#but honestly i don't feel like going through that right now

[deadandphilgames]

A note from Daniel (new epilogue from You Will Get Through This Night)

Thank you for reading This Night. Writing this book in 2021, while sitting locked down in a lightless basement apartment for months, had a certain self-fulfilling irony that was not lost on me.

In many ways, I wrote this book for not only my past self that I wish could have known these things when I needed them most - but for the guy sitting in an incredibly uncomfortable, hunched, t-rex-esque position typing, that needed it right then. Like many of you, I thought those particularly fun couple of years were a temporary inconvenience, that I wouldn't have to age the book by diving into. And here we are. I hope you enjoyed that new chapter about resilience and whatever the hell a 'polycrisis' is. Turns out certain global events do have an additional effect on our mental health - it's understandable that you may try to power through it and pretend it never happened, but we all deserve to take whatever time we need to honestly process how life makes us feel. I hope you're doing alright. My journey of reflecting honestly on my own life experiences and lifestyle while writing was …like spontaneously punching yourself in the stomach. "Wow. I really live like this? That is apparently not conducive to a healthy mind. Oops. Guess I'll go touch some grass." I'm happy if that made this a more entertaining read occasionally.

Even now, I find myself continually re-reading the book in those small moments of first emotional reaction to situations where I now at least think "Wait - what was I supposed to do here? Right. Not catastrophise." If this is you - that is fine. You are not expected to perfectly memorise this book or retain all knowledge you hear in life. I know I don't. If you're ever sat next to me in the emergency exit aisle of a plane, know that you may be required to physically throw me out of the door in order to inflate the slide because I was busy during the briefing, imagining how my life would have been different if I actually had the nerve to dye my hair black that time in school. I am at peace with that.

It was honestly terrifying for me to try and mine the content of my life to try and actually illustrate advice for people that may really need it …for me to honestly look at the balance between joking about my mental health, and really getting real. Hey - if your attempt at opening up via some humour comes out a bit offensive, you still get points for at least putting it on the table. That's progress.

This is not a book about me. I am here just as an example of terrible behaviour that you have permission to have an inappropriate public transport snort at, and as a writer who has repeatedly not finished traditional 'self-help' or scientific study books for being dry, unrelatable and preachy. I just hope you found this moist, identifiable and accepting of all of your beautiful flaws. So many flaws. I often worried if any of the material was maybe obvious, or something you could stumble across on the second page of Google - then I had a small moment of honesty with myself contemplating my own ignorance, commitment to procrastination, attention span …and the fact that factually just 0.63% of all people searching online, ever bother clicking to the second page of results. If you already knew some of this, good for you. Honestly. You must literally be happy with yourself. I'm just looking in the mirror and trying to do something for the 99.37% of humanity that spend their lives never successfully researching how to not lay awake at night fantasising about their doom. Look forward to the upcoming pocket size book of 'offensively self-destructive jokes' by Dan - or 700-page memoir of my yet un-girthy, mostly unremarkable life so far if that's what you're really looking for.

Perhaps the most terrifying result of releasing this book into the world, has been coming face to face with those of you that have read it. For in these moments, all of my protective self-deprecating persona comes crashing down in an instant when someone says this book made them feel better. Hearing that this book was the first time they finished anything tangentially related to self-improvement, or that just one thing they read was a new perspective on a part of their life they needed, makes me feel my mission in life is already complete. Seeing it be recommended by bookstores amongst all the other choices, hearing that people have shared it with their therapists or had it suggested to them by a professional, is an unbelievable seal of approval that I appreciate. I am so inarticulably grateful to have been given the opportunity to do anything that could make your life easier, more peaceful, more enjoyable. I've met people who annotated this book with post-its, told me they listen to audiobook exercises on their commute - and even a few people that have had illustrations tattooed onto them as a symbolic reminder of a message.

All of this puts that year of typing like some kind of infinite monkey at a typewriter into perspective. I'd do it all again. Mostly. It has been the greatest privilege of my life to be the guy whose name is printed on this book, and I just hope that reading it helped you, as much as writing it helped me.

Love and good luck.

- Dan

[moonsaver]

thoughts on sunday after 2.2? i remember playing through the quest and being FLABBERGASTED the whole time like my GOD he is not beating the yan! allegations after this one. literally so much about his philosophy and perspective on life, and everything seemed to align with that sort of mindset imo and it was just like LSKJDGLSKJDGLJSFJKD

I wanted to answer both asks because i really want an opportunity to just go full blown in on sunday right now!!

Also, YESS i know right? I want to put him in a little glass jar enclosure and shake him around a bit. He's my creature dont touch him!!

Tw: yandere, manipulation, lovebombing(?)

Okay so one thing that I majorly believe in is Sunday was actually deeply lonely, and was much more prone to loneliness than Robin ever was, especially considering the fork in the road regarding their "paths" with Harmony vs Order. I feel that Robin was generally able to get along well with the adults like an amiable kid, but Sunday only ever got along with adults being looked at like "an old soul" and was let in on far more complicated and morally messed up stuff earlier than Robin, which could explain his tendency to never share about his own troubles (as Robin mentions).

And I feel like having been bottling up these feelings for so damn long, it's honestly messed with his head. And the slightest bit of resistance from anyone supposed to be under his control is met with overwhelming "disciplinary actions".

If yan!sunday ever manages to sit down and have a quiet, long talk with his darling, it's going to be quite possibly the most frustrating talk ever. He's not wrong, but he's not completely right either. Trying to disprove him is futile – he'll bolt down each and every argument against his ideals, and honestly starts trying to embed his own ideals into you bit by bit. Like water droplets on a weathered rock. He wears down his darling over time, and it's quite possibly over for you if he decides he wants to throw in the whole "triple faced soul" hypnotising debacle. You can't hide a single thing from this man.

Of course, I don't think he'll go that far unless it's absolutely necessary. Or he has, and you just don't realise it until you're stuck deep inside of a sweet little dream. However, I feel like even if you have the complete opposite views, he's still going to let you be for the most part. He doesn't want to transform his darling – frankly speaking, that's practically changing the very person who he loved in the first place. He holds a bit of sincerety in his heart, which he constantly condemns, but still keeps; a part of him does hope his darling comes around to his views, and at least learns to adjust to them instead of vehemently resisting. He still wants to be able to maintain some level of equity/equality in your "relationship" (as long as he still has more control, of course).

In the other route as mentioned in the second ask, if darling does have similar, but not same views, Sunday is a bit disappointed, although he does suppose it's not the worst..

He's most likely going to ask you about your views, and earnestly listen and make sense of it. Sits down and quietly, patiently listens to you as you try and explain your own views, why you think he's wrong, etc.. and for a moment, you think he's actually being.. kind of sweet. Which is promptly shaken off in the next phase –

He becomes the biggest ASSHOLE.

At first he's pleasant about it; gently persuading you to consider other ideas (his, basically). Sooner that persuading turns to thinly restrained coercion, until he's in a full-blown argument with you.

He starts out with each and every point of yours, whittles it down, breaks and crumbles it apart and hands it back to you with his own, perfectly polished views. He denies, manipulates or twists every little thing you said to his own benefit, speaking in that calm, factual voice of his with pityingly warm, golden eyes that frustrate you; this is the man that's bending every word of yours to his benefit, but at the same time he has so much loneliness and earnest in his eyes you don't know what to say, whether it'll be too harsh, or not. It's a weird game of manipulation and wordplay that eventually breaks you down into hot tears, which he so gently and lovingly wipes away after taking off his gloves. Burying your head into his neck and softly whispering comforting words into your ear; I know, darling, it's hard. I'm sure it's not easy to accept, I know, dear.

It's frustrating, but it's so.. comforting and loving that you almost don't want it to stop. His hand is lovingly petting your head or rubbing your back, his voice coos at you in comfort. If you didn't know any better – you'd think he was more akin to a siren than an angel.

[galacticlamps]

ok I have A Lot of thoughts about the staircase confession (well really about Edwin's whole character arc, but all roads lead to rome) but for now I just wanna say that, yes, I was bracing myself for something to go terribly wrong when I first watched it, and yes, part of me was initially worried its placement might be an uncharacteristically foolish choice made in the name of Drama or Pacing or Making a Compelling Episode of Television but at the expense of narrative sense--

But I wanna say that having taken all that into account, and watched it play out, and sat with it - and honestly become rather transfixed by it - I really think it's a beautifully crafted moment and truly the only way that arc could've arrived at such a satisfying conclusion.

And if I had to pinpoint why I not only buy it but also have come to really treasure it, I'd have to put it down to the fact that it genuinely is a confession, and nothing else.

That moment is an announcement of what Edwin has come to understand about himself, but because it takes the form of a character admitting romantic feelings for such a close friend, I think it can be very easy, when writing that kind of thing, to imbue it with other elements like a plea or a request or even the start of a new relationship that, intentionally or not, would change the shape of the moment and can quickly overshadow what a huge deal the telling is all on its own. But that's not the case here. Since it is only a confession, unaccompanied by anything else, and since we see afterward how it was enough, evidently, to fix the strangeness that had grown between him & Charles, we're forced to understand that it was never Edwin's feelings that were actually making things difficult for him - it was not being able to tell Charles about them. 'Terrified' as he's been of this, Edwin learns that his feelings don't need to either disappear completely or be totally reciprocated in order for him to be able to return to the peace, stability, and security of the relationship with which he defines his existence - and the scale of that relief a) tells us a hell of a lot about Edwin as a character and b) totally justifies the way his declaration just bursts out of him at what would otherwise be such a poorly chosen moment, in my opinion.

Whether or not they are or ever could be reciprocated, Edwin's feelings are definitively proven not to be the problem here - only his potential choice to bottle it up - his repression - is. And where that repression had once been mainly involuntary, a product of what he'd been through, now that he's got this new awareness of himself, if he still fails to admit what he's found either to himself or to the one person he's so unambiguously close with, then that repression will be by his own choice and actions.

And he won't do that. Among other things, he's coming into this scene having just (unknowingly) absolved the soul of his own school bully and accidental killer by pointing out a fact that is every bit as central to his self-discovery as anything about his sexuality or his attraction to Charles is: the idea that "If you punish yourself, everywhere becomes Hell"

So narratively speaking, of course it makes sense that Edwin literally cannot get out of Hell until he stops punishing himself - and right now, the thing that's torturing him is something he has control over. It's not who he is or what he feels, but what he chooses to do with those feelings that's hurting him, and he's even already made the conscious choice to tell Charles about them, he was just interrupted. But now that they're back together and he's literally in the middle of an attempt to escape Hell, there is absolutely no way he can so much as stop for breath without telling Charles the truth. Even the stopping for breath is so loaded - because they're ghosts, they don't need to breathe, but also they're in Hell, so the one thing they can feel is pain, however nonsensical. And Edwin certainly is in pain. But whether he knows what he's about to do or not when he says he 'just needs a tick,' a breather is absolutely not what's gonna give him enough relief to keep climbing - it's fixing that other hurt, though, that will.

Like everything else in that scene, there's a lot of layers to him promising Charles "You don't have to feel the same way, I just needed you to know" - but I don't think that means it isn't also true on a surface level. It's the act of telling Charles that matters so much more than whatever follows it, and while that might have gone unnoticed if anything else major had happened in the same conversation, now we're forced to acknowledge its staggering and singular importance for what it is. The moment is well-earned and properly built up to, but until we see it happen in all its wonderful simplicity, and we see the aftermath (or lack thereof, even), we couldn't properly anticipate how much of a weight off Edwin's shoulders merely getting to share the truth with Charles was going to be, why he couldn't wait for a better, safer opportunity before giving in to that desire, or how badly he needed to say it and nothing else - and I really, really love the weight that act of just being honest, seen, and known is given in their story/relationship.

[calliopesdiary]

escapism.

MINORS DNI - 18+ NSFW

band!poly!marauders x leadsinger!fem!reader

wc: 1.2k

warnings: this fic contains: smut, punishing kink, degrading kink, finger fucking, manhandling, being tied up, daddy kink

summary: when you and the boys get into a slight disagreement, during one of your shows you sing a song you KNOW they don't like you singing. and lets just say you get a... stern talking to.

contents: fem leadsinger!reader, i don't know how to write smut..., bassist!remus, drummer.james, guitarist!sirius, cussing

a/n: as i've implied previously this is my first attempt at writing smut, so Imk if its good!!

YOU KNEW THIS WOULD END BADLY... your boys were going to be pissed at you, but somehow you couldn't find it in your heart to feel guilty or bad. they hurt your feelings, so you'd just hurt them back.

it was certainly not the right way to go through this.

but there was something so thrilling about it, about singing this song. up on stage. with thousands of people to see. and you could bask in the glory of pissing off your boyfriends.

was it really your fault? the feminine urge to sing this song was overwhelming and... let's just say you had totally recorded it behind their backs. when you first showed Remus the lyrics he was skeptical.

"Love, I admire the tempo but don't you think it's a little too dirty for our genre?" You knew he was probably just jealous about you saying those kinds of words for everyone in the world to hear.

James was next, and James could be blunt.

"I adore the intro, sweetheart. but I don't like you talking that way unless its with us." you remember him shrugging.

Sirius, ohh god, Sirius.

"No."

"Why-"

"I'm not letting you play that at a show.

bingo, they were jealous of the lyrics they were hearing.

so when you had that argument, you knew this was the perfect way at getting them back.

the show started out as usual, playing the normal set. but not making eye contact with your boys.

you set up a track before you went on.

"You guys can leave the stage now." you looked up at James.

"Aren't you going to leave aswell? your body needs rest-"

"I'm fine, I had coffee." You snarked, stepping back onstage. the crowd cheering for your return.

"Alllright... this last song- honestly isn't pg at all and i'm probably going to get murdered for this but-"

the track starts, the boys can hear it from backstage. Sirius is pissed, sexually.

"sleezin' and teasin', i'm sittin' on him-"

"all of my diamonds are drippin' on him."

"i met him at the bar- it was 12 or somethin'"

"i ordered two more wines cause tonight i want em'"

"that bitch-" Sirius slurs.

"a little context- if you care to listen."

"just a heartbroke-bitch, high-heels six-inch."

"in the back of the nightclub, sippin' champagne."

you had done it, sang the whole song with the audience going absolutely insane. and your boyfriends were pissed to say the least.

after you had finished, you wandered off stage when you got lectured.

x

“WHAT THE FUCK was that??” Sirius barked, and you slowly turned to face him.

“it’s my choice was i sing.” you scoffed, trying to walk away until James’ iron grip locked around her wrist.

“you do not get to walk away, y/n.”

“and?”

“since when do you not care what we think?” Remus inquired, though he couldn’t really resist the amusement of the stunt his girlfriend had just pulled.

“since i decided that i didn’t give a fuck on what you blokes think about what i sing in public just because you’re jealous.”

oh yeah, you fucked up.

all the boys had to do was give eachother a look and James started pulling you along to the hotel you had been staying at.

“guys—“

“shut up, y/n.”

you rolled your eyes.

“you know, we can punish you right here right now for all of london to see if you keep this shit up.” Sirius hissed.

“i—“

“shh..” Remus’ nimble fingers and palm locked around your lips for the remainder of the walk.

you peered around at your surroundings and stumbled uncomfortably in your heels.

and you severely wished your panties werent seriously (haha, get it?) soaked.

once you arrived at the hotel and got into your room, you knew it was over.

a quick shove onto the bed and the rummaging through a suitcase was all you needed.

“g-guys let’s talk about this—“

you attempted to reason with them, while you wanted it (you couldn’t ignore the ache between your thighs).

“you disobeyed us, so this is what you get.”

James tugged the tough rope around your wrists and hung them above your head on the bedpost above you.

“now, tell me, y/n. if you really don’t want this, then why are your panties so wet?”

Remus asked innocently, leaving you to become a stuttering mess.

“i—… erm.. it’s—“

“that’s what i thought.”

Remus’ cold and scarred fingers wrapped around the waist band of your panties and tugged them down your legs.

“so fucking wet for us, puppy.”

he commented, before engulfing two of his fingers into your wetness.

you shuttered, your head thrown back in a pleasured manor.

“you like this, huh?” James ran his lovely fingers through your hair and tugged gently.

“s-stop…” you squirmed hopelessly, and all Sirius could do was pin you down.

“we’re just helping you learn a lesson, pup.”

“this’ll teach you not to disobey us, understand?”

you couldn’t answer, not since Remus ducked down and his lips locked around your dripping clit, sucking on it selfishly.

“Siri asked you a question, puppy.” James reminded cruelly.

“y-yes i- i understand—“

“good.”

he was quick to remove your shirt and bra, as he brushed his thumb against your sensitive nipple.

“ohfuckk— R-Remus f-fuck..” he very much enjoyed the sound of you moaning his name.

“let it out, puppy.” James stroked your restrained arm.

Remus had his hand in his trousers, his damp fingers wrapped around his hardened cock.

he stood up, his hair disheveled. he tugged his trousers down and took out his erect member.

“R-Remus..” you wished you could say that you didn’t want it.

“come on, puppy. you can take me.”

“can you take Moony, babes?” Sirius rested his chin against your thigh.

“y-yes..”

“good girl…”

Remus fucked into you thoroughly, by the time an hour had gone by you weren’t even sure how many orgasms you had in that time.

They took turns, pounding into you with their cocks.

“you’re such a slut for us, puppy.” Sirius stated, cupping your ass as he kept a nice rhythm.

he loved the feeling of your walls clenching in onto him.

“d-daddy…” you whimpered, your tiny little sobs earned nothing but cruelty.

“you’re just a stupid slut, isn’t that right?” James went back to sucking on your thighs, littering marks all over.

once Sirius was done that had been three rounds for each of them, and you had fallen so deep into your subspace.

obviously having three amazing boyfriends, they had amazing aftercare.

you practically collapsed onto James, feeling utterly helpless. Sirius stroked your hair gently.

“did we go to hard, puppy?” Remus caressed your tear-stained cheek.

“n-no i-im sorry…”

“y’just gotta listen sometimes, princess.” James kissed your forehead lovingly.

“we were a bit jealous.” Sirius admitted sheepishly, tucking some of your hair out of your face.

“everything hurts.” you groaned, leaving James to pull you into his lap.

“would you like a bath, princess?”

you nodded tiredly, your eyes still glossy.

once you were cleaned up, you fell asleep quickly. swaddled between Remus and James with Sirius’ iron grip locked around James’ waist.

Your head rested on Remus’ chest, falling asleep to the lovely rising and falling of his chest.

so… was it worth it?

yes, yes it was.

[pedroshotwifey]

To the Flame chapter 16

Series masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Chapter w/c: 3k

Chapter warnings: mentions of physical abuse, talk of suicide, manipulation, mental abuse, description of injury, controlling behavior, comfort, crying, javi being a dick, javi being "nice", reader being ✨delulu✨, idek how to tag this shit anymore, i think i might be gaslighting myself 💀

Chapter Summary: You get a glimpse of the man you used to know while you try to sort out your feelings in the hospital. You're faced with a tough decision---did you make the right one?

A/N: Don't know what to say about this one. Yes, we all want to scream at reader, yes, we all want to scream at Javi. Scream at me if you'd like and I'll happily scream back 😭 Love you babes!

******

You’re not dead, but you really wish you were. Your body aches more heavily than it ever has. Every breath you take is a massive effort and every twitch of your fingers sends a twinge through your entire body like a shock of electricity. You don’t know what’s easier—breathing deeply or taking in shallow breaths. Deeper means that your chest has to rise and fall painfully with the movement, but shallower makes you feel like you're not getting an efficient amount of air. You don’t want to decide, so you just lay on the kitchen floor and let your body do it for you. 

You don’t think Javi’s here with you, but you honestly could care less if he is or not. All you have to do is turn your head and look around, but you don’t think that’s possible for you right now. You can feel the way your throat has swollen and would pull tight if you tried. You just want to lay with your pain for a while and let it consume you so you don’t have to think. Though your head pounds painfully, it’s the clearest it’s been for weeks. You know you’ll have to get up at some point, but that point is not now. 

You can feel every organ individually, the way they struggle to work with every second that passes. Your lungs heave and sputter as you try to suck breath into them, and you’re suddenly curious to how they’re working at all. There’s no way for you to tell how long you were out or how much water you consumed, but you can only assume it was close to your limit. You thought you were going to die, you really did. 

You have no idea how long you lay there, staring up at the ceiling, before you hear the click of the door opening, then several sets of footsteps making their way inside. Their voices are muffled by the staticy noise in your head, and you frankly don’t care enough to try to figure out what’s going on. 

Javi’s blurry figure comes first, leaning over you as more people crowd in. 

“Sweetheart?” 

His dampened voice sounds panicked. You couldn’t give less of a fuck. You know that you’re probably going to be fine at this point, but you almost wish that you weren’t just to spite him. Suddenly, the light comes on, and your head starts to pound even harder. You close your eyes. 

***** When you open them again, you’re in a bed. Not yours, though, you can tell immediately. There’s daylight in the unfamiliar room coming from the window on the other side. So you know you’ve been out for a while. 

It takes a moment for you to remember what happened—why you’re probably here. And it’s with that realization that the pain returns. It’s more dull this time, immediately making you thankful for whatever meds they have you on. Just the underlying tightness throughout your body is enough for that. 

You blink and look around a bit, trying to scan your surroundings without moving too much. But when you spot the chair in the corner closest to you—who’s sitting in it—your adrenaline spikes. Javi sits up out of the chair as soon as he sees your eyes open and on him. He moves to the side of your bed and your body jerks away from him on instinct. 

“Get away from me,” you bite, though your voice is so strained it’s nearly incomprehensible. 

You can see hurt flash in his eyes for a split second, but it’s quickly replaced by anger. You don’t have time to dwell on that short moment of vulnerability before he has his hands on you, trying to hold you steady as you thrash and try to yell for help. He knows you won’t be able to muster up enough noise to be heard. 

“Fuckin’ stop and listen to me,” he spits, and you do, letting your body go limp before it gets any worse. You lay there and look him in the eye as silent tears sting your cheeks. 

“You’re going to tell them you tried to kill yourself,” he says calmly. You don’t realize you started shaking your head until he grabs your chin and stills you. “You’re going to say you couldn’t handle the stress of the move and you tried to drown yourself in the sink when I got home and found you.” 

You say nothing, because you know there’s no point. Why waste your breath and hurt your throat even more? 

“You tied a scarf around your neck, attached it to a weight, and threw it into the sink.” 

Oh, God. It makes you want to throw up, how elaborate his lie is. That would explain the bruising on your neck. He thought of everything, covered every track. You know you must be looking at him with pure disgust, but you don’t dare change your expression. You want him to see you, what he’s done to you, how he’s made you feel. 

There’s suddenly a knock at the door, and Javi’s expression changes to something almost tender. The hand tightly gripping your face moves to cup your cheek, the other to pet your hair. You feel panic and frustration crawling under your skin, consuming your body until you think you might scream. This is your chance to get away from him, but you know you won’t.  

All you have to do is tell the doctor you want to speak alone, tell them what’s happening, and you’ll never have to go back. But what if he didn’t believe you and you only make it worse for yourself? Or worse than that, what if he does, and you’re taken away from Javi. Exactly what you want, but also the last thing you can ever imagine happening. He’s still there, you can’t leave him. He’s still there. 

So, even as it crushes your soul and makes your heart jump wildly in your chest, you say nothing as Javi calls for the doctor to come in, and a man in a white coat steps inside with a clipboard. He smiles at you, his eyes full of so much pity that it makes you swallow. 

“Glad to see you up, honey. We were real worried for a second there.” 

You say nothing, just watch the doctor as Javi continues to stroke your hair, then places a kiss on your head and backs away for the man to check on you. He comes to your bedside, opposite of your husband, and places his hand on your forehead. 

“Still no fever,” he mumbles to himself, jotting something down on his clipboard. He brings a hand to your neck next, lightly pressing on the skin there with three fingers. He grimaces slightly. “Throat’s still very bruised and swollen. How bad does it hurt when I touch it here?” 

He moves his hand up and places his fingers on a spot right under your jaw and to the left, putting a small amount of pressure there. You try not to flinch. It’s not a lot of weight at all, but it hurts like hell. You can only guess that’s where most of the bruising ended up. 

“Hurts,” you rasp. The doctor puts his lips into a thin line and brings his hand back away. He writes something down and then sets the clipboard on the nightstand. 

“How long have I been here?” you question, voice barely a whisper. 

“You’ve been in and out for about forty-eight hours now,” the doctor tells you, glancing at his watch. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember it, you weren’t very cognizant.” 

You nod, resisting the urge to look at Javi. Instead, you let your head lay back on the pillow and inspect the water-stained ceiling tile above your bed. 

“When will she be cleared to come home?” Javi asks from where he’s sat in the chair. 

The man sighs contemplatively. “If all her vitals stay about the same as they are now for the next few hours, hopefully tonight. We would like to have somebody come talk to her to see where she’s at mentally first, since you’ve said that you work and she stays home. We don’t need her trying something like this again while she’s alone.” 

“I can take time off,” comes Javi’s quick reply, making something twist in your stomach. If you weren’t so mentally exhausted, you might be surprised about that. He had told you before that it was hard for him to just take days off. Though you suppose it would make sense for him to be able to request time for a family emergency. 

“I think that would be best, but we’re still going to have someone in to talk. We need to assess her cognitive functions as much as we need to make sure she’s not planning anything drastic.” 

Even though you’re not looking at him, you know Javi’s jaw is clenched. You know he’s smart enough to hold his tongue to not give himself away, even though he wants to protest more. He doesn’t trust what you might say while you’re alone, and frankly, you don’t either. 

“Can he stay in the room with me?” you croak. 

There’s a beat of silence as you look back to the doctor. He looks at you, then to Javi, then back to you. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk alone? The social worker we have on staff is very—”

“I’m sure,” you cut him off. “I want him here.” 

There’s a sickening sense of betrayal coming from yourself as you decide your fate. You don’t know why you’re doing this, but you do. It hurts your head to try to decode what you’re thinking half the time these days.

The man watches you for a few seconds, obviously trying to gauge how much of a mistake it would be to let you make this decision. “If that’s what makes you comfortable, we can do that.” 

There’s a wave of relief as Javi leans forward slightly to cover your hand with his. 

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he comforts. You visibly relax, letting your body slumping down into the mattress. You let yourself zone out for a bit while Javi and the doctor talk for a minute more, just savoring the warmth of Javi’s hand touching you so gently, so caring. You know you have his approval right now, and it feels so good to bask in it. 

You close your eyes and pretend to be asleep when the doctor leaves, trying to have Javi like this for as long as you can. You’re transported back to one of the first dates you went on with him, leaning up to him in his truck, his free hand over yours as it is now. The smiles you exchanged, the kisses, the laughs. It hurts so fucking bad. To think you’ll never have that again. 

Tears trickle from your shut eyes, a quiet sob leaving your lips even as you try to contain it. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Javi consoles, genuine sympathy in his voice. It makes you want to cry more. You open your eyes and Javi gets up from the chair, coming to the bed as you begin to sob. You don’t know how to explain to him the grief you’re feeling over him when he’s right there, but you don’t have to. You sit up the best you can and he cups your chin again, watching you tenderly with furrowed brows. 

“I know, honey, I know,” he coos before tucking your head to his chest. “I’ve got you. Get it all out.” 

And you do, you wrap your arms around him and cry into his chest until you can feel his shirt soaking your cheek. You shake and heave and clench the fabric until your tears go thin and start to burn your skin. 

He’s patient with you, holding you the entire time, whispering reassurances and rubbing your back, holding your head to him. It feels like your Javi. Yours. But it only makes you miss him more because you don’t know if it’s true. Don’t know if he’s snapped out of this awful trance that’s consumed him, or if he’s only here momentarily when you need him most. Either way, you let his care overwhelm you, let yourself drown in the affection. 

****

It’s only when you open your swollen eyes a few hours later that you realize you’d cried yourself to sleep in his lap. You’re laying down now, Javi in the same spot he was the first time you woke up. There’s a woman in the room talking to him, but you’re too groggy to think about what they’re saying. More nonsense about your mental state, you’re sure. 

And just like that, the love that had consumed you a few hours ago starts to fade. Your mental state. The carefully constructed lies you’re about to tell this woman. She turns to you when she sees you try to sit up, rushing to your side with a gentle smile. 

“Careful, don’t want you straining anything,” she says, placing her hands on your arms to help you. You nod at her, still trying to wake back up. Your eyes hurt from crying and your head is throbbing again. You really don’t want to talk right now, but you know you have to if you want to get out of here. 

“You know why I’m here?” the woman asks gently. Her name tag reads Chloe. She looks a bit older than you and has the most beautiful green eyes you’ve ever seen. You decide you like her. 

You nod, then realize it’s probably better to be verbal. “Yes,” you tell her. 

She nods understandingly, rubbing your upper arm in a comforting motion. “I’ve been told you’d like your husband to stay in the room while we talk?”

You confirm again, glancing at Javi, who seems to still be in whatever state he was earlier. 

“Alright, I’m just going to ask you a few questions, and then we’ll get you out of here. Sound good?” 

You nod, swallowing the thickness in your throat. “You mind if I sit?” Chloe asks, gesturing to the side of your bed. You shake your head no and she makes herself comfortable, clipboard in her lap. She doesn’t even look at Javi, which relaxes you a bit. Her sole focus is you.

“I know it’s not going to be easy, but I promise to be patient. You can take all the time you need. Are you ready?” 

“I’m ready,” you reply before you change your mind about doing this with Javi. 

“Okay. Can you tell me how you tried to take your life last Friday? In as much detail as you’re comfortable with.” 

You take a deep breath, force yourself to not look at your husband, and pray you don’t mess this up. 

“I tried to drown myself,” you lie quietly. “I tied a scarf around my neck and attached it to a weight. Then I filled the sink with water—.” You have to pause, emotion hitting you hard all of a sudden. You blink and swallow the lump in your throat. “I filled the sink with water and threw the weight in.” 

Chloe nods somberly, watching you with the same pitying look the doctor had earlier. “It’s okay to cry, honey. It’s a hard thing to talk about. You’re very brave for doing so.”

You listen to her, bowing your head and letting your tears overflow. They’re slower than the ones you’d cried with Javi. More quiet. They feel more like defeat than grief. Chloe writes something down and looks back at you. 

“And why did you feel like that was the best way to achieve what you were trying to do?” 

You bite your lip, contemplating for a second. “Because I knew it would work over everything else. I thought it would.”

She jots something down.  

“There are no firearms in your house?” 

“Only mine, and it stays on me all day,” Javi provides before you can say anything. Chloe whips her head around to him. 

“Did I ask for your input?” 

“No,” you say, before whatever just happened could escalate. The last thing you need right now is Javi getting angry. “Just his.” 

She turns back to you, gentleness returning to her face. She again scribbles something down. 

“Two more,” she tells you. “We’re almost done. You’re doing really well.” 

You nod at her, giving her a small smile. 

“Do you wish you had succeeded? Why or why not?” 

You answer quickly, maybe a little too quickly. You hate the way you still feel like you’re lying when you tell her no. “I was just overwhelmed that night. I was lucky that Javi came home when he did.” 

She nods, writes something down, and asks you the last one. 

“You’re not going to try to take your life again?” 

“I’m not. I don’t want to die.” It almost hurts to have to say it. You don’t even know if that’s true. You put on a brave face though, needing her to believe it even if you don’t. 

She writes the last thing down and smiles at you. “Okay, I’m going to go talk to some staff and get you ready to go home. It was very nice to meet you. I hope things go well in your future.” She holds her hand out for you to shake, and you do. 

“Thank you, it was nice to meet you, too,” you tell her honestly. 

You wait to hear the click of the door before you look at Javi. He doesn’t look angry exactly, but you can tell he didn’t like Chloe at all. But he still nods approvingly at you, taking your hand again. 

“You did good, sweetheart,” he says. 

***** A couple of nurses come in about an hour later to take you out to Javi’s truck. They watch as he helps you in, waves his thanks, and gets in the driver’s side. You cuddle up next to him like you used to, and a calm feeling starts to ebb its way into you. He holds you tight the entire way back to the apartment, and after cooking you dinner, holds you tight as you fall asleep.  This. This is why you stay.

*****

What are we thinkin'? 👀

Series taglist: @corazondebeskar @yorksgirl @nerdieforpedro @axshadows @melaninmommy

@survivingandenduring @kewwrites @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @missladym1981 @sofiparallel

@koshkaj-blog @sheepdogchick3 @movievillainess721 @jessie8605 @casa-boiardi

@justlulu @iamsherlocked-1998 @hjzghi-blog @glitterymanboy @letstalkaboutshtufff

@untamedheart81 @1nsommia @joelmillersblog

[simpingland]

I have a request if you so feel like writing it, please <3

Aegon Targaryen x Male!servant!reader! Where Aegon falls for one of the castle servants because reader is one of the only people that shows him kindness (because mutual pining) and it leads to them having secret nights together but it's just really fluffy with reader just cuddling Aegon, peppering his face in kisses, telling him how pretty he is 🧎🏻.

(Ik he's not everyone's favorite but if he wasn't the way he was honestly his face is too cute to me I need to coddle him)

Honesty// Aegon Targaryen x reader.

Summary: life is hard for Prince Aegon. Only when a servant appears to care just enough for him, Aegon seeks this company,not knowing it's a reciprocate feeling.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You walked carefully through the castle you had yet to explore, to the chambers where Aegon awaited. Of course there was only one cup on your tray. Could the rumours of the Prince's fondness for wine and food be true? You had not spent too much time on gossip, the position of servant was a privilege for you, and the Targaryens were the most interesting family you could work for. Though you were not yet aware of the cruelties that were committed among them.

Already outside you could hear loud voices rustling inside Aegon's room. It was late afternoon and there was movement in the court, and even then you could still hear Otto Hightower shouting up the stairs. Had it not been for the guard opening the door you would not have dared to enter. The room was quite dark, lit only by a few flickering candles. The place smelled of wine and there was not a single tidy corner. The Prince was nowhere in sight, and Otto seemed to be talking to the end of a bed.

"Needless to remind you that you should dress nicely for the visit," the Hand finished. "If we are careless you are capable of attending dinner naked."

He left, giving you a brief glance and completely ignoring your presence. And after the door slammed, you saw at last the boy you had come to serve rise.

He was, as his grandfather had feared, covered only by his trousers, and though he knew of your existence by his quickness in pouring himself a drink from the tray, he gave you neither a word nor a glance. Then you saw that what they said about the Targaryens was true. They had a distinctive look about them, and a strange, striking aura about them, though Aegon, with his dirty hair and dark circles under his eyes, was not the image that the legends portrayed.

"You can leave the tray wherever you like. It's not like I'm going to eat it..." the prince spoke, turning his back to you.

You looked around the room for a second. You couldn't find a single gap.

"You can stay as well... I see you feel like it, I honestly don't care" he said again. This time he did look at you, out of the corner of his eye, and with a confused expression.

"You should eat between drinks, my Prince. It helps to slow-"

"How dare you tell me what I 'should' do?"

You swallowed hard, everything the prince had not imposed on you moments before he was imposing on you now. His sad eyes darkened.

"I would never, my Prince. It's just..." you groped at the idea. To be honest or to be just another servant, compliant and passive. The latter was not in your nature. "You have a fine dinner pending. And this wine, my Prince, is among the worst in your cellars. You will come to the table stumbling."

You expected to be thrown out of there at that very moment. At what point did you think to say such a foolish thing to a prince? The pity he gave you had come out in that unbidden council. Luckily, the prince just laughed. He laughed loudly and waited for you to laugh, though you could only smile, which seemed to soften the Targaryen. Nodding, he picked up one of the shinier apples and took a good bite.

"You're right, I'll enjoy the fine wine they serve at the table."

He sat looking out the window as you stood back with the tray. He turned as if he had seen you for the first time.

"How come you're still here?" he asked, a sympathetic tone now.

"I just don't know where to put the tray, my Prince."

"You know, I think you're a servant with real balls. Sit here next to me. You've earned a share of this apparently shitty wine." He awkwardly placed a chair next to him, and when you sat down he watched you balance the tray on your lap. He picked it up and deposited it on the same floor. "We'll have to share a drink."

"You don't mind sharing a drink with me?" you had to hide your shocked smile.

"Why would I mind?"

"Because I am a servant, and you are a prince..."

"I don't know how far my royalty and divinity goes. And as for you being a servant... I honestly don't care. Do you think it's wrong for me to share a drink with a servant?"

"Well, I wouldn't share it with the castle blacksmith. Every time I see him he has fewer teeth, and sharing a cup with him might mean that the next one he loses I end up swallowing."

He laughed again, passing you the cup. His smile made him simple, and somewhat charming in contrast to his soft, masculine voice. And amidst the foolish talk, it grew dark, and it was only when they came to dress him that you were allowed (or rather obliged) to leave, as one of the older servants reminded you.

You were able to attend the dinner, passing food and drink, of course. And the Prince was late. Handsome, but late. He walked lazily, and gave no greeting or smile for any Lord or Lady, though when he saw you in a corner, his face lit up with excitement. As he sat down, he called you to his side with a deft wave of his hand. As you bent down to listen, his voice whispered in your ear, and you could smell the soap with which he must have been bathed earlier.

"Give me a taste of that good wine I've been waiting for."

You took the vase to him, and he held the cup himself.

"I hope it was worth the wait, my Prince."

He savoured it, looking at you sharply, and let out a satisfied sigh, savouring his drink.

"Yes...it was worth it."

The length of the dinner was far too long, and you made it through with the sole entertainment of your work and Aegon's not-so-disguised expressions, which made you smile from your post. Though you could not help but notice all the reproaches that both Otto and Alicent - and Aemond in particular - had for Aegon. And there came a time when you no longer wished to refill the Prince's cup, for you saw his eyes grow cloudy with each refill. And the decanters would run out and someone would change them back, not surprised at how much wine a single person used up.

Back in your room, you were minutes away from sleep, when someone called you up to Aegon's chambers, for he required the presence of the new servant. And though you were not required to, you took water and grapes with you.

"You requested for me, my Prince?" you asked in a whisper, assuming the man to be half asleep, unable to stand on his own two feet in such a drunken stupor.

Indeed, he was lying on the rug on the floor in front of the fire, all his clothes on except his shoes, which he had left lying in different parts of the room. "How did you know I was thirsty? Did I ask for the water?"

"No, my Prince. But I imagined it." You got down on your knees to be more on his level, and he repositioned himself better to drink from the leather bottle. You watched as his hair fell prettily, avoiding brushing it aside. When he finished drinking, he watched you for a second.

"I never asked you what your names were."

You waited a second to check that he wasn't asking in jest, but you found his attentiveness very convincing, and you couldn't deny him the answer.

"I like it...though not as much as the wine at dinner."

"That I had noticed, my Prince."

Though you smiled, something went out of him.

"Am I as pitiful as my family says I am?" he asked in a whisper. You had been honest with him all this time, even if you tried to be good. And now it was hard to lie to him, but seeing him broken like this hurt even more.

"My opinion, if I may, is that they don't treat you fairly...we can't all act perfectly under such pressure."

He put down his drink and focused on looking at you. He was still drunk and you could tell by how heavy his eyelids seemed to be. You noticed how his hand was placed on your knee for a moment, and as you looked at it you saw him place it on your neck, in an ill-advised attempt to caress your face.

"Why are you so nice to me?" he whispered.

"Because...someone must be."

Aegon grinned, like a child being tenderised by a gentle animal. He leaned, though one might as well say slumped, into your torso, head sinking into your chest.

"My Prince, you should eat and drink before you sleep."

You heard him sigh, and helped him upright. He looked up at you and you gave him a look of approval as he took a couple of grapes to eat. Suddenly he did something strange. He put them in your hand again, slowly, and without taking his eyes off yours for a second. You knew what he wanted, and as he put the first one to his lips, Aegon picked it up, brushing his mouth with your fingertips.

"They are good," he said.

Your breath caught, and you had to give him a second, and a third and a fourth and the whole bunch trying to hide your trembling. And when he finished, Aegon had a drop of the juice dripping down his chin. When you wiped it away, you took the opportunity to caress that soft skin.

"Now you should go to sleep," you asked, your voice groggy from so long in silence.

He needed your help to get up, and as you opened the bed for him, he just clumsily removed his most annoying clothes. He rushed to his quilt and turned to look at you. You offered him a last drink of water, but Aegon only gently took the arm with which you offered it.

"I want you to stay here with me," he confessed.

"You are still drunk, my Prince, you are not thinking straight."

"I may still be drunk...but I know I want you to be with me."

"Is that an order?" The question was in jest, but Aegon released your arm slowly, and seemed to move away from you in his bed.

"Is it that I could only convince you to stay if I 'command' it to you?" his question was laden with pain. And it pinched your heart to see him like this because of you.

"No, my prince, it's just...it's my first week here. I want to make a good impression...in any other circumstances I would not have left your side."

You spoke honestly, as Aegon had discovered he liked you. And how did he know? By something special in your eyes, which he thought about all night.

"Call me Aegon, please... when no one will hear, at least." He asked.

"I will, Aegon."

That was one of the few nights you slept alone in the castle. In the days that followed, Aegon would summon you to his room, with some excuse like he liked your way of serving more than any other servant, like he needed a snack between meals. But really he was only pleased to see you near. He began to ask you to accompany him to places where he was needed, as his cupbearer. And there, he would approach you whenever he wanted to talk, even for a moment, with you. You smiled at him from afar, and Aegon seemed to come to his senses knowing you were there. Soon he promoted you, asking you to be the one to organise his clothing, to accompany him on the little trips Otto arranged for him. And he understood every refusal you had to stay the nights with him. It was a strange suggestion, and one that would make you an outcast among your peers. But at the same time, every night it became more and more difficult to say goodbye to him. He had lost that chronic drunkenness, Aegon now spent more time talking to you than taking endless sips from his cup.

The first night you didn't return to your own room began with a stain. Aegon did not finish his drink, engrossed in his grievances towards Aemond, and fully full from the supper he had just finished. And with its owner's consent, you drank the last of the wine. And then you spilled the last drops on the white shirt of your uniform.

"If my Grandsire sees you in that uniform he'll let you know what he thinks, I'm afraid," Aegon said, smirking.

"I'll tell him it's your fault...I've stained myself because I've been drinking, and I've been drinking because you haven't and it's a sin to waste food and drinks" you joked back.

"I guess that's true. Here, let me help you."

He wet a garment from the many he had scattered about, dipped it in water and walked over to you. The stain was on the collar of the shirt. You could hear the sound of the cloth rubbing, and Aegon seemed really intent on his task. You were so close to him that you could smell his hair, his light dragon scent that you were beginning to like. Maybe it was because your heartbeat began to multiply, or because your chest was heaving as you breathed in and out in a choppy way. The thing is, Aegon eventually realised, and decided to take a second before looking you in the eye. When he did, he was sure, but he waited for you to be sure.

"Go ahead," he whispered, the vibrations reaching your lips. "I've always enjoyed your honesty."

Then you kissed him, something Aegon had expected all along. He responded instantly, nuzzling your neck as you pulled him closer to you. It was a fierce kiss, full of Targaryen fire at first. And it had to be the clutter of the room that broke you apart, as you nearly fell to the floor over shoes that Aegon had once again left abandoned in unsuspecting places.

"Would it be too bold to ask you to stay here tonight?" You asked, somewhat apprehensive after the parting. Aegon's smile only grew.

"No... by the gods, stay."

And so the first night passed, snuggled in that huge bed the prince had. He trusted you enough to show you the secret passages that connected to his room. By day, you kept a short distance, which could be suspicious to those who looked. A few caresses that Aegon could not suppress or your quickness to come to his side when he mentioned you. Aegon loved to tell stupid jokes every second, that was his way of making sure that you woukd laugh and awarded him with kisses all around his face. You just couldn't pick a favorite place, they were all pretty. Guards could see you hiding in pillars, where you or Aegon couldn't help but kiss to make it clear that both of you wanted each other too much to wait for the privacy of the Prince's chamber.

But your favourite night was the one when Aegon found your room, at the bottom of the huge castle. Tears were shed before meeting you, and he came to seek your comfort, knocking stealthily at your door.

The kisses you shared in those moments were your favourite, for Aegon had a special sweetness. Your love and touch was the only thing that eased his pain.

"Be honest with me," he asked, lying on your chest. "Do you love me as much as I love you?"

"Oh, my Prince...now that you've saved me from climbing so many stairs to your room, rest assured I do."

He chuckled with relief and kissed your neck tenderly before falling asleep.

A/N: I do not support Aegon's conduct on the series, so we will pretend it didn't happen here...he's gay and cooler here. And I do think TGC is unfairly handsome, I love putting gifs (that aren't mine) of him.

[carmenized-onions]

Tony, Terry, Tommy? | Walk-In Hotfix

synopsis; You get an unexpected call from an old friend in need of an emergency repair. Good thing: that's kind of your whole gig. Bad thing: You've been avoiding the Berzatto family for the past year.

tasting notes; hurt comfort? idk man, he's in a fuckin' freezer. this is gonna be a long slow-burn series. We don't use Y/N here and we've got a very preestablished storyline going on babes. Eat up.

portion; 3.1k+

possible allergies; SEASON 2 FINALE SPOILERS, I've started writing this before Season 3 comes out in June so we're going WAY off canon (unless I'm an oracle), Mikey is gonna be central baby, any tw you require for the bear-- you require for this.

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns!)

I have not written fanfiction in 5-6 years and once again some goddamn pretty boy just YOINKS me back in. I'm making up my own season three here so I'm kinda flying by the seat of my pants with this series, hopefully it turns out. If it doesn't... C'est la vie, I had fun.

The inciting incident, the thing that pulls you in, and permanently alters the trajectory of your life—                    Is honestly quite boring, because it’s just a phone call from an old friend.

You stare at your screen for what feels like eons but it’s really just a few rings. It’s enough time to frantically search through blankets on your couch for your remote to pause your show— Which might as well be like 10 years of time. You’re heavily debating not answering; what if it’s something heavy? What if a mutual childhood friend died? What if it’s a love or murder confession? What if it’s about the money you owe her? The money she owes you?

Do you really want to take that kind of call? On what’s been a peaceful Friday night? That’s a rarity in your part of Chicago, c’mon. If it’s important, she’ll leave a voicemail... Who are you kidding, she doesn’t leave voicemails— Frankly, it’s bizarre and concerning that she’s calling in the first place instead of spam texting. …Alright, she’s let it get to the fourth ring, she’s probably dead or dying. You need to pick up.

“…Syd?”

She sounds infinitely stressed, but relieved to hear your voice.“Hey, hey, uh—”

There’s a cacophony of yelling, banging, and what you imagine are kitchen noises in the background. Guess she kept to her guns after Sheridan. That’s nice. Or maybe it’s not. Hard to tell.

“Are you good?” She can’t see the concern on your face or your free arm crossing over your waist— But she can imagine it in the worried lilt of your voice.

“Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah— I-I’m good— Well actually, no, I’m not good, that’s why I’m calling. Actually. Sorry. I know it’s been a minute, it’s fucked up to call only when I need something—”

“Syd.”

“Is your dad still a handy-man?”

Ah. Goodbye peaceful Friday night. Hello emergency hotfix services.

You click your teeth, “Oh, no, he retired. Got a case of… Getting fucking old disease.” But a part of you is relieved it’s a thing that’s broken, and not her. This is at least manageable— Whatever it is.

“Fuck. Okay. Fuck. Ha, yeah, my dad’s got that too— Well, okay, then I’ll talk—”

You’re quick to jump in. “I took over the business though. So, if you’re—" “We need help so bad right now.”

You can’t help but laugh at the speed of it, but immediately feel guilty hearing the desperation in it. “Yeah? Who’s we?”

You stick the cellphone in the crux of your neck, already walking across your apartment to throw on your jumpsuit— Dark navy blue, elbow length sleeves, dad’s old logo embroidered on your right breast pocket.

CHICAGO’S KINDEST ⚒ FIXERS & CO. It’s managed to grow on you.

There’s an egregious number of patches ironed or sewn onto the back and shoulders of it. All from businesses you and your father had either worked with or done odd jobs for. A NASCAR jumpsuit, but for nostalgia and small businesses. Something something ‘it all starts with your neighbourhood’. Your dad would say.

Syd continues, she hasn’t changed much. You hear her sharp dicing in the background, the rhythm seems to calm down into an actual flow instead of erratic speed. You figure either the dinner rush is starting to slow down or she’s relieved you’re coming. Who are you being humble for, no shot it’s the former.

“So, you know how I’m like— Like a chef and shit?”

 You hum the affirmative, putting her on speakerphone so you can pull out your tool kit with both hands.

“So like, I actually co-own this restaurant opening tonight.”

“Oh nice!”

“Yeah— Yeah, yeah, it’s really nice, but actually, it’s not, because it’s bad.”

“In the way I can fix?”

“In the way you can fix, yeah. Hopefully.”

“What’s the damage?”

“So, my co-owner uh, Carmen, he got locked in the walk-in. Like trapped.”

You take a beat, a confused one. Half-stepping, almost tripping. You stare at your tools, picking out what you’ll actually need for this— How the fuck— “How is he trapped in the walk-in?”

“So, he meant to call to get it fixed—” “And he didn’t?” “And he didn’t.”

“What was broke about it in the first place?”

“The doorknob on the inside, broke off. And right now, or, more like, 5 minutes ago, the handle on the outside broke off too.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck.”

“Do you have the outside handle, still?”

“Yeah. Yeah, laying around somewhere— It snapped off though, like—”

“Clean?”

“Uh…. Y’know, I would check, but I’m actually kinda—"

“Can we run table 36, please, Chefs?!” Now that’s an uncomfortably familiar voice.

“Yes, Chef! …I’m kinda busy.”

“Right. Restaurant. Oh, what fucking restaurant? You said Carmen, that’s that fuckin’ Michelin guy, right?” Berzatto. It has to be. The smallness of this world is a personal prank on you.

“…How do you know that?” Son of a bitch.

“…I try to remember what you like.” It’s a good save, but that was too intimate for 3 years of no contact besides Happy Birthday texts, fuck fuck, recover— “Ahem, uh, Restaurant?”

“The Bear. Formerly The Beef. You do still live in Chicago, right?”

Berzatto. Confirmed. Bleh.

“Fortunate for you, I do. I know The Beef, I’m not far, I’ll be there in ten. Tell him to not have a panic attack, if you get a minute.”

“I will not get a minute. But I love the dream.”

And you’re off. Jumpsuit half zipped over what was supposed to be a sleep shirt but is now posthumously a work shirt. Nobody has to know you’re wearing pajama shorts under this. Carhartt jacket thrown over your shoulders— Your dad’s, so, a bit oversized. Toolbox in hand, utility belt on— Though you’re mildly sure if your hypothesis is right, you will only need your threateningly long sledgehammer.

Thank God for your car. CTA would not like you right now.

You pull up front. Oh boy. The sign change is making you feel a type of way that you were not expecting. Pride? Envy? All seven of the deadly sins? Maybe. No time to stew on it because there’s an older woman smoking and having an emotional spat with who you assume is her shivering son out front. So. Definitely going through the back alley instead of getting in the middle of that shit.

Alas, it’s not any better, because there’s Syd, vomiting next to a dumpster.

“Better to ignore or acknowledge you in this moment?” Is the response you decide is best, despite the question, you’re already by her side. You put your tools down (out of the splash zone) and rub her back with one hand, holding back straying braids with the other.

“I couldn’t—” More vomit. “Fuckin’ tell ya.” Syd takes a few deep breathes before standing. She considers going in for a hug, but remembers, the vomit. “Good to see you. I want to catch up, f’real, but—” “The bear in the walk-in?” “The bear in the walk-in.”

You nod, fishing through your pocket. You hand her a mini container of Tums. She waves it off, of course, and you double down, of course, “Who you acting tough for?”

“Fuckin… No one.” She grimaces, taking the box. She makes a show of taking one, like a fussy kid.

You refuse to take it back. “Keep it.”

“Never stopped being the mom friend, eh?”

You laugh, picking up your tools again. “Listen, there’s no telling what the night and your stomach holds. Lead the way?”

The Bear is pretty, or at least the kitchen of it is, so far. It’s clean. Cleaner than it used to be. The death trap walk-in is really the only eyesore for you. You stare at the broken-off handle in your hand, twisting it back and forth to look at all the angles. It’s honestly a pretty clean break.

Sydney’s left to talk to her dad, as she should, and the rest of the kitchen is either too busy to pay you mind or is just silently relieved to see you.

Tina— Who has thankfully opted to not say ‘Hey, good to see you, it’s been a year, what the fuck’—Taps the walk-in door and says to this elusive Michelin Carmen that she’ll be right back, that help’s here. He does not seem to register this at all. She gently slaps your cheek before rushing back to her station, regardless.

“Maybe I’m just not built for this, maybe, maybe that’s okay— Maybe that just is.”

You’ve never said his name to him, it feels heavy on your tongue. “Carmen.”

“Right? What the fuck was I thinking?”

Alright, he’s too far gone. You flag down one of the cooks that are just shadowing for the night. “Hey, can you hold this in place for me?”

You stick the handle into what’s left of the hinge still attached to the door, which is, not much— But hopefully, again, if your hypothesis is correct, it’ll give enough leverage. The cook holds it in place, a little terrified as your sledgehammer comes into view.

“Not gonna hit you, promise.”

“—I’m a fuckin’ psycho. That’s why. That’s why I’m good at what I do.”

You tap (bang) the hammer on the door, enough to stop his train of thought. For a second, at least. “Sweetheart, I need you to stand up for me, Carmen Chef Sir.”

“…Tony?”

“...Who the fuck is Tony?”

The meek cook beside you speaks up, “He means Tommy.”

And Tina is quick to yell from across the kitchen— hearing how? We don’t know. “It’s Terry!”

“I am none of these people.” You sigh, readying the hammer. “Carmen, can you stand up, and just tuck your fingers in the wedge of the door? If there is one?”

“Heard. Yeah.” There’s shuffling from in there, getting into position. Though the steps and the words seem dazed, as he’s forced out of a mental fog. “Here.”

“This isn’t a fix by the way. Your whole door is fucked after this. Not that it isn’t already, but, y’know.” You back up, teeing yourself up before running forward.

“Well, wait—”

You slam the mallet into the tip of the handle perfectly, forcing it way too tight into the gap of the hinge. You push the cook aside with your hip, now using the long handle of the mallet to stick between the knob and the door, using it as further leverage to pull it open. It is incredibly straining.

“Carmy!” Is it okay to say that nickname before you’ve even seen his face? Eh. You’re moving the boulder, he’ll forgive you. “You feel air?!”

“Holy shit— Yeah, yeah— Push?!” “Of course fucking push!”

And it becomes apparent in this exchange of force that this Head Chef must be significantly stronger than you, because it’s opening a lot faster now. Though, fast is a strong word for the snail pace this is happening at. But it’s more than the nothing that was happening a minute ago.

“Aye… Cousin?” Richie, in a… suit? Runs up to you, coming from front of house. He immediately grabs a free spot on the sledgehammer’s handle to help pull. He was shocked to see you doing, well, this, right now, but then upon registering, he’s just shocked to see you. Period.

You can only groan in response, sticking a leg up and putting your foot on the wall as if it’s gonna add meaningful leverage— Oh wait, it kinda is. “Y'clean up good, Rich— Opening going—Fuck— well?”

“Oh yeah, fucking peachy.” He can only manage to wheeze in reply. Investing his strength in yanking rather than reintroductions; thankfully it pays off.

The hinge shoots open, you would have absolutely fallen on your ass if Richie was not ready to stabilize you. The walk-in door cracks open. Just a bit. It’s not dramatic, it’s just a breath.

It’s so anti-climactic that Richie doesn’t mind walking off to cheer before Carmen even comes out. Clapping your back as he does. “Let’s what I like to fuckin’ see, Cousin! Ingenuity!”

Though, to be fair, he’s moving to intercept a very sweet looking, worried girl. You look up at her, wheezing as you keel over slightly to catch your breath, hands on your knees. She’s saying something along the lines of ‘What’s going on?’ ‘Is he okay?’ Girlfriend? Probably. Richie seems to be coaxing her accordingly. You turn your head back to the door. Carmen hasn’t come out yet. That’s a red flag. With another wheeze, you stand up right, opening the door further, peeking in.

He's standing there, catatonic. Not looking at you, but straight forward, beyond you. He must’ve been by the door to push it open but now he’s stumbled against the back shelf. Every time his girl’s voice manages to ring into here, his eyes crinkle— Wince. His breath keeps hitching. He looks afraid. It is better to be caged right now than it is to be out there, doing whatever he could be doing, right now. Talking to anyone might be a death sentence, right now.

“I don’t need to provide amusement or enjoyment. I don’t need to receive any amusement or enjoyment. I’m completely fine with that.” He mumbles repeatedly. You can barely hear it over the buzzing of the freezer.

Whispering it just for himself, like some sort of fucked up mantra. Like it’s a state of inner peace to feel this bad. You doubt he even sees you right now.

You know you don’t know Carmy personally. Mostly just through hearsay.

He’s never met or heard of you, that’s for sure.

But you know Berzattos. Or. Knew the one.

And you know a downward spiral. Intimately.

And you know that right now, he’s fucking cold. He is shivering and making no move to leave that state. You think he thinks that’s the state he deserves to stay in.

Nothing to lose but a good first impression, right? You drop a screwdriver in the doorway as a doorstop— Because how fucking dumb would it be if you both got stuck? And. Extremely slowly, you approach him not unlike approaching an actual captive bear. In your eyes, you might as well be.

Standing right in front of him doesn’t stop his mantra. You slip your jacket off, half hugging him to drape it over his shoulders. “You’re just cold.”

“I’m a—” “You’re just. Cold.” You cut him off before he has the chance to self-deprecate again, smoothing out the sleeves on him. His eyes readjust to actually look at you rather than somewhere beyond.

You sniff. You’re already cold and it’s been 30 seconds. This poor thing. You rub your hands together, breathing hot air into them before touching them to his frigid fucking face. “Fuck you’re really cold. Like danger cold.”

Never being one for boundaries or hesitation, you hug yourself to him. It’s the fastest way to warm him up. You slip your hands under the jacket— Your jacket— And just engulf the Italian Popsicle Man before you.

Shockingly, he doesn’t push you off or suddenly reawaken to his senses and tell you to fuck off. He doesn’t flinch, if anything he leans in. His body doesn’t really have time for surprise, right now, it just takes what it needs. And what it needs is warmth and oxytocin. His breathing slowly but surely self regulates, and once you start to remember decorum you lower your arms— But. He opts to place his chin on your shoulder, like the world’s most gentle hook, and that alone is enough to keep you there.

It's a long, silent, liminal spacey moment before he speaks again. Both of you speak just above the decibel of the freezer's buzzing.

“You’re not Tony.”

“Terry.”

“You’re Terry?”

“No, Tina said Tony’s Terry. I don’t know who the fuck Terry is.”

“Terry’s the fridge guy.”

“You’re still going to need to call him; I did just make it worse.”

“That’s fine.” He swallows. “Who called you?”

“Syd.”

“Should’ve called you earlier.”

“Should’ve called the fridge guy earlier.”

“Yeah.” He sighs, but he makes no move to move, so you don’t either.

“You know Mikey too?”

Ah. The patch. The Beef. It's worn, but it sits proudly on the left shoulder of your jumpsuit. Your heart tightens and so does your posture.

“Yeah.” You sigh. It’s shakier than you’d like it to be. “Dad knew him, so then I knew him, so then I occasionally fixed shit for him. Shit that ‘Fak couldn’t?’ I think his name was?”

“Hm.” He hums. “He ever got locked in the walk-in?”

“Yeah, he really fucked it up, like waayy worse than whatever happened with you tonight. Like whatever happened. At least 10 times worse.” Your voice is coated with sarcasm, but it’s not entirely untrue.

You’re relieved, when Carmen laughs at this, a touch maniacally, but it’s something. Right now, any emotion from him besides regret and anxiety feels like a trophy. He straightens up, pushing his hair back, so you remove your arms.

“You’re fuckin’ funny, Tony.”

“Still not Tony.”

“Oh my god!” A blonde, very pregnant woman cracks the door open, relieved. “Are you okay, Bear?” You step aside so she can hug Carmen, holding his cheeks to look over him. Oh, this has to be—

“I’m good, I’m great, Sug.” He says this incredibly unconvincingly, hanging one hand on her wrist.

But what matters more in your brain right now is: That’s Sugar. Natalie.

And now you can put a face to both siblings you’ve been bitched about to.

Chain-smoker, means well, cringeworthy husband, too good for her family, incredibly judgemental, cares too much and worries more, loves to fight, her mother’s daughter, pushy, sticks her foot in her mouth, can’t take no for an answer, would lay down her life. Natalie Berzatto. Little sister.

Michelin Star retaining, big shot, sensitive, definitely a virgin, ball buster, sweats the small stuff, sweetheart, asshole, incredibly smart, flighty, coward, deeply loyal, whiny, screamer, show-off, fantastic drawer, shell, mister new york, annoyingly humble, undeniably the most talented. Carmen Berzatto. Baby brother.

Mikey’s words. Of course.

Nat turns her gaze over to you, “Thank you.” You can only bring yourself to nod in reply, a bit awkward— Lost in your rolodex of memories of the people you’ve never actually met until right now. It’s weird to feel parasocial about a normal person.   

“Our toilet, exploded.” She says.

Now that pulls out you of it, and gets a laugh out of you. You put your hand over your mouth. “Yeah?”

Sugar shakes her head, eyes widening like she’s just stepped in it, “I didn’t mean like— Like, you just did a job, right, that’s like tacking on another last-minute service—”

“That’s fine.” You put a hand up stopping her from continuing, still chuckling. “I’ll take a look at it tonight and try to fix it tomorrow?”

She nods, smiling bright, “Thank you, Tommy.”

Who needs to use Y/N when you have the fridge guy?

I so desperately hope you liked this first chapter. I've been stewing on this for like a week so I beg of you to reply/reblog/send me an ask (anon or not!!) telling me what you thought!! Unless it's mean!! In which case, do NOT!!!

And just a forewarning, as we step into uncharted territory where the walk-in meltdown was cut short, I need you to hold my hand through it bb. We're making this man's life better or we're gonna die trying.

Next Part

[c-u-c-koo-4-40k]

You know I might as well post this now...

Severe Miscalculation

Tw: misunderstanding (kinda), pretty intense descriptors of kissing and coupling. NSFW we having a literal roll in the hay!

Tag: @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @bleedingichorhearts @barn-anon @bispecsual @sleepyfan-blog @kit-williams

Based on the slight discourse about 40k space marines in fandom vs Canon and if they experience...the desire for physical intimacy. And what happens when you mistakenly think the Majority of space marines don't have any interest in the stuff.

It was evening but not dark yet, the combined boon of daylight savings and a fresh spring rain making things humid, but not unbearably hot.

You wandered your neighbor's property in the normal fashion. Normal in such that your neighbor was absent, on a trip to visit her mother in another state.

And had left you, with the task of appearing twice a day to check on things and complete the few simple chores she had lying around. For a fair compensation mind you.

The tasks weren't even that hard, but it was more work on your already tight and physically taxing schedule.

As much as you appreciated your neighbor, you couldn't deny you'd been feeling the burnout recently, and not just from the weather bandying cheerfully back and forth between drenching rains and muggy, sweaty heat.

Honestly you needed a reset. Something to just Erase all that stress you'd been feeling. But given how tight your schedule had to be to just make ends meet, you doubted you'd get the chance to say...seek out a partner to help with such things.

Perhaps you should've look into getting something more mechanical in nature to help you.

Maybe throw a wink at the next random Noise Marine you saw. Unbonded ones supposedly had a proclivity for the naughty side of things.

Which made them an odd exception as Space Marines as a whole were thought to not have much sex drive. Or even be sex repulsed.

No shame to them. You often bounced between moments of desiring absolute carnality and vulnerability, then a few days later feeling like being touched would make you break out in hives.

"The wonders of the human mind~" You sighed with mock humor. Oh well, once you were done here you could go shower, curl up in your bed and hope your currently thrumming sexual frustration could shut the fuck up for a bit.

You strode through the open barn door.

CRASH!

"The FUCK!?"

"The FUCk!? The FuCK!? tTthHeEee FfUuucK!?!? -K-k-k!?!?"

An electronic parody of your own shriek came back to you, as the large looming shape with dark blue armor nearly doubled over, clearly finding your terror hilarious.

"FUCKING Dammit Khopesh!"

"FfFuUcCkKINg Da-Da-Da-DamMit KOoOopeSHhhhhh."

Normally you tolerated your neighbor's Nightlord, even found his shenanigans funny on occasion.

After all rolling with the punches or ignoring him generally made him lose interest. But you were hot, sweaty, tired and Not in the way you desperately wanted to be right now.

Honestly, you'd had preferred if he'd left with your neighbor on her trip, but...apparently he wasn't...quite bonded to her?

It was an odd situation, with your neighbors treating him more like an adopted son. And he...seemed to appreciate them too. Like genuinely, maybe he had a partial bond with both? Meaning when your neighbor left he preferred to stay with her husband and home as it needed defending?

It was sweet, but your care of your neighbors creatures had come LONG Before he arrived. And you sometimes felt like he pushed your buttons as a show of his resentment at your longer status is your neighbor's lives.

And the fact they still payed You to do the chores over trusting him with them.

You could understand some pettiness taking seed from that.

Maybe You could be petty back...

It Was said that Astartes, and Nightlords especially, could become overwhelmed when humans approached them too eagerly.

Hmm...

You straightened your back, took a deep breath as the big blue bastard was still modulating your voice at you, and Clearly enjoying it too much.

"Khopesh~" You cooed, the change in your voice catching his attention.

You, sauntered up to the big fella, putting a sway in your hips and calling on your still present sexual frustration to aid you in making this convincing.

"You know...that voice trick of yours is pretty nifty..." You stated, now close enough to touch him.

While mostly inscrutable behind his helmet, you could tell his demeanor had changed. He was standing mostly straight, looking down at you as you came closer, nearly touching but not quite.

"I'll even admit, you got me good with that scare..." You admitted, opening your mouth Just enough so he could see your tongue run over your teeth. "But...If you Really wanted to hear me Scream~ We could explore...other ideas..."

You smoothly undid the top button on your shirt, to emphasize your point.

'Your move Nightlord.' You thought, smiling smugly with your hands on your hips.

Khopesh responded by Not moving an inch. In fact, dare you say you thought him...

'Dumbfounded,' Not entirely the idea you wanted, him flusteredly retreating would've been Peak comedy to you. But this was fun too.

"Ah well...you don't seem interested?" You shrugged, still proud of yourself for rebuffing his childish prank. "It IS a rather abrupt thing to ask for, I don't blame you for chickening out." You assured with a mock sympathy.

You turned on your heel. One benefit to wearing jeans year round (the leg protection trumping the overheating) was the definition they gave your legs and...your other assets.

And by the throne you were putting that enticing sway back in your hips as you made your exit. You couldn't resist throwing one more light jab. "But, if you're ever interested in making me scream for real, just gimme a call-Oof!"

Well that was a shock. Your sauntering exit was interrupted by an arm clad in ceremite. And the Nightlord it was attached to must have moved at ungodly speed in order to block your path.

Well this was unexpected. "Uhh...what."

You were cut off by Khopesh's lowered arm coming up to firmly (but surprisingly gently) grasp your chin. As his other hand raised to the underside of his helmet.

Click, hiss

With a quick motion he removed his headgear, and dropped it without ceremony. Another surprise the back of your mind cataloged while the forefront was taken up with watching the way his midnight dark hair fell around his gaunt but handsome face.

And those eyes, those Eyes. Like pools of ink, disturbing but alluring all at once.

You'd seen his face before, but up close like this you're reminded of when you'd let his features be used in your private fantasys.

Especially his hair, touching it, stroking it, tugging it, brushing and washing it with the soft kind of intimacy your heart craved.

"Hmmm..." Khopesh took a deep satisfying inhale, as he smiled that wicked sharp toothed grin that drove you crazy.

"I can smell your thoughts..."

What.

Well again you were thrown off because your very literal coded mind could not understand what he meant by-

"They smell...mouthwatering~" He growled, wrapping his free arm around your torso and lifting you so you were nestled up against him, and one of his armored legs brushed right against your core.

The shiver that ran through you at the contact was not missed by either of you.

Ooooh...

Oh shit.

"I accept, your offer human..." Khopesh chuckled. "Unless you wish to...chicken out? As you said."

Oh. Oh that bitch.

You know what! Screw it! You were an adult, you were clean, you were on birth control, and you'd been flustered and frustrated for Far Too Long.

And this interdimensional level Bastard thinks he's going to get the best of you?

Fuck that noise.

You squared your shoulders, rose up (as best you could), grabbed the sides of Khopesh's face and planted a kiss right on his scarred, sharp tooth mouth.

His slight confusion over your shift was quickly forgotten as the Nightlord let out an absolutely Sinful sound as he shifted his own hands to pull you closer.

Your initiative payed off as you ran your tongue over the contours of his fangs, then sucked his upper lip between your own teeth. Giving it a light nip, before soothing with your tongue, and another kiss.

Khopesh was surprised by your boldness, excited by it too! But he wouldn't be outdone!

He used his shear size to over power, so he could explore your mouth the same way. Pulling back only slightly so he could nibble and suck at your lips before diving back in.

You caved for air first, of course you did, the bastard had three lungs and you only had two.

You panted for breath as a very smug Khopesh smiled before trailing his kisses up to your earlobe, and again marking and sucking spots that made you feel weak.

You should still answer with words, you thought, one of the few thoughts that could make it through your aroused haze at the moment. "I hope, you're nh! You're satisfied! With my answer...ah!"

The Nightlord chuckled, before replying. "I understand you Perfectly, my sweet little lullaby..." He hummed, before returning to his task of marking up your neck.

"But I don't think I will be Satisfied, for a while yet..."

You swallowed your nerves...because hot damn you don't think you've wanted anything more in your life!

"Bring it!"

...

"K-khopesh!" You plead as the Nightlord ravaged you, as he had been for the past two hours.

In hindsight, losing to him in the kissing stamina was probably the first sign of things to come. But your dumb horny brain had gotten you into this, and now you were pinned here.

Literally and figuratively.

He cackled, holding you up as he drove himself deep inside your sopping walls again and again. "Oooh, but my sweet little lullaby! I thought you wanted me to 'Bring It' I'm only doing as! you! asked!"

"Mm! Ulp! S-shut up!" You groaned as every thrust rocked your whole body, and though you were sore already you were still desperate for more.

"Awww...and here I thought you Liked my voice. I could smell your arousal every time you heard me speak after all~" He cooed, not losing rhythm despite his focus on taunting you. He lowered his face to your ear. "And every time you saw my face~ Your blushing, the scent of your wetness, it drove me to near madness!"

Wait he'd wanted you that much?

Khopesh continued unimpeded. "Not being able to touch you! To ravish you! To claim you! I- Mmm!"

The warmth you felt knowing he desired you compelled you to pull him into another kiss, wrapping your hand around his head and caressing his hair.

It was still carnal, but more than that it was filled with a tender sweetness. One that seemed to sooth the Nightlord's frenzy for a moment.

His movements slowed, and eventually stopped.

"Khopesh," You cooed, continuing to kiss him between words, playing and stroking his hair gently. It was a bit wiry, your fantasy of treating him to a hair spa day coming to mind.

But that was for later. There was something else on your mind right now. "Turn me around," You requested softly. "I want to hold you."

This seemed to take the Nightlord by surprise, but he acquiesced. Lifting you easily, before a different idea came to mind.

"Actually, could you lay back, I want to try something."

He was clearly still confused, "Very well,"

But if he got another kiss like the one you just gave him he'd do just about anything.

As he settled his back on the straw floor of the hay stall, you in turn settled above his hips. He kept one hand on you as you did so, partially to help with balance, and partially as reassurance that he could snag you easily should you leave again.

But your focus was clearly completely on Him, and oh did that send a shiver of delight through him. Almost as pleasurable as when you took him in hand and aligned him properly once more.

The stretch, the warmth, the closeness and even the slight sting as your Nightlord and you were once again joined.

You trembled with your own delight as you slid inch by inch and felt the warmth burrow deeper into your soft wetness. And the comfort and Pride you swelled with upon meeting your hips with his own.

But onto the main event. You began rotating your hips, sliding back and forth, never allowing him to slip completely from you. And of course squeezing with your inner muscles in a rhythm with your movements.

Khopesh groaned as the pleasure of coupling returned. He'd been staving off his own end to pleasure you, but laid back like this, seeing you not just accept him but Eagerly take part in this act. He found himself growing close.

"Mm, hmm! I, quite enjoy, this...something." He struggled to find the words, and struggled as he wanted You to reach one more peak before he did.

You chuckled at that, a genuine thing that actually made Khopesh blush. "I'M! G-glad! I wouldn't m-mind doing this with you...again."

Again? A bit of Khopesh's wicked grin came back. He gripped to his lullaby's hips and began picking up that savage pace from before.

"K-khopesh! Ah!" You yelped feeling your next peak approaching fast as he hammered your throbbing core.

"I! Have No! INTENTION! Of letting you slip away! My sweet Lullaby~" He growled as he finally let his full desire reach its peak!

"You! Are! Mine!" He hissed bringing his arms around your form and pulling you into a nearly suffocating embrace as he felt the incredible buildup finally release.

"Khope-aAaaahhh-!" You trembled as that bursting firework of tension finally crescendo ed for you as well. Leaving you trembling and clenching as Khopesh let his milky warmth fill you.

"Mine!.. mine...mine...min..e," He panted, his pace slowly reducing as he rode out those Wonderful aftershocks inside you, letting you both share in the pleasure as it faded.

You remained like that for a bit. Sticky, hot, tired, sweaty, but Satisfied. Just bringing your breathing back to normal and feeling the burn in your muscles the arousal had kept at bay.

You glanced at the Nightlord, not nearly as winded as you, but he had worked up a sweat, and his beautiful dark hair was tangled with stray bits of hay.

It was a comedic sight.

Khopesh found himself stirred by another of your adorable giggles, though he was confused by its source.

His confused face just made him look Cuter. But you stifled your laughter so you could explain.

"You've ah...you've got some barn glitter up here." You reached up to his dark hair and gently removed some to show him.

Khopesh actually snorted and grumbled, pawing at the other pieces to remove them. Again you found yourself amused.

"Here, let me help you." You offered sweetly.

You used your smaller hands and delicate touch to remove what pieces you could, and as you did Khopesh stared at your cute face that was set in a positive, but focused expression.

Your seriousness at such a simple task was endearing.

He wanted to keep you So Badly.

"Done," You stated cheerfully. "Well as much as I can, I think your hair will need a wash to get the smallest stuff out." You recommended. "I'll probably need a wash myself."

You were probably correct, though part of him loathed the idea of letting you go.

"I guess...since we both need one...we could shower together at my place...you know, to save water?" You gave him a wink.

Now it was his turn for his more literal thoughts to misunderstand. Would showering together reduce the amount of water needed for them to wash that drastically-

"Op! Looks like I missed a bit of barn glitter."

"What? Where?"

"Mwah!" You kissed him on the very tip of his slightly crooked nose.

Oh

OOOOOOH!

Ooooh~

He smiled that wicked smile, and he saw your blush erupt once more as you realized he understood your intention.

He Loved your boldness.

He was Definitely keeping you.

[bookishdaze]

Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes Review. More like Rambling and Word Vomiting.

I saw it last night. Finally. After so long!

I personally thought it was good, and a solid addition to the POTA franchise. I don't think it's better than Dawn or War, but I'm willing to bet that by the time the full trilogy is out, Kingdom is gonna be looked back upon as a good beginning to Noa and Mae's story, the same way Rise, despite being most people's least favorite of the Caesar trilogy, is still an amazing intro to Caesar's story.

Some nitpicks. Despite the movie being 2.5 hours long, I felt like the final act came too fast? Like, I understand what people meant with the pacing issue. Suddenly we were in the 3rd act and I was like "Wait, we're here? It's done?"

Now, onto the characters! Let the fangirling commence!

Noa

I loved seeing how his journey and character started and where he ends by the end of the movie.

Him going from "That is the law" to "That is the law. But the law is wrong" was so satisfying.

And him being able to call the eagles to him by the end was great to see. By the way, THE SINGING SCENE WITH THE EAGLES???? LIKE???? It could've been so corny but I LOVED IT???

I'm so glad this movie answered the question of whether apes can sing. Yeah, I know they are only humming, but I'LL TAKE IT. APES CAN SING. YESSSS!

He was just a really nice character to follow. I can't wait to see how he'll be like in the next movie after the events of this one transformed him.

I also think he is the kind of protagonist we need after Caesar. I love Caesar, but Noa is....hmm, I guess you could say softer? More naive? I'm sure he'll get tougher as the movies progress like Caesar did, but I like this change.

Mae

I am a Mae defender. Yes, she did betray Noa in the end. I expected her to tbh. And I understand why she did it. She was right in that Proximus getting his hands on those weapons would've been disastrous.

She has probably been taught all her life nothing but bad things about the apes. She was not going to switch sides just because she met Noa. We still got two whole movies after this. She probably won't have her "redemption" until the 3rd movie. I can honestly go on rambling about her, but I'd rather save that for another separate post.

Raka

I really like him. He's great and funny. I love seeing how he talks about humans and his hopes for humans and apes.

Right before he dies, he reminds Noa "Together, strong." His final words and his necklace as a gift to Noa serve as a reminder. A reminder of a hopeful future where apes and humans can coexist. (And then Noa passing along that same necklace to Mae? Bringing a reminder of that hope for peace into her world? Ugh. So good.)

Also, "He was my village." LIKE. DID HE LOSE HIS PARTNER? MY HEART.

Proximus

I thought he was cool. He gave my mother and I a jump scare at the dinner scene where he slams his fist. Also, the way he was just in awe of the gun after Lightning dies. He has his priorities.

Soona and Anaya

Those two were so cute, and I loved their friendship with Noa.

Anaya broke my heart. In the beginning at the tunnel scene, he's all like "Anaya is not scared." But at Proximus's kingdom, he looks terrified at the dinner scene, and before he goes on the mission to climb the wall, he goes "Anaya is scared" and didn't want to go. Poor guy. He pulled through in the end though.

Although *puts on tinfoil hat* this makes me wonder if this foreshadows how his fear will lead him to make a big mistake in the future movies. Similar to what happened with Winter.

Soona was so sweet. Although I'm disappointed we didn't get more of her with Noa. I saw an interview where Soona's actress described a moment where after they are reunited, they kind of make known their feelings for each other or something like that. But...it didn't happen?

Mae and Noa

Alrighty, I'm gonna briefly put on my shipping goggles on, bear with me, because one has to be a teensy bit delusional for this type of stuff, BUT....

I sensed a....vibe? Not a romantic vibe. They are nowhere close to that yet. But I felt like there were tropes and scenes between them that simply imply a romantic path is a possible direction for their relationship. I will make a separate post about them. I wanna wrap this up, lol.

The ending

I liked the ending. It has me so excited for the future of this trilogy. Now that the humans are able to communicate with others, what will this mean? How will Mae be torn between her people and the apes? Same with Noa? I need to know naooooo

8.5/10 stars (I ain't done rambling about this movie yet. But it's my birthday, and I gotta go out and have some dinner, hehe).

[seramilla]

Wait wait...imagine when Velvette is telling Carmilla the news she wants to or just thinks she should do it alone and when Carmilla asks if this is some kind of joke Velvette just has a full breakdown because 'No it's not a fucking joke! Apparently it's real and I wanted to let you know and maybe get some fucking advice cause I'm scared shitless! I know Jack all about being a mom aside from what not to do and now thanks to lust magic I'm apparently having more than one crotch goblin and-' just goes right into a breakdown and possibly a panic attack and Carmilla has to grab her and hold her and talk her down and through it and she's just holding Velvette who lets her for once without a complaint because damnit she's scared okay and Carmilla murmurs how it'll be okay because Velvette will have so much help and advice and she's going to be a good mom

Velvette wanted to tell Carmilla the news alone. She'd thought if Clara or Kiki were in the room with her, she might hole up again inside her mind, and make them do the talking. The truth is, she'd like nothing more than for her partners to be there and do all the hard work for her. But she also knows she's about three seconds away from breaking down. Honestly, she'd rather burden Carmilla with that than see her partners fuss over her more.

Velvette's not sure what she'd expected when she ultimately told Carmilla, "I'm pregnant." What she gets is...surprising, to say the least.

She'd expected...disbelief? Yeah. Anger? Maybe. Being scolded for not being careful? Of course. All of those things would be typical Carmilla reactions. What she gets instead is the opposite of that -- Carmilla goes quiet for several seconds, like she's confused, and then she...she laughs. A really gut-filled, hearty laugh, like she'd just been told the punchline of a joke. That type of sound is almost eerie coming out of this particular woman's mouth. She never laughs like that in front of her. Velvette is stunned.

"You're laughing," Velvette says, stating the obvious. "I come to you, baring my soul, and you're laughing."

"That would imply you're not joking," Carmilla responds. Carmilla lets out a few more throaty giggles, rubbing her eyes, before taking another look at Velvette, who is very unamused. Then Carmilla gets that oh shit look on her face, and actually looks worried. "Aren't you?"

"No, I'm not fucking joking, Carmilla! Why would I even make light about something like this?"

"To get under my skin? That's what you always do!"

Satan, Velvette truly wants to throttle her girlfriend's mother at that moment. She can't blame her for always expecting the worst of her, but fucking damn it! She's trying! She's been trying for months!

"This isn't a fucking joke!" Velvette cries out, taking a step toward Carmilla this time. Her hand goes to her stomach, just to emphasize the point. There are tears forming in her eyes.

"What are you saying?" Carmilla asks.

Hellfire, how can such an intelligent woman be this fucking stupid?

"I'm saying this is fucking real! I don't know how it's possible --probably Kiki's fucking love magic, I don't know -- but this is happening! You're going to be a grandmother, I'm going to be a mother, and I'm fucking scared shitless, okay?! And I thought for once, maybe the great Carmilla Carmine could stop treating me like a child, and talk to me like an equal! You know, instead of assuming I'm always trying to pull a fast one on her!"

Velvette can feel herself starting to have a panic attack. It's like she's an outside observer to her own body, watching herself breaking down in front of her girlfriend's mother. Her head is a jumble of white noise, and her own voice sounds like it's coming from an echo somewhere else down the hall.

"And most of all, I think I just wanted some fucking advice! I don't know the first thing about any of this shit. Heaven forbid I be vulnerable in front of you for once! I just wanted you to tell me it'll be okay, like you would for Clara. That's what moms do, right? Tell their daughters what to do--!"

Before Velvette can finish her thought, she finds herself dragged against a strong, sturdy wall of a person, arms wrapped securely around her shoulders, and her head shoved tightly against a warm chest. Her head is still reeling from her panic attack from earlier, and she almost tries to push against the person who's grabbed her. Until she calms down and looks up, into the scarlet eyes of the woman she had once called her greatest rival.

"I'm sorry, Velvette," Carmilla says, and Velvette doesn't think she's ever heard so much raw emotion in the woman's voice before. It's limned with so much sorrow...anger...regret...maybe sadness? Velvette's not great with reading emotions. But if she has to guess, Carmilla's voice is full of all of those things, and then some.

"I'm sorry," Carmilla repeats, in case Velvette didn't hear her the first time. She squeezes Velvette harder. "Old habits are hard to break. Even for me."

"You mean you're not perfect, you old fossil?" Velvette squeaks, trying to laugh instead of cry, burying her face into Carmilla's chest. Oh, Satan, Velvette's really starting to cry again.

"No," Carmilla says softly. Matter-of-factly. "I'm not."

Velvette's not sure what finally does it. Maybe it's the little bit of validation from Carmilla just then, the feeling of finally being heard, or just the sensation of such a strong pair of arms gripping her body. Maybe it's the sense of safety she feels, or a healthy combination of all of the above.

Whatever the reason, Velvette becomes choked up again. She doesn't sob, or cry out, or act like the baby Carmilla usually expects to her be. She just lets her feelings go, crying them silently into Carmilla's chest, without saying anything, soaking the older woman's shirt with her tears. Carmilla doesn't scold or chastise her for it, or say anything, at first. She just stands there while she does it, letting those motherly arms do what they do best -- absorb all the sadness, trauma, confusion, and fear of a young woman as she falls apart in her arms.

Velvette has always unleashed so much of herself upon Carmilla over the years. Carmilla's grateful for once that she gets to see this side of her, instead of the part that's always trying to fight her. Carmilla gets bolder, and puts her hand in Velvette's hair, stroking lightly with her claws.

"It'll be okay," Carmilla murmurs, so softly Velvette almost doesn't hear it. "I'll help you. You're going to do great. I promise."

[wolfscarr]

Nightcrawler and Silver Sable romance. Great potential!

So I tend to not really talk a whole lot about comics, even though I do read them. But recently I've taken notice that one of my favorite Marvel characters(and superheroes in general) and one of my Top 2 X-Men(the other being Cyclops), had his own mini solo with being Spider-Man!

But of course I'm not exactly here to talk about that, it was sort of interesting in that aspect, Kurt being part of the Spiders, though I knew it wasn't going to last. Still for what that was, I found it interesting for him...but let's get into the actual topic here.

So during this time, Nightcrawler(Kurt Wagner) gets involved with Silver Sable(Silvija Sablinova) of Wild Pack(and Silver Sable International). It first comes across as her hunting him for Orchis, though it quickly soon devolves into a more...intimate affair.

Kurt got that blue furry demon elf charm it seems. Along with(according to Silvija) a perfect neck and a remarkable tail.

Now as this short series goes on, before anyone knows it, the two actually become invested in one another and fall in love, to the point where Sable pretty much betrays the Orchis to save Nightcrawler's life.

Ok so I get where people are coming on at this, that this 'relationship' seems extremely rushed, which sure I'll agree that it does appear that way. Honestly this really should have been more than just a 5 issue series, to really flesh out everything, that I can agree with everyone on. Though I feel as if people miss, that time that we don't see between Nightcrawler and Sable, does clearly seem to pass given dialogue between them.

Now sure this isn't exactly the best way to do things, but it clearly had to be done given that the series was only 5 issues. However....with what we got folks? I think there's some great potential between Kurt and Silvija, the way he broke down infront of her and she comforting him really told a whole lot.

This scene right here to me says a whole lot. This right here, cemented for me that Kurt and Silvija can be something when they are actually in a series that isn't some simple 5 shot mini.

The two of them have potential as a couple, there obviously needs to be more conversation/interaction with them more, but it's there. I'm hoping that whoever writes for Kurt or Silvija next just...doesn't forget about this, because not only does Kurt deserve someone....like with all the shit he's been through...he does deserve love.

But given that Silvija isn't a mutant and Kurt is, I feel like this would be an interesting opportunity to explore....like how humans would react to one of their own dating a mutant and vice versa with mutants reacting to one of their own dating a human.

Kurt has always been one of my most favorite characters and it's honestly because....he does his best to not let anyone or let anything bring him down, he's always doing his best for others, it's not really for himself but for those around him.

But honestly, I feel like he's long overdue for a partner in his love life, like he actually deserves someone and I feel like Silvija could be that for him. Of course...given how things go with the X-Men(and honestly comics in general), this relationship probably won't last and honestly...I find that extremely upsetting, why is it that writers can't just let characters have a romantic partner?

I'm absolutely sick of characters breaking things off(sometimes for the dumbest reasons) just to create 'drama', then they get into another relationship and the cycle starts all over again. LET THEM BE HAPPY, there's other ways to write characters than doing this.

....But yeah, I kinda want more Kurt X Silvija in the future, they have a whole lot of potential together.

I mean just look at em!

[holyhead-hufflepuff]

fred weasley x reader: unspoken words

fred weasley x reader

summary: "who knows what's in the future, but now I need you to know that I love you" - unspoken words, mxmtoon

words: 1900

warnings: none

author's note: i was going through my old works, and i honestly really proud of this. so REPOST. this is based off of mxmtoon's "unspoken words" and i hope i did this amazing song justice - gracie ♡♡

"Fred, stop it, I mean it," you cried, your hair tied back in two tight plaits. Your hand was wrapped around Fred's thin wrists as he pulled you through Diagon Alley, ignoring your cries and his mum's.

"Come on, y/n, it's not my fault you're just slow. George is keeping up just fine," Fred huffed, continuing to rush through the streets until they landed in front of Ollivander's. "I can't believe we get to go to Hogwarts. It's it, well-"

"Wicked," Fred and George said together, smirking at each other before pushing through the shop's front door.

"Fred. George. You can't just go running off," Mrs. Weasley screamed, slightly out of breath from trying to keep with the three eleven-year-olds. "Hello, Garrick, I'm afraid we'll be shopping second-hand again. We just don't have the galleons right now for two new wands."

"But, mum," Fred whined, crossing his hands over his chest as George just started at the small section of wands with worn boxes.

"I can pay for your guys' wands," you piped up, pulling out twenty-one galleons. Your mum had insisted you bring enough money to pay for the Weasley's wands as payment for housing you for the summer while she was off in Tasmania.

"Nevermind, we'll just take the used wands," Fred stated, pushing you aside to look at the second-hand wands.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you grumbled, tossing the galleons on the countertop. "You would rather have a second-hand wand then have one bought by me?"

"Good job, y/n. You got it on the first guess," Fred mocked, slowly clapping his hands.

"I hate you, Fred Weasley," you yelled, grabbing the galleons and storming out of the store.

You wrung your hands, nervous for the Order's newest mission, moving Harry Potter. It was bad enough that the wizard war was looming over your heads like a storm cloud, but now, you couldn't help but feel like something was going to go wrong.

"Okay, time to leave," you mumbled, slipping your favorite sneakers on and apparating to The Burrow.

"Y/N," you heard a familiar voice shout.

"Ginny," you shouted back, wrapping your arms around the petite girl. "Are you going on the mission tonight?"

"Are you kidding me? Mum will hardly let me out of the house," Ginny chuckled, wrapping an arm around you and leading you into the Burrow. "I can't believe Fred and George are letting you go on the mission, especially Fred."

You rolled your eyes at the redhead's wiggling eyebrows. "Sod off, Ginny. We all know that I am a strong, independent person that doesn't need to ginger twins deciding what I can and cannot do," you replied, the words almost verbatim to what you had told Fred when he told you to stay with Molly at the Burrow.

"Hey! I'm a ginger, too," Ginny exclaimed, placing a hand over her chest. "You wound me, did you know that?"

"Yeah, whatever, miss melodramatic. I'm going to put my jacket up in Fred and George's room," you announced, hurrying up the stairs and into the familiar room that smelled still smelled like smoke and candy.

You shrugged off your overcoat, tossing it on Fred's bed, and looked around the room. Everything was exactly the same as it was when you two were kids, bringing back memories of growing up with him.

"Y/N, you can't tell me you're actually thought Bulargia would win," Fred shouted from his side of the tent as you pulled your Bulgaria jersey off. "I thought you had better taste than that, but then again, you're dating Roger Davies."

"Screw you, Fred," you bit back, unsure whether or not to tell him that Roger had dumped you over the summer to try and get with Alicia Spinnet. "And, just so you know, Roger and I are, well, no longer together."

"Finally got tired of sloppy seconds, Cedric's to be precise?" Fred teased, grabbing your wrist and pulling you onto his bunk bed.

"You're a pig, Fred," you growled, leaning against the flat pillows. "Hurry up, now, I want to go out and see how the Irish are celebrating. Maybe we can even convince them to give up some firewhiskey."

"Tsk tsk, illegal underage drinking? Not perfect y/n," Fred chuckled, moving out of the way of your attempt to kick him. "Too slow- I guess that's what happens when you shag a loser like Roger Davies."

"Go to hell," you hissed, your red turning bright red. "I'll just go without you, and not that's it's your business, but I never slept with him."

You stormed out of the tent, pushing past George, who attempted to grab your wrist.

"Y/N, The Order is here," Ginny shouted, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You hurried down the wooden steps, your eyes immediately meeting with Fred's. "Hey," you breathed, running up to the redhead. "Merlin, I've hardly seen you two, and you, Fred Weasley, didn't write back after that mission. I really ought to smack you, but I'm honestly just glad you're okay."

"Wow, George, it's great to see you, too! How were you after the mission? Good? Oh, I'm so glad," George mocked in a high pitched voice.

"I'm sorry, George, the drama queen, how are you?" you asked, turning away from Fred to look at George.

"Oh, you know, disgust by your outward display of kindness to the lesser twin," George replied, but your eyes were already back on Fred.

"What happened to your cheek?" You asked, running your fingers over a faint scar. "It looks like it hurt."

"I'm fine, y/n, especially knowing that you aren't going tonight," Fred grinned. "They only need twelve 'Potters', and they want you back here, in case someone needs healing."

"But-"

"Nope, they aren't budging on the idea, and neither am I. Anyway, we're going to be off once Bill and Fleur arrive," Fred stated, brushing off your concerned look. "Oh, there they are now. I guess I better get outside with the rest of The Order, and before mum fusses over me."

You bit the bottom of your lip, the taste of blood filling your mouth. "Be safe, Freddie. I swear that I'll kill you if you don't come back to me."

"I'll be safe," Fred whispered, brushing a piece of your hair back. "I swear that I'll come back to you."

You watched Fred walk out of the door, a crushing feeling washing over you. "Please have them all return safely," you said to no one in particular, hoping that some force of nature or faith heard you. You walked into the kitchen, where Arthur was talking to Molly, and George was promising to return to Ginny. You sat down in your chair, letting memories sweep you away from the world of worries.

"How was I supposed to know that you needed a personalized goodbye," Fred argued, using his wand to paint another layer of coat on the store's walls.

"Because we're best friends, Fred. You didn't even say goodbye. You left- you just left me alone," You shouted back, flicking your wand to paint your side of the room. "You just flew away on your stupid broom and left me alone. I would've come in a heartbeat."

"I know that- do you not think I don't know anything about you? You are the most brilliant person I know, and I couldn't just take you away. You had to take your N.E.W.Ts. I didn't want you to give up your education for a shop that wasn't your dream," Fred snapped. "I wanted to ask you, and so did George. But, I told him we couldn't sweep you away just because we didn't want to miss you."

You paused, his words sinking in. "I-I didn't- I'm sorry," you relented, setting down your wand and wrapping the redhead into a hug. Then, as if it were magic, Fred returned the hug and elicited butterflies in your stomach.

You didn't need to question the feeling- you knew you were in love.

"Y/N, it's George," a voice screamed, causing you to jump off your kitchen chair and run into the living room where George was lying limply on the couch.

"Shh, George. It'll be okay," you mumbled over and over again, pulling out your wand and murmuring incantations over his body. "Shhh, George, don't cry. I'll stop the pain, I promise."

You worked on his ear and mumbled all of the spells you knew that would act as a nerve block. Finally, what felt like eternities later, George was sleeping peacefully.

"Thank you," Fred spoke up, sitting next to you. "I don't know what would've happened without you here."

"I couldn't save the skin around his ear- it was ridden with dark magic. I had to cut it off, and now, he won't be able to properly hear out of that ear. Oh, God, Fred, why is this happening to us? We're kids," you sniffled, feeling Fred wrap his arms around you and pull you into his chest. "Time is just fading away, and we don't even know anything about the future."

"You were brilliant," Fred mumbled into your ear, hugging you tighter as if you were going to disappear if he didn't. "Y/N, and I need to tell you something-"

"I love you," you blurted, pulling away from his chest. "I should've said it sooner, but now, I need you to know that I love you. You don't need to say it back, but I need you to know."

"I love you, too," Fred breathed, not entirely sure if he heard what he wanted to or if you actually said you loved him. "God, y/n, I've loved you since you offered to buy my wand in Ollivanders- Since you nearly fell over the balcony because you were so swept away with the Quidditch World Cup. I've been in love with you since the moment I met you."

"Freddie, we met when we were like four years old," You laughed, tears starting to run down your face.

"I know- why do you think that I shoved your face into a mud pie," Fred chuckled, wiping your tears off with his palm. "I didn't know how else to say I loved you."

"I love you, Fred Weasley. I don't know what the hell will happen to us, but I'm just glad we'll do it together," you admitted, pulling Fred in for a kiss.

"Ah, my plan worked," a voice weakly said, causing the two of you to break apart and look at George. "Get my ear blown off? Check. Lose a bunch of blood? Check. Cause my best friend and my twin have an existential crisis? Check. Have them finally admit they're in love? Check."

You could help but laugh, filling the room with a sound that almost seemed unfamiliar. "Thanks, George, we couldn't have admitted it without you," you joked, playing along with the redhead.

"I know- although, I wish it hadn't taken years of sexual tension between you two and my ear to come off," George grinned, laying his head back down.

"Eh, I kind of enjoyed the sexual tension," Fred joked, "it really built-up this moment."

"Shut up, and kiss me," you smiled, grabbing the front of his shirt and bringing his lips against yours. 

[aromanticbuck]

I'm right there with you. Cheating plot-lines are huge squicks for me. I almost stopped watching the show bc of Hen's cheating in s1, and again when Buck cheated. Part of the disappointment now is that it's a THIRD time they've had a cheating plotline- actually FOURTH since Michael had a secret relationship when he and Athena were still married, even if they hadn't been sleeping together for a while.

So I think part of it for me is "I know this is different, but I don't want to go through this AGAIN."

Either way, I save my own sanity by fast-forwarding through scenes that I don't want to see, and I'll infer/learn things from other people who have watched the show later.

I hate it here so much and, honestly, with how this show usually treats cheating storylines, I don't actually have that much faith that this will get the fallout it should.

With Michael, I understand the handwave - they were separated, for all intents and purposes, and that was discussed afterwards and Athena sees where he's coming from now. And them writing canonically queer characters into cheating arcs that end poorly would be messy, even if they don't necessarily learn anything from it.

Hen... did face consequences for her actions. We got to see the fallout of it with her and Karen, and how they handled it. But I feel like most of that was off screen, and then they forgot about it beyond season one.

Buck's "cheating" storyline was wild, in a way that... was barely cheating? He was on the receiving end of the kiss that only happened once, he kissed back in the moment because he was drunk. Lucy is not the bad guy in this situation either, because she had no idea he was in a relationship and was also drunk. Should Buck have told Taylor sooner? Yes. Was the entire storyline a mess for other reasons too? Also yes.

This... it feels different but the same. No, Eddie hasn't done anything physical with Kim that we know of, but this is the first time, other than Michael whose cheating didn't get much of a storyline beyond cementing the end of his relationship with Athena, that it has been a consistent choice made over and over again. Hen slept with Eva the night of the full moon and then that was over. Buck and Lucy was one drunken night that didn't go beyond a kiss or two. This? Eddie is going after Kim and her attention again and again.

He's showing up at her job. He's taking her out to dinner. He's telling her he's single. And it's really shitty. I just have to cross my fingers and pray this doesn't get brushed off like every other time.

(and I totally understand fast forwarding when you have that ability, definitely do whatever you have to do 💛)

[beastofburdenxo]

Look After You

This is based on later seasons of "Peaky Blinders" where Tommy has trouble with seizures. This time, he has you to look after him after he has one.

Hurt, fluff, comfort, mention of seizures, ptsd, typical Tommy language. @your-nanas-house

"Tommy.... there we are, it's alright. I got you." Tommy found himself in the kitchen floor, confused with his head in your lap. You were stroking the short sides of his hair, the gray starting to peek through.

Tommy tries to speak, but you silence him. "Don't speak, sweetheart, just relax. Breathe. It's over. I'm here with you." Tommy had a seizure at the kitchen table. He stopped talking mid sentence, and you knew what to do. You pulled him to the floor so he wouldn't fall out of his chair and hurt himself. Luckily, they never last very long.

"Another one?" Tommy finally whispers, tears in his eyes. "Mmm, hmm, just a short one, sweetheart. I pulled you to the floor so you wouldn't fall out and hurt yourself."

"Why am I wet?" Tommy asks you. You give him a forehead kiss before replying. "You lost control of your bladder. The doctor said that was normal, remember? It happens a lot during seizures."

"I fucking pissed myself on the kitchen floor?!"

"Shhhh, Tommy, it's okay. We'll get you cleaned up all good as new. Would you like me to call Francis or Arthur to help you up?"

"Fuck no!" Tommy cries with embarrassment. "I rather be shot! What kind of a man am I?!"

"Tommy." You coo, wiping his tears away. "You are the same man I married. Between being in the war and your various head injuries over the years, you can't help it. Now let's get you up and into the bath, yeah?"

You run Tommy a nice hot bath and help him out of his clothes, ignoring Tommy's fussing about it. ("Fucking fell out and pissed myself, surely I can undress myself without issue!")

With Tommy in the bath, you make quick work of washing him up. "Relax, Tommy, let the warm bath do its job."

"I can't. What if I have another one? What if I have one while driving? What if I have one in parliament and piss everywhere in front of God and everybody?"

Terror is evident in Tommy's eyes. You know his seizures and ptsd go hand in hand. You look at him, but his eyes have gone elsewhere.

"Tommy. Hey, come back to me. You'll throw yourself into another one if you don't relax. Shhhhh. There you are. Nobody knows, do they?"

Tommy brings his knees up to his chest, hugging himself. "No one but you. I feel so small and weak. It honestly scares me."

You hold Tommy while he sobs quietly in the bathtub. "Have you been taking the tablets the doctor gave you?"

"They're fucking useless, love. I still have them."

"Because you won't let them do their job. You hardly eat, hardly sleep, and you smoke like a freight train. You've got to take better care of yourself, sweetheart."

"Is that your diagnosis for me, doctor?" Tommy asks you with a sniffle.

"Yes, it is. Now, let's get you out and into bed. You need to rest. You always feel wiped out afterward."

This time, there are no complaints from tommy as you dress him in comfortable clothes and tuck him into bed. "Now get some sleep, Tommy. You'll feel better when you wake up."

"What if I don't wake up?" Tommy asks quietly, the terror set back in his eyes.

"Tommy, baby, don't think that. I'll be right here next to you if that's what you need. You have to sleep. I'll hold you for as long as you want me to. If you have another one, I will be right here as always. You are in the middle of the bed, so you won't fall off and get hurt. You are safe here with me, I promise. Now, please get some needed rest. I love you, tommy."

"I love you too. Promise you won't go anywhere while I sleep?" He is anxious like a child that just had a nightmare.

"I promise, baby. Nothing can pull me away."

Tommy curls up into your chest, breathing in your scent to relax him. You gently rub his back and listen to his breathing slow and ease into sleep.

[naavispider]

Thanks for linking Stripes! It would be nice to see this on AO3, it would be easier to read 💙 Have you thought about writing a scene in which Spider would seriously talk to Recoms and Quaritch about life on Earth? This would be interesting to read :*

"Come on, you must have thought about it!" Wainfleet prodded, tossing Spider a water bottle as they rested near the night's campfire.

"Can honestly say that I haven't, actually."

The conversation was only really between the two of them, but the rest of the camp was listening in as they reclined against their packs or consulted their holotablets. Quaritch's ears perked up. "Are you being serious?"

Spider turned in his direction. "Yeah..." he said, shrugging. He couldn't see what the big deal was. "Why should I imagine Earth? It would be like an Earth-born human wondering what it would be like to grow up on Pandora."

"Yeah but you're from Earth," Wainfleet argued.

Spider ground his teeth. "No I'm not, jackass."

Wainfleet raised his arms in exasperation, gesturing around the camp. "Kid, like it or not, you're not from Pandora."

"I think what Wainfleet is trying to say," interrupted Quaritch before Spider could fire back and get worked up into a huff, "is that none of us believe you haven't at least thought about what it's like back home. Say, what did you want to be when you grew up?"

Spider frowned. He'd been read hundreds of books when he was a kid, all depicting Earth scenes with Earth plots and Earth problems, but he'd always felt the disconnect as if it was a physical feeling. None of it applied to him, because none of it was relevant to Na'vi culture. The possibility of growing up to be a doctor, or a teacher, or a mechanic simply weren't options that were open to him. And it's not like he ever felt like he was missing out. The scientists all agreed that Earth was a dismal place to grow up these days, and even if it wasn't, Spider's affinity and loyalty to his home planet was far too great to ever consider wanting to visit.

He shrugged. "When I'm older, I'm going to be a warrior. The first human to pass iknimaya."

Quaritch was looking at him in a way he didn't like: sympathetic and...sad?

"What is your problem?" he ground out, angered by this response.

"That shouldn't be your only option. You're sixteen."

"No. It shouldn't be my only option because my home shouldn't be being invaded by aliens." He could tell he'd hit a nerve.

Quaritch sighed, adjusting his grip on the rifle he was using to patrol the camp.

Wainfleet spoke up. "But if you could be something different. What would you be?"

Spider thought for a moment, staring into the fire. "I dunno... I don't know what I'm good at."

"There's plenty you're good at," huffed Quaritch from across the camp. The Colonel had his back to them in the darkness, focused on the perimeter of the clearing. Spider felt a soft rush of warmth pool in his chest, but he quickly pressed it down.

"Yeah," Wainfleet said. "You're top notch little punk, for starters!"

Spider punched the corporal's shoulder, hard, which earned nothing more than a chuckle from the amused Wainfleet.

"I could pull your tswin so hard right now..." he grumbled.

"You're smart, good with your hands..." Ja offered unexpectedly.

"Don't inflate his ego, Ja," Zdinarsk groaned, finally joining the conversation as well.

"You could make a good medic."

For the second time in as many minutes, Spider felt a blush spread through his cheeks at Ja's calm praise. "Nah, I'm no Tsa'hik."

"Okay, but good with people though. You care a lot."

"Okay... this is getting weird," Spider cringed. He had no idea the squad's medic saw him in such high regard.

"Agreed," Wainfleet echoed, but not before Quaritch returned from his sweep of the camp, taking off his AR and resting it carefully near his pack.

Spider watched the Colonel as he strolled over relaxedly, taking a seat next to Spider on the warm moss. He appreciated that the man left enough space between them so that it wasn't awkward.

"You coulda been anything you wanted," the man huffed. The rest of the camp suddenly became extremely interested in field stripping their weapons or rummaging around for supplies. "You were robbed."

The weight of his words seemed to bear down on Quaritch. His voice was low and full of regret. He was probably blaming himself for the whole thing.

"I know it seems like that to you," Spider began, adjusting himself on the ground so he was a little further away from the recom. "But I was happy with my life."

Spider's use of the past tense hung in the air like a mist of bellsprig spores.

"Spider-" Quaritch extended a hand, but Spider shrugged it off quickly. He shuffled further away, hugging his legs and resting his chin on his knees. This only seemed to trigger Quaritch. He exhaled gruffly, nodding his acceptance of Spider's actions, but his voice told a different story. "I'm sorry I've let this happen to you."

They both knew he wasn't talking about taking Spider into RDA custody.

Anger boiled up inside of Spider - hot and volatile, so much all at once that he didn't know how to control it. "Txanfwìngtu! Vonvä’!" Hot licks of fury bubbled up his throat, bringing the profanity with it. "Pxasìk... Are you serious?!" He glared at Quaritch, breathless.

Quaritch didn't return the look, instead staring ahead stonily, confirming to Spider that he was set in his beliefs.

"Fuck you."

Quaritch smiled grimly, clearly trying to contain his own anger now.

"You think I'm a complete victim in this! You think that because you died I'm just a charity case. Well guess what? You dying was that best thing that could have happened to me. I think about going back to Earth now, and I shudder. Fuck you for thinking otherwise!" He leapt to his feet and stormed towards one of the larger trees, swinging himself up to make his bed for the night in one of the branches before Quaritch could respond. His heart was pounding, his mind racing with all the things he still wanted to shout into Quaritch's face. If he wouldn't literally die, he'd rip his damn mask off and tear through the forest faster than he'd ever moved in his life. He knew they'd never find him again without the tracker. He growled furiously into the night, slamming his head back against the bark of the tree. He'd put enough distance between himself and the squad so that he was out of sight, and probably too high to be heard either. He could just picture Quaritch checking the tablet to make sure he wasn't doing a runner.

This is how it was between them. Just when Spider thought Quaritch was beginning to understand him, he went and got proven completely wrong. Quaritch was an asshole, and Spider hated him.

Angry tears slipped down inside his mask as he realised why he was so angry. It was so unfair. Why did he have to hate the one man he was supposed to feel so differently about?

[septembersghost]

did not sleep at all, but rather laid in bed agonizing and cycling over terrible things in my head, feeling my heart start to beat faster and faster with anxiety until i felt like i was running a marathon while lying perfectly still. cried, got up after all this at 8:30 to get ready to go to the dentist, cut myself because i'm too tired for fine motor skills. mom drops me off at the dentist, ascend to the second floor with another lady to find that the office is locked and closed because they moved, yet somehow didn't inform patients that they moved. having no way of contacting my mom (upon reflection, i could've gone to another business in the building to use a phone, but i was exhausted and panicked and ditzy), very kind lady introduces herself and offers me a ride to the new location since we're going to the same place. i think, if i can't trust the older women of the world, i can't trust anyone, and it's only five minutes away, so okay, i don't want to seem ungrateful and turn down a ride, we laugh about how nuts it is that patients didn't get this information. dentist is fine except my pulse ox is too low (BP was normal, oddly enough). i call mom from the front desk to inform her i am not where she expects me to be (to much confusion), and explain when she arrives. get back home and find the car that was worked on for two days last week is rattling and the engine seems frighteningly hot and it smells very bad and there's almost no oil because it is leaking, so now we don't know if it's safe to drive, except mom has a very important cancer screening tomorrow that she's been waiting for for two months (really longer than that because it's something she needed to do much sooner, but everything was in crisis last year, so she didn't), and we don't know if it will risk burning up the engine. i want to be put into a cursed repose for twenty years (/ever /permanent)