glass bottles. You remembered in second grade when you hid your mother’s alcohol she punished you by withholding food from you. She’d probably do worse this time, but the consequences were worth it if you were going to save your mother’s life. 

It took you ten minutes of tossing alcohol into the garbage can until the fridge was left barren of the drink. Without the green bottles, the fridge was completely empty with the exception of milk and a few probably rotten eggs. You struggled to take the trash out to the curb and started to work on homework in your room. 

At seven at night, you could hear her roll off the couch and stumble into the kitchen. A series of frantic rustling and banging sounded downstairs before you could hear pounding footsteps storm up the stairs. Your door flung open to reveal your red-faced, livid mother. 

“What the fuck did you do?”

“M-mom I hid them because we learned about alcoholism and cirrhosis and-” You cut yourself off when she walked over to you with her arms extended towards your trembling frame. You tried to scoot as far away from her as possible, but she grabbed your shoulders with clammy but firm hands, shaking you roughly.

“Are you saying I have a problem?! You spoiled fucking brat, you’re the problem! Everything was amazing before you came and fucked up my life. You took him away from me. YOU FUCKING KILLED MY HUSBAND.”

You could feel tears start to drip down your cheeks as you remembered that day in first grade when you begged your dad to get you some McDonalds for dinner. When he relented, you cheered and your mom laughed at your excitement. She was so full of life back then; her hair was shiny and bouncy, her skin was unmarked and flawless, her eyes were lively and bright. Her laughter was perhaps your favorite memory of her. Then everything went to shit when your dad never came home and your mom got a phone call saying that your dad was killed in a car wreck on impact. You could remember your mother’s heart wrenching sobs as she collapsed to the floor and pulled you tight against her body. As if she was trying to protect what was left of her husband.

You were snapped back to reality when your mom shoved you back onto your bed. The happy, beautiful woman that you saw was replaced by the shell of a broken woman. Her silky hair turned dull, her smile turned into a grotesque scowl, her loving eyes turned cold. She truly was a husk of her former self. 

“Stop crying, you’re not the one who’s life was ruined. I want you out of my house in ten minutes. You’re gonna not step foot anywhere near here for two weeks. If I even see you on my property before those two weeks are up, you’re fucking dead.”

You frantically nodded and watched as she stumbled out of her room. You packed what you would need in your spare backpack and ran out of the house past your mother sobbing and babbling incoherently to your dad. You flinched when you could hear a bang and the sound of glass shattering when she threw a bottle at your retreating figure. 

You ran until you couldn’t run anymore. Your legs brought you to the park where you spent most of your childhood. Everywhere you looked, you could see glimpses of your mom and dad pushing you on the swing, Tommy and Tubbo running from you playing tag, Mr. Minecraft putting a bandaid on your scraped knee. Tears streaked down your cheeks as you pushed yourself up and went to your safe place. It was a little nook deep in the vegetation where nobody could see you. You originally found this place when you were playing hide and seek with Tommy and Tubbo. They never knew where you hid.

Tears moistened the soil underneath you as you pulled out a blanket you had hid in a plastic grocery bag and spread it out on the floor. You curled up on it and cried freely into your hands. You didn’t sleep much that night. 

That was the first time she had kicked you out for that long. You barely ate in those two weeks, wolfing down any food you could get your hands on at lunch. Lunch for you was the small scraps of food that Tommy and Tubbo shared with you. Mom never packed you lunches or gave you money to buy things anymore. To make matters worse, they had told their dad that they thought you had some form of eating disorder. 

About a week into your exile, you finally visited the Minecraft residence after avoiding them for a week. You remembered how the blond man pulled you aside into the kitchen. He gently sat you down and pushed a plate full of chicken and vegetables in front of you. You looked at him confused as he gestured towards the plate.

“Eat that, I heard you haven’t been eating much lately.” When you made no move to eat, he smiled at you. “Go ahead, it’s okay if you don’t eat it all. Just eat some of it.”

That was all you needed to hear, you began to eat quickly like a starving wolf. It’s been a while since you had more than half an apple to eat, let alone an actual homemade meal. When you were done, you looked up to see the older man looking at you worriedly. 

“...Are you not getting enough food at home?”

You scrambled to find a lie, “my- my mom is away a lot on business trips. We don’t really eat much.”

His worried expression grew tenfold as he moved to kneel in front of you and put his hands on your shoulders. “You need to eat three meals a day, especially now that you’re growing. You’re always welcome here when your mom’s away, our door’s always open. Is she away now?”

“Yeah, she won’t be home until next week.” You felt bad for lying to the man that put bandaids on your scraped knees and took you to the father daughter dance in fifth grade when he heard that your dad was dead. He was always so kind to you, which you never quite understood. Despite feeling bad for lying to him, you felt incredibly relieved that you didn’t have to be alone anymore. 

From then on out whenever she kicked you out, you went to the Minecraft residence. They welcomed you with open arms and treated you like you were a part of the family. You and Techno bonded over your love for reading and mythology, Wilbur made sure you took care of yourself, and Philza (he told you to just call him Phil at that point) treated you like his own child. You didn’t think that it was possible for you, Tommy, and Tubbo to be any closer than you already were, but you three became inseparable. You told them everything one night when you couldn’t sleep. You told them how you felt like you were the cause of your mother’s decline and your dad’s death, how she would usually punish you, her ‘hobby’. They were about to tell Philza, but you begged them not to. After a while of pleading and assuring them that she’d never hit you, they hesitantly agreed and made you promise to call them whenever you felt unsafe in your home. 

You kept to that promise, calling them whenever she would get too drunk to know what she was doing. They would calm you down from panic attacks late at night and invite you to their house in the daytime. They felt like your actual brothers and you started to refer to them as such. You three gave each other a shoulder to lean on and gave each other comfort when needed. One night when you were in your freshman year, however, your mother caught you sneaking out to see them after she sent you to your room. That was when she started to hit you.

Just as you were about to sneak out the front door, your mother started to scream at you incoherently. When you flinched away from when she got up in your face, she became even more enraged. 

“WHERE WERE YOU GOING? I BET YOU’RE WHORING YOURSELF OUT, AREN’T YOU LITTLE SLUT?”

Without thinking, you yelled back at her, “I would never! Why-” You were cut off by a harsh slap to the cheek sending you to the ground. She quieted down and stared at you and her hand, a glint of shock shining through her dazed eyes. Without a word, she turned around and left to go talk to your dad. You sat there listening to her rant about how she failed as a mother, how she wanted to do better but she didn’t know how, how she wished that he was there with her. You scrambled up and ran to your room. You looked at yourself in the mirror, there was a bright red mark on your cheek in the shape of a hand. There was a small cut where her wedding ring connected with your cheek. A single drop of blood dripped down your cheek and curved down the dip of your chin before dripping onto your shirt. Without doing anything else, you plopped down onto your bed and sobbed into your pillow, crying yourself to sleep.

When you woke up in the morning, you realized that you slept through half of the school day so it was useless to go to school now. You reached up to run a hand down your face only to hiss and pull your hand away. You once again looked at yourself in the mirror.

You looked terrible. Your eyes were bloodshot and swollen like you were crying in your sleep. Hair was sticking up in all directions and matted slightly. The slap mark was gone, but the cut had bruising around the edges with dried blood crusted on your cheek and on your pillow. It was a small cut, but it bled a surprising amount overnight. You couldn’t see Tommy or Tubbo like this, they’d flip out. Luckily for you it was a Friday and you had the weekend to heal. 

Your mother gradually started to hit you more and more. It started off as a once-a-week thing whenever she was really angry, but then it divulged into something that would happen daily over the smallest things. You became her punching bag for her to release some steam. Makeup became your best friend at that point; you used what little savings you saved over the years for dollar store makeup.

Soon after it became a struggle to hide the cuts and bruises from Tommy and Tubbo, so you gradually started to avoid them. Your face, once synonymous with the Minecraft residence and Tommy and Tubbo, became a rarity. They tried their hardest to contact you, but you always dodged their calls. After a few months of you dodging Tommy and Tubbo, you finally told them that you didn’t want to be friends with them anymore. 

It broke your heart to say it, but it had to be done. They were getting too close to the truth and you couldn’t have that; the government would take you away from your mom and she’d end up dead. You were the only one keeping her alive at this point, she lost all motivation to eat. The only thing she did nowadays was hit you, drink, and hug your dad’s photo to her chest. 

The beatings got to the point where you could barely walk without feeling pain. School became something that you’d rarely attend. Tommy and Tubbo stopped trying to talk to and call you. Buster, your previous confidant, had long since died so you were truly alone in the world. The neighbor’s yard looked barren without the dog house and the graying dog. The only person you had left was your mom. 

When you had accidentally burnt dinner late at night, she completely snapped. She grabbed your arm and held it on top of the burner. Pain hit you immediately as you screamed and cried apologies to her. When you instinctively hit her with your other hand, she dug her nails into your arm and pushed your arm closer onto the burner. Nerve endings screamed at you to get away from the pain. The pain was becoming too much, so you looked on the countertop next to you for something to defend yourself with. A metal fork was lying close to your other hand. 

You grabbed it and, with a distraught apology to your mother, drove the prongs deep into her arm. She screamed in pain and let your arm go. You ripped yourself out of her grasp and started to run for the front door. A force collided with the back of your shoulder making pain explode in the area. You didn’t know what happened at first, but after hearing the shattering of glass, you realized that she threw a beer bottle at you. You could feel the sting of alcohol and glass mingling with your open wounds on your shoulder. The sting was almost as bad as your arm, but you didn’t stop running especially when you glanced behind you to see her running at you with a knife raised and the fork protruding from her arm.

You flung open the door and sprinted out without bothering to close the door behind you. As your bare feet hit the sidewalk, you could hear your mother stop at the end of the stairs and shout at you to come back. You never stopped.

You didn’t stop until your feet took you to the Minecraft residence’s front door. Nobody was on the street as it was about eleven at night. You hesitated to knock on their door, you ignored the family for the past six months, and you weren’t sure if they even wanted you there. After five minutes of thinking, you just sighed as you walked back down the wooden stairs and walked back towards the sidewalk.

“(Y/n), what are you doing here?” You froze up at Tommy’s sleep riddled voice. You stayed frozen as you heard him stomp over to you. He placed a firm hand on your injured shoulder and forced you to turn around. His angry expression faded into a concerned one when he heard you start to sob and flinch away from him. 

“Wha- shit are you bleeding?” You nodded slightly and he gently turned you back around to see a patch of darkened cloth on your shirt. You could feel him shaking as he grabbed your arm and pulled you into the house. He plopped you at the dining room table and told you to wait there. With that, he sprinted up the stairs and brought back a serious Philza holding a first aid kit. 

When he saw you bruised and battered, you could hear him take in a sharp intake of breath and saw unbridled anger flash across his face. You flinched away from him when he approached you. 

“Hey,” he said in a gentle voice, “I won’t hurt you. Can you show me where you’re hurt?” 

You eyed him warily like a scared wild animal and reluctantly moved your burned arm away from your chest and showed it to him. This was the first time you saw your forearm; it was an ugly red that expanded up the majority of the underside of your forearm with skin burned off at the edges. Yellow, fluid-filled blisters were starting to form. 

You could hear Tommy’s horrified gasp as he turned to run out of the room. You kept your gaze downwards as Philza warned you that he was about to put disinfectant on your wound. He apologized to you when you whimpered in pain at the sting of the alcohol on your exposed nerves. After he was finished wrapping your arm, he asked you to show him where else you’re injured. You turned around so he could see the growing patch of blood staining your now ripped shirt. You could feel him gently move your shirt to the side and heard him wince. 

“Shit, there’s glass in here. I’m going to have to get some tweezers to get it out. Stay here, I’ll be right back.” You were then alone in the kitchen for a moment before he came back with a worried Wilbur and Techno in tow. The brunet pulled up a chair next to you and asked if it was alright to hold your hand. After you hesitantly nodded, he grabbed your hand and started to run his thumb over your knuckles. Techno held a light close to your shoulder as Philza started to tweeze out the green tinted glass from your shoulder. 

Every time you would suck in air through your teeth and muffle your yelps with your other hand, Wilbur would whisper reassurances to you and hold your hand tighter. After the glass was out, the wound was disinfected, and wrapped in gauze, Philza told the boys to leave the room. He grabbed both of your hands and gave you the best reassuring smile that he could.

“Tell me what happened.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you felt tears well up in your eyes, “I tried Phil, I really did. She never got better no matter what I did.”

“What do you mean, are you talking about your mom?” You could hear the angry undertone of his voice. You tensed up and nodded.

“She… she needs help. She was never the same after Dad died, she started drinking. It started off with only one beer a day, but after seventh grade she was going through an entire case in a day. She’d punish me if I said or did anything about it. No dinner for a week was a popular one until she started to ban me from the house for weeks on end. She never went on business trips, Phil. She got a knife today. I-I thought she was actually gonna kill me this time, I was so scared.”

Without another word, he pulled you into a tight hug, letting you sob freely into his shoulder. “It was my fault, I couldn’t help her! She- she needed me and I couldn’t help her.” You said between sobs. He hugged you tighter and started to rub your back, making sure to avoid your shoulder. “None of this is your fault, you can’t help someone if they don’t want help. Sometimes you can’t fix someone who’s too far gone.”

“Am I too far gone?”

“No, you aren’t. We’ll help you through this, we won’t let anybody hurt you ever again. You’re gonna go on to live a good life.” You passed out in his arms after a while of crying. 

When you woke up, you were in Tommy and Tubbo’s room. The two boys jumped to your side and pulled you into a tight group hug. After you tried to apologize to them for how you treated them in the past six months, they shushed you and just sat there in silence hugging you. 

Later that day you found out that your mother was found by your neighbor on the front porch with her wrists slit and empty beer bottles surrounding her. She was breathing, but just barely. Currently she was in an unstable condition in the hospital. You had a full breakdown when you found out that she almost killed herself because of you. You had run out of the house and to your safe place in the park. You hadn’t been there in a few years, so you hoped that it was still there. 

Sure enough, it was still there albeit a bit overgrown. The blanket in the plastic bag was in the same place where you left it. You had no idea how long you were sitting there crying and having a panic attack, but when you came to your senses it was dark outside. You could hear crickets chirping and the rustling of leaves in the entrance of your hideout.

A brunet head poked itself in and smiled when he saw you. Tubbo fully came into the nook and gestured for someone to follow. Tommy’s blond hair made itself apparent before he joined you two inside.

“Nice little place you have here. It’s… homey.” Tubbo rubbed his hands together and blew warm air on them. You threw one side of the blanket at him and pulled your knees up to your chest. “Thanks, I used to sleep here sometimes… How’d you find me?”

“We could hear you,” Tommy pulled out his phone and typed something on it before pocketing it and sitting next to you. He covered himself with the blanket as Tubbo followed suit. You sat in silence before Tommy broke it. 

“How long has she been hittin you?”

“Tommy!” Tubbo scolded him.

“She started about six months ago.”

“Six months ago… that was when you cancelled plans! I knew something was wrong Tubbo.”

Tubbo said nothing as he looked at you with a helpless expression. Just as he was about to open his mouth, you interrupted him. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. Everything’s my fault. I’m the reason my mom’s in the hospital right now fighting for her life. I wasn’t there for her.” You would’ve started crying if it weren’t for the fact that you just felt so drained and numb.

“The fuck do you mean? She was about to kill you! You told us that she was about to stab you, what else were you supposed to do, just let her kill you?!” Tommy exclaimed.

You shrugged, “maybe. If she did she’d be happy, I was just a burden to her. I- I just wanted her to be happy and I would never be able to do that as long as I’m alive. If she killed me she wouldn’t be in the hospital right now.”

“What the fuck (y/n),” Tubbo shouted, startling you. He never shouts, let alone swears. “How could you even say that? I don’t know what I’d do without you, everything would be so boring and nothing would be the same without you. Fuck her happiness, she’s a wretched woman if the only way she can be happy is when you’re dead. Fuck her.”

You and Tommy stared at the seething boy in shock. He never shouted when he was angry, he only did that once when he found out that Tommy was being bullied. Whenever he sweared, that’s when you knew his emotions were hitting him at full force. Tommy quickly recovered from his shock to join him, “yeah fuck her, man! She can go suck a dick.” He was interrupted by his phone buzzing.

“Dad’s here, c’mon he’s worried sick about you.” After they helped you out of your safe place, they both wrapped an arm around your shoulders and walked you to the parking lot. You could see the headlights of the lone car in the lot turn off before the door swung open and a figure rushed towards you. You pushed yourself behind Tommy and Tubbo and hid behind them fearfully. They both turned around and put a hand on your shoulders. “It’s okay, it’s our dad.”

You peeked over their shoulders and saw a mop of disheveled, long blond hair. Philza looked like he was just told that there was an antidote for a fatal poison he just ingested, despite the flash of hurt that showed on his face. His blue eyes were accentuated by the redness of his sclera and you can see the relief painted in them. A gentle smile was on his face as he moved his arms up. Without another word, you launched yourself at him and pulled him into the tightest hug you could manage with your shoulder.

“Are your accusations true, Mx. (L/n)?” 

Your gaze flickered over to your mother sitting on the other side of the courtroom. She looked at you with no expression on her face. Her wrists were wrapped tightly in a white bandage that was a stark contrast to the bright orange prison uniform and the silver of the handcuffs. She wasn’t the woman you knew when your dad was alive. The life was sucked out of her the second she picked up that phone call.

You looked back at the lawyer, “yes sir.”

“I have no further questions, your honor.”

“You may return to your seat, Mx. (L/N).”

You stood up and walked as confidently as you could past the dull eyes of your mother and back to your seat between Tommy and Tubbo. You held their hands tightly as the trial moved onwards. Buster’s owner even stepped up to the witness stand to give his testimony. Apparently he knew about the abuse from your late night conversations with Buster. He had contacted CPS and the police multiple times but the case was always dropped for some reason that you couldn’t bring yourself to ponder. A few of your previous teachers even showed up to give their testimonies. Their words, though true and slightly sweet, rubbed you the wrong way. If they ‘knew something was happening at home with you’, then why didn’t they do anything when it was happening? You tried to focus on the rest of the trial. 

Your mother’s only witness was herself, and she did a piss poor job at it. She was basically digging her own grave with every word that came out of her mouth. The entire time, she was staring at you with her infamous dull eyes. 

“Do you have any further points you would like to add, Mrs. (L/n)?”

“Yes, I have always loved my child. They were my husband’s pride and joy, the splitting image of him. Their rightful place is safe with their real parent at our home.”

You could feel Tommy attempt to stand up, but you pulled him back down; now was not the time for him to start yelling in anger. Tubbo squeezed your hand in reassurance and glanced at you. You were staring at the woman you called your mother with pain and hate filled eyes. You wished her words were sincere, but you knew fully well that they weren’t. The words that left her mouth would’ve been one hundred percent true  and genuine when your dad was still alive, but he’s buried six feet under in a military cemetary now and he has been for years. You would’ve given anything, even your own life, for those words to be true a month ago, but you knew better now. Mothers don’t treat their kids like this, they’re supposed to give their children their unconditional love and take care of them. As far as you were concerned, she was no longer your mother. She forfeited that title the second she turned to the bottle. Philza is and will always be more of a parental figure than she’ll ever be. 

After the jury left to discuss, the court was in a recess. You slipped out of the room and speed walked to the bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror. You could see heavy eye bags under your dull eyes. The dullness of your eyes, to your horror, reminded you of your mother, so you splashed your face with water. That fixed it, your eyes were slightly brighter. You could still see the faint outline of the scar on your cheek from when she first hit you. Small scars littered your face from the more recent wounds she gave you before you ran.

A knock sounded at the door, “(y/n), the recess is almost over.” It was Techno.

You patted your face dry and went to leave the bathroom. The pink haired boy that you now saw as your older brother was waiting patiently for you on the other side. He put a gentle hand on your shoulder and led you back to the courtroom. There, the rest of the Minec- no, your family was waiting for you. Just as you reached them, the judge announced that the jurors would be arriving back. The entire courtroom stood as they walked in.

“Have you reached a verdict?” The judge asked.

“We have.”

“Mrs. (L/n) and Mr. Langsburg, would you stand and face the jury? You may read the verdict.”

“We the jury of the state court find the defendant guilty under the charges of child abuse and child neglect.”

Tommy clapped a hand on your shoulder as Tubbo squeezed your hand. They both smiled widely at you. You, however, didn’t acknowledge them. You were only staring at the empty eyes of your mother as she was looking at the jury. Her reaction was akin to her breaking a pencil, like it didn’t matter to her. Like all the years abuse that she put you through didn’t matter was as trivial as breaking a pencil. 

“So say you all?”

“Yes, your honor.” 

“I hereby sentence Mrs. (L/n) to twelve years in the state penitentiary with no opportunity of parole. Mr. Philza Minecraft shall be bestowed the custody of Mx. (Y/n) (l/n) as they do not have any next of kin. Court is adjourned.” With that, she banged the gavel and the courtroom exploded in the bustling of people. You never took your eyes off from your mo- no, the monster with the dull eyes as she picked at something in her nails boredly. Just as she looked up to meet your gaze, Tommy pulled you into a tight hug, lifting you off the ground slightly. You were passed around the family in the courtroom for their individual hugs. Philza’s was comforting, Tubbo’s was congratulatory, Wilbur’s was warm, and Techno’s was slightly awkward, yet soft. 

At home, you spent most of your time in the spare room Philza had given you. He had offered to help you decorate it, but you had no idea where to start. You were never allowed to have decorations in your old room. You kept the room simplistic and your possessions light. 

You often stared at your dad’s portrait on your nightstand wondering what your life could’ve been like if you never asked him for McDonalds that day. Your family probably would’ve been stationed in who knows where and moved around often, as is customary in most military families. You probably would’ve never met Tommy and Tubbo in third grade. You probably would’ve never met your now older brothers and new father. You didn’t want to imagine a life without them. 

After a few days of you being locked up in your room, Tommy and Tubbo came into your room with mischievous grins. You knew them like the back of your hand, so you knew the second you saw their faces that they were about to do something. You sat up and looked at them suspiciously. 

“What are you doing?”

“We’re not doing anything, (y/n). Right Tubbo?”

“Right Tommy.” Tubbo nodded curtly. They still had grins on their faces. They walked over to your bed before they picked you up and walked you out of the room. You didn’t have the energy to fight them, so you laid limp in their arms. They eventually took you down to the living room and plopped you down onto the couch between them. Techno tossed them a blanket when they then used to wrap you tightly into a blanket burrito. The home screen of Disney Plus was pulled up on the TV and the curtains were drawn. Philza and Wilbur exited the kitchen with glasses of water and two big bowls of popcorn.

They smiled widely when they saw you squashed between your brothers, putting a bowl of popcorn in your lap and three glasses of water nearby. The two next to you dug into the popcorn as the rest of the family made themselves comfortable on the couch. 

“What are we doing?”

“Movie night! We’re gonna binge the Marvel movies, your favorite!” Tubbo grinned at you, practically bouncing in his seat.

“Just double checking, the order is Captain America, Captain Marvel, Iron Mans One and Two, Incredible Hulk, Avengers, Thor-”

You cut Wilbur off with a mumbled “first Thor, then the first Avengers movie.”

“Glad I asked then! The timeline would’ve been thrown off.” 

As the movies progressed, you started to finally feel like you belonged as a part of the family. Laughter came easier to you, mingling effortlessly with the family’s laughter. Every time you laughed at a scene, they would give you a smile and laugh alongside you. Eventually after about halfway through Captain America: The Winter Soldier, everyone had fallen asleep on the couch. Soft snores and the quiet sounds of the occasional fight scene filled the room as your eyelids started to close involuntarily. You looked around the room at the rest of your family. They all looked peaceful in their slumber. Tommy and Tubbo’s protective hold of their arms around your shoulders made you feel safe. It was in that moment that you realized that they would never let anyone hurt you ever again. You were a part of an actual, loving family. With that, you let yourself fall asleep into a peaceful slumber surrounded by the people that loved you the most. 

General taglist:

@crybabyjabby  @izzybobizzy13  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @bunnyz-pxstel  @averytiredfanfictionwriter  @dcml04  @sparkling-gayyyy  @bbigbbrainn  @thaticecreambish  @kiinokochii  @satansphatass  @bxkubitch  @bxmentchildxx  @roxy3457  @montygator17  @feverish-dove  @the-fictionwriters-hairdo  @jichuuchaeng

[kyun-toast]

[ATEEZ] Mafia!San - Will You Join Me?

word count: 2.9k warnings: explicit language, gun use, violence, description of death (not explicit), sexually suggestive, gets a lil steamy summary: cupid has a bullet with your name on it a/n: Y/N a little dramatic and San annoying af. I wrote this in a two hour flash at 2am, so this might be deleted after I reread it tomorrow because I’m pretty sure a lot of this is just me chatting shit.

1. Yoon, David – 12:45 Note to self: likes donuts. probs dunkin’, maybe krispy? idk just look for a man w a paper bag.

“I’ll have to warn you though, the lift is under maintenance, so you’ll have to take the stairs.” The receptionist smiled at you sympathetically. “I can get someone to help you with your suitcase if you’d like?”

“Oh no, it’s ok, I’ll just find another place to stay. I have weak knees anyway.” You forced a laugh and hoped the lady didn’t notice the dead look in your eyes.

“I’m sorry about that, love.”

Turning away with your suitcase in tow, you headed towards the building opposite the hotel and hoped that the rooftop would be easy enough to access.

It was quite irresponsible of you not to have a backup plan. It seemed that being named the sharpest shooter in the underground world had gotten to your head a little, but you argued that a bit of spontaneity never hurt anybody. Though your target would beg to differ.

Being a public building of offices, it was all too easy for you to reach the roof of the building. You found that walking with your held head high and gaze set straight ahead would never get you questioned. Who would ever stop someone with a walk so confident?

Thankfully, the rooftop hadn’t been turned into some garden space: an air-conditioning fan over here, a water tank over there. You checked your wristwatch reading 12:40 and muttered under your breath. The damn hotel lift had taken precious minutes of your time and compromised your view.

You opened your suitcase to set up your sniper, giving your little black cat charm on the side of your gun a squish. Cute.

Sitting on the case with your stock snug against your shoulder, you peered into the scope to get a closer view of the revolving doors to the bank. Oh great, there’s a lamppost in the way.

Mr. Yoon was apparently quite the punctual man, always seen stepping into the bank doors after his lunch break at exactly quarter to one and therefore, your window of opportunity was thin.

“I want it done today or you’re getting sniped yourself, Y/N.” You heard the voice of your boss yap in your head again. Blah blah blah, same old threat. You argued that procrastinating the man’s death was actually something very considerate of you to do.

You heard a familiar clatter of metal hit the floor and you turned your scope to the rooftop opposite to see a man in overalls with his toolbox open on the floor.

“Lift maintenance guy?” You muttered to yourself and wondered if the mechanics of elevators ran all the way through to the rooftop. You made sure that you wouldn’t be in his line of vision and swivelled back to your original position, cursing the man under your breath for ruining your first choice of setup.

12:44

“Come on, Yoon. Lunch time’s almost over.” Your finger lay restless on the trigger, itching to get a glimpse of the bank teller.

20 seconds.

“Krispy or Dunkin’ what will it be today, entertain me.”

10 seconds.

You saw the man turn the corner and waited for him to get a little closer for you to shoot.

5 seconds.

“That’s it, just past the lamppost and you won’t even know what hit y- what the FU-?” You shouted and quickly clasped a hand to your mouth. Mr. Yoon hadn’t even made it past the post, and he was already laying on the pavement in a growing pool of blood.

Calculating the angle in which he was laying, you spun your vision around to the hotel rooftop and saw the maintenance man begin to pack up a sniper back into his toolbox. Taking off his cap, you noticed a flash of white in his jet-black hair and just like he knew you were watching, he turned with a smug grin on his face and shot you some finger guns.

“Oh, you little fucker.” You spat, and watched the man jump down into a hatch to disappear.

You slumped dramatically onto the floor and splayed your limbs to stare blankly at the sky. Never in your life had you ever missed a shot, let alone have it stolen by someone else, and your boss had your phone ringing to rub it in your face.

“That wasn’t you, was it?”

“Listen, what if? You know, what if that was my thirteenth reason? I just couldn’t take it anymore and that was it. No more Y/N. You wouldn’t even come to my funeral, would you?”

“No, I wouldn’t because you’d be too broke to have one. You realise you’re not getting paid for this?”

“Why? He’s still dead?” You sat up in disbelief.

“Well, it turns out someone else wanted him gone too. I can’t lie to our client and say that we did it.”

“You’re oddly moral for someone that runs a hotline for hitmen.”

“I’ll call you if I find you another job.”

“Justice for freelance contract killers.” You muttered weakly as he ended the call. The faint sound of police sirens filled the air as you let out a heavy sigh and lay back on the concrete.

You pictured the man and wondered who it was that would even think to render the notorious Y/N L/N jobless. Though you did have to admit that it was a clean shot.

“Skunk-hair looking ass.”

2. Kim, Seungho – 18:00 Note to self: babysitting. easy target but kid knows NOTHING.

You were stationed by a corner window in an unfinished apartment building with a trainee by your side, setting up his kit.

Stood by the trainee, you scanned to see if everything was in the right place, checking the kid’s posture too. You had been sent by your boss to reluctantly train a young recruit and you joked if you had been demoted following your last predicament. You were never in it for the money though, you lived for the adrenaline.

The boy had potential and you saw it, he just needed to make cleaner shots because three bullets somewhat near the target’s vital organs wasn’t going to cut it.

“What’s your name again?”

“Jisung. Han Jisung.” The recruit replied, his eyes never leaving yours, in absolute awe.

“Eyes on the scope.”

“I’m sorry, nobody told me I’d be getting trained by you. The Seoul Shooter? Like wow.”

“Ew, is that what they’re calling me?”

“Yeah, well I think it’s a pretty cool name, they used to call me ‘Jitman’ in my hometown, not very creati-”

You shushed the boy and tapped his shoulder as you pointed to a small figure in the distance.

“You see him through the scope? Now keep your hand steady, never feel as if you’re being rushed. Death works to your schedule.”

“Got it.” Jisung said, following the man with his gun.

“Ok, on 3… 2… 1…”

You heard the bullet cut through the evening air and hit the target neatly through his office window.

“Bro? That was so clean? That has to be one of the sexiest shots I’ve seen in a while-” You began.

“Uhh, that wasn’t me, Y/N.”

Before you could even process what had happened, you heard the rustle of footsteps patter down the stairs behind you. Taking out your handgun, you moved towards the open door to find the same man you had seen on the hotel rooftop stop in his tracks on the landing. Clad in a fitted black sweater and jeans this time, he looked a whole lot more attractive close up.

“You again?” You exclaimed; gun still pointed at the man as he dropped his duffel bag to raise his hands.

His eyes widened, not in shock, but more with an excited glint in his eyes.

“Oh my, it’s Y/N, the Seoul Shooter.” A coy smile painted his lips as he shook his white fringe out of his eyes.

“See, everyone calls you that.” Jisung interjected from behind.

“Shut up, Han.”

“Word around town is that you’ve been unemployed for some time now,” nodding towards Han, he added, “and it looks like the rumours are true.”

“I’ve actually decided to take a break you know? Let the other kids have a chance at making a name for themselves. Bit of charity work.”

“Y/N kinda got demoted because you keep taking their shots.” Han interrupted again.

“Hey, who told you that?!” You narrowed your eyes at the boy. Han Jisung was a smart ass and you vowed then and there that you wouldn’t take on any more training sessions.

You whipped your head back around to the man eyeing your body up and down.

“My eyes are up here, sir. Unless you really wanna get shot.” You spat.

“Well, I’d die a happy man if you were the last thing I’d see.” He smirked in retaliation and studied your eyes carefully. “Well, my job here is done, I better be on my way. Got a big cheque waiting for me.” He grinned as he reached to grab his bag and carry his way on down the stairs with footsteps too light-hearted for your liking.

“Why didn’t you shoot him?” Jisung asked as you watched the man disappear into the evening.

“I don’t think killing a man for taking my shots is justified.”

“What, and sniping Mr. Kim Seungho just before he gets to feel the bliss of clocking out is?” He laughed. “Do you know what I think, Y/N?”

“What?”

“I don’t know, I’m not going to say anything.”

Han Jisung tormented you the whole drive back to the quarters.

“Y/N and Skunk Man sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes lo-”

Smack.

“Ouch, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I was just kidding.” He laughed as an idea struck him, “K-I-D-D-I-N-”

Smack.

3. Park, Kiha - 10:32 Note to self: bad man. bad, bad man. but big, big cheque.

Having had your last two shots stolen, mystery Skunk Man was beginning to get on your nerves. You were seething to the point that you demanded your boss give you another job, itching to defend your title of being the finest shooter in Seoul.

Laying on the floor of a rooftop hangar, the man had the gall to pop up out of the hatch to set up his station right next to you, as if you were both on some picnic.

"Nice seeing you here today, Y/N." He said, sitting cross legged to mount a scope to the top of his sniper.

Not even bothering to take your eyes off the target, you muttered, "I got here first, you better back off." voice laced with venom.

"Well I've been promised a cheque too, we're all just trying to get fed around here."

Ignoring him, you glanced down at your watch that read 10:31. Any time now, Park Kiha would be walking through the glass bridge to get to his meeting in the twin building.

Steadying your finger against the trigger, you held your breath and counted down from three, two, o-

"I like your cat charm by the way."

You pulled the trigger only for it to stray a little to the right, still hitting your target, just a little less central than you would have accepted.

You shot up from your position to face the man laying on his side, head propped up against his hand to look at you.

"Do you have something against me? Do I even know you?" You exclaimed, carding your gloved hand through your hair.

"No uhh, but I saw your face on a bounty poster once and thought you were cute." He said, attitude too blasé. "That was a nice shot though, I was going to wait a few more seconds."

"So you saw my picture, and started following me around to antagonise me?"

"Nah, I just happened to be super lucky to have been put on the same cases as you. Big bad men have a lot of people after them I guess?"

Throwing your equipment back into your bag, you watched the man proceed to roll over onto his back with his arms behind his head to look up at the sky.

The mid-morning sun cast a golden glow over his skin and though you spent most of your life working with guns, his uniform and kit next to him looked a little different, almost attractive. They suited him a little too much and you thought that if a sleek sniper were to be personified, it would look exactly like this leather clad man.

"I should ask for your number, the way you're looking at me right now, Y/N."

"Good luck, you won't get it." You turned to step down the hatch as he propped himself up again to watch you leave.

Choi, San – 15:25 Note to self: he’s kinda hot tho :/

So, we had finally put a name to the face. As your boss handed you a folder, you were slightly taken aback at the small ID picture pinned to the top of the file.

“You might be a little happy about this one.” He said, taking a sip of coffee. “He’s been recently recruited by ATEEZ as their sniper. Quite a deadly one too. He was scouted shooting pheasants down in the Namhae countryside apparently.”

“Hmm, how much?” You questioned.

“A million dollars.”

“Excuse me? A mill-?” You choked on the air and composed yourself just as quick to nonchalantly lean against the filing cabinet and look out the window, “I don’t know, he didn’t look a million dollars-worth to me.”

“He hasn’t been in the game long, but man has he taken down some big names.”

Though you didn’t necessarily feel too attached to Choi San, you did think that you were going to miss him a little. It was nice having a friend on your level to spar with.

Who were you kidding? You thought he was hot and that it would be a shame to have to shoot him.

But on second thought, you had been itching for the adrenaline in the trigger again, and the million dollars looked a lot sexier to you than some man.

“I’ll take it.”

-

San was all too easy to find. He seemed to enjoy hiding in plain sight since no common person would recognize him in the bustling streets of Gangnam. Nestled in the corner of another rooftop, you zoned in on the recognizable black and white hair sat outside on the terrace of a café.

Once you were ready, you repositioned your finger on the trigger and focused the cross hairs on the familiar head. You were steady until San lifted his head and stared right back at you through the scope, sending you a wink.

“Shit.” You muttered, his actions throwing you off and when you repositioned your aim, he had slipped into the crowd, now lost.

“No, no, no, no, no, Choi San, ugh.” Seeing that he knew what you were up to, you got up to pace around the rooftop. Your mind worked nonstop to find an alternate solution but all you could conclude was to go home, stay low and pick another day to continue.

This man had thrown you into the worst slump of your life, but you were somewhat enjoying the chase and you hated to admit it.

The abrupt sound of a closing of a door behind you had everything clicking into place.

“You pretty motherfucker, had this planned, didn’t you?” You laughed.

Upon hearing the cocking of a gun, you turned to pull out the throwing knife strapped to your thigh and pulled his body in by his collar to reach his throat. And it just turned out that San had the same idea in pushing his handgun up underneath your chin at the same time, faces a little too close.

“I like your beret.” San said candidly, jerking his brow up at the hat on your head.

“Me, too. It’s Marine Serre.”

“Nice choice.”

“I’m going to count down from three and we’re going to drop our weapons, ok? And talk this out like adults because I for one, didn’t wanna kill you.” You bargained.

“Sure.”

“Three, two, one!” The both of you pulled away for a split second in bluff only to reposition your weapons against each other’s throats again.

“I knew it.” San smirked.

“No, for real this time. I mean it.”

“Go ahead, baby.” He smiled as his gaze dropped to your lips.

“Three, two, o-”

San cut you off by leaning into your lips, placing onto them a kiss so intense, almost mirroring the violent nature of the situation. However, what surprised you more was that you let yourself melt back into him. He let his gun clatter to the floor to walk you backwards into the wall behind, hoisting your leg up around his waist.

You broke away from the kiss for air when he smiled, “I mean, it is kinda hot, but I would appreciate it if you could stop holding that knife against my throat right now, Y/N.”

“Ugh, fine.” You muttered as San leaned back in to kiss you whilst roaming his hand around your thigh, ridding you of the rest of your knives and smirking against your lips in satisfaction.

Feeling his bulge grind between your legs, you both only grew more fervent for each other as you kissed.

“Wait, I wanna take you on a date first.” He pulled away to look you in the eye.

“Are you serious right now?”

“Mhmm, to Bar 1117.” He hummed, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“Isn’t that your company’s place…?”

“Yeah, they’re gonna love you.” He whispered, peppering small kisses down your throat.

“Are you trying to recruit me or fuck me, San?”

"I mean, you can kill me now and leave for that million dollars or you can come with me for a new job and that million dollar dick."

"You're unbelievable."

“I heard you were doing freelance anyway, baby.” He looked into your eyes again, a mischievous glow blooming across his face, “So, will you join me?”

-

disclaimer: San’s pie chart hair is one of my all time faves but I also can’t stop thinking that it looks a little skunk-like. In the cutest way. a/n: I've edited this a lot since I posted it and I think I'm gonna keep it

-

Mafia AU Masterlist

[writethelifeyouwant]

Red

Summary: Y/N has been having an infuriating dry spell in the love department lately, thanks to lockdown, and her roommate Jensen is getting fed up with her attitude. So, he lets her in on a little secret…

Pairing: Danneel x Reader Rating: 18+ Tags: female masturbation, talk of male masturbation, phone sex, dirty talk, praise kink, light degradation, lockdown was hard on singletons but great for phone sex operators Word Count: 4.5k Created for: @anyfandomgoesbingo - Sex Hotline AU | @spnkinkbingo - Tribbing

A/N: Requested by @danneelsmain - hope this lived up to your expectations babe! I haven't written Danneel before but I really enjoyed writing this ❤️

“Yes... yes... yesyesyes–”

“Hey, Y/N!” Bang, bang, bang! “Hurry up in there will ya? I’m dyin’ here,” Jensen jiggled the doorknob to no avail, and Y/N was incredibly thankful she’d remembered to lock it this time.

I’m dying here, Y/N thought to herself, pulling the shower head from between her legs with a frustrated huff, the water swirling down the drain carrying the fading vestiges of her almost-orgasm with it. She had been so close. Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Just a minute!” she shouted, frustration tipping over into anger. The knob on the faucet was twisted to the ‘off’ position with unnecessary violence, and the shower curtain was attached at one less ring than it had been half an hour ago when it was yanked open to settle against the back wall of the tub.

Bang! Ban–

“Seriously, Jensen?!” Y/N barely had the towel secured around herself before she threw open the door, hastily ducking to avoid Jensen’s knock-in-progress.

“Thank fuck.” Jensen danced around Y/N and shoved the door shut, sending Y/N slipping across the tiles on her still-wet feet and locking her on the other side. The clearly audible hiss of Jensen relieving himself leaked through the door and Y/N growled in frustration, aiming a kick at the door before stomping down the hallway to her room.

He couldn’t have waited ten more seconds…

It had been bad enough that lockdown got them all stuck at home with no possibility of one night stands, or follow-up booty calls to keep her sex drive in check, but now Y/N was having an even bigger problem. She hadn’t been able to get herself over the finish line for at least two weeks, and she had no earthly idea as to why. Y/N was beginning to think that regular orgasms were part of the reason that she was usually nice to be around, because right now she felt like she was one bad joke away from stabbing somebody.

And that someone was likely to be Jensen.

Tucked up into the corner of the couch was Y/N’s standard position these days. She wasn’t sure what was playing on the TV, something as mindless as she felt right now.

“Budge up.” Jensen hit her feet and flopped back gracelessly on top of them without giving her the chance to move them.

“Ow, asshole!” A pillow whipped through the air and collided squarely with the side of Jensen’s face.

“What is your problem lately?”

“You, clearly,” Y/N snapped, pulling her knees into her chest defensively. Jensen raised a single eyebrow, giving her a pointed look. “No, it’s not you,” Y/N admitted, letting some of her aggression seep out of her frame with her words. “Sorry.”

“What’s up?”

“Nothing, it’s fine.”

There was a stiff silence between them, Jensen waiting for Y/N to break and answer his question and Y/N knowing that she didn’t want to talk about this with Jensen but not seeing a way out of the conversation. Jensen had an irritating habit of getting her to open up about things she never planned on telling people – like the fact that she was gay. And now he was about to hear far more about her sex life than she ever wanted to share with someone of the male species.

“I’m, um,” her cheeks were on fire as she glanced up to see Jensen looking back at her with concerned curiosity. “I’m… having a problem,” she finished lamely.

“Okay…”

“I can’t… Do you ever–” Y/N choked on the words every time they tried to bubble through. “So… um, it’s– it’s been a while.” She saw comprehension flash over Jensen’s freckled face a moment later.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“You know PornHub has a whole section for lesbian shit, right?” Another pillow hits him in the face. “Okay, okay, ow,” Jensen rubs his jaw in exaggeration. “But seriously, it’s been a while for everyone. You just gotta take business into your own hands.”

“You don’t think I’ve been doing that?” Y/N hissed, unconsciously checking around them as if someone else was in their apartment who might overhear.

“Well then what’s the problem?”

“I haven’t like,” Y/N made a variety of nonsequitous hand motions that had no bearing on the word ‘orgasm’ but Jensen seemed to get the message.

“How long?” he cringed.

“Like, almost three weeks? And it’s not like I haven’t been trying like, everything, I just… can’t,” she shrugged helplessly. “Has this kind of thing ever happened to you? Is there something like, physically wrong with me?”

“No, no, I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with you,” Jensen rushed to reassure her, patting her leg awkwardly. “This kind of thing happens all the time.”

“So it’s happened to you too?” Hope shone from Y/N’s face that maybe she wasn’t doomed to a life empty of sexual pleasure.

“Well… no, not exactly.” Y/N’s shoulders drooped, hopes slashed.

“How are you staying so sane?” Y/N accused. “You used to be with a different girl every few days before all of this.”

“Hey! I was not,” Jensen was mock offended but Y/N could tell he was also a little proud. “And I’ve, uh… I’ve got my sources,” his eyes twinkled mischievously as he answered her question.

“Jensen Ross Ackles, have you been sneaking out behind my back!”

“No,” he rolled his eyes, “nothing like that.” Jensen pulled out his phone and started scrolling through the screen as Y/N watched.

“Jen, if you’re trying to show me porn, I’m good. Don’t need to see what you get off to,” Y/N shuddered at the thought. A text beeped on her phone a second later, Jensen’s name popping up on the screen.

“That’s my source,” he explains and she opens the message to see a 1-800 number, next to the word Red.

“Red?”

“Red.” Jensen confirmed with a wicked grin, nodding sagely.

Y/N could not believe she was about to do this. She looked down at the number on her phone screen, ready to dial as soon as she pressed the little green button. Jensen’s assurances echoed in her head. Best phone sex I’ve ever had… she actually gets off with you, she’s not just faking it… sounds so hot, and her body is killer in her profile pic. Admittedly, the picture he’d shown her had been really fucking sexy. A slender girl in small red panties and unfairly pretty breasts cradled in a satin bra covered in little hearts, dark red hair pinned up around her face in a vintage style.

Before she could talk herself out of it again, Y/N pressed dial and held the phone up to her ear. It rang a few times before connecting to an automated menu, and Y/N was secretly relieved she wouldn’t have to ask an operator if she could speak to ‘Red’.

Thank you for calling the Sugar Lips Hotline. Please enter your card details to continue.

Jensen had warned her about this part, so she had her card sitting out of her wallet on the desk in front of her.

If you know who you are trying to reach, please press one. If you would like to be assigned a random operator, please press two.

Y/N shakily pressed the number one, and then put the phone on speaker while she was at it.

If you would like to speak with Candy, press one, followed by the pound key. If you would like to speak with Kitty, press two, followed by the pound key. If you would like to speak with Lance…

Y/N wondered if she would still have the confidence to go through with this by the time the robotic voice mentioned ‘Red’.

If you would like to speak with Red, press thirteen, followed by the pound key.

The moment of truth. Y/N entered the number 13 and then pressed the pound key. The line began to ring again.

“Hi there,” a temptingly soft voice slipped through the receiver of the phone sitting on the desk in front of her.

“Hi-i,” Y/N’s voice was jarring in comparison, breaking on the first word she uttered.

“Oh, so I’ve got a pretty little girl on the line today, huh?” Y/N didn’t know how to answer so she didn’t, hands frozen in a death grip on the sleeves of her too big sweatshirt. “What’s your name, baby?”

“Y/N,” she whispered back, suddenly scared that Jensen would be able to hear every word being said in her room. Quickly digging into her pockets she pulled out her headphones and plugged them into her cell. Why hadn’t she done that earlier?

“That’s such a pretty name, baby,” the woman cooed, and now her voice was right against Y/N’s ears; it felt like she was in the room, whispering against her skin. “I’m Red.”

“That’s what I should call you?” Y/N managed to keep the tremor out of her words this time.

“Unless you want to call me something else? I can be whoever you want me to be baby girl. Mommy, ma’am, mistress…” Y/N’s heart thundered against her ribs. She realised that she had no idea what she wanted from this – she just knew she was desperate. “Or maybe you want to be in charge? I could be your baby, your good little girl.” Y/N wished she could see Red right now, watch what she looked like as she purred all these promises down the line, teasing and tempting.

“Is,” Y/N gulped, “is there anyone you want me to be?”

“Nuh-uh,” she tutted, and Y/N could imagine her shaking her head, red curls flying by her cheeks. “This is all about you Y/N. I’m here to make you feel good.”

Y/N felt a lick of heat curl in the base of her stomach, twisting itself around her intestines.

“Yeah, I could use that,” she laughed nervously, figuring she should be honest if she wanted this to work out well. And she really needed it to.

“Oh, have you been feeling a little pent up baby?” Red’s voice echoed in Y/N’s ears. The small vibrations coming out of her earbuds were enough to start sending a pulsing sensation down the side of her neck, worming its way under her skin and into her veins. Christ, it had been too long.

“You have no idea.”

“Well, I betcha we can fix that. Are you somewhere comfortable sweetie?”

“I could get on the bed?” Y/N offered, wondering why she hadn’t started there in the first place, rather than at her desk.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Red purred seductively. “Why don’t you stretch out on the bed, get yourself nice and cozy. Maybe prop a pillow up next to you and think about me snuggling you in real close. Wish I could be there to put my hands all over your body.”

Y/N was thankful she was already sitting on her bed by the time Red finished painting her little scene because if she’d been walking, she’s pretty sure her knees would have given out.

“Fuck, it’s been so long since I felt another girl’s hands on me.” She tried not to be embarrassed at how whimpery her voice had gone. If this went well it was about to get a whole lot worse anyways.

“I want to touch every inch of you,” Red breathed heavily. “Run my fingers through your hair, over your neck, down your back. Would I find a bra there to unhook, baby?”

“Yeah,” Y/N sighed, arching her shoulders and feeling the band scratch taught around her ribs, pushing her breast up towards her chin.

“Why don’t you take that off for me?”

“Okay,” Y/N felt her voice shake as much as her hands as she reached behind her back to unclasp her bra, breathing deeply when the pressure of the garment disappeared.

“Bet that felt good, didn’t it baby?” Red laughed knowingly.

“Yeah,” Y/N agreed, loosening up a little at the acknowledgement of a shared experience, something all girls could relate to. She pulled her arms through the straps beneath her sweatshirt and shimmying the discarded bra out the bottom before pushing her arms back through her sleeves. The peaks of her nipples tightened as they caught on the pills of fleece that now sat against her chest.

“What else are you wearing?”

Suddenly embarrassed she hadn’t thought to put on anything sexy in preparation for this call, Y/N didn’t manage more than an “um…” before Red laughed, a warm sound that melted into her like chocolate against your tongue.

“Why don’t I tell you what I’m wearing?”

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded before she remembered that Red couldn’t see her. “Bet it’s something really sexy,” she attempted to flirt, cringing at how awkward she sounded.

“Well that depends,” Red mused. “Do you like lace?”

“Yeah,” Y/N breathed. She loved seeing girls in lace lingerie; the way the delicate weave of the pattern offered small tastes of the skin it covered, the way you could feel someone’s warmth seeping through such a thin fabric so easily, the way it felt to have someone touch you or suck you through such a meagre sheet of modesty…

“What about stockings?” Red voice broke through Y/N’s train of thought, pulling her back to the vaguely out of body experience she was having.

“Love them,” Y/N answered quietly, trying to pitch her voice the way Red was, low and alluring.

“Well, that’s a shame,” she sighed dramatically. “Because I’m not wearing anything at all right now, sorry to disappoint.” Y/N couldn’t see her but she would bet anything Red was wearing a big pout right now. She wondered what her lips looked like. In her head she pictured soft and pillowy.

“You are such a tease,” Y/N laughed, hoping to disguise the pang of arousal that had shot through her a moment before.

“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you baby?”

“Yeah, I really do,” Y/N found herself admitting unconsciously.

“Are you gonna keep teasing me, or are you gonna get naked too baby girl?”

A throb of desire fluttered between Y/N’s legs, her pussy clenching, and when she squirmed back into her pillow a little she felt the lace fabric of her own panties sliding a little more between her thighs. Her arousal had started to soak out of her and into the material.

“You want me naked?” Y/N’s words scratched their way out of her throat, trying to pull her confidence along with them.

“Oh god, please baby,” Red moaned loudly, but it didn’t sound fake. It was like Jensen had told her, it sounded like she was really enjoying this, and like she was actually getting off on what was happening between them right now. “Want to feel your skin against mine.”

“I want that too, baby,” Y/N’s hasty breaths shook her words. She stripped out of her underwear and shoved her phone and headphones down the front of her sweatshirt so she could shimmy it over her head without disconnecting the earbuds. She didn’t want to miss anything.

“God, if I was there I would kiss all over you. Bet you taste amazing,” Red sighed, and Y/N could hear something shifting over the phone, like fabric moving around.

“Are you on your bed too?” Y/N asked.

“Yep, all spread out for you baby girl.”

“Are you touching yourself?” Y/N’s confidence was starting to build as she heard how much Red sounded like she’s into this, and she couldn’t deny she was turned on too. She felt wetter than she’d been in weeks, and when her fingers drifted down over her stomach its muscles twitched in anticipation of where she was about to touch.

“Where do you want me to touch?” Y/N let her eyes slide closed, and she could imagine Red batting her lashes as she asked - where do you want me to touch? - She pictured the girl she’d seen in the photo poised over her, legs straddling Y/N’s hips as Red ran her hands over her own body, fingers trailing over her throat, fondling her breasts, twisting around the pink flesh at the tips of each, lingering on the soft of her stomach before dipping lower.

“I want you to touch between your legs and tell me how wet you are,” Y/N said between deep breaths, trying to keep her voice even.

“I’m already so wet for you, baby,” Red gasped, and Y/N hoped it was a reaction to her fingers slipping inside her pussy.

“If you were here with me, what would you do right now?”

“I’d make you watch me fuck myself on my fingers.” Holy shit, Y/N couldn’t help the moan that bled through her lips, and she heard Red chuckle. “Yeah, you like the sound of that baby?”

“Mm-hmm,” Y/N whimpered, her own fingers finally making their way between her legs and sliding easily through the slick she found there.

“I’d straddle myself right over your face, so you could see my fingers fucking my pussy, feel me dripping on you.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“And then, when my fingers are nice and soaked, you’re gonna suck them clean like a good little girl, aren’t you sweetheart?” Red’s monologue was absolutely wrecking Y/N, she wanted everything the woman on the end of the line was describing so badly. “Want you to do it to yourself, since I can’t be there to do it for you. Can you get those fingers nice and wet for me baby?”

“Fuck, yeah, okay.” Y/N pushed two fingers inside her pussy, clenching around them wantonly. She must have let out some kind of noise because Red giggled again before she continued talking.

“That’s it, fuck yourself for me baby girl, until I can do it for you.” And fucking hell, the thought of Red actually with her, touching her, fucking her… “Your fingers nice and dirty now?”

“Mm-hmm,” Y/N squeaked, pressing against her g-spot to get herself even wetter.

“Good girl,” Red hummed. “Now suck them clean for me, Y/N. Want you to taste just how sweet you are. God, wish I could taste you too,” she moaned, her breath hitching.

Y/N obeyed Red’s instructions, sucking her fingers into her mouth and twirling her tongue around them, curling it across the dips and whorls of her fingertips. She groaned around the digits in her mouth, trying to make it audible that she was doing as she was told.

“Good girl,” Red cooed again, obviously hearing Y/N’s sucking. “Good filthy girl. You’re so dirty aren’t you baby, bet you’re dripping onto the sheets right now you’re so horny.”

“Oh my god,” Y/N felt her whole body clenching as she pushed her hand back between her legs, toying with her clit and sending fresh jolts of desire to her core. “Fuck, I’m touching myself again. Couldn’t help it, you’re so hot baby.”

“I want you to touch yourself sweetie. Want you to make yourself feel so good.”

“I want you to feel good too,” Y/N whimpered, maybe stupidly, but she remembered Jensen saying that Red got off with him and she wanted the same thing. She wanted to know that Red wanted her, that Red found her sexy. She didn’t want to be in this alone.

“Oh, I am feeling so good baby girl,” Red assured Y/N, her voice brimming with sincerity and whimpers to back it up. “Fucking myself so good, pretending it’s your fingers inside me.”

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Y/N couldn’t come up with anything more eloquent than that. The more she played with herself the foggier her brain got.

“What are you imaging right now?”

“Thinking about you, you on top of me.”

“You want me on top, huh? Want me to hold you down a little, baby?”

“Mm, yeah,” Y/N sighed, slipping two fingers from her free hand down to her entrance and pushing them inside, keeping her other hand on her clit, rolling it between her fingers. “You could hold me down, grind yourself against me. Use me to get yourself off.” Y/N’s breathing was ragged now, and the fingers inside her pussy sought out her g-spot again, starting to focus their efforts a little more concertedly on the spongy bundle of nerves.

“Oh sweetie, that’s so hot, fuck,” Red moaned heavily, her breath catching on her curse. “I’d grind against you so good. Rub our pussies together, all slick and hot, grind my clit against yours nice and hard. Fuck, touch your clit for me baby.”

“I am,” Y/N gasped, drawing fast little circles over the nub between her legs. “Fuck, want all that so bad. Think you could come like that? Just from rubbing your pussy on me, getting me all wet and dirty?”

“Fuck yes, love rubbing my pussy on yours, love grinding our clits together. I could tease you so good. Go nice and slow, wonder how long you’d last before you start begging me to let you cum.”

“I’m close,” Y/N whimpered, surprised at how true it was. She hadn’t gotten so close to cumming this quickly in ages.

“Already baby? You naughty little girl,” Red groaned, and the sound of bed springs crackled through Y/N’s earbuds too. Y/N pictured Red arching off the bed, fucking her hips into her fingers. “You want to cum for me baby?”

“Fuck, yes, yes please,” Y/N begged, feeling the muscles in her thighs and stomach starting to constrict, heat singing through her veins.

“Not yet baby, keep fucking yourself.” Y/N let out a pathetic whine in protest. “You can do that for me, can’t you sweetie. Fuck yourself on those pretty little fingers for me?”

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

“Good girl, I’m so fucking close baby.”

“Fuck, please, want you to cum. Want you to cum with me.” Y/N’s eyes squeezed tight as small pinpricks of light started to burst in the darkness of her vision.

“Gonna cum for you, baby girl,” Red cried, voice high and tight. “Fuck, I’m gonna squirt, I can feel it. Gonna squirt all over your pussy, fucking soak you.”

“Oh my god,” Y/N felt like she might actually start crying, she needed to cum so badly. She was so so so close.

“Rub that little clitty, pretend it’s me rubbing up against you. All hot and wet,” her voice was breaking, her words short and breathless, and Y/N could tell Red was as close as she was. “Gonna cum all over you. Fuck, gonna squirt so hard bet I could actually cum inside you.”

“Holy fuck!” Y/N’s hips snapped into the air, searching for the imaginary body she wished was there. It was becoming hard to hear through the intense buzzing in her ears. Every nerve in her body was pulled taut, ready to snap.

“Cum for me Y/N, c’mon baby, you can do it, want you to cum for me like the good little girl you are baby, c’mon.”

Y/N was sobbing, wrist pistoning her fingers in and out of herself faster than she ever remembered being able to move, and she felt the walls of her pussy clamping down, trying to keep the pressure inside where it wanted it. And then she couldn’t take it anymore. Everything froze. She might have screamed, but to be honest she couldn’t be too sure, because she couldn’t hear anything except the white light that had flooded the dark space behind her eyelids.

Lockdown became much more bearable after that day. Though Y/N did have to try really hard to not think about the fact that she and Jensen were kind of fucking the same girl. In a way. It was weird. But if she ignored that part, then her ‘dates’ with Red were perfect. She was finally able to release all the tension, sexual and otherwise, that this whole mess had building up in her system constantly. And eventually, the world started to open back up and things started to get just a little bit easier.

Y/N wondered what she would do when lockdown was well and truly over. When the bars and clubs opened up again, would she and Jensen go out and try to hook up like they always had before? Would everything just go back to normal? Would she still want to call Red if she was getting actual sex with a real girl, and not just her hand or a bit of silicone? Yes. The answer was most definitely yes, Y/N had to admit to herself. Even though it was just phone sex, it was still some of the best sex she’d ever had.

Well, Red is a professional, she thought to herself wryly as she spooned some froth onto the top of the cappuccino she was making. The coffee shop she worked at had reopened last week, finally.

“Y/N! Can you jump on register while I take my break?” Michelle called from the end of the counter.

“Sure thing,” Y/N smiled and wiped her hands off on her apron, making her way behind the other baristas to the cash register. She briefly glanced at the line of people waiting to order – a couple of college kids carrying some scary looking textbooks, a portly man scratching his bald patch, a pretty girl with shiny hair and awesome winged liner. Y/N blushed as she caught the eye of the girl, and immediately looked back at her tablet, typing in her register code.

“Hi there, what can I get you?” Y/N’s customer service voice was alarmingly cheery, and the two college guys blinked, startled, clearly still unused to interacting with humans again – Y/N knew the feeling, cringing internally. She made a note to dial the pep back a little.

“Hey, what can I get you?” It was the pretty girl at the front of the line now.

“Um, I’ll have a caramel latte, please,” she answered with a bright smile, red lips stretching across shockingly white teeth.

“Size?” Y/N asked, tapping the order into her tablet.

“How big can you make it?” the girl giggled, and Y/N looked up, something tugging at the back of her mind.

“Um, large?” Y/N answered absentmindedly, trying to figure out what was bugging her so much. The girl just nodded, politely accepting the fact that Y/N had skated over her joke. “Can I get a name for the order?” She grabbed the large sized cup and uncapped the marker, hand poised over the white cardboard, ready to write.

“Oh, sure. It’s Danneel.”

“Danielle?” Y/N asked, her mind still wandering.

“No, Dan– you know what, it’s a weird name. Just go with Red.”

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[shereadsandwritesformelanin]

The Baker And Her Actor: part Vii [Needy]

Paring: Chris Evans x Black! Fem reader

Summary: You meet Chris while making a house delivery for the Evans. He can’t get you off his mind and to be honest neither can you.

Wanings: profanity and sexual content, but overall fluff

Notes: I hope you guys enjoy! If you have any request be sure to send them my way! P.s thank you so much for all the support, I’m growing so fast I’m trying to keep up and pump out as much as I can! 😭🤩 Love and appreciate you all!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[listen to the songs for this chapter/part!]

We get to see more of what our bby boy thinks this chapter!!

T/W: if you struggle with anxiety like me and Chris here is a hotline that actually works, it helps to talk to someone not go through it alone! :)

-

It had been five days since Chris had been gone for the Avengers Endgame press tour. It took a little adjusting for you to get use to his abscene, you’d never had a boyfriend who would be gone for more than nine hours for work. So it was definitely difficult for you.

Luckily Chris suggested you stay at his place with Haneli and watch dodger so you wouldn’t feel so far away from him.

You decided to call your boyfriend considering you hadn’t talked to him since yesterday afternoon mostly his fault because he hadn’t been responding.

Maybe he was just really slammed.

You pick up your phone dailing his number anxious with it ring that passes. “Hey, Goodmorning baby.” You greet through the phone

“Goodmorning.” Chris’s voice was usually hoarse in the morning but this was different almost bored and distant.

“Everything going okay, you’ve been kind of distant with me lately. Wasn’t sure if press was going okay.” You ask trying to discover what the problem dealt was.

“Yeah everything is fine, sorry I’ve just been jet lagged.” Chris explains.

It all made sense, of course he was tired and not just ignoring you for shits and giggles.

“I understand. Dodger is doing amazing you should see him with his sister.” You say switching the tone of the conversation.

“Bet he is.” Chris chuckles somberly.

“Maybe you should get more rest.” You suggests

“Yeah, I think I will. Call me tonight.” Chris speaks

“You can call me.’ You sass. “Catch up later, I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” Chris admits befor hanging up.

Truthfully Chris did really miss you. He missed your smile, your lips, your warmth and optimizium, which he could use right now.

These tours weren’t the highlight of his job as captain America. Same questions different interviews it was truly draining. He could tell you were trying but he just wasn’t in the mood and he didn’t want to take it out on you.

-

Chris’s Point Of View:

I walk off the set of yet another dull interview heading toward my dressing room to be picked up for my next bland interview with Jimmy Fallon.

I feel a light tap on my shoulder turning my head to face the direction the sensation had occurred from.

Scarlett.

“So you gonna tell me why you’ve been all sour faced today?” She teases eyebrow cocked waiting for my response.

“Just tired that’s all.”

“Just tired that’s all.’ She mimics “Cut the bullshit Evans I know you and I know when somethings bothering you.”

“It’s just.’ I sigh sucking in a deep breath “I’ve been seeing this woman and she’s amazing no complaints but it’s just she’s being a little clingy right now and my anxieties getting to me bad Scarlett.” I admit forehead resting in my fingertips

Scarlett places her hand on my back rubbing it sympathetically. “How is she being clingy?” She asks

I reach into my pocket pulling out my cellphone showing her the various missed calls from you and unanswered text messages.

“So your ignoring her?” Scarlett coments.

“Not ignoring I’m just exhausted and need a break.” I confess

“A break from her, or this.” She says motioning to all the cameras and lights that stood behind us.

She was right, I need to differentiate and fast.

“ I don’t know.” Was all I could muster up to say before walking away to my car that was outside.

God don’t do anything stupid Chris.

-

I walk into my hotel room kicking off my shoes and striking into a white tee and my boxers. I head towards the master bedroom slipping in between the sheets before dialing your number to facetime.

“Hey babe.” You say a huge smile plastered on your face. “Look whose here.” Panning to dodger who was on the bed napping as usual.

I can’t help but let a smirk surface on my face. I loved their relationship dodger was just so comfortable he might even love you more than he did his old man.

“Hey bubba!” I say watching dodger immediately perk up and get excited.

“He misses you, so do I.” Y/n states

“I miss you too.” I respond

“Do you.” She whispers almost so low I couldn’t hear her.

“What?” I question in disbelief that you thought that.

“Nothing, I shouldn’t have said that.” You retract

“No maybe you should have if that’s how you’re feeling.” I say practically scrolling you now.

The both of you always talked about never hiding your feelings from each other, always been expressive so things didn’t blow over.

“Chris, I only say this because you’ve been distant I mean I called you how many times this week and how many times did you answer!” Y/n went on.

“I’m busy y/n what did you expect.” I reasoned

“Yeah but you have time to tweet pictures of dodger and your cast. To big time for your girlfriend though.” Y/n snarled

That’s it.

“You know what i get this is difficult for you but it’s difficult for me too! Don’t you think I miss you? Because I do, I really fucking do!’ I thundered.

“Why are you yelling at me?” Y/n quips

“Don’t try and make me bad guy. All I’m saying is I do miss you, but I don’t I just don’t need someone who’s going to be clingy and consumed in my life.” I snap, immediately regretting the words that fell from my mouth.

The phone call went silent. Almost like the two of you were processing what Chris had just said.

“You don’t need someone who cares about you, right. Well enjoy finding someone who doesn’t give a shit about the real you and only wants you because you’re Chris Fucking Evans, Goodbye!” She roars

“Y/n!” I shout but it’s too late you already hung up.

“Damn it!” I shout chucking my phone across the room.

I was boiling. I wasn’t mad at you I hated myself for alllowing my anxiety to control me and say something so stupid like that.

I really fucked up.

-

Y/n’s Point Of View:

You slam my phone down on the night stand, slipping deeper into the covers bundling yourself and your tears up into the comforters.

You let all the tears of anger, fustration, and confusion soak the pillows. Your head stung with every word you replayed in your head.

Chris had never shouted at you, hell he hadn’t even raised his voice at you before. So him going completely psycho not only scared you but broke you.

One thing you know was that you didn’t want to be here any more and you didn’t want to be alone.

“Can I come over?” You sniffle into the phone.

“Yeah of course.”

You leash up the dogs slipping on your shoes and grabbing your bags heading out the door.

What am I doing.

-

You walk up to door and you didn’t even have to knock before the door came swinging open.

Deacon standing behind it.

“Hey.” you whisper voice sore from the yelling and crying you had just participated in. “Hope you don’t mind I brought extra guest.

“No I don’t mind at all.” Deacon speaks shooting you a small smile taking your bags.

Deacon wraps a warm blanket around you, making his way back to stove removing the kettle of boiling water.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asks pouring you a cup of tea

You sigh. “I just, I don’t understand what I did wrong. I mean was I too clingy or was I being a good girlfriend?”

All though it pained Deacon to see you with him, he was glad you were happy for the most part. But this, this made his blood boil.

From the moment you hired him Deacon had always been protective of you, so he definitely wanted to punch Chris straight in the mouth right about now.

“I don’t think you were being clingy, I think if he is gonna have a wonderful girlfriend like you he should know how to balance you and work.” Deacon speaks taking a sip of the tea he’d just prepared

You nod at his statement but instantly shoot back to that day.

That day you found Chris awake at 3 in the morning. Sitting on the kitchen floor, face dull of emotion. The day you had to cradle him and help sooth him. The day he told you he suffers from anxiety.

You knew that’s what was eating him up.

“I don’t want to be to harsh, he has a lot on his plate.” You speak making an excuse for him.

“Y/n.’ Deacon says taking your hand in his. “No matter what he’s going through he shouldn’t treat anyone like that, especially you.” He places his hand on your chin lifting it upwards kissing your temple.

“Goodnight.” His voice rings

“Goodnight.”

Deacon aburptly stops in his tracks turning back toward you. “Hey y/n, just make sure this is what you really want. It’s only going to get more real from here.”

You draw in a deep sigh palming yourself in the face.

Was he right?

-

It had been a solid fourty eight hours since you’ve spoken to Chris, mostly your fault because he’s definitely been reaching out. With every call you hit and send to voicemail, You’re just not ready.

“Everything good girl?” Kiara asks slipping next to you behind the counter.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You lie

“Okay, well I’m gonna go to the back and check on the chocolate chip cookies.” She says unconvinced that you were actually fine.

Same way you were faking to convince yourself if you are actually fine.

Nope you weren’t.

Snap out of it y/n you’ve got work.

“Next costumer—.” You stammer Chris now standing in front of you giving you those deep ocean eyes hidden underneath his infamous Boston baseball cap.

“I’ll take an original house donut with a side of conversation with my girlfriend please.” Chris speaks attempting to lighten the mood.

You walk over bagging his donut giving it a harsh squeeze before shoving it into the packaging. “Unfortunately we’re out of a side of conversation with your girlfriend.” You sass practically chucking the donut at Chris.

“Not that I was your girlfriend anymore anyways.” you mutter ringing him up.

“What?”

“What?’ Don’t remember what you said to me?” You scrowl

Chris did remember in fact he thought about it every minute. He thought about what he could have said and done better, it drove his anxiety through the roof having you upset with him.

“I’m sorry.”

You scoff. “Yeah.”

“Were you upset?” Chris asks head hung low, you could tell he was really apologetic.

You sigh. “Yes, very.’ You admit “To the point were I went to the last place I thought I’d ever be.”

Chris crosses his arms unsure of what you meant and where this place was. “Where would this place be?”

“Deacons house.” You whisper ashamed to have said that.

“So we have a fight and you run to another mans house?” Chris shouts

He was right. You shouldn’t have gone over there knowing deacons feelings for you and having respect for Chris. Yet and still your pride had gotten in the way and you wouldn’t admit you were wrong, it was his fault we were in this fight anyway.

Right?

“So I ask you about your day and car about you and you shut me out?” You reply getting even louder than he previously was.

You could tell he was holding back, having restraint with his tounge.

At this point the remanding costumers in the bakery were starting to get quiet listening in on the action. Low whispers began as Chris’s cover had been blown.

“I should go, not sure why I even came.” He spat storming out.

Watching him leave sent a familiar pang to your heart almost as strong as the night of your intial fight.

Your eyes swell with tears.

I need a break.

“Kiara!” You croak

She peers out from the back with a sympathetic look on her face, you assumed she’d been listening and heard everything. “It’s okay go I’ve got this.”

You nod thanking her before running off and breaking down, again.

-

The plan was when Chris got back you would return dodger. That never happened because you two were both very stubborn, but it was his dog so the least you could was return dodger.

“Come on bubba, lets go see daddy.” You say leashing dodger up packing him in your car

Gosh saying that didn’t even feel right.

The drive over to Chris’s you thought about the altercation.

You thought about what you said, what he said. And if it was really that big of a fight to hold a grudge.

Maybe you were a bit to harsh on him, maybe.

You pull into his drive way. Taking dodger out of the car, he gave you a spare key but it didn’t feel right to use it considering your current situation.

You ring the doorbell. Bringing back so many memories of when the two of you first laid eyes on one another.

There he was handsome as ever. You melted whenever you looked into those eyes.

Don’t be weak.

You sigh. “I thought I would bring dodger since you haven’t swung by.” You explain avoiding eye contact

The tension was thick.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” He speaks dryly

“Well I’ll get out of your hair.” You state turning on your heels walking toward your car.

You hear him sigh banging his fist against the door frame, stopping you in your tracks. “Y/n. I don’t want to fight.’ He breaths. “I’m sorry, I fucked up and it was never my intention to treat you like that. You don’t deserve that.”

You were stuck. You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t.

You walk over to him cupping his face pulling him in crashing your lips onto his.

He’s a lucky man because typically you wouldn’t have done this, it usually would have ended the moment any man raised there voice above a whisper at you.

Your lips moved in a familiar sync. Chris brings you through the door frame shutting the door behind the two of you. He picks you up carrying you to the kitchen table never loosing hold of your lips.

“I’m.”

“Sorry.” You mutter through the messy kiss

“I know.” Chris says lifting your shirt off

“Let’s not fight.” You plead hands running through his hair.

He shoots you a small smile before returning his lips to yours.

“I love you.” Chris says pushing into your slick flods.

“I know.” You moan.

He stops causing you to sigh. You knew what he wanted.

Here I go.

“I love you too dummy.” You tease

“Mmhm.” Chris hums thrusting into you.

The two of you made sweet love all night, forgiving each other through each position. Ending the night with a long shower.

How did you go from not knowing who Chris Evans was to laying in his arms?

-

A/n: Whewwww this took some time to right. I wanted to make sure they made up because per the man of the hour (Chris says he doesn’t like to go to bed angry with a girlfriend) and whats a better way to make up?

Looks like the two are in love, so what’s next? 😏

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[dailyaudiobible]

08/09/2020 DAB Transcript

Ezra 8:21-9:15, 1 Corinthians 5:1-13, Psalms 31:1-8, Proverbs 21:1-2

Today is the 9th day of August welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I’m Brian it is great to be here with you as we collectively reach out and twist the knob and throw open the door and step into this new week together, shiny and sparkly, all new out in front of us just waiting for us to write the story of our lives upon as we go through this week. And, so, it's great to be here with you at this threshold as we step into the new week and as we invite God's word to speak into this week and tell us what we need to know as we continue to navigate forward. So, brand-new week, which means we’ll read from a different translation. This week we’ll read from the English Standard Version and we will pick up where we left off yesterday. Ezra chapter 8 verse 21 through 9 verse 15.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for bringing us across this threshold into a brand-new, shiny, sparkly week and we refer to it that way because it's a new beginning, and we just…we have these markers along the way that make up the story of a year and the beginning of each week is one of those markers and we have 52 of those markers and we know this, we gauge our lives kind of around the rhythm of the year and we thank You that we have that and we thank You that we have Your word involved every single day. And, so, as we cross…cross every threshold we are reminded all things have been made new. Every threshold is a new start and here we are at one of them. And, so, we become aware of Your presence, we become aware of Your Holy Spirit's guidance in our lives and we seek to follow Your direction and Your counsel every moment of this brand-new shiny sparkly new week. We need You. We’re not going to navigate this successfully without You. We can't navigate the next five minutes successfully without You. And, so, come Holy Spirit, we become aware of You and we invite You to lead us in every way possible as we move into this new week. Come Jesus we pray. In Your precious name, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is home base and it’s the website – say that every day - and that might get like old…it might get old, but there are new…there are new friends, there are new brothers and sisters every day. And, so, if this is your first day, welcome! Welcome to the adventure of a lifetime. And one of the places to find out what’s going on around here and what this all is is dailyaudiobible.com. So, check that out.

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And, if you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, thank you. Our mission collectively, the thing that we call the Global Campfire is to bring God's spoken word to anybody who will listen to it any time of day or night anywhere on this planet and to make a rhythm, a rhythm of our lives, something that speaks into our lives every day and to build community around that so that it’s not like some kind of solitary adventure that we can barely call an adventure because we don't really know what's going on. We know we’re not in this alone. We are in this together. And if that is a life-giving thing than thank you for your partnership. So, there's a link on the homepage at dailyaudiobible.com or you can press the Give button in the app, which is in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

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And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

DAB family this is Jordan in Texas just wanted to say to Standing Firm in South Carolina your…your kind of confession that when you make calls you in one way or another kind of make it about yourself, you know, recognition or wanting to look important. And I just want to thank you for saying that. It took courage and boldness and you saying that to all those others who may feel that way you’re not alone. And, so, that’s me because I was actually thinking about doing the same thing, saying something. And, so, I do say that now, just confessing that…that like the three or four times I’ve called in to pray for others kind of having that feeling of, “I hope I hear” you know “I hope I hear a little bit of accolades about how cool my prayer was.” And it’s ridiculous and embarrassing and I just want to bring that before you guys and the Lord. And anyways, I…I also want to just by way of you guys getting to know me because I love getting to know you, ask for prayer for my marriage. My wife just had our second son, he’s 16 days old and, you know, just the emotions and hormones kind of can swing one way or another and I lose patience with her and get short with her and even knowing that…that her hormones are kind of up and down and whatever it just…there’s…it’s hard for me to give her grace. And I know that comes from wounding in my life. And anyways if you’d pray for that. And also please my older son he’s 2 ½ and he’s so sweet and so gentle with baby brother Benjamin and…but Caleb is just having a hard time adjusting…

Hello this is All the Treasures from Wyoming and I have an urgent prayer request please for anybody who hears this message. There’s a young lady here who is in our ICU hospital her name is Emily and she developed blood clots and those blood clots broke loose and went into her heart and she almost died. They had to do emergency surgery and she almost bled out and she’s in really bad shape. And anybody who hears this message, if you could please pray for her. I don’t know if she knows the Lord, but I’ve been praying that He would meet her right where she’s at and that she would live to tell about it and have a wonderful testimony of His goodness. Please join me in praying for her. Again, her name is Emily…

Hello everybody this is Tony the Narrator. Michael and Elijah, please let us know how you guys are getting on now. You know, this…we…we your’re…you’re still in many of our prayers, probably the majority of us pray for you. We love you we miss you. Please let us know what’s going on. And a big shout out to everybody else, you all know who you are. Thank you so much for the prayers for my brole life and I promised you my testimony. So, with a minute and 23 seconds here we go. So, on November the 24th, 2009 I was doing 65 miles an hour in a 70 mile or road on my motorbike going for a job interview with an electricity company where I was going to be going door to door going, “do you want to change your electric company?” All right by then…which I was actually really looking forward to. But anyway, so this guy in a van pulled out in front of me and my groin hit the fuel tank at 65 miles an hour, I broke my pelvis in four places, my spine, I broke my wrist in four places, my thumb was hanging backwards, I broke both my hands - various different breaks. I did…I bruised my lungs, I bruise my ribs, I did soft tissue damage in various different places and also brain damage. I should be dead. I was bleeding out and laying there, I ended up having to have four pints of blood that day. I shouldn’t be here and my dad got on the phone and he said, “son, if you don’t become a Christian you’re gonna die!” Just like God’s Smile he’s from Lancaster too. And, so, I became a Christian that day. Praise the Lord. I love you guys, God bless…

Heavenly Father I pray that You would set all those free who are struggling with anxiety, depression, and mental illness. You have the power to set us free, so I ask that of You right now. I also pray You would give direction to those who don’t yet know You and what their calling is in life. I also pray for all those who don’t know You yet and have hardened hearts toward You. I pray that You would soften their hearts and bring people into their lives to speak truth. Allow them to be open to the gospel to hear Your good news and Your powerful news. In Your powerful name.

Hi, so I’ve never done this before, but I thought it was a good opportunity to try it out. So, my parents moved recently and because of that they both had to quit their jobs. And luckily my mom was able to find something again, but my dad has really been struggling. It’s really taken a toll on him. He is a man who needs to feel like he’s doing something, like he’s contributing, like…like he has a purpose. And, so, it’s been really hard for him and for us seeing him like this. And I would just ask that whoever hears this will stand in agreement with me, will pray with me, not just that my dad would get work but that he would get something that he is passionate about, something that is worthwhile and that he would just keep good spirits and keep on praying and keep talking to the Lord about it and that he won’t just isolate himself and, you know, give into that feeling of uselessness. Thank you very much.

Hi this is Teresa from Indiana God bless you all. I just want to mention a couple people. I feel like I’m just growing so close to everybody. I’ve never met one of you but we’re all so connected. Mike…Mike I’m just proclaiming every day. I’m praying for you and am proclaiming that Annie is delivered from drugs. She is whole and that baby is healthy. In the name of Jesus, I’m…I’m…I’m proclaiming it every day. The Bible says to call those things that aren’t as though they were. So, I am doing that, and she is delivered from drugs in the name of Jesus. She’s whole, she’s healthy, she saved, she’s delivered, and you have peace in the name of Jesus. Daniel from Singapore, O, God bless you sweetheart. That’s so precious, so precious. I’ve just listened to that song and your prayer every single day. This is August the 6th. So, it’s been like four days later and I’m still listening to it. I’m going back to it. It’s…it’s so precious. Remember all the things that David the great man of the Bible went through, David and Paul. The Psalms, how many times there was an attempt on David’s life. My husband preached last night so many times someone was trying to kill him he was crying out to God. So many things that Paul went through, you know, being stoned and shipwrecked and all the things that he went through being in prison for so long for nothing just for loving Jesus and proclaiming his good news. And, you know, we have to go through these things I guess because we wouldn���t be who we are without…without the fires and the trials in our life. It makes us closer to God. It brings…we pray more it…it just…it just…it just molds us into who we are. We need that. I love you guys. God bless you.

[kawaiipickle]

So here’s my story about my trainwreck business trip with my boss to Paris...

it’s kinda long but i would appreciate some opinions on what happened

Let me start from saying, that I didn’t want to go from the very beginning. No one even asked me if I’m interested in going, I found out basically by accident and I was always the last to know about everything regarding this trip. We were going for a trade show with our brand. The show was starting on Saturday, we were flying on Friday. I got my tickets and accommodation infos basically on Thursday night - very comfortable thing when u have anxiety, right? 

So I was supposed to meet my boss lady in Warsaw and go with her to the airport. That part went well. We got to the airport, we went through security check point, found our gate and had some time till boarding. About 10mins before our boarding should start I’ve realised that Paris was changed into berlin on the gate info panel. When I asked what happened, they casually told me that the flight got cancelled and we need to go to rebook it. Not a single info about the cancelation whatsoever!Turned out about 7 different flights were canceled and a few more delayed. SO the queue to the airline customer service desk was 274759275 miles long.

 We’ve waited more than 2h until we got to the contour. And the 1st sec my boss was about to get to it - they’ve closed the window for a break.Yes, exactly. Even ppl around us were laughing at this point that it’s prolly a sign that we should not go at all.But my boss was on the hotline with the other boss, looking for other transportation options and in the end she rescheduled our flight to Brussels and decided that we will borrow a car there and go to Paris by car. In the middle of the night. 

SO - we got to Brussels around midnight. We rented a car. A car my boss didn’t rly know how to drive so it was fun... But we were on our way. And all the way to Paris, 3h long, my boss was telling me literally everything about her current divorce and affair with her new guy. Things i rly should not know about, things I do NOT care about, things she can’t stop talking about to me for some damn mysterious reason. 

 Anyway, we got to Paris around 4am. We had booked hotel room in some weird no-service hotel, where you get in on code, there are no people on reception, only computer and so. We found it after some searching, fought a little with putting our car into the garage and finally got into the lobby to get our key. VERY ewwww lobby let me say.  

And then the computer said we have a reservation, but only for 1 night. Another surprise, cool! But we took the key anyway, decided to resolve it later. At this point we were absolutely exhausted and only dreamed about some bathroom and bed. First we tried using a lift, but some buttons were ripped off. So we used the stairs. Found our room. Got inside. And then a man who was sleeping on the bed looked at us and asked “qu'est ce que??” And said that he is renting this room for a week and will stay more. So we left, absolutely stunned and mortified cuz if he was living there how tf we were able to get the keycard????

At this point I was almost sure I will try to get 1st ticket back to Poland and call it a day.So my boss called the hotel hotline, they ofc said they have no booking for us and bullshit like that, booking com promised to find something else for us, etc etc. 

But i personally had other urgent issue. And it’s embarrassing, but I will say it all anyway. I rly needed to use the bathroom to go make number 2. Badly. On our way to Paris esp by the end of it, there were almost no open gas stations or stuff like that so I’ve decided to wait till the hotel. Even my boss was desperate and basically stopped by the road and took a piss behind the car. And now we were sitting in the lobby, roomless, and there was no bathroom for guests in the whole hotel. So I’ve decided, in sheer desperation, to go outside and maybe find some bushes. So fucking humiliating!

 But it wasn’t all. I walk around one block and at first it was empty. But then suddenly the street was filled with cars and people, obv drunk, screaming and throwing bottles, and i swear to god! i've even heard something like gunshots. I. WAS. TERRIFIED. There was some weird sht going on on one parking i was passing by and I was seriously so scared for my life. I’ve sneaked back through some bushes that i also used finally as a bathroom and headed back to the hotel. Some men were shouting at me from their car but I managed to get back inside.

My boss said that they are still working on finding us new accomodation and as soon as we’ll get it, we will just take a shower, change our clothes and go straight on the show. With no rest. I said I’m booking a flight back to PL right this instant if she won’t let me rest after all this bullshit.

 We left the creepy hotel and for another 2h were driving around Paris, trying to find ANYTHING open where we could get a coffee or just sit down and get our sht together. But absolutely everything was still closed. Meanwhile booking com offered us a room in a hotel from the same company, just in different place. SURE! We were absolutely exhausted, I almost felt like i was drunk, my head was spinning like that and I couldn’t keep my eyes opened. In the last act of desperation we went to the hotel we were staying in during our previous business trip. And they saved us, literally, cuz they had some extra “secret” room for emergency situations and they offered us one.

So i finally could take a shower and got 1h of sleep. And booked my flight back home. I told my boss that I’m fine with staying but I refuse to work without getting some rest. She said that in this case I can go home as I’m “useless and I do nothing else than tell her about my troubles she doesn’t want to hear about”. When I told her literally just two things this whole trip - one when we met that I’m having severe migraines now because of the heat and back problems [something i told both bosses before as something im concerned about regarding this trip] and that I’m too exhausted to work when she refused my rest time request. But I need to sit for couple hours to listen about all her love drama...OK.

Needless to say, my way back home was smooth and easy, everything went as planned in amazing contrast to what happened before.  I’m home and i’m exhausted and still just in disbelief how it all went down. I know I will never ever ignore my intuition like that, if I feel like I should not be doing something the way I did here, I won’t do it. Period. Idk if I will have any troubles at work because I came back like this, but I don’t really care. I’m looking for a new place anyway. That was just so insane…

Do you think I overreacted with going back? Do you think I should have stayed? I’m really curious. I feel that I did the right thing but I still have these doubting thoughts

[crssroad]

Morphine

Somebody was calling him now from the other side of the door. The voice was distant compared to the splashes the shower was making as water cascaded down its nozzle. But none of that existed to him at that moment. His head was floating high above the clouds at incalculable altitudes, with his eyes wide open, staring blankly at the plain beige ceiling, seeing nothing but an empty void in front of him. He felt weightless, he was weightless. Though one could observe his palms pressed tightly on the cold bathroom tiles, he felt nothing, almost as if he was grasping thin air. His legs, thin, gangly, and shuddering against the tiled floor, were at the brink of collapsing under his fragile state, when he was sent back to lucidity by her cries.

“Peter!” his wife cried banging the door at the other end, “Wake up! Wake up, Peter!”

Suddenly his eyes shot open, slowly readjusted to the bright white fluorescence of the bathroom. His senses still quite foggy and his breath disoriented by the heaviness in his chest. With a sharp in take of breath, his cheeks blossomed back to color, almost like having a soul being brought back to the vessel that had been carrying it. But it wasn’t all too pleasant for him. He was coughing violently now, trying to release all the water that had flowed into his nostrils in his dazed state. His lungs threatening to cave in were releasing much more fluid than expected, making him gag for air. However, hearing him cough, signaled no alarm in his wife’s part, only relief. She knew he was awake now and that’s all that mattered to her at that moment.

With a soft knock on the door, his wife opened her mouth once again - this time, speaking with more tenderness than urgency.

“Open the door, sweetheart,” she said smiling softly, though she knew he couldn’t see it from inside the bathroom. “Let me in, darling.”

He tried to answer, but he was crouching now, naked and cold with one of his hands clinging on to the steel tube connecting the faucet to the shower, and the other still palm-flat on the wall, trying to gasp for air. Struggling for breath, he opened his mouth slowly and feebly. His parted lips quivering ever so delicately as he tried to articulate himself.

“One moment, de-“ cut by another fit of coughing, his speech was interrupted painfully, with his heart now thrashing his insides. His hand, which was once pressed on the bathroom tiles, was now gripping the shower curtains tightly, creating little crescents on his palms through the fabric. Both hands were hanging on to dear life, trying to save him from toppling down onto the bathroom floor and making the situation much worse.

After two more minutes, he successfully avoided collision, and was now breathing much normally. His wife was still waiting hopefully and helplessly outside their shared bathroom, praying her husband would emerge out of the door soon.

“Honey, do you need me to call an ambulance?”

She was starting to get worried now, and when no one answered her, she leapt straight to their bedside table, running towards the telephone. With pale shaking hands she reached for the phone and was about to dial the emergency hotline, when the door opened to reveal a tall slouched man, naked except for the towel wrapped loosely around his waist, breathing heavily with eyes rimmed red and nostrils blaring wide. In shock, she let the receiver drop and stared at the figure before her speechless and with her feet turned to lead.

“I’m...” he struggled and spoke with a soft voice, letting out a few breaths, “I’m okay now. I’m fine.”

With small strides, his bare feet approached the bed slowly, treating every step with care as if the ground was crumbling beneath him. Having felt the soft white mattress touch the bottom of his knee, his body descended onto the bed, letting the duvet devour him whole. His mind went blank, thinking of nothing but his breathing and weather or not he had coughed out every last drop of liquid in his lungs.

It was only then that his wife found the courage to speak, but only in quiet whimpers, almost inaudible for him to hear. Tears were down rolling down her cheeks, slowly and then all at once. She sank down on to their carpeted bedroom floor, her legs positioned in weird uncomfortable angles making her pink skirt flare on the chocolate-colored carpet. She did not know what to do, she did not know what to say, she did not know what to feel. She felt only her raging heartbeat as her heart leapt back and forth inside her chest, piercing her ribs and aching for her husband, as he lied there almost unconscious and semi-defeated by the water that had almost drowned him.

“D-d-did it work?” she stuttered with her warm tears choking her throat.

“I saw you, Helen,” he finally spoke, lying down with his arms resting relaxed on his abdomen. He was feeling a bit calmer now, compared to a few minutes ago. His eyes were closed and a small smile appeared on his face. His breathing was steady and slow, as if he was about to go into deep slumber. “I saw you back in the shower, when my head was all fucked up. I saw you and I saw her, our child.”

At that sentence, her sobbing became fiercer and her eyes were producing tears faster than ever. She covered her face now with her palms, unable to look at her husband anymore. But he ignored all this and continued, letting his mind wander off peacefully in recollection of his fantasy. “She looked just like you, of course. Light brown hair, emerald eyes, the same glassy stare that you always have when you and I took long walks in my mother’s garden. You remember those days? Yes, ah well, you were beautiful, Helen. You still are, and she was too.”

His eyes were now open, staring at the ceiling just like he did in the shower, only this time he was perfectly aware of the things around him. His wife was still crying, sitting limply beside the telephone. Her tears were slowly draining her and she could feel herself right at the edge of sleep. Her body was threatening to faint, but she stuck around to listen to her husband’s voice.

“I mean...” he struggled to find the right words, “i-i-it was weird. I knew I was dreaming, of course, but it was different from all the other times this had happened, you know? I-I-I... I actually wanted to stay. I wanted to hold her. I wanted to hold you. I wanted both of you an-“ His sentence was cut short, interrupted by his wife who was now calm enough, to speak despite her situation on the floor.

“Honey, you have to stop this! Whatever Mark told you is a lie,” she shouted trying to fight back her sob. “Dwelling on these things- they aren’t worth it!” She was crawling now, trying to reach for her husband.

“This is now,” she said trying to be strong as she took both of his hands in hers. She opened her mouth once again. “You have to stop.” But this time it was different. Her voice was replaced by a man’s, dry and raspy, hollow and tired.

Slowly the scene evaporated right before his eyes. He was lying, sluggishly on a couch now, sitting in front of a man in glasses, middle-aged and balding with little grey hairs sticking out of a few segments of his head, holding on to a pen and a notepad with previously written texts scribbled across the open sheet. The room was quite small and quite dim, lit only by the small lamp propped on the desk by the other end of the room, and by the sunlight filtering through the curtain fabric. There were three paintings seen on the wall to his right, and a bookshelf nailed to wall behind the desk. He was in an office, he figured, but he had not quite remembered fully how he got there, and why he was there at all.

“Peter,” the man snapped him out of his confusion, looking quite disturbed himself.

“Yes?”

“Are you back?”

“Where’s my wife? I could have sworn Helen was just here a second ago.”

With a sigh, the man took off his glasses and wiped them with the hem of his white buttoned-down shirt. He was frowning now, looking down at his glasses with knitted eyebrows. Suddenly it all dawned to Peter. Every question he had previously formulated in his thoughts were now answered and he had never felt the color on his face drain away as fast as it did that moment.

“It seems you have been taking much more than the prescribed amount, have you?” With that question, Peter just gulped, speechless, knowing of no words to say. The man sighed once more and scribbled on his notepad while he spoke. “I’m afraid we’ll have to alter the prescription, seeing that this is only making your maladies much worse.”

“My head wouldn’t stop hurting,” Peter finally spoke, “and I didn’t know of any other way to stop it.”

“Really? Well, it seems that you’ve been taking advantage of the situation haven’t

you?” Finished with his notes, the man decided to put his glasses back on, crouched down with his elbows propped on his knees supporting his weight, and looked at Peter, intently, hoping to shed a little more light on the situation. “Look, Peter. I know you’ve had it rough and I am in no position to nose into your personal problems. But abusing your medication will not help you at all.”

“I know. I know. I just- well... Oh, I don’t know.” Peter was lost now, torn between caring for his health and getting this appointment over with. But sitting down listening to what his doctor had to say, wasn’t helping him at all, at the moment.

“It seems like I’ll have to up your dosage,” the man calculated, “and don’t think you can get away with it this time. This is only for your health, and you of all people should know that.”

And that was all Peter wanted to hear. His mind wandered aimlessly again into the deep blue, thinking fondly of the many dreams awaiting ahead of him, longing to get a glimpse of his wife, once again, and the daughter he had never met. It was then that the color rushed back into his face as he smiled a big toothy grin at the man sitting in front of him, ignoring the growing tumor invading his brain.

[chaoticgremlinwholikescheese]

The Bar

TW: Drinking, attempted rape, date rape drugs

JACK’S POV:

“C’mon, you sure you don’t want to come?” Alex asks. “Yeah. I’ll come another night. I need to finish this painting. Have fun though!” She sighs but relents. “I’ll be home around eleven. I’m the designated driver, so I have to drive everyone home.” I laugh at her expense. Herding drunk newsies into a car is like trying to catch water with a strainer. 

She kisses me goodbye and heads out the door, keys jangling in her hand. I look back at my painting. I have the rough sketch on the canvas. All that’s left is to actually paint. I pull out my paints, deciding which ones to use. I settle on a few greys and some warm colors.

I like painting. It’s calming. The repetitive motion of the brush, the way the colors merge. Reds, yellows, and oranges becoming a sunset. Greys and blacks becoming a mountain. Green and blue becoming the shadows. On the top of the mountain, there is a tiny person. One you wouldn’t notice unless you looked closely.

I lose myself in the art. Time is warped. When I check the clock, only ten minutes has passed. I check again a few moments later, and it’s been two hours. It’s as if I was swirling in a vortex. Drifting through time. My phone plays music. I move the brush along with the beat, choose a color based on the rhythm. 

Fast bouncing rhythms are red. Slow ones are blue. Swirling notes are yellow, like sunshine. The voice of a singer is purple. The sound of the guitar is orange. In my mind, I can see the music. A combination of moving colors. They dance, spinning past each other. 

My phone rings. I pick it up. It’s only ten, but Alex is calling. They must have decided to turn in early. “Hey. You on your way home?” I hear heavy breathing on the other end. “Alex? You there?” I can hear the noise of the bar in the background, a white noise.

“Yes. Don’t feel good.” Her words are slurred. “Are you drunk? I thought you were supposed to be driving home.” 

“Didn’t drink. Ordered a soda. I-I think someone put something in it. I feel wrong.” My eyes widen. My face goes white. “What? I’m coming now. Where are you?” I grab my jacket and shoes, rushing out the door. “In the bathroom. At Jacobi’s.” I jump into the car and race down the street. I break at least three speed limits and run a stop sign, but it doesn’t matter.

“Stay there. Where are the boys?” 

“Don’t know. Got seperated in the crowd. I’m scared, Jack.” Her voice is getting weaker by the moment. “Just hang on sweetheart. I’m almost there.” I hear scuffling on the other end. “Alex? Alex, are you okay?” The line goes dead. “No! Fuck!” I throw my phone onto the seat next to me.

I need to get there now. It might already be too late. My gut churns. I can’t let her get hurt. I need to keep her safe. Fear is all I can feel. It consumes me, pulsing through my veins with every heartbeat. Thoughts run through my head. Of what might be happening right now. Of what I might find.

I finally get to the bar. I park and run out. I push past people waiting in line. They yell and swear at me, but I don’t care. The bar is packed with people. I can’t see any of the other newsies. I shove my way through the crowd, heading towards the bathroom sign. 

I bust open the door. And the image I see there will forever be ingrained in my mind. Alex is on the floor, tears running down her face. Her eyes are full of so much fear. Her shirt has been pulled off. A man is working on unbuttoning her pants. “GET OFF OF HER!” I lunge towards the man. Anger takes over my brain. I’m going to kill this man. I’m going to make him bleed.

The man starts to throw some punches, but he’s a bit drunk. I easily dodge them. I punch his jaw and relish the crack I hear. I hit him again, and again, and again. The man is barely awake when I finish. I drop him to the ground and run over to Alex. She’s curled in a ball against the wall. She’s shaking.

I kneel down and reach out a hand. She flinches and tries to push herself back farther. “Hey. It’s alright. It’s just me. It’s Jack.” She’s breathing hard and fast. She looks up at me. Her eyes are red. And the normal spark I see is no longer there. She looks... broken.

“I need you to breathe for me. In and out.” I do a few breaths and she copies me. “Let’s get your shirt back on.” I grab it and hand it to her. She pulls it over her head. She buttons her jeans, having trouble grasping the tiny buttons with her shaking hands. “It’s alright. You’re safe now.” I say quietly. Her lip quivers. She starts sobbing.

I slowly wrap my arms around her. She clings to me like I’m a life line. I rock her and whisper calming words into her hair. The man who tried to do this is still in the corner passed out. The hatred I have for him is unexplainable. This man tried to rape my girlfriend. He would have if I hadn’t gotten here. And thank God I got here. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t.

“Let’s get you out of here. We need to find the boys.” She nods. I help her up. She presses herself against my shoulder. The sudden noise when we open the door is overwhelming. The two of us weave through the crowd. I find the boys sitting at a table nearby, drinks in hand. They smile and cheer when they see me. They stop when they see Alex.

“What the hell happened?” Race shouts. “A guy put something in her drink.” Their eyes go dark. “Where is he?” Albert hisses. “The bathroom. But we need to go. C’mon.” The boys nod and stand up. But before we can leave, I hear a commotion coming from the other side of the bar.

The man is limping towards us, along with a security guard. “That’s him!” He glares at me. “Sir. We’re going to have to ask you to leave. This man may be pressing charges.” I place Alex behind me. 

“Like hell he will. This man drugged my girlfriend’s drink. He was going to rape her if I hadn’t stopped him. This asshole deserved what he got. And you!” I point at the guards. “You should be keeping an eye on stuff like this. Isn’t that what you’re hired to fucking do?” The guards turn towards the man and he shrinks back. 

“He’s lying!” He yells. He starts to move in my direction, but Spot stands in between us. “Take one more step, and you won’t be able to take a step ever again.” He growls. The rest of the boys gather around him. All of them are itching to take a swing at this guy. 

“You are scum. And I can’t wait to see you rot in a jail cell.” I snarl. The guards grab the man and drag him away. He’s shouting and arguing, but they ignore him. We escort Alex outside, all of us surrounding her like a human shield. All of them are boiling with rage. Alex is one of us. And we protect our own.

“Can we go to the hospital? We need to see what kind of drug he gave you.” She shakily nods her head. Davey, being the only other sober person there, offers to drive the rest of the boys home. I promise to keep them updated. They reluctantly leave. Alex and I get in the car. She’s silent the whole way to the hospital. The only noises are her occasional stuttered breath. 

At the hospital, we’re led to a private room. Alex sits down on the bed. The doctor comes in and asks Alex questions. She holds my hand the whole time. They take a blood sample. They assure us that she’s fine to go home, so they discharge her. We’ll know the result in a day or two. The doctor hands her a resource packet with different numbers and doctors. She doesn’t give it a second look.

She takes a shower when we get home. A long one. While she’s in there I text the boys to let them know what’s going on. All of them are worried sick. All of them want to kill the bastard that did it.

Alex throws her clothes in the trash. Her eyes are red with tears. She looks haunted. She climbs into bed. I’m hesitant to join her. After something like this, people are hesitant to be touched. I ask her. She says she doesn’t want to be alone. I make sure to put space between us. A few moments later, she cuddles against me. I hold her close. 

There will be a lot to do in the future. But for now, we both rest.

A/N: parties and bars can be dangerous. Date rape drugs are easy to slip into drinks, easier than you would think. That’s why it’s so important to try to stay safe when you are partying or out at a bar. Here are some tips:

- NEVER LEAVE YOUR DRINK UNATTENDED.

- You went to the bathroom? That drink is dead to you now. Throw it out.

- Always go with a friend or two. Keep an eye on each other.

- Cover your drink with your hand when holding it.

Rape is never your fault. There are resources and hotlines that you can reach out to for support. You are not alone.

[catspudding]

How to help a woman (or a man) escape abuse

I acknowledge that men suffer domestic violence just as much as women, and that is a whole other post - a long one. This particular post is written from some personal experience and the advice here can be applied just as much to helping a man as a woman. But for the purpose of narrative here I've used the example of a woman.

"Why won't she just leave?" You here it again and again. There was a hashtag on twitter a few years back #why i stayed which really only touched the surface. Your average woman who has come forward about being abused by her family or partner could fill a book about why they can't leave. They will pull every "excuse" you can think of.

That same woman is far more skilled than her exasperated friends at surviving abuse. And the uncomfortable truth - which she knows - is that her chances of escaping are actually slim. Slimmer if she is a he actually.

She has googled how to stop abuse. Treatment programs for her abuser. The different types of restraining orders. Her local shelters. She has a go bag half packed somewhere under the drawer of her dresser or in the wheel well of her car. She has almost called the police a dozen times.

She knows that the treatment programs she found have limited places, limited success and have to be court ordered by a judge. She knows that a restraining order is just a piece of paper and that to get one her and her abuser will sit in the same room whilst waiting to be called in by the magistrate or judge and this will happen every time she gets it renewed. She knows the length of wait for a bed in a shelter is 6 weeks or more, that she will likely lose her job if she goes into one and her boss finds out. She knows the shelter will be a damaging place for her children. She knows that the most dangerous time for her is when she tries to leave. She knows the chances are high that she will be homeless.

She also knows that the friends who say "why don't you just leave?" don't understand that she and her children would have to live on their friend's couch for months, that they would be crying and miserable for most of that time, unable to contribute to the household and that her children will be acting emotionally disturbed during that time and throw dishes, shout, swear and scream as they try and process the abuse they have witnessed by imitating it.

If you want to help a friend who is being abused you can do several things:

Be aware that if you decide to help your friend, shit will get real. And you can't back out and leave her in the lurch. Make sure that you are prepared for your own instinctual emotional reaction of "get this horrible shit away from me!" You may find yourself judging your friend, blaming her in some way or withdrawing from her. Be aware of this and take steps to prevent it. If it is getting too much, get yourself some professional counselling to debrief. Know what you can do as a friend for this person, and what is going to need a therapist, psychologist or social worker. You need to be this person's friend, not their therapist.

Keep any information about your friend under lockdown. If another friend asks how she is doing you should always say "great" and change the subject. Flat out refuse to talk about it, especially on social media. You don't want any information getting back to her abuser and you also don't want anyone who she hasn't told about the abuse to know.

Get training in mental health first aid. There's a storm coming, you need to know how to help when it hits.

Secure your home - have security cameras, combination locks and security doors so you are safe. This means that your friend won't worry about your safety if they come to you for help. Don't get a gun. Dogs are great - they're a detterdnt against tresspassing and double as emotional support.

Never flat out ask someone if they are being abused. At times they may have admitted abuse to themselves but that doesn't mean they want to say it to you or out loud at all. A better way of saying it is asking if they feel safe and respected. Let them know what you've seen that has made you concerned then leave the ball in their court. Let them know that you don't blame them and will support them either way.

Ask them what they would have to leave behind - pets, electronics, sentimental items. No one is staying with an asshole because of a tv or laptop - but if they think said asshole might kill the dog as revenge they might. Rebuilding in a situation where you need a computer, laptop or tablet to keep or find a job is actually quite difficult too. Will they lose access to their bank account or health insurance? Did they have joint superannuation? Is the car theirs? What can you help them regain? Can a friend keep the dog for a year? Do you have an old device with basic internet? Is there a free health clinic for her and any children? ( she will 100% need this). Are you willing to drop the kids to school for her if she can't take a car?

Know your local resources - hotlines, community health centres and organizations . Also know that these resources are stretched within an inch of breaking and that your friend will have to advocate for herself to get what she needs. There will be paperwork. Lots of it.

Realise this will be a long haul. If your friend is very lucky they will have a cheap but secure rental, will either keep their job or find a good workplace and will be beginning to become their old self within 3 months. but in all likelyhood it will take a lot longer. The system moves slowly and overcoming the effects of abuse on self confidence can take years.

If you can think of anything else to add to this list, please do in a note and reblog

Stay safe and don't ever let anyone treat you as less than the complex and valuable person you are.

[i-write-shakespeare-not-disney]

Roses are Red- Solangelo

Disclaimer: This story will revolve around abuse in future chapters. 

I come from an abusive household. I lived through domestic abuse for eight years, and its impact continues to affect me a little over a decade later. I felt the necessity to give a voice to the people trapped in an abusive relationship, to show what it entails and what it does to a person. As a writer, I always vowed to myself that I would write so in a way so raw and honest, it would list my novels under banned books. I would write the reality people are afraid to write. I would write the voices that have been silenced. So that's what this story is. It will show the development and the struggle of an abusive relationship so that everyone can understand the fear, the hurt, the pain. So people will stop asking, "Why didn't you just leave them?" or "What did you do to provoke them?" and start standing up for the victims instead. This story will contain violence and sexual abuse in addition to emotional abuse. I don't write this because I find pleasure in it, but because I believe it's important for people to understand what this is like.

After a poll on Tumblr, this story has been molded to star Will and Nico from the Percy Jackson series. In reality, you can put any faces you want on these characters. It's the story that matters.

I also decided making this an LGBT novel because LGBT people are silenced further when it comes to abuse. Not only because of the previously mentioned questions but because many don't believe women are abusive nor are men abusive to each other. It's just a matter of fighting back. That is not true.

If you or someone you know need help in regards to domestic abuse, call National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1−800−799−7233 with more than 200 languages. All calls are free and confidential. Online chat is also available on their website between 7am-2am central time at www.thehotline.org

(Click OP if read more link doesn’t show.)

Feedback is appreciated!!!

It’s funny how time works. How every precise second is a factor in your life. A moment earlier, a moment later, and your life can change completely without you realizing it. It seemed like time was constantly the reason behind everything. This fabricated illusion created by humans to measure their uneventful lives to the point of panic or stress had managed to be the molder of lives.

That was all Nico could really think. That single second that had sent him barreling through the classroom door his first day of college until he was toppled over another student with bright eyes and clusters of freckles. That minute it took him to gather his things and leave the coffee shop on campus resulting in Nico running into the same student- though not literally this time- as he walked in at the same time Nico was going to walk out. That single half-second glance that resulted in running a red light, slamming the brakes too hard, and going to a hospital because a single second later another car had swerved into them.

The minute of traffic that had caused them to get to the club past the hour that 21 and under were allowed. The moment of frustrated hesitation that led to someone offering help, sneaking them through the back. The three minutes in which Nico left to get a drink, the single second it took for him to turn and find Will in the crowd, talking to someone.

Life had changed for the better and for the worse by mere seconds. Moments which, had they happened a little earlier or later, would have led their lives down completely different paths.

Nico hated time.

***

There was an incessant tug at his arm. “Nico, come on, we’re going to be late, and we’ll have driven there for nothing,” Will sighed. “We have to go.

“Give me two seconds, man I’m almost done,” he said, peeking up at the mirror, his hands running through his hair, trying to spread the gel just right. Will rolled his eyes and leaned against the counter, watching Nico through the window. His eyes flickered over to him, suddenly uncomfortable. “Dude. Stop staring, you’re making me nervous.”

“I’m thinking maybe if I intimidate you enough, we can leave already.” Nico rolled his eyes and turned to him.

“Ever heard the expression ‘a watched teapot never whistles?’”

“You’re not a teapot,” he pointed out, smirking, raising an eyebrow. Nico snorted and shoved him playfully. “Finally,” he breathed as Nico left the bathroom.

Together, they left Nico’s on campus apartment and started for Will’s car. Since Nico crashed his, he hasn’t been able to fix it, rendering it useless. He glanced momentarily at Will knowing that on his right side, there were twenty stitches. Will was rocking the side shaved look, but knowing it was Nico’s fault made it painful to look at him sometimes. The hair had grown out enough, the stitches healed so that there was only a faded, jagged, light scar obscured by dirty blond hair.

“You can stop looking at me like I’m a lost puppy, Neeks. It’s been four months.” Will always knew when Nico was thinking about the accident. “I’m perfectly fine. Look at me, ready to get hammered and grind on strangers at a club! Plus, this haircut makes me look edgy. Very attractive.”

Nico offered a smile, but his chest still constricted with guilt. It was his fault. And though Will kept saying anyone could’ve run a red light, Nico knew it was more.

It wasn’t just the mistake of running a red light, and slamming the brake when he probably should’ve sped up to get across before cars drove into them. It was the fact that he had been driving and he had let himself get distracted by Will, blond hair flying back in short waves since the window was down, singing happily along with the radio, lips curled into a smile, hands drumming against the dashboard because Will swore he could figure out the drum beat.

He had been selfish, trying to soak up his presence, completely forgetting the road until Will shouted that there was a red light.

Nico hit the brakes without thinking. A jolt hit the front right side, another the back left, the impact shaking his bones, an icy feeling spreading through him as it registered that he’d just crashed. Will’s airbag had burst out, the window shattered, and Will was groaning lifting his head, the right side of his face smear with blood. And Nico’s head had hit the steering wheel hard enough to give him a headache, but he was fine and that wasn’t fair because he was the one driving, it had been his fault, so why had it been Will who got hurt so badly?

Suddenly an arm draped around his shoulders, and he pulled into the scent of Will; cotton and vanilla shampoo and minty toothpaste and Old Spice cologne. “It’s okay, Nico. Stop beating yourself up about this.” Vaguely, Nico wondered if it was possible to be in love with someone he never even dated. “We’re going to dance, we’re going to drink, and we’re going to have some fucking fun.” He shook Nico’s shoulders gently. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Nico said. He smiled and remained under Will’s arm until they reached his car.

Of course, the traffic was bad. It was a Friday night, and everyone was dying to go out into the city and get stupid drunk only to regret it the next morning and do it all over again by the time the sun set.

They had just barely reached the club in time before they refused anyone under 21, and stood in line, pulling out ten bucks each and their IDs. When they reached the bouncer, he checked the IDs and shook his head. “Sorry dudes. No more under 21.”

Will gaped and scoffed. “We’ve been in line for like five minutes. It’s like two minutes past the hour, come on.”

The guy rolled his eyes and gave their IDs back. “Get here earlier next time then.” Nico winced at that, guilty again because he knew his getting ready had made them later.

“What a dick,” Will mumbled under his breath, turning away with Nico. “That’s ridiculous. It’s just fucking ridiculous! We have our money, we’ve been in line, and it’s not like we could get drinks anyway with the exaggerated exes they put on our hands. That shit takes days to wash off, dude.”

“Well, Thursdays are always 21 and under. We could come next week. Why don’t we get a pizza or something and watch a movie at my place?” he suggested. “I’ll buy,” he added, knowing this was all his fault.

Will let his head fall to the side, kicking at the ground. “That does sound tempting,” he said with a smile. Nico smiled back, but before they could turn away, someone walked up to them.

“Hey. I heard you guys were struggling with the bouncer.” Nico looked at the guy uneasily. Never trust anyone you don’t know this late in the heart of the city.

The guy had a lazy posture, tufts of brown hair in tousled waves, and he was rolling a large M&M in his mouth, looking at them with a cocked eyebrow, head tilted to the side.

“Yeah,” Will answered, glancing at Nico. “We’re under 21, but we were in line for a while. He didn’t want to let us in.” He shrugged.

The guy tilted his head back upright, biting down on his chocolate as he looked at Will and smirked. “I could get you guys in. There’s a back door, my friend’s the bartender. He has access to the door.” He gestured over. “Come on.” Will looked at Nico with an excitement Nico couldn’t bring himself to quell.

They walked over, Will walking with ease and Nico with enough tension for both of them. They stood by a door, the ground reeking of piss, trash, and who knows what else for a few moments before the door opened, revealing a guy with a ponytail and wide gages in his earlobes. “Yo, Sebastian. Who’re they?”

“New friends,” he answered. “They’re with me.” They guy nodded and let them in.

The club was packed, and that was an understatement. Bodies could hardly move, but that didn’t stop couples from grinding against each other slowly to the booming beat of the bass or the drunks from shoving past people like the dancefloor was theirs, their drinks spilling onto people or themselves. The song was good, Nico had heard it on the radio, but it was nearly drowned out by the constant club-beat of the bass they’d remixed it into. The song changed, along with a video on the small screens hanging from the ceilings. The beat remained the same, only the lyrics changing.

Nico saw different hair colors, heard shrieks of laughter and people singing along. He saw girls and guys with their hair matted down with sweat against their foreheads as they rocked their hips together, hips swaying sensually, not matching with the beat, but that obviously didn’t matter. “Come on,” he heard a faint shout. He looked over and Sebastian was leading them over to a smoke area where people could sit and take a break.

Will looked absolutely elated. Nico wished he could match his enthusiasm instead of dragging along like dead weight. “I’m Sebastian,” the guy shouted, though this time Nico heard him better.

“I’m Will. This is Nico. Thanks for getting us in!” He flashed a sincere, open smile. God, Nico loved that smile. It held all the warmth in the universe, and it was always honest and it was always special even though he always smiled. Anyone who received a smile from him was blessed for the rest of the day.

“Of course,” he chuckled. “So, you two together?”

Nico’s eyes went wide, his heart stuttered. It wasn’t the first time they’d been asked. People always assumed they were a couple. But each time always made Nico’s heart flutter with fear and hope.

Will laughed good-naturedly and wrapped an arm around Nico. “No, he’s my best friend. We’re both single.” The answer made Nico’s stomach twist, even though he knew it was true. But something changed in Sebastian’s expression. His smile widened slightly, his eyes focused on Will, and Nico had the absurd urge to pull him away and leave the club. Leave the grinding bodies, the boring bass, the messy flashing lights.

Sebastian looked over at Nico and smiled. “You guys want some drinks? Jack won’t ask your ID he knows you came in with me.” Nico looked at him suspiciously, and Sebastian seemed to understand because he laughed. He pulled out some money and handed it over. “You can get them. I know the number one rule of a club is not to take a drink from someone else.”

Nico relaxed and looked at Will. “Can you bring me a Jack and Coke on the rocks?” Nico nodded and pleaded with his eyes for him to stay in the same spot. He didn’t want this guy whisking him away.

While Nico left to get Will’s drink and a beer for himself, he couldn’t help but scan the crowds. It was getting more and more crowded. His eyes flitted over to where Will and Sebastian were waiting.

His stomach dropped.

Sebastian was close, about the same height as Will. His hand was in his hair, on the shaved side. Nico knew he was touching the scar. He knew it, and his stomach churned at the idea. But Will seemed completely at ease. His eyes were lidded, his sweet smile morphed into a sensual smirk, head tilted nearly brushing Sebastian’s nose with his own.

Nico was rushing back, spilling most of his beer, eyes set on the two of them. When he reached them, Will looked his way, but remained close, shoulder brushing Sebastian’s. Nico gave him his drink and Will thanked him. Sebastian whispered something in his ear and Nico fought the urge to hit him.

Then Will leaned over, his whiskey-tinted breath warm in Nico’s ear. “You mind if I go dance?”

His heart dropped to his stomach. “No, go ahead,” he answered lightly.

Will smiled and nudged him. “You should dance too. It’s a club, go meet someone.”

But the only person I want is you, he thought to himself. But he just smiled and nodded. “Yeah, totally will if I grow enough balls.” Will laughed and punched his shoulder lightly before walking away with Sebastian. Nico noticed with a nauseating lurch that his hand was intertwined in Sebastian’s.

Staying in the smoke area, Nico watched with a twisting heart as Will wrapped his hand around the back of Sebastian’s neck and curled closer to him, careful not to spill his drink. Sebastian’s hands didn't hesitate to roam up and down Will’s torso, fingers searching greedily. Nico dared him to go too far. Too slip his hands too low, to push into him too hard, to do anything that would make Will push him away and turn back to Nico. But he didn't.

Three songs later, he was still painfully watching Will twist in Sebastian’s arms and press against him, head tilted back in a joyous smile as Sebastian tentatively leaned down, encouraged by Will exposing his neck further, and licked the skin there.

It was something Nico had been dying to do, and very nearly did a few times when he was too drunk. And watching Will melt against him, reveling in this stranger's lips at his throat, Nico felt something cold clench his heart until it was too painful. He looked away and wished he had had the gall to tell Will what he felt. Even if Will didn't like him back, at least he wouldn't torture Nico by blatantly flirting and feeling up strangers in front of him. Will would never do that.

Instead he remained seated, sipping lukewarm beer, and wishing more than anything that they’d started walking away a few seconds earlier. Then they wouldn’t have met Sebastian, and they’d be in Nico’s living room watching a movie and throwing pepperoni at each other.

Nico was getting cranky. He was sleepy, hurt, and he felt invisible in the seating area watching couples grope each other. He wondered how many of these people had just met. How many of these were just doing what Will and Sebastian were doing?

His eyes returned to Will and Nico felt the earth shatter beneath him as everything fell away. There was an uncomfortable tightness in his chest, a pain in his heart so strong it became physical.

They were kissing. They were pressed as close as they possibly could be, kissing almost viciously. Even from a distance, Nico could see their tongues probing into each other’s mouths, teeth biting at lips, fingers tangled into locks of hair. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. He wanted to, God he wanted to. He didn’t want to torture himself like this, watching someone adore the person he loved the way he’d always wanted to.

But no.

If Nico had the chance, the kiss wouldn’t be so primal. He would kiss him softly. He would kiss him slowly. He would admire and bask in every sensation, from the warmth of his lips to the way his lips would part slightly to the texture of his tongue pressed against Nico’s own. He would relish the kiss, live in it, cherish it with everything in him.

Knowing that he never would while watching the scene unfold in front of him, the two of them stumbling between dancing people until they were near a wall, pressing into it like they wanted to mold into it, Nico finally had to tear himself away.

The look of pure ecstasy on his face was unfair. Knowing that Will enjoyed what he was doing hurt Nico further. It reiterated that he never stood a chance.

He staggered to the bathroom taking ragged breaths. He splashed his face with water, trying to calm down, trying to quell the hurt, the agony that was trying to bubble and burst through his chest.

He just wanted to go home.

He wasn’t sure how long he took refuge in the bathroom, scrolling through his phone until it was down to 10% if only to ignore the memory pawing at his brain. He didn’t pay attention to the time. But it was nearly three in the morning when his phone rang with Will’s face, contorted by a Snapchat filter, and Nico yelped, nearly dropping his phone. He answered and stuttered out a, “Hello?”

“Don’t hello? me!” he snapped. “Where the hell are you? I’ve gone all over this place looking for you! I came outside and I can’t go back in. Baz’s friend is off his shift. Are you still in there?”

“Looking for me?” he questioned. He blinked and shook his head. “Um, sorry.”

“Are you drunk right now? Where are you? Are you okay?” Nico’s brain was struggling to catch up, but it was more due to the emotional overflow and mind numbing scrolling he’d been doing while inhaling the disgusting scent of the bathroom. “Nico?”

“I’m okay, sorry. I’m-” Suddenly there was no static on the line. He looked at his screen and cursed when he saw it was completely black. It died.

He cursed under his breath and left the bathroom, then the club. It was still relatively full, but not as asphyxiatingly packed as before. There were several people on the sidewalk, waiting on Ubers or friends or trying to maintain their balance long enough to stay upright for two seconds.

He wasn’t sure where Will was, but if he could just go to where they’d parked, he would be fine.

He started walking, and that’s when he heard a relieved cry in the form of his name. He turned and saw Will barreling into him, his arms wrapping around him. Nico yelped and awkwardly hugged him back.

“Where the hell were you?” he asked, pulling away.

Nico tried and failed to ignore the purple marks along his neck and the plump swell on his nearly red lips. “I was in the bathroom,” he grumbled.

“The whole time?” he asked incredulously.

Nico felt his face flush and shrugged his hands away. “Yeah. I think the beer might’ve made me a little sick or something. I wasn’t feeling well, and I didn’t want to force you to go home, so…. I just hung out in the bathroom. I’m sorry I forgot to text you.”

“Nico,” he breath exasperatedly. But before he finished, Sebastian was beside him, an arm snaking around Will’s waist.

He had marks on his neck too. But he had a few bite marks too.

“You found him,” he said. “You okay, dude?”

“Yeah, just feel a little sick,” Nico said, forcing a smile.

“I’m going to take him home,” Will whispered. “Get in, Neeks.” He opened the door for Nico get in, and he did so awkwardly. He could hear the muted murmurs just outside his window. “Thanks for helping me look for him.” Something unintelligible. “I had fun tonight. Text me?”

“As soon as you get in the car.” Nico could see through the side mirror as Sebastian neared Will, his arms wrapping around him. It wasn’t greedy this time. It was soft. Gentle. “Promise I’ll see you again.”

Will’s face tilted toward him, and Nico knew they were kissing again. He furrowed his eyebrows and curled into his seat shutting his eyes. A few excruciatingly long moments later, Will opened the door to the car and got it, starting the engine. “Nico?” Nico didn’t respond. He kept his eyes closed. He could pretend to be happy for him. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. “Neeks?” His hand rested on his arm. “Hm. Maybe you did get sick.” He heard him fumble with something and Nico noticed the air vents weren’t blasting in his face anymore. It was subtler and the air blew gently against him, enough to keep him from sweating, but not so much to make him freeze. The radio switched between stations for a while before Will settled on an Indie station and left it at a low volume.

Will hated Indie. He put it for Nico. So he could unconsciously listen in his sleep. It made Nico want to burst into tears and confession.

Instead, he kept his eyes shut and pretended to sleep the entire way back to campus.

Click Here for Ch. 2

[hamilkilo]

Billowing Smoke

Prompt: AS REQUESTED BY ANON: Hamilsquad x reader where they have been friends with the reader since they where kids and the reader slowly starts to grow more distant until she kinda disappear for awhile and they get worried so they stop by her home and they knock on the door and she refuses to let them in telling them she's fine and after a while of them persistently begging to be let in she finally opens the door and she stands there with a black eye and covered in bruises cigarette burns (her boyfriend had been using her) Pairing: starts out as Charles Lee X Reader, IS REALLY POLY!HAMILSQUAD THOUGH, BLESS TF UP TW: Abuse, violence, description of blood, beatings, domestic abuse, verbal and emotional abuse, cursing, death of a character, reference to sexual assault and rape, smoking A/N: hey y'all! I hope you enjoy this piece! I know I didn't follow the anon completely, and I'm sorry, I got carried away with my writer's brain. I tried my best, and i hope you love it! Thank you for all the requests! I'm doing my best to keep up! If you want me to tag something, please let me know! I want you to feel safe when reading my work! I love you! If you need help, please reach out. My ask is always open, tell someone you trust, or call a hotline! I love you, and I want you safe! Hotline for Victims of Sexual Assault: 877-995-5247 National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233 Word Count: 2498 You never bruised easily. You fell out of a tree in the fifth grade and damn near broke your body in two. A week later, you had a small, purple bruise on your hip, but a fairly bad limp for two weeks. You knew people that bruised like melons, but you weren't one of them. You were standing on the balcony of the hotel floor for a smoke, black, thick curling tendrils that snaked up into the cold night air. You had on a man's white dress shirt, clumsily buttoned, and no pants. Your hair was in the messiest bun yet. You leaned on the railing and looked out at the stars. You used to love them. Now, they just reminded you of smoldering cigarette butts and dead dreams. Disgusted, you looked away. You put your cigarette out on the metal railing, a satisfying "tsss" sound reaching your ears. You reached into your thong and pulled another cigarette and a lighter out from the band. You lit up and kept smoking. Across the parking lot, you saw four figures get out of a car. You'd never been good at identifying cars. All you knew was that it was black, and it looked like a box. They made their way across the lot, and you watched them, mildly disinterested. They climbed the stairs, level by level, and when they didn't stop, you felt your stomach clench with uneasiness. You didn't remember four boys on your floor. You held your cigarette away from your mouth between two fingers as you watched them approach you, the dark shrouding them completely. Then you heard it. It was a quiet whisper, barely carried on the wind, and delicate like a butterfly. "Y/N?" The boys reached the top and froze, down the walkway, staring. You knew them, and you felt shame burn your stomach. "Y/N?" John whispered as he was the first to approach you. He reached out for you, but you cringed away. His eyes were filled with tears. You put the cigarette out on the railing again, letting it fall to the cement below. John caressed your face, turning your face to his, lightly running his fingers over your bruised and swollen cheek. "Sweetheart... Why didn't you tell us? Why didn't you let us help?" You turned from him, unable to meet his eyes, and the others had slowly flocked around you. There was no escape, you realized. "Where's that son of a bitch? I'll kill him!" Herc shouted, his hands clenched, but you shook your head with a small smile. "He's not a problem anymore, Herc. I promise," you felt your lips curl upward, then winced at the twinge of pain you received. "Don't lie for him, Y/N! This has to stop!" Alex spoke up, then he noticed you shivering. He shrugged off his coat and draped it over your shoulders. You hugged it around you as the boys stared you down. "Well?" Alex persisted, and you shrugged. "If you really wanna see him that bad..." you mumbled before you led them to your room. You unlocked the door with the key and shoved it open. It was a small room, but it got the job done. The chair was overturned. The bed was nicely made, though. The small, wooden table was in splinters. The curtains were drawn tight over the nice view. A lamp was knocked over, and the bulb was shattered. The room had a safe to keep your stuff safe in the corner. Your bag was sat on the bed, but some of your clothes were in tatters on the ground. There were soothing paintings above the bed. "Where is 'e?" Lafayette questioned, speaking up for the first time. You led them to the bathroom door, and knocked lightly. "Sweetie?" You called, then knocked again. "Charlie?" No reply. You smiled shyly to the boys before you opened the door and turned the light on. You had taken the liberty of some light remodeling. The tiles were red... the sink was red. The toilet was red. The walls were red. Everything was red. It was a good accent color, after all. In the bathtub, you had placed a nice accent piece to bring everything together. It was your ex boyfriend! Well, what was left of him. "Mon Dieu!" Laf cried out, and he covered his mouth in horror. Herc had put an arm out in front of the other boys, as if to protect them from the scene. "Y/N," Herc whispered, "What have you done?" You grinned at him before you turned the lights off and shut the door, blocking out the scene from the obviously traumatized boys. "Only what I should've done from the start." It had started simple. You guys had been arguing. He had come home late again that night, smelling like he'd drank the bar. You were sick of it. He'd slurred his words, called you a slut, and you wrote it off that he was just drunk. When he hit you the first time, you wrote it off that he was just drunk. He repeatedly apologized. He bought you nice things. He treated you better than he ever had. When he hit you the second time, you wrote it off that he was just drunk. He desperately pleaded you not to leave him, promising to change, to stop drinking. And he did. He stopped drinking, but that made him worse. He'd lash out, shove you against the wall. The sex was rougher, and he demanded it more often, but he still brought you roses and gave you sweet kisses. When he slammed you into the wall by your throat, he was sober. Later that night, he cried at your feet and told you about how he was abused as a child. He begged you to stay, and you willingly ran back into his arms. He got angrier, beat on you more. He'd slap your face and pull your hair. He'd throw you on the ground and call you a whore. But he'd still cover it up with tender kisses, holding you until you fell asleep, and those sweet lies of love. So you stayed. You stayed, and you loved him. He started to use you more. Even when you didn't want sex, he'd come knocking. He started to carry scissors with him. The next day, he'd mutter a sorry and hand you a bag of new clothes. He didn't say "I love you" as much as he used to, but you knew he still cared for you. When he put his cigarette out on you for the first time, you thought you were going to pass out. You'd never experienced a pain like that before. Your own screams were all you could hear. He told you he was sorry and brought you a bag of ice from the machine down the hall. He held you while you cried. One day, you woke up, and you asked yourself, "What happened to me? How did I get here?" You were covered in bright red burns, dark grey ash, crusty crimson blood, and swollen purple bruises. You didn't go to work that day... And you got beat for that, too. You had grown up with the boys, inseparable since high school. College didn't come between you. You still managed to keep in touch. They'd always tried to ferociously protect you, almost to the point of overbearing. John punched Thomas Jefferson in the nose when he tried to ask you out junior year. Herc was supposed to deliver James Madison's love letter to you, but instead, he threw it away. They didn't think any man in the world deserved you, and you let them hear about it. Maybe that's why you waited until you were in love with Charlie to introduce him to the boys. And of course, they didn't like him. Alex said he was too quiet. John claimed he lacked bravado. Lafayette complained about his lack of passion. Herc mentioned his cowardice. You declared that you loved him. The boys disapproved. They said they loved you better than he ever could. They made Charlie uncomfortable. They excluded him, and they were openly judgmental about his flaws. They were unafraid to make an alphabetized list of all his shortcomings as your lover. You told them to shove it up their asses. Slowly, you stopped taking Charlie out with them, embarrassed that your friends could be so cruel. He was grateful, since he had been pleading with you to not be around them so much. Charlie would complain when you'd come back after being around them, saying that you acted differently. He said they changed you, made you worse, and he didn't like it. He wouldn't always hold you as tight on those nights, and eventually, you stopped going out as much. They had noticed that you were wearing more clothes than usual. They noticed the long sleeves and heavily applied makeup. They commented on it a few times, but you were as defensive as a rabid dog. They didn't want to get bitten by you again, so they stopped asking. However, when Alex noticed the bruise on your hip when you bent over to pick up the keys you'd dropped and your shirt slipped up, he asked you about it. Of course you lied. Of course you played it off. You loved Charlie, and he had said he was sorry. The boys had noticed you become more distant, and they took note of how you didn't like being touched anymore. You used to love Herc's hugs, but now, every time one of them reached for you, you jumped out of your skin. And it broke their hearts. They began to wonder if you didn't like them anymore. When you started to dodge their calls, they gave you space. They still worried about you, and they stopped by your hotel room when you were in town one night with a few packs of beer, but you didn't even open the door wider than a crack. You wouldn't let them in. They begged with you, pleaded. John cried, asking you to please not turn them away. You promised you were fine. Over and over when they begged to see you, you said you were fine. You wanted space. You needed time on your own. You were fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. It was hard for you, but you shut the door on them as Charlie shouted for you from the kitchen your hotel suite had. You couldn't let them see the black eye you were sporting. When Peggy ran to their apartment with smudged mascara and a runny nose, screaming about the bruises on you when she accidentally walked in on you in the bathroom one day, they immediately rushed over. Charlie had moved the both of you all over, city to city, never in one place long. It kept you isolated and vulnerable. They went to your hotel a few cities over, desperate to check on you. You had to be okay. They blamed themselves for not seeing the signs, for being blind. They should've beaten the shit out of him when they had the chance. When they came up the stairs and saw your marred body, their hearts broke, and you just smoked your cigarette because it was your fucking life. It was your reality. You lived that shit every day, and for you, it was just another Thursday night. This trip had been different. You knew that. Charlie was angrier, antsier. He had slapped you around in the car more than usual on the ride up. He was rougher with you, his hands like sand paper and his lips like a soggy ash tray as he grabbed you by the hair and tasted your skin. Maybe you didn't love him anymore. You were too scared to leave though. He always did love to remind you that you could never do better. You thought of the puppy love you two had shared. The tender kisses. Hand holding. Love letters-they were still sweet even though Alex felt the need to mark them up with a red pen, commenting on every mistake, and inevitably giving them all failing grades. You had been so in love. But now the seasons were colder, the sex was rougher, and waterproof makeup didn't hold up as well as you had hoped. He threw you down on the bed, slapping you around. He spit on you at some point. "You never fight back, you little slut," he had said. "You enjoy this." Hit after hit. "Maybe this time, I'll just fucking kill you. You know, maybe then you'd shut your damn mouth, and I'd be able to love you." He threw you to the ground and went to take a shower. Your mind was blurry. You were afraid for your life. Charlie was never good at bluffing. When he'd played poker with you and the boys a million years ago, you could always tell when he was shit talking. Now was not one of those times. You grabbed the scissors from the bag and followed him into the bathroom. He'd never hit you again. He'd never hurt you again. You were leaving him for good. You'd make sure that piece of shit got what he deserved. It had been two years. The body was long gone. No one missed the piece of shit. Your wounds were healed, faded scars on your body. You still had nightmares. You'd bolt up in bed, screaming and sobbing, fighting to get him off of you. Herc would grab your thrashing frame and hold you against his chest until you calmed down. Lafayette would whisper in French to you, calling you sweet names like "mon ange" and "ma chérie." John would braid your hair for you, knowing it calmed you down, when you'd had a hard day. Sometimes, something would trigger you, but he knew how to handle you. He'd kiss you on the forehead and hold you until you rode out the panic attack, talking to you about small, seemingly meaningless things, wiping your tears away with his fingertips. Alex showered you with love letters after he'd shouted "let me show you how it's done" and picked up his pen. Love letter after love letter with sweet, clever words that filled your mind and soul to the brim. He also wrote you spicy ones, but those you kept in a separate drawer. Your boys knew you had needed time, but they'd never stopped loving you. They had told you that no man would love you the way they do, and maybe they were right. No man loved the same way. But you loved the way they loved you. And the only time they put their hands on you was when you had verbally asked and consented for it. They loved you the way you deserved, not just the way you needed. And it was enough.

[imagine-ikebukuro]

I was wondering if I could get a scenario with Shizuo trying to help his s/o who's going through bad depression and wanting to kill themselves? If you're uncomfortable writing this/it's too dark I totally understand; don't feel pressured to do this

ANONYMOUS SAID: Ahh I forgot, for the depressed s/o scenario with Shizuo could the s/o be female? I sent it yesterday and I don’t remember if I specified if it was a female s/o or not

TRIGGER WARNING! MENTIONS OF SUICIDE, DEPRESSION AND SELF LOATHING UNDER THE CUT! Please be safe. In case you feel hopeless, please consult someone you trust, a parent, sibling, friend, teacher, hotline, etc. You don’t have to deal with everything on your own, it’s okay to reach out for help ♥

The pale moon seems lonely, its light looks dim, almost shallow, as if you could break right through it and swallow it up and have it be gone. The tiny stars sparkle peacefully, gathering around the orb, but minding their own business and making la lune look out of place.

All the same, the city is filled with dozens of people staggering around. From up high they look like tiny ants, steps quick and mind busy, though surely tired.

The girl wonders, are they just as tired as she is herself?

Are they tired of their routine, their work and their boss and are they tired of getting up early? Are they tired of getting up at all? Tired of existing and tired of life?

Looking at it from afar makes her feel strange. She purses her lips as she begins to reflect on how she usually is just one more cog in the wheel, pacing around the streets that are filled to the brim, while the most lonely she’s ever been.

The howl of a cold breeze makes her shiver. But she has been trembling for a while now. Ever since she came here, in fact. One hour ago? Longer than that? She’s lost track of time, she has long ago. When everything merges together, you tend to forget to pay attention to the clock. When the sun doesn’t warm you up, you tend to neglect how it sets or rises. It doesn’t make a difference.

Allowing her eyes to wander from the landscape view, averting her gaze away from the sky scrapers and the buildings and the crowds and the blurry merging mess, she looks to her feet.

Trembling, shaking, shivering, dangling.

The flesh of her palm grips at the edge of the bridge she is sitting on. The skin of her hands, which rest left and right of her, feels dry against the rough pavement-stoney texture.

A push would be all it takes. One swift movement of a quick impact followed by just letting go, relaxing, resting, falling.

Her legs swing slightly back and forth and it makes her think of how last time she had this kind of picture in front of her eyes, she was a small kid, playing around and climbing something that she then was scared to come down from again. Whether it had been a tree or a small tower at the playgrounds, she can’t recall. All she knows is that she started crying back then, wanting someone to help her get away from this place, that had her feel so stuck.

When has she lost the energy to cry? Whether she’d cry for help or just because, she’d be welcoming any type of tear. Wouldn’t it mean she’s scared of the height, scared of the fall? Is she though?

The muscles of her right hand relax ever so slightly as she lifts her palm slowly and lets her digits reach for the pocket of her jacket. The tips of her fingers meet the hard plastic of her phone and she stops for a second.

A call would be all it takes. Dialing a few numbers followed by a “can you pick me up?”, but it seems so impossible right now. Like a difficult task, something annoying you probably should do, but would rather not.

While she thinks back and forth, her body moves on its own. She’s torn apart, one half of her inching a little closer forward, the other half dialing a number and holding her phone to her ear.

It doesn’t even take longer than a second for him to pick up.

“(Y/N)? Where are you?” His voice makes her tense up and her left hand, still holding onto the ground, tightens its grip as silence fills the conversation for a bit. “Can you hear me? (Y/N), are you still there? Are you alright?”

“No.”

Her insides are screaming, shouting, hissing and yelling the answer, but her actual voice cracks and is mere but a whisper, weak and crushed and torn and tired.

“Did something happen?”

She doesn’t reply, she doesn’t know the answer to it. It feels like nothing is happening at all anymore while at the very same time, everything is too overwhelming and too much for her to bare.

Her vision gets blurry, matching what she has been feeling inside for such a long time. Feeling a collection of tears gather on her lashes and rolling down her cheeks has her feel something. She can’t put a finger on it, she can’t say whether it’s good or bad, but it’s something.

“Shizuo… I’m– I…” her lungs feel full and stiff and her raspy voice burns in the back of her throat as a sob bubbles from her lips. “Help me. Please.”

“Where are you?” he asks immediately and she can hear him fumbling around, shifting and probably grabbing his keys and she can hear the bang of a door and quick steps and the background noise of people’s voices and car engines and a city so alive and full of energy.

Even though she can hear the dull tone of her own voice giving a reply and even though she is aware of having her head turned to the nearest street sign and even though she knows she’s telling him about her current location, it’s like watching and hearing it all from afar.

The few single drops of tears now feel like a stream, a river, an ocean flowing out of her system. Giant masses of water that she swallowed down constantly and locked away. But it wasn’t her consuming the water, it was the water consuming her and having her drown and having her shut off from anything outside the deep sea that is her numbness.

And she’s letting it all go, releasing it, relaxing. Without a push and without a fall and without putting an end to it.

“I’ll be right there. Stay put,” he says while the background noise dims and the voices around him grow mute.

She begins to count and in no less than 183 seconds steps behind her inch closer. A little over three minutes to keep track of. A little over three minutes filled with a conversation about nothing and Shizuo repeating he wants her to stay on the phone with him. A little over three minutes of breathing and crying and feeling scared of the height, scared of the fall. A little over three minutes of wanting to get away from the place and situation that makes her feel so stuck.

183 seconds and she feels a familiar hand reach out to hers and a familiar chest to rest her head against and familiar arms wrap around her.

“I’m right here. It’s okay.”

A little over three minutes of being alive and realizing that many more minutes are to follow.

[elizas-writing]

TV Reviews: Thirteen Reasons Why

This... was a tough one to get through.

I read the book by Jay Asher when I was 15 and fell in love, so when I heard there was going to be a Netflix series, I was all aboard and excited. But that quickly switched to concern as the criticisms came out almost immediately. I was still willing to give the benefit of the doubt and maybe some good would come out and... well, let’s start with the story.

Heads up that there may be some slight spoilers, but just in regards to discussing the graphic content of the later episodes. I’ll keep it as vague as I can, but it’s something that still needs to be talked about. If you’re still concerned about content and if it’ll trigger you, I hope this is extensive enough. And I will make a separate post for major spoilers

A small town is shaken after the sudden suicide of a teenager named Hannah Baker. With a lawsuit building up against the high school, there are more questions than answers to why Hannah did what she did. That is until one of her former classmates, Clay Jensen, receives a package of cassette tapes, starts playing one, and hears Hannah’s voice, saying if someone is listening, then they are one of the reasons why she was pushed to suicide. And the series revolves around Clay trying to figure out Hannah and find out the truth from those who hurt her.

From the get-go, anyone can tell this series was a massive expansion of the book. While the book was entirely in Clay’s perspective and he finishes all the tapes in one night, in the series, he actually interacts with the people who listened to the tapes before him, trying to uncover the truth. Each tape gets an hour long episode for Clay to slowly digest everything Hannah says, especially with anticipation building up to his own tape and how difficult it is to listen to the crap she endured. You also see multiple perspectives, including the others on the tapes, and how they were affected. Of course, there’s also the Bakers filing the lawsuit and trying to figure out their daughter, and Clay and Hannah’s relationship is also expanded. These changes are welcome and necessary if all these stories are to be told in their entirety, so I appreciate the producers knew not to cut corners, especially with the subject matter.

I liked the differences between scenes set in the past and those in the present with the former in warm tones and the latter in cool tones (and also Clay having a scar through the series). It’s obvious yet clever signs to tell when the story is being told out of order; I just like little details like that. It was also fun to watch scenes play out like a typical YA drama (indie music and all), but they don’t overstay their welcome and draw you back into the gritty reality of it all. The show doesn’t shy away to bring up subjects like slut-shaming, rape cultures and the double standards of high school girls and boys. And Tony grew on me to become one of my favorite characters of the whole show from his demeanor to his design; he’s just fascinating to see how he’s involved in all of this without actually being on any of the tapes.

Out of the many criticisms, people say Hannah committed suicide for a sick revenge fantasy rather than actual depression. Even though I don’t interpret it as such, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t see where people were coming from, especially since the show plays up Hannah to likely be an unreliable narrator. But even though a ton of people listened to the tapes before Clay and were told upfront how and why they hurt Hannah, they’re still hypocritical assholes and remain in total denial of any wrongdoing even at the last episode. It reminded me a bit of Heathers and how everyone reacted to Heather Chandler’s supposed suicide right down to the memorials and going on and on about how sad and tragic she really was when in reality, everyone hated her. There’s almost a dark comedic aspect (not to the same level as Heathers) where everyone suddenly cares about the signs of suicide, blissfully ignorant that they were witnesses and enablers of Hannah’s bullying, particularly Courtney-- who I swear reminded me way too much of nearly every high school girl I knew in ASB with their high and mightiness. They were just fake. It’s still problematic as hell, but I think it’s an interpretation that needs to be taken with a grain of salt when you break down the facades these people are putting up to avoid accountability. Some definitely start reevaluating their behavior and what is and isn’t the truth with some powerfully emotional scenes, even calling each other out for their bullshit, but those still in denial are important to note as well for the true nature of people even in the face of tragedy.

Besides, it’s not really a problem with how Hannah chose to distribute her suicide note; she’s just sadly not that well written, at least compared to the rest of the cast. Everyone else has pretty clear cut signs of depression and other mental health problems, but you don’t really see that with Hannah until the last couple episodes or so. There are definitely mentions of loneliness and lack of prospects for a future, but compared to everyone else, it’s almost glanced over, which sucks because, well, she’s supposed to be one of the main focuses of the story. Some of the reasons she listed aren’t even that well explained as to how she was affected, so it leads to a number of viewers interpreting her as selfish and manipulative when we know that wasn’t supposed to happen. And yeah, I understand depression varies person to person and teenagers don’t always know how to communicate their problems and trivial things to adults can be big deals for teens-- I was a teenager once upon a time too--, but Hannah just needed way more focus rather than trying to make characters like Justin sympathetic even when they honestly don’t deserve it. There’s also a lot of inconsistencies from the characters’ actions to the messages that just muddle everything up, but I’ll save that for spoilers.

But the big talk of this show? The graphic and triggering content as you can see below (shout out to @bezukhova for making this chart, and I tried seeing about pin pointing other time slots to skip, but it’s edited with so many jump cuts, it’s near impossible).

Yes, it’s about as unnecessary as you would think and only serves for shock value. I give Netflix credit that they had the automatic warnings when they did, and I think it’s a start for an easier time for their customers to stream movies and TV shows comfortably. But... why?? Was there a reason to push it this far and even go out of their way to change Hannah’s suicide method from the book?

And yes, I did watch the Beyond the Reasons special to understand why they did what they did. They dragged on quite a bit about being “real and authentic” and “want[ing] it to be painful to watch.” For starters, if you can’t figure out that suicide and rape are horrible things in the great year of our lord 20 fucking 17, I don’t know what the hell is the matter with you; you don’t need a TV show to spoon-feed it to you. Not to mention, they’re still losing a potential audience of people who might be looking for such a fictional narrative for some form of help in their trauma and having them sit through the same things they already endured is a horrible way to go about that. I know people who flat out refuse to watch stuff like Game of Thrones because of the rape content; it doesn’t matter if the rest of the show is good. These survivors know what will likely set off an anxiety attack, and that is not a game they’re willing to play, period. It’s honestly kinda insensitive that they didn’t take that into consideration when making those scenes which sucks because it does include some interesting talks about rape culture (to an extent anyway, but again, spoilers).

There are ways to portray this content and be subtle. Compare some of this content with how it was handled in Perks of Being a Wallflower (definite spoilers if you haven’t seen the movie or read the book, but this is important to compare).

Towards the end of the story, Charlie starts having an anxiety attack when he tries to have sex with Sam. This sets off a ton of flashbacks of repressed memories of his aunt sexually abusing him shortly before dying in a car accident. And his mental state deteriorates to the point where he contemplates suicide. All you see is his aunt touching his leg and saying “don’t wake your sister.” All you see is the camera pan towards a knife on the kitchen counter (you don’t even see him pick it up) before the police break in and Charlie wakes up in a mental hospital. That’s all you need to figure out why Charlie is breaking down. No over-the-top graphic content, just subtlety because damn it, your audience is capable of critical thinking. This is how you do it without making your show a giant trigger.

And to top it all off, Thirteen Reasons Why fails to deliver clear-cut solutions to the problems presented. It’s just misery on top of misery for everyone, and if you’re trying to go for a “it gets better” message, it doesn’t work. I know the ending is super ambiguous and there’s potential for a second season, but how long can some of your audience afford to wait when all you have to offer is one link to a website? The only worthwhile stuff they talk about is about rape culture and dispelling myths and a quick guide to consent. But if teenagers have a hard time verbalizing their problems, what can they do to fix that? How can we identify signs of depression and suicide way earlier on? How can we better listen to victims and not shame them? What are the best mental health centers and hotlines to reach out to? How does someone going through similar trauma as Hannah cope in a healthy way? A lot of the solutions the producers discuss are so vague and offer little to nothing for the audience, especially those who might be seeking help.

I’m sure this review might seem all over the place, but that’s pretty much my thoughts on the show. The scenes that are done well are worthwhile like Jessica in the later episodes or whenever someone calls someone out on their bullshit. And the whole cast does well with what they’re given to deliver such raw emotional pain and conflict. And I know the crew was had good intentions to make a statement about dozens of issues for teenagers and knew to take its audience seriously. But on the whole, it’s pretty clunky at times. I think it’s one of those shows where you have to watch yourself to make your own opinion, but this is not the go-to resource if you’re looking for help, especially if the graphic content can make you feel worse. I’m sure others will find more good in it than bad, and I don’t totally regret checking it out, but from what I was expecting, it was kinda a disappointment aside from some select scenes and performances.

[dailyaudiobible]

08/01/2020 DAB Transcript

2 Chronicles 30:1-31:21, Romans 15:1-22, Psalms 25:1-15, Proverbs 20:13-15

Today is the 1st day of August welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian it is great to be here with you today on this 1st day of the 8th month of the year, day 214 on our journey through the Scriptures this year and last day of the week. So, beginning of the month end of the week. Tomorrow we’ll start moving into the new month fully, but it is great to be here with you today now, as we take the next step forward on our voyage through the Bible this year. And, so, we’re reading from the New Living Translation this week, which is today, and we’ll move ourselves back into the book of second Chronicles. Today we’ll read chapters 30 and 31.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for Your word and we thank You for bringing us this far. And as we greet this eighth month, we invite You to lead and guide us. And You are always willing, and You are always there and so what we are ultimately asking is Holy Spirit come and remind us to be aware. Instead of going our own way and then circling back may we proactively follow where You are leading in this new month and may we live into what You are teaching us through Your word in this month and may this be a transformational month in our lives and hearts, may it be one to remember instead of one to forget as we embrace You more and more fully as we become more and more fully aware as we have eyes to see and ears to hear. And, so, come Jesus we pray. In Your mighty name, we ask. Amen.

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If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, thank you, thank you. As I say just about every day, thank you for your partnership. We can’t be here. We wouldn't be here with…without us being in this together and on this journey of a lifetime through the Bible in a year. And if that has been life-giving to you then thank you for your partnership. There’s a link on the homepage. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or, if you prefer, the mailing address is PO Box 1996. Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

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And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Good morning DAB family this is Abba’s Grace calling regarding a call that came in on July 11th. And if your name is not Mary, I’m so sorry. I know you live in Georgia and you called regarding my sons song bringing joy to your heart and a smile to your face after such a trying time with your son in the hospital. We are praying for you. We love you. I know His faithfulness has been by your side but would love to hear an update on your sons healing journey after falling into that fire pit. I am so sorry for that experience and I look forward to hearing back from you. And Running Desperately to Jesus, I pray you have been immersed in Abba’s unconditional love for you and that those lies have died down. What you did is not who you are. I know that as we walk on this earth without our maker, the keeper of our hearts and souls. And even after becoming a believer not fully understanding what was finished on the cross and our unity in Christ and how we have a new life, these layers of protection that we built to meet our needs or to…to feel loved and worthy and secure and…and…and even acceptable, they just come back. And that is also for Teresa that just called in today from Indiana. It comes back and that’s our flesh. Our flesh is the unbeliever and it forgets that Abba is there, that Abba is enough, and we fall into unbelief. So, I ask that you rise up in your new identity in Jesus’ name and that you walk in that truth. You have been clothed and dignity and strength. That goes for both of you and all of…all of the sons and daughters of God. I love you family and Abba’s joy, He has you...

Hello brothers and sisters, I’m calling concerning the caller, the gentleman that called about…well he didn’t give his name. He was really upset, understandably, about his daughter being emotionally and sometimes physically abused and I just want to reach out to you brother and say our hearts are breaking with yours. Regardless of how old that child is, 18…under 18 years old that child has to be intercepted from this adult that’s doing the abusing. And God’s given you eyes to see, the need to see it. Other adults that are around this child are either too afraid or I don’t know what else it could be, fear, intimidation, but brother you have seen it. I would say you are the one that needs to step forward and begin to remove that child from the situation. We are talking about a baby that has no say. So, brother we just pray that God give you the strength to do what is right, to step up no matter what other adults are gonna think in your church. It’s almost like contradiction that the church would not understand what’s going on here. But brother, seek your pastor, take her to the doctor to have her observed. We’ll be praying in Jesus’ name.

[singing starts] How I love the precious name of Jesus. How I love the mighty name that breathes us. Demons tremble at His name. Every knee shall bow, and every tongue proclaim the name of our Lord Jesus [singing ends]. Jesus, such a mighty name. Jesus how I love, how I love, how I love that name. We need to worship Him; we need to praise Him more. Greater is he that is in us than he that is in the world. Hail to the King, hail to the King, hail to the one who reigns in heaven for eternity. Hail to the King, hail to the King. Lord glorified. You came and died to the world would live. O Father we just come to You as a nation humbly bowing before You. We are praying that Your people who are called by Your name will humble themselves and pray and turn from their wicked ways so You will heal our land. God, I think I missed some parts, but You know the whole verse. We are desperate for You God. We’re desperate for Your Holy Spirit to fall on every person in this country and every person in the world. We are desperate Lord to be healed of this coronavirus. We are desperate for people just to repent and turn to You and be saved instead of trying to live their own way. O Lord Jesus, fill us with Your Holy Spirit. We also pray that the enemies of our nation __ for Satan and His purposes will have the blinders taken off of their eyes so they can see Your truth. Father we want…we don’t want to stand in the way of our prayers being answered so we pray You would reveal in us any unforgiveness that is in our heart…

Hello everybody this is Annette Allison from Oklahoma City. O man, hey thank you guys. Thank you, thank you, thank everyone who gave me a really nice shout out. Man, things have been down in the dumps for me a little, but I think I’ve got it now. But man, things at work have been really rough and I’ve been trying to turn this into a…a mic drop Scripture reference thing and I think I’ve got it. So, what had happened is somebody had built a false program to make something always pass on my test machine for…for…for…the things that I do, okay, for what I test. And then something happened, and it would no longer work anymore. So, no matter what I did, even though I was following what I knew that it should be, the way that it should go, it would never work. So, I’m kind of wondering…I gotta fit this all in real quick…I got the condensed version. You know, sometimes we try and we try and we try even though we think we’re doing the right thing. What if we’re not following the correct program? Say you got your information other than what the plan was? No matter what you try, if you are not following what the plan or the program is you’re going to fail. Isn’t that right? So I’m wondering, some of us who have been trying and trying even though we have think we’re doing the right thing based upon what someone may have told us or what we perceived, if it isn’t God’s plan we are going to fail. So, there’s my mic drop moment for just a moment and that’s the quick dirty version of it and I hope that that helps somebody somewhere because…

Hi Daily Audio Bible family this is Rebecca Joy from Illinois. I’m requesting some prayer. It’s interesting the last few times that I requested prayer and I tried to submit it they didn’t go through probably from kind of like a glitch in my phone but hopefully this one does because I really need it at the moment. I just sent my friend of…of quite a few years a pretty serious text just about some things on my heart that have been on my heart for quite a while about just how she conducts herself and it was just growing inside of me for so long and I…I tried to hold it in and I was trying to find a way to just, you know, __  on my own and maybe resolve it on my own but it just seemed like it kept on coming up again and again and again. And I have tried to talk to her about it before, but it never quite came out right. So, I just…I typed something out so that, you know, I’d be able to get my thoughts down clearer. But when I sent it and she read it she…she messaged me back saying that she was too hurt to reply at the moment and that does not bode well. I’m in a friend group with her. We play…we all play games together and, you know, I’m just really afraid of losing her friendship and losing their friendship because I know that we’re all pretty close and if she has a problem with somebody and, you know, they kind of follow behind her then I’m basically kicked out. And I’m just really worried and I just…I don’t know. If God has anything to say to me, like I’m praying for conviction, I’m praying for just, you know, wisdom and help because I need it. So, just please pray for this whole situation for my friend that it will be restored and just…

Hey DAB family it’s __ calling in from the UK. This is my second time calling in and I’m so happy to be here. I’ve been listening for like the past six months. I recently just moved into my new place and, yeah, I’m just really enjoying being able to pray out loud. And definitely you guys have help me with this as I pray with you and enjoy listening to the podcast with everyone around the…the Global Campfire. So, yeah, just pray that this house it’s me and hopefully I’ll get more confidence in speaking to you guys in the coming days. But I just recently listened to the DAB post on the 28th I think, and I heard Avery who was talking about wanting to get into ministry. And I just wanted to say Avery that I’m praying for you, I’m hoping that your time will come in…in ministry and that you will be able to speak and give your wisdom. But also, that it’s all in God’s timing. And God never…never lets you wait around, never makes you lack, but that this time is time for you again to read Scripture and gain wisdom and do all the best that you can do, but in time you will be placed in your calling and it will be the correct time and you will go from success to success. And also want to pray over Teresa…Teresa and her daughters who are both in addiction. Lord I just want to pray that they are freed from…from that addiction and freed from that entrapment and may they stand on the rubble of those fortifications Lord. Also hope that Ezekiel had a really good birthday. And time’s running out. Hi, Blind Tony, hi Biola and hi everybody else. Love you DAB family.