#but man. I had to do something. a good percentage of my many hours of sitting in bed feeling helpless were over this job

[asinglesock]

I quit my job! and I ruminated over it for several days first but it still felt really impulsive!

[ughgoaway]

you're just a stranger I know everything about.

Content warnings; sadness lol, confrontation, crying, a few Taylor references because I am unbearable, swearing, shouting, and just general angst. (no happy ending either oops)

a/n; day 1 of the matty 35 celebration! and what better way to start it than with some teacher au angst?? I know my birthdays always have an air of melancholy, so I feel like this is appropriate. I fear this is rushed and SO bad, but eh, too late now!! anyway, enjoy! maybe? if you can?

word count; 3.5k ish

(this fic is an extension from the "don't you think of me?" universe, which you can read here.)

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The text sits on your phone. Every time the screen starts to dim, you tap it to keep it illuminated, yet you don't reply. You can't. Every muscle in your body feels frozen except that one finger. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. 

You watched the phone dim, but the name of the contact seemed to stay just as bright, even when the light is as low as it can be, “Matty. DO NOT TEXT.” glows on your screen. The warning was added against your will after a few too many drunk almost-phone calls. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. 

It’s an hour later when the phone dies. You knew it was coming, watching the percentage of charge drop slowly. You got the 15% warning. Then the 5%. But still, you did the same thing until the screen finally went black.

 Tap. Tap. Tap.

You don't need the phone to be lit up to remember what the message said anyway. You’d read it a thousand times over already. You’d analysed it, broken it down, performed autopsies on every single word, each letter was scorched into your brain. 

“Hey y/n, long time no talk. 

I hope you got my letter, if you didn't read it, that's okay. You already know everything I said. You always knew me better than I did. 

Anyway, I know this is a long shot, but it's my birthday party next week, and I just can't imagine celebrating without you there. All I can think about is my last birthday, me and you in Hawaii. I don't expect it to be like that, but I would love it if you came. Even if you just had one drink, we don't have to talk. You can wave at me across the room and stay far, far away. Treat me like I've got the plague for all I care, but just come, please. 

Give an old man his birthday wish?

See you there, maybe. I hope so, anyway.

Matty x” 

You want to do the same to the text that you did to his letter, burn it to a crisp. But that doesn't exactly seem feasible, considering your phone was £500, and probably not flammable. plus, you had blisters on your fingers for weeks after the letter, and you dont know if it's worth it again.

But you can't deny that the blisters were oddly comforting. Reminding you what you did every time something brushed your digits, that he was gone, and you had the power. The ball was in your court, and you intended it to stay there.

And it was there for months. But Matty ruined that by sending that message, he got the power back whether he intended to or not. And it was made even worse by him telling Charli, and her endless phone calls begging you to come.

You’re so good at telling her its not going to happpen, and every message that comes in gets a firm “no.” or just gets point-blank ignored. She begs, saying that she needs a friend there and that she'll even let you choose a few songs for George’s DJ playlist. But you stay strong, shaking your head and sighing, insisting you've moved on, that chapter of your life is closed, and you'd like to keep it that way.

So you can't help but wonder how you ended up dressed up on a Saturday night standing outside of Matty’s house, bottle of wine gripped in your shaking hands and the distinct noise of your heels clicking against the pavement as you walk towards the house you've done everything you can to forget. 

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As soon as you walk in, you can tell the house is different from how you left it. Obviously, the strobe lights and birthday balloons were new, but even ignoring those, the whole space felt wrong. Even more unforgiving and cold, which was impressive considering every inch was covered with people, dancing and chatting. Still, a lifeless air hung around. 

Your eyes darted around, finding the places that you used to occupy. The painting you bought Matty no longer hangs on the wall, replaced by yet another award. You can't help but feel bitter when you see the poster celebrating the album full of songs about you. The spot where your mug used to sit on the counter was empty, but the dark stained ring of coffee remained, forcing you to fight a small smile. maybe he hadn't completely erased you, even if he tried.

People recognise you immediately, and they don't hide their shock well. They might think that they do, smoothly recovering from their initial surprise, but they don't. You see their wide eyes and disbelieving glances, each person acting like you're a ghost haunting the house you once lived in.

You play pretend along with them, smiling as best you can and answering all their questions.

"How's work?"

"How have you been?"

"you seen any good films lately?"

but, you both know you're dancing around the one question they really want to be answered.

why the fuck were you here?

Eventually, the people stop coming, and Charli finds you, plying you with drinks and half-slurred thanks as she begs you to stay for just 5 more minutes. You agree, only because you have yet to catch a glimpse of the birthday boy, and that made everything just bearable.

You quickly regret that decision when you see him not even a minute later, standing by George in the DJ booth smoking a cigarette and laughing in that contagious way he always did. High pitched giggles and his head thrown back.

But he doesn't see you, so it's still okay. You can hang on a few seconds more. Your chest might be tightening with every moment, but you're not suffocating yet.

However, when a tall blonde girl walks over and starts making out with him, it suddenly starts to feel like the room is on fire, and you’re choking on the invisible smoke. The burn of the flames starts to feel all too real when he pulls away from her, though, and his eyes find yours as if they're magnetised together. 

The realisation falls over his face immediately, dropping his hand from around her waist and trying desperately to weave through the crowd surrounding him. You don't stay to see if he breaks through the sea of people, already rushing out as fast as you can, forcing your cup into a stranger's hand and moving as fast as your legs can take you.

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“y/n, stop.” You hear Matty’s voice behind you as you storm out his front door, but you don't turn. It sounds muffled, like you're being pulled underwater, and someone is screaming at you to get up. But the waves keep on pulling you deeper, and his voice becomes more faint with every step you take.

Yet, as soon as the cold air fills your lungs and his skin finally touches yours, you're pulled out. You spin around as soon as his fingers graze your shoulder, acting like even his touch is painful as you wrench away.

It was finally here, the time you were dreading. The time when it was just you, him, and everything that remained unsaid.

His eyes held yours as the silence of the night surrounded you, and you couldn't help but study him like you always did. He looked different. Not better or worse, just different. The colourful lights in the house had been hiding his features. 

He had more lines on his face, deeper ones on his forehead, but the ones around his mouth had lightened, his smile lines fading. You could still tell even when it was slicked back with heavy gel that more grey streaks danced through his curls.

His eyes were the same, though. Always so telling, so revealing. If you wanted to know exactly what Matty Healy was thinking, look in his eyes. They spoke more than he did. Which sounds absurd if you’d ever had a conversation with him, but you'd bet your life on it.

You almost start to soften at the sight of him, old memories flooding back. Flashes of warm sun and hot kisses, filthy sex followed by soft breakfasts in bed. But then he speaks. Why do men always do that? Just as you're thinking about saying something and trying defusing the situation, they open their stupid mouth.

“Where are you going?” he asks softly, his chest heaving as he desperately sucks in oxygen, his lungs fighting to catch up.

“Home, Matty. I shouldn't have come. I don't even know why you invited me.” You try to spin and walk away, to finally move on. But of course, Matty’s voice drags you back under once again, and the same water fills your lungs.

“stay, please. i dont know why i invited you either, but I did. I didn't expect you to come. I just-” Matty stutters as he speaks as if his brain can't catch up with his mouth, things pour out that he doesn't mean. And he knows it. It's crystal clear as soon as his wide eyes shoot open, processing what he had really just said. 

He didn't expect you to come? He put you through all this and didn't think you'd show up? What was the point then? Was it just to hurt you? Did he just want to see if he could? to see if his name popping up would have the same effect it always did, make you come running to him?

Your body moves without thinking, turning to face Matty with fires burning in your eyes, "You didn't think I would come? Then why the fuck did you even invite me, Matty?! to flaunt your new girlfriend? to try and "win" the breakup? Well congratulations, you've fucking won. I'm sure that model hanging off your arm is just perfect for you.” sarcasm drips from your every word, burning Matty like acid rain.

“No! It's not like that. I don't know. I think- I think I was just scared we’d never be in the same place again. That I would love you for the rest of my life, but I’d never see you again.” his voice softens as he speaks, and you almost want to give in, to crumble at his gentle tone and warm eyes. But he can't still love you, it seems impossible when you go back and see the destruction he left behind.

“That's what a breakup is, Matty. And did you ever think about me? About what I want? I can't help but think that maybe that would've been better. If being in the same room as you means feeling like this, I don't ever want to see you again.” You spit back angrily.

Matty's nostrils flare before he speaks, and you can see the anger building inside him. It takes a lot to get Matty to shout, but you can tell with every second you're making him inch closer. And you don't know why that makes you feel so good, but if you're honest, you don't want to know.

You want to keep going, keep pushing. You want him to act like he did that night. You needed to see it again. You needed to know he couldn't ever forget the night you're forced to remember. 

“y/n, I don't- I just don't know what to say to you. What do you want from me? Do you want me to say that saying goodbye to you was the hardest thing I've ever had to do? That it ripped my heart out of my chest? That it fucking destroyed me? It did. Of course it did, you always made me feel everything. Losing you was no different.” You heard the way Matty’s voice cracked the more he spoke, but you ignored it. If he wanted to pull the dagger out of your heart, it was his job to deal with the bleeding.

“It didn't feel that hard when you stopped coming home at night. Or when you were fucking screaming at me. Or even that night when you walked out the door, you made it look pretty fucking easy that night. Because that's how it was Matty, you left. So don't come to me bitching and whining that it destroyed you. It's your fault. All of this is your fault.” you feel your voice wavering, but you suck in another breath, refusing to let him see you weaken, to see that wall you built start to break down. 

“I deserved a better goodbye, Matty. If the goodbye you gave me hurt, the one I deserved would have fucking killed you.” You poke Matty in the chest harshly, pushing him back on his unsteady feet. 

Streetlights flicker above you, the severe light dancing across Matty’s features. As long as you can remember, this light was busted, flicking on and off at will. It used to annoy you, distract you at night when the light poured through the curtains of Matty's bedroom.

Tonight, however, you loved it. No one could hide what they were really feeling under the harsh yellow glow. It seemed to pull every emotion to the surface of your face, illuminating even the darkest parts you wanted to hide.

So it was easy to spot when anger reared its ugly head in Matty. This time, he doesn't push it back. He physically can't.

He needs you to know that it did kill him to say goodbye, and that you can see that. he needs to understand how you can’t you see that he's the shell of the man he once was as he stands here?

“I apologised to you. I know you got my letter. Thanks for the response, by the way, a great way for us to get closure for whatever the fuck this was.” venom drips from every word that falls from his lips, and you have to fight to hide the smirk brewing on your face. 

Finally. Finally, he was angry. He was pissed off. This is what you needed. You need the big fight, the final breakdown. Just one more time, you tell yourself, just one more screaming match, and you can move on.

A scoff involuntarily is ripped from your chest, as if you can't believe the utter bullshit coming from the man across from you. “I'm sorry, you think you deserve a response? What would I say in it, “Oh Matty, I'm so sorry! You're so right. Please let me come over so we can fuck all night!!” I know I'm not your usual airhead type, but you have to think more of me than that”

Your voice is high and piercing as you speak, and you know it. It always was when you started to get riled up. However, in this moment, you didn't care. You just needed something to happen, for him to get just as annoyed as you've been for fucking months.

“You don't think I deserved anything, though? Not even an acknowledgement?” his incredulous eyes met yours, begging you to take everything back and say you're sorry too, that it wasn't just his fault, even if he knew that wasn't true.

“Why should I? You never acknowledged my feelings. I don't think you asked me how I felt in the last month of our relationship.” Wet tears start brewing at your lashline. You want to fight them falling. But you can't, your resolve weakening with every second he stands in front of you.

“you know, that night we broke up, I realised something. you hadn't said you loved me in weeks. I said it every morning. But you'd hum back, or nod, or hug me. But you never actually said it.” Matty tries to cut in, and you already know what he wants to say. But you don't let him, powering through his half started words and desperate eyes.

After a few shaky breaths, your words start pouring again, “You treated saying “I love you” just like how you treated saying sorry. Like it would kill you to even think it. You've still never properly apologised for how you treated me, never said it to my face. But when we were together, I found myself saying sorry thousands of times over for feeling anything. I felt guilty for being pissed off at you, like I was doing something wrong. But I had every right to be! You had become a man I didn't even recognise, and for some reason, I still loved you, even when I shouldn't have. But at the time, I didn't see that. All I saw was you hurting. And because all I do is care, I wanted to stay. To stay for you, for us. Our family.”

Seconds pass, but they feel like minutes. The harsh wind blowing between you whistling through the street. Your eyes can't be dragged away from Matty’s, tears falling freely between the two of you.

And suddenly, you don't want him to be angry any more, you don't want this all to happen. You wish you could go back, never come here. But time doesn't work like that, so you’re stuck with tears pouring down your face as you stare at the man you once thought was the love of your life.

“Do you still have feelings for me?” Matty whispers, and you could see the desperation on his face, wet eyes tracing your every feature.

In that moment, he didn't know what he wanted your answer to be.

If you said no, it would kill him. Every ember of hope smouldering inside him would be burnt out, never to be relit.

But if you said yes, he doesn't know if he can let go. If you say you still feel anything for him, he knows he’ll be looking for you in every universe until he finds the one where you stay.

“I won't ever not love you, Matty. No matter how many times I tell myself I've moved on or that my life is better without you in it. I will always love you, and that's fucking agonising.” you sniffle as you speak, and you almost want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. How did you go from screaming at each other to professing your everlasting love?

Matty wants nothing more in that moment than to start begging you to come back, telling you how you can make it work, to talk about what he would do to get you back. But he knows he shouldn't, so he doesn't.

“Annie still thinks about you all the time you know,” Matty says, and your chest hurts from the whiplash of this conversation, jumping between memories of your old life so fast its almost unbearable. But you knew Matty. He needed to jump around to stay sane, so you jumped with him.

“I know, I remember you saying in the letter that she stopped asking when I was coming back. Is that true?” your voice drops again, as if you were sharing secrets at a sleepover.

“I thought it would be easier when she stopped asking, maybe then I'd not spend every waking hour thinking of you. But when the day came, it wasn't easier. It was like watching you leave right in front of me all over again. It brought me back to walking into the house for the first time after you left, looking at the empty space and trying to figure out how to fill it. Annie was filling it by asking about you, but suddenly she wasn't, and that glaring hole in my life was back." Matty's voice breaks as he speaks, but he clears his throat and tries to ignore it.

"I realised then that I'll never not think about you. Even if no one talks about you. Even if I never see you again, I'll still think of you.” Matty sucks in a shaky breath as soon as the words stop pouring out of him. His lungs seemed like they were sticking together with every word he said, and it felt like death. But he couldn't stop the rush of words, so he let the death surround him.

“Tell her I said hi” you reply meekly, not sure what to say in response to Matty’s outpour.

“I won't” matty says, forcing a half smile and chuckle that you half-heartedly return. 

Once again, the blanket of silence surrounds the two of you, enveloping you in a way that feels all too familiar. So you break it, not letting yourself fall back into old patterns.

"i just dont understand how it all happened so quickly. how did you go from a stranger to the love of my life, only then to become someone I wish was a stranger all over again?" You whisper, your shaking hands coming to cup Matty's wet cheeks as you step closer. His hands wrap around your waist instantly, pulling you in and holding you so tight it almost hurts. 

Silence hangs between the two of you. But its no longer painful or awkward, stilted or angry. It was a silence of acceptance, an acknowledgement that this had to be the final goodbye. There was no erasing the past, the demons that followed the two of you couldn't be ignored. So you were done, this was it.

Eventually, you pull away, and your face hovers in front of Matty’s for a few beats too long. You want to give him a final kiss, a proper goodbye. and you swear you can almost feel his lips against yours, taste the salty tears that would fall from your eyes. You don't, though. Your hands drop from his wet cheeks, and you walk away.

Every fibre inside you wants to turn around and go back to him. It feels impossible to face the future with the person you planned to spend it with standing 10 steps behind. But you do, moving forward and trying not to mourn the life you know you can never get back.

[roseglazedlens]

i love that new bubble tea fic how did u know i was craving some - what do you think leon's and rebecca's bubble tea order would be?

-🍫

⦑ 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐛𝐚 𝐎𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 ⦒ [ part one ]

read part two here (ethan winters, jill valentine, jack krauser, claire redfield) read the 'boba tea date' fic here (leon kennedy x gn! reader) characters: leon kennedy, rebecca chambers, chris redfield, ashley graham, carlos oliveira & ada wong a/n: funny you asked, because i had a convo ab this with my friend hahha! also added some other characters too ;) what other characters should i do? content: SFW

LEON KENNEDY

Ever since that date, he sneaks off when you're not around to try all the flavours.

He would be a sweet tooth (despite how passionately he will deny this), and orders the limited edition seasaonal tea with extra foam on top! Always 100% ice and sugar.

He's a closet sweet-tooth (especially RE2 Leon, he looks like he pretends to like coffee, inspired by this)

When you find an empty cup in the bin, he will act nonchalant and say "Oh I happen to pass by for work".

But you already know he's lying when you found a membership card in the frontest pocket of his wallet - probably eligible for a few free drinks at this point.

REBECCA CHAMBERS

Caramel milk tea with pudding. Extra sugar and standard ice.

She likes sugar, and she's not afraid to admit it!

Always get the large size since she works long hours in the lab, so she sips away her drink throughout her shift.

Probably hyped up the shop to all her colleagues already, hoping to find a companion to join her.

Very close with the shop manager since she goes there daily - will chat and banter with them

CHRIS REDFIELD

He would just get plain black tea, no sugar and less ice.

To keep up with his physique and body fat percentage low, he doesn't usually drink unless you drag him there.

Raves on about the antioxidants in black tea and how it's good for you (such a health nerd)

Starts complaining 'it's too sweet' everytime he sips on any of your drinks - apparently even a hint of sugar is too much for this old man sometimes.

ASHLEY GRAHAM

Matcha with fresh milk, extra sugar, cream on top, and mini pearls!

I think she will start drinking mango fruit tea/fruity with popping pearls but eventually branches out to matcha.

She probably thought of doing a bottomless bubble tea stand for her dream wedding ceremony.

I think she would get along with Rebecca with their mutual love for bubble tea! I think they'll be such good friends if not their age differences!

CARLOS OLIVEIRA

Normally, Carlos orders a very normal coconut green tea with no modifications.

Until one day he decides to be really cheeky and order it with every topping the shop has to offer

Rainbow jelly, pearls, pudding, grass jelly, etc. (yes, even red beans)

So many toppings that only half of the cup is liquid and the other half is a concoction of chaos

Bobarista is terrified, but Carlos is grinning widely

Still inhales the whole drink in less than an hour anyway

ADA WONG

She will go for a warm brewed tea (thinking between oolong or earl grey), no toppings or sugar.

Don't think she enjoys iced drinks in general, rather have warm/hot drinks or just plain water.

Something in the bubble tea gives her acne breakouts so she avoids it. Plus her job is so busy that it doesn't allow her such luxuries.

Might indulge in extra sugar if she wants a treat, but suffers the consequences later.

thanks for reading! come check out my other works. ––yours truly, rose. tags: @carlosgf @sporeghost @femnedy @emilzke (not sure people tag for headcanons? but here it is anyway xd) © roseglazedlens - please do not repost, plagiarise, or feed to ai.

[literallykenmaandshoyo]

What About Me?

Peter Parker x Female Reader!

Warnings: Angst. Reader is upset because Peter is off being busy as Spider-Man and he's stood her up one too many times for her liking

Word Count: 1.6k

Author's Note: Guys this is my first Peter Parker drabble! YAY!~ I absolutely adore Peter and I wrote this one up earlier tonight and figured it'd be good to share! I hope you all love it, I'm so used to writing fluff that sometimes I forget that writing angst is really good too! Let me know if you have any feedback or requests by sending in an ask, and remember to request Mod Shoyo to be specific! Have a great night (Or morning) everyone!

Also, PicsArt doesn't have the same scrabble letter thingies that Kenma and I have been using for our headers so this one is just a major WTF. Sorry if this looks ugly lol :,)

~Mod Shoyo <3

Y/N sat by her bedroom window, overlooking all of Queens from the seventh floor of her apartment building. Night had fallen and the stars were out, all of the buildings nearby had some office lights still on, people were probably still working, even at this ungodly hour.

That’s one thing that they had in common with her boyfriend Peter.

Being a web-slinging superhero was definitely not on Y/N's list of why Peter Parker could be so distant and just vanish all the time. However, when they first officially started dating, Peter took it upon himself to lay out all of his cards for her right then and there. Y/N was more than understanding and he thanked God for her every single day. Y/N knew that she said she’d be okay with the late nights and the canceled plans, that she’d be up waiting for him during late hours of the night just to make sure he came home safe.

But there was only so much she could take.

She stared down at her text messages with Peter. She asked him if he wanted to come and stay over at her apartment tonight since she’d been missing him a little extra these past couple days. Not only has Tony been working him to the bone, but the crime percentages in Queens seem to have only elevated since Peter would be out all night stopping robberies, saving people from getting mugged or kidnapped, the whole shebang. 

I’ll swing over in 10 love <3 11:45 p.m

Y/N looked at the top of her screen and saw that it was 1:57 in the morning. She knew that she got herself into this and she told herself that every time that he was late or had to cancel on her. It wasn’t his fault. Peter was just doing his job, what he signed up to do, so she couldn’t be mad at him. But who could she get mad at?

She looked like a lovesick puppy, just waiting at her window to see the red and blue suit that her boyfriend wore to come swinging over to her building. Tears were streaming down her face and she was making herself more upset by crying over something like this. She grabbed her phone off the windowsill and turned it off, chucking it into a random corner of her room and lying in her bed. She got under her throw blanket on top of her covers and threw it over her head. Her sniffles and soft sobs weren’t loud enough to wake anyone, but a small part of her wished that Peter would walk in and hear how devastated she was.

Being Peter’s girlfriend was a blessing. It was something like a mantra that she told herself every single morning when she woke up. She wanted to be the one he came home to, the one that would make all of his cuts and bruises better after she cleaned him up, she wanted to be the last woman he would ever love in his life. She wanted to be his. Forever. But being in a relationship didn’t always mean that Peter was the one she fussed over all the time. She was entitled to her own feelings and how she felt, and right now, she was sick and tired of waiting up for Peter.

As if right on cue, her bedroom window slid open and in crawled Peter. He was panting, short of breath as soon as he ripped his mask off his face. “I’m so sorry love, there was this guy in an alleyway that wouldn’t leave this group of middle schoolers alone and he-”

Peter stopped dead in his tracks as he looked at Y/N's shaking figure under her throw blanket. He raised an eyebrow and walked over to the bed, his ears picking up on the sounds of her soft sniffles and hiccups. He pulled the blanket off her head and saw her laying in the fetal position. Her hair was covering the side of her face and he couldn’t really see her expression, but he knew that she was upset. Obviously.

“Baby,...” Peter pushed her hair behind her ear and could see her puffy eyes and red nose. “Hey, hey, what’s the matter?”

Y/N sat up in bed and fixed her crazy hair, sniffling and wiping tears off of her cheeks with the sleeves of her shirt. She sputtered and tried to speak, but she didn’t even know what to tell him. Part of her wanted to be straight up and just tell him that this is the seventh time she’s been kept up waiting on him, but the other part of her knew it wasn’t his fault and that she was just upset because he’s been so busy. Just because she was always available for him, doesn’t mean that Peter was always at her dispense too, especially with what he does with his time.

“I…”

Peter waited for her to explain, but she just looked down at her lap and started to cry again. He felt awful and he was so clueless. He thought back to the last time she cried and remembered that she had lost a grandfather recently that she was close to. Maybe it was that. He grabbed her hand and held it in his tightly.

“Is this about your grandpa again, love?”

Y/N shook her head and pulled her hand away from his. Now Peter was really confused. He racked his brain trying to figure out what else it could be, but every single option he came up with just came to a dead end. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how hard he was trying to think, and she found it ironic. He was so intelligent, the smartest guy she’s ever known. Yet he’s so oblivious when it comes to the small things, she always thought that maybe his brain was so big, that the most simple of questions really took a couple of seconds for him to think about.

“I’m just tired, Peter.” She finally croaked.

Peter’s heart fell into his chest. His gaze met hers instantly and he felt his heart pounding in his chest. He always thought about how Y/N never deserved to be with someone like him, not when he has the whole Spider-Man thing going for him. It’s unfair to her. And he always felt like one day she’d get tired of it all, but he was praying to God out of his own selfishness, that today was not that day.

“This…” She hiccuped. “This is the seventh time that I’ve stayed up past what we agreed to see each other at just to see if maybe you needed a little more time to come home.”

Now Peter understood. 

“You said you’d only be ten minutes at 11:45 and it's two in the morning now, Peter.” Peter looked down at her hands and noticed that they were trembling. “It’s been so hard for me these past couple times to just tell myself this is what I signed up for. But I miss you so much while you’re gone.”

She broke down in tears again, sobbing into her hands. Her sobs and her hiccups were muffled, but that only made them louder in Peter’s head. She was right, in every way imaginable. He hadn’t been much of a boyfriend recently, only texting her about how much he loved and missed her, sending her a quick selfie while he was mid-swing from one crime to the next. He couldn’t even imagine how lonely she must feel within those gaps of time that he wasn’t messaging her.

“Baby, I- I’m so sorry,” Peter cooed. “I know that I’ve been really busy recently, and I-I can’t even think about how lonely you must feel every single time I do this,”

Y/N looked up from her hands and wiped the snot that was running down her nose. She could barely keep her puffy eyes open enough to look at him.

“Don’t ever tell yourself that this is what you signed up for ever again.” Peter scolded. “I asked you to be my girlfriend because I knew in my heart that I was ready to be your boyfriend. And I still believe that. I haven’t been giving you the attention that you deserve and that’s completely on me. Okay?”

Y/N stayed quiet, staring at him with her bloodshot eyes and a quivering lip. The scary part was over. She was never good with calling people out and telling them how what they’re doing affects her. She’d rather just forgive them and never have to talk about it again. But then, when it happens again, she just puts herself through an endless cycle.

“I just miss you…” Y/N sobbed, wrapping her arms around Peter.

She dug her nose into the crook of his neck, bringing her hands up to the back of his head to feel his hair in between her fingers. When Peter hugged her back, her entire body relaxed and she just let him hold her while she cried into his suit. Peter was rubbing her back comfortingly, whispering sweet things into her ears in between pressing kisses to the top of her head and her temples.

“I’ll do better for you, baby. I promise, okay?”

Y/N nodded. 

Peter felt himself getting choked up the entire time Y/N was crying in front of him. The lump in the back of his throat was almost unbearable to push his spit past whenever he swallowed. He held Y/N in his arms for a while longer before finally taking his suit off and changing into some pajamas. He crawled into bed with Y/N and held her once more, the sound of her heart beat finally calming down bringing a soft smile to his face. He kissed the top of her head once more and closed his eyes.

That night, he made a promise to himself.

A promise that she was never going to feel like this ever again.

[lonely-north-star]

jewelry maker mammon x retail worker mc pt 3

hey guys. I'm back. As always this is me being silly and projecting my work experiences onto my own MC (and Mammon) for giggles. Please enjoy!

Part one below:

-As soon as Mammon learns about the sale on Sunday, he's mentally making a list of everything he wants to buy

-He asked MC if he could hide 'just a couple things, eh? Won't hurt nobody.' and she said no

-He looked so dejected but she said if her order fulfillment percentage got messed up, she'd have his head

-He realizes in that moment he's never seen her angry, but the look she gave him was murderous

-Friday comes around and he's already itching to buy the beads

-MC tells him to make sure he pays any bills off first before spending his money

"Weren't ya texting me saying ya bought some plushie online last night?"

"... Okay listen here you-"

-Sunday rolls around and Mammon is so restless

-Three hours into his shift, and MC has run out of things for him to do. Repacks and freight were finished yesterday. He's already straightened out every problem aisle.

-He's currently going through and pulling everything forward on aisles but he's already made it through the entire left side of the store and almost all of the middle

-This store has 123 numbered aisles for reference. Plus everything along the walls

-Meanwhile MC is running around doing orders and cursing corporate for making the coupon online only

-But at least she doesn't have to worry about returns or recovery.

-Every single time she goes up to the front to check the return cart, panicking because there's so many orders that she can barely keep up so surely there must be lots of returns, she finds that it's empty. She stares at it, switching between her cashier and the empty cart

"Mammon beat you to them. I think he's going just as crazy as you."

"... Has there been a lot of returns?"

"Yeah. But I swear he has some sixth sense. Because I'll put something in there, turn around to help a customer, and turn back and he's already walking away and the cart is empty! What the hell, man? He's just as bad as you."

-She stares at the cart for a moment longer, feeling slightly less stressed because that's one less thing to worry about.

-She is too stubborn to ask for help half the time, and will definitely overwork herself if needed. But seeing and hearing this, she's like "okay... maybe... maybe everything WILL be okay."

-She goes back to doing online orders, very rarely having to pick anything up

-Almost rams a cart into Mammon from how fast she's walking when he comes out of an aisle

"GAH- OI, STOP WALKING SO QUICK, DAMN IT!"

"Oh fu- Sorry, sorry I- Pfft"

-She starts giggling, wheezing even, because that could've ended terribly had it been a customer. She's crouched on the ground, holding the cart handle

-Mammon is slightly concerned, and he's trying so hard to scowl, and failing miserably

"It ain't even that funny. I could've died, y'know?"

"wheeze"

"Stop laughin'! I'm trying to be mad at ya! Ugh...Damn it, ya look cute when you're laughing like that.."

"Okay, okay, I-I'm good- *holding back laughs* What did you say?"

"NOTHIN'! GO PACK YOUR ORDERS OR WHATEVER!"

-MC is confused why he ran off so quickly. But she finally calms down, making an effort to walk slower (it doesn't last long)

-One hour left and Mammon has finished the entire store

-He finds it weird he hasn't seen the other manager walking around but hasn't questioned it yet, he's just counting down the minutes now

-When it's almost time for them to leave, MC finds him in the bead aisle, a few already in his cart. She finally finished all the orders that came in before cutoff time.

"Done with your orders?"

"Yeah. Finally. I never want to see another storage bin in my freaking life."

"Heh. Don't leave this aisle then, because there's a display right behind ya."

"Horrifying... How many are you planning on buying?"

"Dunno. I gotta pay for the one's that cost the most right? All the metal and glass one's are expensive."

"You know our discount works on top of the sale, right?"

-Mammon slow turns and stares at her like she hung the stars. Apparently, he did not know. But to be fair, this was his first check.

"Please do not buy out the entire stock."

"sucks in a breath"

"Mammon please."

"... You're no fun, ya know that? Fine. If you're gonna be like that, help me choose some as payment."

-Halfway through they did go and clock out, because they were not about to be bothered by customers while browsing

-Most of the things MC chooses are blue, with the occasional pink or red slipped in there. And any star beads she came across

-Mammon has a big handful by the end. He choose basic colored glass beads, going for the one's with multiple strands mainly

-He also snagged some that looked like pearls, and a few 'semi-precious' one's. He got some inquiries about doing bracelets that matched people's eyes

-And if he asked MC to look at him and compared some beads to her eyes? No he didn't <3

-By the end, he's got maybe 18 different beads, MC even has to help carry some. She's nervous about the price

"Are you sure you wanna get all these?"

"Don't worry about it. I know I'll use 'em all. And it's a hella good sale."

-They're both watching it ring up and it's not until he gets his employee discount that he's in awe

-It comes out to like $40 and he's skeptical everything was actually rung up because no way it was that cheap for all that

-He's genuinely so excited, he can't stop smiling

-After wards he walks outside with MC, who's calling her ride, and is confused when she sits down

"What are ya doing sittin' there for?"

"I have to wait for my ride. They're still at home so... I don't know when they'll be here. Soon, hopefully?"

-This is how he learns she doesn't know how to drive and takes the bus to work

-Only thinks for half a second before he's pestering her to come with him and that he'll give her a ride

"Mammon, it's fine, I can wait. I don't have cash for gas money either."

"Did I ask for gas money? Nah, I said 'come on, I'll give ya a ride'. Now, c'mon. Let's go."

-She brings him his favorite drink and a pastry from across the street next time she sees him as thanks because he refused any promises to pay him back

-They rarely get off at the same time, so when they do, he now gives her rides. Sometimes they even stop to eat, at which she insists on paying

-Mammon usually gets open or mid shifts after all

-There is one time where he agrees to cover someone's closing shift, and he's kinda nervous. Because he's only closed one time, and that was in the beginning with MC during his training days

-But he's not closing with MC this time. He's closing with the other manager.

-He remembers that one time going smoothly enough, and he cleans and straightens out the front as he usually does

-He's getting increasingly restless the closer it is to closing and the returns haven't been touched all day. He's only occasionally seen the manager downstairs to put away an order

-He's already swept and grabbed trash, but the bathrooms haven't been touched as far as he knows?

-He goes to sweep the store, thinking it'll get done in a second

-How very wrong he was. They closed an hour ago, they were supposed to leave 30 minutes ago, and Lucifer is texting to ask where he's at because he should've been home by now

-Stops doing returns and text rants to Lucifer he's being held back and that they still aren't done cleaning, the store is a mess

-Sends a myriad of angry emojis to MC as well

"😡😡🤬💢💢 NEVER CLOSING WITH THIS DUMBASS AGAIN"

"YOU'RE CLOSING?? Since when?? With who??

"NEVER AGAIN AFTER THIS"

-The next morning he gets thanked by the store manager for covering the shift, but Mammon tells him he's never doing that again if it's the other manager closing

-Says he will quit on the spot if it comes down to it

-And Mammon has not closed with him since. But he does do his best to finish any and all returns or straighten as much as he can if he's the mid cashier when that manager is closing

-----

-If only to hopefully make it easier on the closing cashier

hello I hope part 3 made people laugh - Not sure if I'll do a part 4? Or if anyone wants it. I've got like... Two ideas for it. This became way longer than I ever intended it to lmao

real and true, all my cashiers WILL ask who's the closing manager when we ask if they can come in after someone calls out. A lot of them rely on rides too, so staying late is bad 😭 we all just wanna go home

also the cart thing may or may not have actually happened. It was a long day. My panic response is giggling apparently. No team members were hurt 🤓

[inevitablemoment]

“it’s not as bad as it looks.”

Word Count: 1,026

Warnings: Stab wound, fainting, blood loss, brief mention of secondary infertility and miscarriages, brief mention of premature birth, brief mention of temporary deafness, brief mention of neonatal health issues, brief mention of the COVID-19 pandemic

Fandom: Spider-Man (Raimi films)

Pairings: Peter Parker x Mary Jane Watson

It seems to be a running trend of mine this month to write for new fandoms. So, over the past few weeks, I’ve just fallen down the rabbit hole of anything Spider-Man, and right now, the Raimi trilogy has quite a hold on me. A good percentage of this fic is me dumping my post-trilogy headcanons on you.

Enjoy!

————————

Mary Jane was no stranger to exhaustion. But the last however-many hours had been challenging her ability to keep herself going on minutes of sleep.

It was one of the two days of the week on which her alternate would perform, as well as a parent/teacher conference day for the kids’ school district. She and Peter decided to make it a family day before they would have to go to meet with their teachers.

Then, there was this flash of sparkling gold, a few seconds of darkness... and then another flash of gold.

They were still on Time’s Square, with their first stop planned to have been the Disney Store, but she couldn’t place just why it felt so different from a few seconds ago.

Peter had been the first of them to notice one of the newspaper stands, all of the papers blasted with headlines talking about how Spider-Man was a murderer and a criminal. Before she could roll her eyes, she realized that the man-- or, rather, boy-- on the image was not her husband.

Although Mary Jane and the three older children-- seventeen-year-old twins Maisie and Annie (soon to be eighteen), and thirteen-year-old Benji-- were silently thinking the same thing, three-year-old Susan had blurted out, “That’s not Daddy.”

The children, of course, knew of their father’s secret identity as the web slinging hero-- Mary Jane could only imagine how difficult it would have been for them to keep such a secret from their own children when they resided in the same house-- and had been taught from day one to keep it. Though it was tempting to brag about it to their friends.

“We’re still in New York, just not-- our New York,” Peter had tried to explain.

Even as he tried to explain the concept of a multiverse, most of the scientific jargon went over Mary Jane’s and the children’s heads-- at least, except for Maisie.

Peter immediately went to buy the newspaper bearing the likeness of his other... self? Honestly, Mary Jane didn’t know how else to describe it.

“Whoever the Peter Parker in this universe is, he needs my help,” Peter said. “I... I know he does. And not just about this. Something... something’s gonna happen.”

Mary Jane took his hand. “What do you need me to do?”

“Take the kids and find someplace safe,” he told her. “I’ll call you whenever I can, but if you have to move, tell me where you are--”

“I will,” Mary Jane promised.

“I’ll come with you!” Maisie offered.

“Me, too!” Annie offered. “We can help--!”

“No, you’ll be safer if you stay with your mom,” Peter told them. “Okay?”

Maisie was visibly grinding her teeth in frustration, but Annie-- ever gracious and accommodating, the only one of the twins who never had to be scolded twice for the same misdeed-- said, “I understand, Dad.”

Peter hugged the twins, kissing the tops of their auburn heads, before he addressed Benji.

At thirteen years old, Benji looked every bit his father’s son, but had a solemn and quiet disposition that reminded both of his parents of the man that he was named for.

Benji-- their miracle baby after two miscarriages.

Whom they almost lost during a high risk pregnancy, an emergency C-section in Mary Jane’s twenty-eighth week...

“Benji, I need you to listen to your mom while I’m gone,” Peter instructed. “Can you promise that?”

“Yes, Dad,” Benji promised.

Peter picked little Susan up from the stroller. Their little surprise, conceived and born in the midst of an unprecedented pandemic, but had been welcomed into the family with open arms.

“Daddy, you leaving?” Susan asked, her small voice breaking Peter’s heart.

“Just for a little bit,” he said. “I’m going to help someone, but I swear that I will be back as soon as I can. I need you to be good for Mommy and your sisters and brother, okay?”

“Okay,” Susan agreed.

Annie helpfully took Susan into her arms, allowing her parents to share an embrace

“Whatever’s going on, I promise that we’ll be home soon,” Peter swore to her. “I love you, M.J.”

“I love you, too,” Mary Jane said, kissing him. “Stay safe, Tiger.”

Over the next several hours, Peter kept sending her texts, telling her about what was going on. After Susan continued begging, he answered a video call, looking like he was in some sort of lab. She caught sight of two other men in the background-- the baby-faced boy that she had seen, and the other looking like he was ten years younger than her Peter, both of them wearing their own versions of her husband’s suit. The boy from the pictures looked significantly beat up, making her stomach sink as she wondered what in her Peter’s history had just happened for him.

Almost an hour after the video call, everyone else around them began talking about “Spider-Man livestreaming with the Daily Bugle.”

One man had been gracious enough to show Mary Jane the video. It wasn’t her Peter, though. But as she heard the Peter of this world speak, her heart breaking for him as she heard his voice.

“Mom, is Dad there?” Maisie asked, looking over her mother’s shoulder.

“I... I don’t see him, Mayday,” Mary Jane said.

She couldn’t even recall how much time passed before she saw that flash of gold again. But, in an instant, they were standing in the living room of their townhouse.

Peter-- her Peter-- was standing before her.

Without a second thought, she rushed into his arms. The kids almost turned the hug into a full tackle, but he didn’t seem to mind. Mary Jane’s hands began to run up and down his back before she felt something on her hands. She pulled her hand back, and her stomach dropped.

Blood.

“Peter, what happened?” she asked.

“MJ, it’s not as bad as it looks, I swear,” Peter tried to reassure her.

But, he failed as he began to keel over.

“I’ll call 911,” Annie was the first to jump to the occasion, while Mary Jane put her hand over where she had found the wound.

Please... please be okay...

[yoonyia]

you know what's insane

like

my iq and cat 4 scores and stuff

like

like I'm in the top 4~1%

of students and intelligence and stuff

but only in cognitive tests

like my school test scores suck

but like I'm still put into the same help course as like 7 other smart kids

and they get like flying colors

what

I always knew my brain was pretty ok because genetics and stuff

like my parents are like 138 and 146

so me having an iq of like 135 isn't actually that good considering my genes

but like

my mom is top 0.1% of iq apprantly

and she's just a normal person

like

she's super smart

but shes just some guy

I have a technical miracle living in the house and her favorite snacks are shrimp chips and she does sky yoga

my dads a doctor yea

he's probably the most wise person I know

he's super intelligent

and like

in a room of 100 people by each percentage he's the smartest

what

what????

my dad loves anime and hates taking out the trash

he's the smartest in a room of 100 people????

I mean I guess that makes sense

but

really??????

?????

THATS THE SAME FOR ME

IF I WAS IN A ROOM OF 100 PEOPLE I WOULD FIND 1 PERSIN SMARTER THEN ME IF IT WAS BY PERCENTAGE

no?????

I would find like minimum 35 people smarter then me

probably closer to 60

like

I dont

get it

I know iq and that bullshit dosent matter

but like getting put in the same group as these smart fucks who gets insane grades and have all these ambitions drives me insane

ONE OF MY CLASSMATES WHOS ALSO IN THIS PROGRAM IS LITTERALLY THE SCHOOL PRESIDENT

like

one of them gets nearly straight 90+ (it's myp so that means 7 and up) and I'm here getting 50???? (5 in myp) LIKE

I GET IT

GRADES ARENT ALL THERE IS TO INTELLIGENCE AND ALL THAT

BUT WHAT THE FUCK MAN

one dude named lucas

this bitch got sad he didn't get a 8 in math

he got a 7 and sulked

he was my teammate in wsc and let me tell you this bitch is smart

he won best scholar

he's subpar at debating but that's because he's just very likeable and polite

if this dude had even the tiniest bit of fury he would be the most charismatic person in the world

while I'm here with my makeshift political speeches having a mental breakdown because I sound like trump

"to create commercial spacecraft for permanent or long term stay and travel is not only putting the people into inhumane situations akin to that of prison and is merely abandoning our responsibility as earth's citizens, it is also a grievance against humanity itself. And you, for supporting this ideal, is cursing the remainder of civilization to die." IS WHAT I SAY AND THEN HE ACTUALLY HAS POINTS

THEN MY OTHER CLASSMATE

SHE TUTORS OTHER STUDENTS AND THEN THEIR GRADES GET BETTER

I TRIED HELPING MY FRIEND AND ENDED UP DYING ON THE FLOOR INSTEAD

another one is my friend who does every extra curricular possible and still gets good grades

I'm sorry

I do literally nothing other then choir and wsc

and I get overwhelmed and tired and die by the end of the day

I cant get to 4th period without being reduced to mush

what do you mean you do 4 hours of tennis everyday

WHY AM I WITH THESE FREAKS

THESE ARE SUPER GENIUSES THAT HAVE STUFF TO DO

THAT HAVE AMBITIONS TO CHASE

MY GRADES ARE BELOW AVERAGE IN SOME SUBJECTS DECCENT IN SOME AND GOOD IN ONLY 2

THESE BASTARDS ARE GETTING GOOD GRADES STRAIGHT ACROSS

AND ACTUALLY DOING STUFF THATLL HELP THEIR FUTURE

THE MOST INTELLECTUAL THING IVE BEEN DOING THIS MONTH IS TRYING TO SEE IF MY FRIEND COULD MAKE DESLACODA ONCE THEY GET THEIR DEGREES

I'm not using this brain of my mine for anything useful

I dont get why I'm here

I litterally had to go to the hospital because I slept too well and my brain created too many hallucinations that made me do face in palm shrimp back for too long that made my spine bones compress and paralyze my leg

I do stupid shit like this and I'm put in with litteral smart people

I'm a dumb idiot

I feel like Nikolai in enders jeesh

I know I'm not that stupid

but something is making me think i was placed here for some fucking reason

I dont belong here

I'm gonna cry

I dont get these smart people

why am I here

what did I do to even make the teachers give me this tests in the first place

I NEVER GOT GOOD GRADES

WHY DID THEY TEST ME TO SEE IF IM SMART

I NEVER GAVE THE OPPORTUNITY FOR THEM TO MAKE THAT IMPRESSION

I DONT WANNA BE HERE

IT'S JUST A CONSTANT REMINDER THAT FOR SOME REASON DESPITE YOUR PERFECTLY GOOD SKILLED TALENTED BRAIN YOU SOMEHOW STILL FUCKING SUCK

I DONT NEED IMPOSTER SYNDROME I AM LITTERALLY LIVING IT

gosh I'm tired

I need to sleep

but not too much or else you'll get night terrors and wake up at 5am in shock and horror but remember nothing

[pyroclastic727]

Owl House said fuck capitalism

So this episode was interesting. Lilith pretty much killed her sister. Why the fuck would she do that?

Even more interesting: why is Belos like that? How did Hooty put his head through one of those guards? Who the fuck is the Titan, and why does everyone like him? And how are these all tied together?

This episode was a metaphor for capitalism

...and another delicious step towards radicalizing the youth into dismantling this fucked-up neo-feudal system.

We’ll start with Belos. 

Emperor Belos is a weird name, don’t you think? We all thought it was spelled “Bellows,” but it wasn’t. In fact, it’s five letters, starts with Be, ends with os, and describes a megalomaniac emperor that restricts people’s freedom in order to accumulate wealth for himself.

Sound familiar?

Emperor Bezos Belos created capitalism. He saw the beauty of magic and decided to make himself the most powerful.

Belos created a system that destroys the masses and boosts his power.

 I’m dipping into fan theory a little, because the fan theory fits. We know that people get branded with coven magic that makes it so they can only specialize in one area. We know that Belos is the most powerful witch in the Boiling Isles. We know that the excess magic, magic created by restrictions, has to go somewhere.

It’s the same system that many viewers see all the time. A job takes up all your day and tires you for the night, so you can only do one skill for the rest of your life. Jeff Bezos is the most powerful man in the United States. Excess money, money taken by restrictions, has to go somewhere.

The magic goes to Belos, like how the money goes to Bezos. Belos created capitalism, and he won it.

The guards aren’t real. 

Look, we’ve never seen their faces. They’re all the same. Why would you work so hard to get to the top, just to become a nameless, faceless killing machine?

Oh, also Hooty stuck his face through one. There is nothing under the armor.

Why? Well, it’s the same reason you see all those celebrities going around flaunting their wealth and bragging about how hard they worked. Like all those songs about how they grind every day and work harder than everyone else while you’re out clubbing, and that makes them dope. And then you take a closer look at them and see that they had a small loan of a million dollars fueling them, or an entire talent agency behind them, or their dad was a famous country star in the 80′s. 

They’re fake. They’re hollow. They’re a ploy created by the capitalist emperor to try to delude you into working harder. 

Let me put this into perspective. I guarantee that every single one of you has heard stuff like this: “Hard work makes you successful.” “I put in the work, and that’s why I’m successful.” “If you work hard enough, then you can be as successful as Mark Zuckerberg.” 

And unless you’re a robot or really lucky, I’m sure all of you have failed at this. Maybe they told you that hard work would make you good at math, so you spent 22 hours a week working on calculus, only to pass it by 3 percentage points and have it destroy your perfect 4.0 GPA. Maybe they told you that if you talked to people enough, then you would make friends, so you spent a lot of time talking to people, only to end up lonely and friendless. Maybe they told you that if you did well in school, you would get a good job, so you spent all your time working hard to be a good student, and then ended up in a soulless, dead-end job.

The guards are there to delude you. Look, who really gains from you being productive? The answer is the ruling class, the CEOs, the government, the bourgeoisie. It has always been that. All you get from working is a paycheck that lets you survive. They get a paycheck that lets them get rich. Just like Belos gets the magic and productivity of the specialized coven witches.

The guards are there to trick you. The truth is that nobody can join the Emperor’s Coven. It’s just there to make you think that hard work will make you successful. Then you spend your entire life working hard, trying to prove to the person in charge that you’re worthwhile. You give your whole life to the Coven, and they give you nothing. 

Magic is supposed to be something you pursue for fun. Being skilled at things, being good at something beautiful...that’s supposed to be something you do because you want to. But they took that and made it into a source of productivity. It doesn’t matter if you make good content. All people fucking care about is if you upload the day of premiere, if you make a lot of content quickly, if you maintain a million different conversations with strangers who expect you to be the most interesting person in the room. They don’t care how it hurts you. They don’t care how you crack from the stress. How you cry when you think no one can see you, and then you check your phone and someone can see you, someone did see you, and you have to put on your face and be the charming, magnetic person they want you to be. (oh by the way that’s why I wasn’t online much last week)

And it ruins it. Suddenly you can’t watch The Owl House without being stressed. You can’t make any content. You can’t make spells as powerfully as you want to. Your passion is replaced by perfectionism and insecurity, a voice telling you to keep being the best at what you do, or else they’ll forget you and let you die.

There’s also the Titan. 

So nobody has mentioned him before, because in addition to the Boiling Isles being a hellscape full of witchcraft and queerness, it’s also full of atheists. 

But suddenly we have people saying all this shit about him? Shit like, he gave witches the gift of magic, and then they learned to use it in a civilized manner, since being uncivilized was disrespectful?

I mean, first off, that’s fucking wrong. The island gives people magic. The island, which just so happened to be shaped like a titan-sized human. But the island/titan gives everyone all types of magic. Hell, even Luz gets to use magic, and she’s human. 

It sounds really fucking familiar. (tw for discussion of homophobia and colonialism and misogyny). It sounds like when the news is on and they show some Tr*mp supporter talking about how fetuses have more rights than people and it is their holy duty to take away a woman’s control over her body and force her through unbearable pain and into an 18-year commitment she didn’t want to make. It sounds like all the times people tried to say homosexuality should be illegal, citing a single line in a book written two thousand years ago and heavily edited by a European king. It sounds like all the times people said God wanted them to conquer, to own the entire earth, to force the other races into pain to support them.

This is that bullshit thing people do where they commit awful sins and justify it by citing the will of God. 

Or, it’s the Coven using religion as an excuse for evil.

Look, the Emperor’s Coven is clearly colonizer-coded. Saying that people’s original form of magic was wild (and showing a picture with the same joyous, rowdy energy of an 18th or 19th -century Black or indigenous party), and that it was God’s will for them to be “civilized?” Sounds like that thing that powerful white people did where they went and murdered people and forced them into their twisted capitalist system. God, gold, and glory, is what they said, because history books just love to omit the gore.

Lilith is passing the abuse cycle along. 

You know, like a good little colonizer. God I fucking hate her. She’s a MILF, in the sense that she’s a Mother I’d Like to Fling off a cliff. 

Ah, enough screaming about how much I want to drown Lilith in a tub of Hooty’s mucus. Let’s go into why I want to do that, and how she took the evils of capitalism and just...adopted those.

So, Lilith is sick and twisted for what she did to her sister. But, uhh, that’s the point. You see, there are so many other people out there like Lilith who would do the exact same thing, if given the chance. These are the people who do mean things when the teacher isn’t looking, and then act nice and try to frame you. These are the people who will hate you if you’re better than them. These are people who would do anything to bring you down, if you dare outperform them.

It’s greed, my friends. The mental illness that capitalism blesses us all with.

Lilith herself said it: she dedicated her entire life to the Coven. What she wanted was to be the best. And she almost was...except for her own sister. Someone who lived with her, annoyed her at home, bested her at school. Someone she could never beat, no matter how hard she worked. And her sister was younger than her, too! How insulting was that? Lilith wanted to be the best, and someone in her exact situation did better than her.

Lilith was insecure. And it consumed her.

But why? Why does insecurity consume her? I mean, no one can be motivated by insecurity forever. Well, not unless someone conditions it into you.

The lovely thing about the capitalist system is the morals it teaches you. Things like: “You’re only useful if you’re the best.” “Being school smart makes you smart, while being social smart or sports smart or creative smart or fandom smart is worthless.” “Your worth can be quantified by numbers and is based off arbitrary measures like your income or your grades.” Things that can and will drive us crazy if we let ourselves believe them.

And it did drive Lilith crazy. She got so twisted by a society that said being good at magic is her only worth. Look, Lilith used to be good at things, probably. She was good at sports. At times, she slips up and does an okay job of being Eda’s sister. She has a powerful presence when she’s in a room. And she’s wicked good at manipulating people. 

But that didn’t matter. Lilith bought into the lies. She let herself believe that magical skill was the only way to measure her worth. And since she needed to be the best, she hurt Eda for it.

The beautiful thing is, Eda didn’t buy that. "It’s my power, kid. And before you showed up, I spent my whole life wasting it.” Is what Eda said, as she used up the last of her power, the last of her life, to save Luz. In her final moments, she proved that she’s not like them. She’s stronger than them.

None of this matters. Not magical prowess. Not the hierarchy. Not the promise of joining the Coven and having more power than anyone else.

The only thing that matters to Eda is her family. Her real family. Her Luz, King, and Hooty. And by extension, Willow, Gus, and Amity. Those are Eda’s real reason for fighting, for dying: to protect them. Look, there’s no way she would’ve come out of that fight alive. She has a family, and her love for them is stronger than greed or jealousy or capitalism. 

Lilith never understood that. She thought the water of the womb was thicker than the blood of the covenant. Or, that the water of the womb and the blood of the covenant are stronger than the bonds of found family. She thought it didn’t matter if Eda loved, her, only if the Emperor loved her. Fucking bitch.

And now, a little something to worry about, before we go. Amity Blight. The girl who wanted to join the Emperor’s Coven more than anything, who dedicated her whole life to doing well in school, to being the best, to being perfect.

And then she met Luz. She fell for Luz. Now she’s in a tricky place, where habit and conditioning want her to join the Emperor’s Coven, but her heart wants her to do the impossible and destroy capitalism.

She wasn’t in this episode. Funny that being injured and unable to work ended up saving her from watching her future mother-in-law die. So she bought some time.

But Luz’s true mom is dead. This is the second mom she has lost, and she’s only fourteen. As powerful as King and Hooty are, Luz needs Amity. Luz needs Amity to support her and help her get back her mom.

So Amity has to make a choice. Fear and insecurity, or love and a high chance of death? 

She’ll probably choose death. Because that’s the message that this family-friendly show is giving us kids. Fuck capitalism. All you need in life is to do what makes you happy and be with the ones you love.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

An Officer and a Gentleman

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; oral, anal, cheating (sort of), name-calling.

This is dark!(silverfox)Lee Bodecker x (married)reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your after hours work gets in the way of your day job.

Note: I had the first half sitting around and finished it so here ya go. It takes place in the 70s so Lee is older and it was inspired by an article I read about the creation phone sex lines by a housewife in the 70s (which now of course I can’t flippin find). But anyway, here you go.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The sheriff sat down in his usual spot as you wiped your hands on the rag tucked into your apron. He set his hat on the table and tidied his greying hair. Even at his age, his locks were thick and looked soft. Strands of brown lined the shining silver and shone under the diner lights.

He came in at the same time every day, only an hour into your shift. You approached and flipped the cup on its saucer before you filled it. He took only sugar, no cream 

or milk. You smiled as you watched him read over the menu, he never ordered anything but the waffles.

“Good morning, sheriff,” you said as you held the carafe aloft. “Lookin’ to try something new?”

“‘Dols Leck’?” Lee Bodecker mispronounced the French words, “What’s that?”

“Dolce Leche,” you corrected, “It’s caramel.”

“Hmm.” He rubbed his ruddy cheek and reached for his mug. He drank and held out the menu. “Waffles with strawberry.”

“Extra cream,” you finished for him. He nodded and had another gulp as you walked away.

You put in his ticket after you replaced the coffee pot on the burner. You checked on the few other customers along the counter and wiped down the empty tables. The bell rang and you went to grab the sheriff’s breakfast from the window. You set the plate down before him as he folded the newspaper and replaced it in the little holder at the end of the table.

“How’s Eugene?” He asked as he unwrapped his cutlery. “And the boy?”

“Gene’s still on nights.” You lamented and subconsciously touched your stomach. “Little Ezra’s almost a year now.”

Your boy was buxom and buoyant. You smiled as you thought of his round cheeks and warm brown eyes. You only wished his father was around more to take him off your hip as you cooked and cleaned in your spare hours after work. Eugene was asleep as much as he was at the factory. You saw each other in passing as you scraped for ends meet.

Ezra was with Eugene’s mother during the day. You’d pick him up and take him home to wait for your husband to wake. If you were lucky, you got a kiss before he grabbed his lunch pail and headed out for his twelve hours. You hadn’t gotten more than that since before Ezra came. Neither of you had the time or energy, though the want was there.

“And you sheriff? How are you doing these days?” You asked before you could get lost in your self-pity.

“Ah, you know. The same old. Patrol’s ain’t too exciting.” He cut into the stack and licked his lips. He was a man with a sweet tooth, a substitute for his former alcoholic habit.

“Well, you enjoy, sheriff, you know how to get my attention.” You left him and did a round of refills for those eating and greeted the new arrivals.

Lee was always alone when he came in. He never brought any of his cadets or officers, he just sat, read the newspaper, and ate his waffles. He wasn’t married and had no children. Nearly fifty years on his back but he seemed content on his own. You almost envied him as you struggled with your small family.

🚔

You laid Ezra down carefully in his crib. He was getting big. You tickled his forehead and watched him for a moment before you left the room. It was late. Eugene was gone and the phone would ring soon. You had to prepare yourself for your night time duties.

It started small. An idea found in the pages of one of those feminist magazines, the very ones your husband called good kindling. A woman lost her job, still hard-fought for the domestic sex, and found herself in a similar way as yourself. Money was always needed and harder to come about. So she started her own service for the lonely men. A phone line with illicit intentions.

You read about it in the late stages of your pregnancy and laughed at the idea. It was so stupid. So scandalous. But once you were back to work and Eugene was on the late shift, you grew lonely and your checkbook was harder to open.

You hand wrote the little cards after a visit to the phone company. Eugene didn’t know about the second line. The number redirected to your main line and was active for only three hours a night, after your husband was gone. It was registered as a commercial line so each incoming call was billed to the dialer and a percentage was refunded on your own invoice.

You left the number around town, certain not to be seen as you dropped the cards in the car shop and the bar. At least, you hoped you hadn’t been seen.

The first night had you addled and sleepless until your shift began at the diner. It was hard to keep up the sultry voice and the lies. Difficult to act like the whole thing didn’t make you cringe. The men called and said their dirty words as you encouraged them with moans and little prods. “Oh yes, baby.” or “Tell me more.” It felt like you were cheating on your husband but it kept his plate full and the house warm.

The phone didn’t ring right away that night. Later in the week, you got more calls but one or two was better than none. The real profit was keeping them on the line as long as you could, but there were times you had to end abruptly to see to your wailing child.

You were half-asleep when the first call came in. You fumbled with the receiver and batted away your fatigue with your lashes. You held in a yawn and your sleepiness added to the allure of your put-on voice.

“Hello, mister, what are you longing for tonight?” You laid back on your pillow and played with the spiral cord.

“Well, I…” You blinked and held the phone against your ear. He sounded familiar, as many of the men did, but his timbre made your ears prick sharply. “I don’t know. I never did nothing like this before.”

You squinted and thought. You knew him but you couldn’t place the twinge in your head.

“I can start for you, darling,” you offered. “Mmm, tell you what I would do to you?”

He cleared his throat and you heard movement. He was nervous. So many of the men sounded the same. Most of them were afraid of being caught by their wives or uncertain about their desires. At first, you had the same fears but had since grown indifferent. It was human nature, as natural as one’s instinct to quench their thirst for water.

“How do you like it, darling? You like it when a lady bends over? I like it like that. Or maybe you want to start with me on my back.”

He groaned and you heard the receiver scratch. He let out a strained breath and moved the phone to his other hand.

“I want to use your mouth.” He said at last. His voice was low and gristly. “I want to push your head down in my lap as I choke you with my cock.”

You stared at the ceiling as you reclined and hummed. “Oh yeah.”

“Shut up.” He snarled. “I don’t want to hear your voice, I just want your mouth on me until you can’t fucking breathe. I want to hear you struggle. I was your tears streaming down your face and salting the taste of me on my tongue. I want to hold you down and cum until it’s deep in your belly.”

You parted your lips and raised your brows. You were still focused on trying to recognize the voice. His tone made you quiver. He was more forceful than most men. A lot of them just talked about sucking on your tits or went straight to fucking.

“I’d love that, darling.” You lied and bent one leg over the other as you swayed your foot.

“I said shut up!” He hissed. “I want to hold you down with my hands around your neck. I want to fuck you until your screaming. I’ll fuck you until you bleed. Until you beg for me to cum again.”

His breath was furious and you heard something else. The phone was moving against his chin as he moaned and you were certain you could hear his hand somewhere else; lower. It set your cheeks on fire and you sat up. His voice, his breath, the sheer anger and lust laced in his rasps. Your throat tightened as if he was truly choking you.

“But I want to cum in your ass. I want to make it hurt. I want you to cry as I tear you apart from the inside.” He growled and coughed as his voice fizzled out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He stroked himself furiously and the receiver dropped with a thump and you flinched. “Fucking bitch, yeah, you want my cock deep in your ass. Fucking whore.”

Your fingers hurt as you gripped the phone tightly and listened. His curses streamed steadily until the line clicked and died suddenly. You lowered the receiver and stairs at the little whole clustered together on the mouthpiece. You set it in the cradle and turned to sit on the edge of the bed.

It was unlike any call you’d had. It was terrifying and made your blood curdle. You felt as if it had actually happened as your chest was heavy and your heart raced. You blew out a shaky breath and reached to silence the ringer. 

That was enough for the night.

🚔

The next day at the diner, you couldn’t stop yawning. You hadn’t slept much as the call replayed in your head over and over. The man’s voice was so clear in your mind and every time you started to drift off, he spoke in your ear. You dragged the rag over the top of the counter as Amelia spoke with the elderly couple in that corner.

The door chimed and you looked up. Sheriff Bodecker took off his hat as he entered and nodded at you. With the coffee pot in hand, you went to his table, already set for his arrival. You wished him a good morning and filled his cup. His voice was thick as he muttered his response and picked up the menu. He looked as tired as you felt.

“Strawberry, sheriff?” You prompted.

“Hmm,” he scratched his chin, stubbly from a missed shave. “This Dolsay Leckay. I’ll try that today.” He held out his menu. “I’m trying new things this week.”

You took the menu stiffly and nodded. “Waffles with dolce leche sauce. Right away, sheriff.” 

You turned and walked off to write out his ticket. You returned the coffee pot to its place and set down the menu as you took out your pad and pen. Your hand shook as you scribbled out the order. You stuck it in the window and leaned on the counter.

It couldn’t be him. You were crazy. You didn’t get enough sleep and you were wanting to hear that voice everywhere. Your reassurances were weak and only made you shiver as you righted yourself and continued wiping down the tables.

You angled yourself to look at the sheriff as he squinted down at the newspaper. He stuck his tongue out as he read to poke his top lip and tilted his head coyly. He cleared his throat and coughed as his order rang in the window. 

You went to grab the plate and struggled not to fumble it. It was him. The way he coughed, the gravelly scratch of his throat, the deep and firm undertone. You couldn’t deny it was him. You were stunned you hadn’t recognized him at once.

“There you are, sheriff,” you said as you set down his plate. “Enjoy.”

“I think I will,” he rubbed his hands together. “I’m starving this morning.”

“If you need anything,” you made your usual offer.

He looked at you and smiled. You noticed how his eyes strayed to your name tag and the buttons of your blue dress. He turned to his waffles and took out the knife and fork.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said as he ran the tines of the fork through the dark caramel. “I think I’m just fine.”

You left him to eat and straightened your apron. You were confident you’d changed your voice enough that he didn’t have the same epiphany. Even so, everything about him was different. At least in your head. He was no longer the desolate sheriff, he was desperate and demanding. He wasn’t who you thought he was. He was a man with a lot of power and a hunger to use it.

🚔

It was several days before you dared to leave the ringer on after Eugene’s departure. Your husband was loving but almost entirely absent. Since Ezra was born, he’d only grown more distant and work could not excuse him completely. When you ate dinner late with him, he barely heard you as he kept the radio on and those nights he didn’t work, he didn’t touch you.

You felt worse for your own misdeeds. The phone line made you shy and sullen with him. You should tell him but you didn’t know how and truly, you couldn’t. You knew he wouldn’t take it well and even if he was barely there, you couldn’t lose him. You were already painfully alone.

That night, he volunteered for overtime and so you hardly saw him before he headed out. He said you needed the money but your books were well balanced from your own after hours work. You’d done it to take the burden off of him but he still took the extra time, even as you argued that your bills were in good standing. 

Was it you? When had it all grown so cold?

Ezra ate his mashed peas and you set him down for the night. You heard him cooing still but you kept to your schedule even when he was wide awake. He always tired himself out and never fussed very long.

You sat on your bed and read. You checked the time. The phone would start soon and that night you couldn’t leave it off. You needed the money and you couldn’t be picky about where it came from. The month would be over and there would be a whole new batch of debts to account for.

You jumped as it rang. You kept the volume low so it didn’t carry through the whole house and you answered after several rings. You gave your usual greeting and breathed a sigh of relief when it was one of your regulars. You closed your book and picked your nails as you went along with his routine.

When he finished, you wished him a good night. You were dead tired but one more call wouldn’t hurt. You waited and grabbed the receiver on the first ring.

“Hello, mister, what are you looking for tonight?” You made your voice higher and breathier.

“Shhhh.” The long hush chills your veins. “Don’t talk.”

You quivered. It was him. You looked at the phone cradle.

“Don’t hang up.” He said as if he could read your mind. “You want it, don’t you? You want to feel me inside you. Down your throat, fucking the whore out of you.”

“I…” you uttered.

“I said be quiet.” He barked. “I want my cock so far down your throat I can feel it as I choke you. I want your spit all over me, I want you gasping and gulping until you pass out and I’m fucking your mouth lifeless.”

Your eyes widened and you listened in disgust. He growled and his hand slapped off his thigh as he pleasured himself. You sit paralysed as fear bubbled in your chest and you felt as if he could see you. You crossed your legs and huddled down over the receiver.

“I want to fuck your cunt until it hurts to sit down. I want to hear my body slam into yours, I want you to beg me to stop and keep going at the same time. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t make a noise, until all you can hear is my cock pounding inside of you.”

“Please…” You wanted him to stop. You wanted to hang up and yet you were terrified to move.

“And I know you want it too, whore. I know you need it. Not these words, not these calls, but you need me,” he shuddered “and I need it just as bad.”

He grunted and the line grew still. He hissed and cursed. 

“I’m a fucking mess,” he sneered. Another silence and you think he hung up. His voice startled you when he spoke again. “Who’re ya?”

“Wh-what?”

“I ain’t stupid. You’re some lady in the county. Maybe some lonely housewife. Ain’t sound like no prostitute I ever knew.” He sniffed and let out a groan. “Maybe you some dumb teenager playin’ games on the telephone, huh?”

“I don’t-- No. I--” You hung up. 

You stood and pulled the line out of the phone and dropped down heavily. You put your head in your hands and shook it. Fuck!

🚔

The next morning at the diner, you served the sheriff with a false smile. Every time he spoke, you heard the words he said to you on the phone. Although his tone was placid, his fervour played over and over in your ears. And when you overpoured his coffee, you apologized only to have him assure you it was alright and let you mop up the mess with your rag.

He left you his usual tip and you cleared his table. The newspaper was tinged from your spill and you dumped it on his plate. As you did, a card slipped out onto the table and your handwriting stared back at you from the carefully cut rectangle. You hid it quickly in the newspaper and rushed to toss it all in the trash and drop the plate in the bin.

It must have been a mistake, you assured yourself and excused yourself for a breath of air. The chef, Carson, was already by the kitchen doors and you said yes to a smoke from his pack. You lit it after the third try and inhaled the tobacco deep into your chest. You would go to the phone company tomorrow on your day off and shut down the second line. Your lesson was learned. It wasn’t worth the spare pennies.

Your day dragged by as all you could think of was the line. When you got to the phone company, you were jittery with worry. It was easy enough to shut it down but the fee cost you your tips for the day. You checked the clock before you left, bound to be a few minutes late picking up Ezra.

As you came out onto the street, your open jacket flapped in the wind over your uniform and your mary janes clacked on the pavement as you rushed to get to Enid’s and pick up your son. When you stopped at the corner to wait for traffic to pass, a flash and a honk made you jump.

Sheriff Bodecker pulled up to the curb and rolled down his window. He waved and leaned his arm on the door as he peered out at you.

“You needa ride?” He asked.

You smiled awkwardly and clutched the handles of your weathered purse.

“Sheriff, no thank you, I’m not goin’ too far,” you waved him off.

“Nonsense, you on your feet all day. It’s the least I can do.”

“You must be busy.”

“Radio ain’t goin’ off,” he slapped the door, “now come on.” He reached down and opened the door, stepping out with a groan, “Get in. You always are so nice down at the diner.”

You swallowed and your lips quivered as you tried to hold your smile. You followed him around the other side of the car as he opened the door for you. You got into the vintage cruiser and crossed your legs as you cradled your purse on your lap. He closed the door and dropped in on the other side.

He shifted into gear and pulled off. You thanked him and fiddled with clasp of your purse.

“No problem, but uh, I just needa know where you’re goin’,” he chuckled as he slowed at the next four way.

“Oh, I gotta get Ezra from his gramma’s,” you explained, “She lives just down Carsbee.”

“Not far at all,” he commented as he turned the wheel, “So, how was the rest of your day then?”

“Not so bad,” you said breathily as he looked at you in his mirror and you focused on the pedestrians on the street, “and yours, sheriff?”

“You can call me Lee if ya like,” he offered, “And wasn’t so bad either. Which number is it, sweetheart?”

You sniffed at the pet name, he was usually so formal at the diner with his ma’ams.

“21B,” you answered as you wiggled your foot nervously, “you can just drop me off. It’s not too far to home.”

“Don’t be silly, I wanna meet your boy,” he intoned, “you talk about him so much.”

“Oh, uh, of course,” you murmured as he pulled up along the front of your mother-in-law’s, “I just gotta go get him then.”

You hooked your purse over your elbow and slid over the seat. The sheriff kept you from opening the door as he bid you stay and got out quickly as he rushed around the front of the car. He opened the door like a gentleman and removed his hat. 

“I’m old but I haven’t forgot my manners,” he nodded and waited for you to step out.

You got to your feet and thanked him again before you strolled up the crooked walk to the front door. You knocked and let yourself in like you always did. You could hear Ezra babbling as he played with wooden toy cars. Enid sat in her usual spot and rocked as she watched him.

“How was he today?” You asked as you grabbed the bag you always left with him and packed up the loose ends beside it.

“Loud,” Enid muttered, “hyper.”

“Well, he’s at that age,” you grasped your purse and Ezra’s bag in one hand and picked him up from the floor as he reached out for you. “Alright, Ez, say buh bye to grammy.”

He waved and cooed as you held him on your hip. Enid said buy in her grumpy way and got up to see you to the door. You came down the single step as Lee waited by his cruiser. Ezra buried his face in your shoulder as he turned away from the sheriff.

“Don’t be shy, Ezra, this is the sheriff, Mr. Bodecker,” you tried to shake him upright but he clung to you and hid.

“Ah, don’t worry, I’m used to that,” Lee laughed and opened the door, “people see the badge and they’re not so friendly.”

“He just goin’ through a phase,” you assured as you sat with Ezra in your lap.

As Lee shut the door, you let the bags lean against it and the car dipped as he got in the other side. He turned the engine and you gave him your own address as your son squirmed in your lap. At the first corner, Ezra found the courage to look at the sheriff and the officer looked back and stuck out his tongue.

“He looks like you,” Lee said as he pushed down on the pedal, “real cute.”

You accepted the compliment and hugged Ezra tighter. You could barely process the sheriff’s words as your mind returned to those he spoke the night before. Every time he spoke, you heard him, hissing and cussing at you.

You were relieved when he came up to your house and you turned to grab your bags. You felt a tug on your elbow as you balanced Ezra and your things. You looked back at Lee as he held your arm.

“I’ll get the door,” he said, “you just stay put.”

You waited as he let you go and once more, opened the door for you. He took the bags as you climbed out and you protested that you were fine. His hand settled on your shoulder as he pulled you to face him.

“Well, sweetheart, you gonna invite me in for some coffee?”

You were shocked by his boldness and couldn’t hide it. You blanched and looked at Ezra as he tugged at your jacket. You laughed awkwardly.

“Eugene’s still sleepin’ for his shift, I don’t--”

“We got some things to discuss and I think the least you can do after I was so kind as to drive you home is a coffee.”

You squinted at him in confusion. “Maybe another time, sheriff, I’d really hate to wake--” you reached for your bags and he stopped you with his grip firm on your wrist.

“Does he know?” Lee asked in a gristly voice.

“Know what?”

“Know you a whore?” Lee sneered.

You reeled and tried to twist from his grasp. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You can’t say them words on the phone and not mean ‘em,” he leaned in close, “Now I think you know what I want to talk with you about so you invite me in and I’ll be real nice about it but if you keep me out here, I can’t promise your neighbours won’t get a show.”

You pouted and rocked Ezra as he began to fidget, sensing your discomfort. “Please, I got Ezra--”

“You put him in the next room so we can discuss,” Lee insisted.

He let go of you and you nodded dumbly. You watched him wearily as you turned and led him up the walk. You unlocked the front door and he followed you inside. He hung his hat on the rack with his leather jacket and you hurried into the bedroom to set Ezra down in his crib. You distracted him with his stuffed rabbit and left him. He was usually due for a nap around then anyway.

When you got back to the front room, Lee sat on your couch and you went to the kitchen to start the coffee. You waited for the water to boil and filled the percolator as you dreaded what would come next. You poured a mug and set it out on the coffee table with the sugar dish. 

Lee leaned forward and spooned the sweet powder into his mug as you stood and wrung your hands. How had he figured it all out? How long had he known? Was he going to tell Eugene?

“Sit,” he said as he inhaled the savoury scent and took a cautious sip. His mug made a deafening clink as he set it down and you sat. “I s’pose you went by the phone company to end your little game.”

You sucked your lip in nervously and nodded as you looked down guiltily.

“Mhmm,” he hummed, “you know I was down there a few days ago and they just hand the records over if I say I got a warrant. They ain’t look close enough to realise it’s just a receipt.”

You gulped and kept your head down. You ran your tongue against your lip and blinked away the moisture in your eyes.

“How long you been doin’ all that?” he asked.

“Couple months,” you admitted, “I just needed some extra money. Ever since Ezra was born…”

“But you could get another job.”

“I gotta be home for the boy. Eugene never is.”

“Now a woman don’t be talkin’ like that if she happy. If she not alone.”

“Stop, please. It was a mistake. I’m sorry if you feel like I--”

“Sorry?” he interrupted, “you’re sorry? You think Gene would accept that?”

You sat in silence and picked at the button on your jacket. You hadn’t even bothered to take it off. “You gonna tell him?”

He let out a heavy breath and took another drink of coffee. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

You looked at him and furrowed your brow in confusion. You shook your head as he smirked.

“I will if you make me but if you want me to stay quiet--”

“Sheriff--”

“Shhhh,” he raised a finger, “now, you want me keep my mouth shut, you be waitin’ for me tonight after he goes.”

You stared at him in terror as your heart threatened to jump up your throat.

“And then we’re done talkin’. Then you do all those things we spoke about.”

“You can’t-- I got a son.”

“And a husband but you still be talkin’ to strange men about your pretty little pussy, don’t you?”

You blew a shaky breath between your trembling lips and sank down in the chair in shame. “I thought you were a good man, sheriff.”

“I am, don’t mean I’m not lonely.”

He drained the rest of the mug and coughed. He stood and adjusted his belt, his hand lingering on his belt. You watched his finger trace the barrel and your eyes crept up to his face.

“I’d hate to wake your husband, sweetheart, so I’ll be on my way.” he retreated around the couch and paused by the door, “but I’ll be around.”

🚔

The night went by faster than any. You never felt like you got much time with your husband but it was almost as if he was gone as soon as he woke. He left you with a peck on your forehead and dread in your chest. You thought of telling him, you wanted to confess and fix everything that had broken, but you couldn’t. You were too ashamed.

So when he was gone, you put Ezra down for the night and hoped the Sheriff was just trying to scare you. He couldn’t be serious, could he? You’d known him for years and he was only every sweet at the diner. He was a solitary man but was never unkind. That afternoon, he had been an entirely different man.

You sat on the couch, no radio, no nothing, and picked at the lines of your hand. You were certain you would sit up all night and laugh at yourself in the morning. He was just making sure you stopped, that had to be it.

But then the knock came and your whole body went rigid. You waited until it sounded again, harder, louder. You got up and went to the door. You didn’t need to look out to know who it was. You opened up and Lee watched you with his menacing blue eyes. They were no longer the gentle gems you knew from the diner.

“Sweetheart,” he drawled as he stepped inside and you backed away from him.

He closed the door and locked it then he removed his hat and jacket, just as he had earlier. He bent to ease off his boots and stood as he cleared his throat. He peered behind you and looked around your small house.

“I’m just in time, huh?” he mused as he touched your side and let it slip down to your hip. “What you shakin’ for?”

“I thought…” you rasped. “Sheriff, you know me. I’m not a bad woman.”

“You ain’t?” he snickered. “I do know you. I’m the only one in the county who knows the real you.”

“I don’t understand why you’re doin’ this,” you whined.

“I’m old but not decrepit,” he took your hand and raised it, “and you’re a beautiful woman. I daresay,” he kissed the back of your hand, “motherhood did make you even sweeter.”

“Please,” you begged.

“You get in that bedroom before I lose the last of my will,” he bit his lip as he looked you up and down and released your hand.

You shivered and backed away from him. You went blindly to the bedroom and stopped in the doorway. You couldn’t, not in the bed you shared with your husband. Lee came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle.  His hot breath tickled your ear as he leaned into you.

“I wanna see what you hide under that dress,” he purred, “now don’t make me ruin it.”

You gasped and drew away from him. You neared the foot of the bed and unbuttoned the top of your dress. Your fingers were ungainly as you struggled and you pushed the sleeves down your arms with a stifled sob. You shoved the fabric past your waist and hips and his growl made you stand upright with a snap.

Your stockings were held up by fraying garters and your old underwear added to your shame. Your brasserie was pointed and too tight. You hung your head and balled your hands into fists.

“Turn around, I wanna see you,” he said.

You reluctantly obeyed and stared at the floor. He hummed and his thumb ran over his belt buckle. A sudden cry made your blood cold and he scowled. Ezra was awake.

You moved to go to him and the sheriff blocked the door.

“I gotta go to him. He must’ve had a bad dream.”

“I’ll take care of the boy. You just be waitin’ when I get back.” he ran his tongue under his teeth, “naked.”

He pointed to the bed and didn’t leave until you took several steps back. You listened as he went to the small room attached to the master. You worried he might hurt the boy but his coaxing voice surprised you. 

“Shhh,” you heard the distant tone, “it’s okay, son, it’s okay.”

You reached to unhook your bra and sat to roll your stockings off. You needed this man gone. If you abided him, he would be away sooner. You dropped the last of your clothing to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. Your nails dug into the blankets and you closed your eyes.

It was over a year since you’d been touched. That alone made you shy but that man made you terrified. You heard him enter but didn’t look up at him. “You get up on all fours and ready that mouth for me.” he ordered as you heard his buckle tink, “yeah, I wanna start there.”

You swallowed and did as he said. You felt like some lowly animal as you stared at the floor. You heard the flutter of fabric as he stripped and when he came close, you shut your eyes. He grabbed your hand and jerked you to the edge. He tapped the tip of his cock along your lips.

“Now, open up, sweetheart,” he snarled, “I know you remember every word I said.”

You parted your lips and he forced his way into your mouth. He poked at the back of your throat but didn’t relent. You gagged as he sank down your throat and your entire body twitched. His hand went to your neck as he drew back and pushed back in. He felt himself as he invaded your throat over and over.

“Ah, yes, that’s it,” he uttered, “you can’t tell me you’re not a whore. You take me like one.”

You tried to swallow around him and breath and it made him groan. He kept fucking your face as his hand squeezed your throat. Your spit spilled out and smeared across your face and his pelvis. He kept your head bobbing until you were dizzy and dazed.

He stopped, deep down your throat, and grunted. He let out a shuddery breath and pushed you off of him. You slipped down onto your stomach and gasped over the side of the bed.

“Hoo, I almost blew,” he huffed, “oh, you bad, bad girl.” He trailed his hand down your back and slapped your ass, “turn around and get back up.”

You whimpered and lifted yourself back to your knees. You moved stiffly around and wiped your mouth as the taste of him stained your tongue. He grabbed your hips and pulled you back. He kneaded your ass with hungry growls and pinched your thigh. He felt along your cunt and tutted.

“You wet for me,” he taunted, “just from a taste, sweetheart.”

You dropped your head and he moved closer. He pressed the head of his dick against your folds and ran it up and down as you slickened. He lined up with your entrance and his large hand gripped your hip. He slid into you with a sigh and you let out a startled cry. Maybe it was because it was so long but he felt massive. You quivered around him and clenched your teeth.

“Oh, fuck, you want it just as bad as me, don’t ya?” He bucked his hips and you exclaimed, “how am I suppose to hold back with you squeezin’ me like that?”

He didn’t hold back as he caught his stride. He hammered into you as your flesh slapped loudly. You feared the noise would wake your son again, or worse, be heard by the neighbours. He groaned and grunted as he rammed into you and your thighs quaked. Ripples rolled over your spine and multiplied down your legs.

He stretched his hand over your back and slid them up to your shoulders. He bent over you as he forced your arms to fold beneath you and pushed your head into the mattress. He stilled and wiggled his hips until you moaned. He pulled one hand away from your shoulder as the other spread over your neck.

He slid out of your cunt and spread your juices up and down. He guided his dick between your cheeks and leaned into to pant in your ear. “I didn’t forget about your ass.”

He pushed against your hole and you tensed. His hand tightened on your neck and he poked harder. 

“You relax or it’ll hurt more,” he coaxed, “come on, almost…”

He pushed past your ring and you both gasped. Your eyes filled with tears and you sniffed as he urged himself deeper past your resistance. He let out a long breath as he advanced inch by inch. He drew back each time before adding more and when he was at his limit, you sobbed and clawed at the mattress.

“Oh, oh, fuck, oh, shit,” he swore as he rocked his hips, “you know, urgh, I wanted to do this for so long. Even ‘fore I called.”

He growled and built a steady pace as he stretched you. Your tears seeped into the blanket as his grip threatened to break your neck. His belly bounced against the top of your ass as he rutted without restraint.

“I always thought ‘bout you over that table. Always thought-- Always thought you deserved better than that husband,” he rasped out, “but I never thought you’d feel so good.”

He slammed into you harder than before. Your legs fell out from beneath you and he was quick to descend over you, covering you with his body as he bent his arm across the back of your head. He fucked you into the mattress as your head began to spin and your body reacted to his.

You’d never felt anything so intense as the maelstrom of pain and pleasure building inside you. You moaned and muttered until the sudden tide swept you up and had you murmuring like a fool, drooling onto the bed as he kept on.

He planted his hand on either side of you and lifted himself. He dropped his hips down into your ass over and over. The symphony of flesh filled your mind and you succumbed to the afterglow of tortured delight. He sank as far as he could and spasmed.

“Shit, oh, sweetheart, sweetheart,” he slowed and lowered his sweaty body onto you. You suffocated beneath him as his heart beat against your back. “Oh, you made me… made me blow.” He tilted his hips. “You feel how I filled your ass?”

You let out shallow breaths and turned your face into the blanket. He grunted and raised himself off of you, his cock slipping out easily and his cum trickling down after. He fell onto his back beside you and tried to catch his breath. He reached over blindly and let his fingertips dance along your ass.

“Really it ain’t your fault,” he said as his fingers crawled along the top of your thigh, “a man must be crazy to leave you all alone at night.”

[saturnsummer]

Solhwi prompt:

Sol A tries to set up a date between sol B and joonhwi after his court 'confession' (even though she is lowkey jealous) assuming he was talking about her and confusion ensues... And if you can use the following dialogue-

"Sol, it's you. It has always been you."

love's complicated.

Sol A's not jealous. She really isn't.

But what was this twisting, nerve wracking feeling that she feels every time she sees Sol B?

notes: prompted by @confusedsoulsramblings ! i had so much fun writing this, i had to add a small bonus at the end. i had no intention on making this so long, but i guess it’s my trait to make long fics. spelling, grammar and incorrect information will be taken responsible by me. thank you all for support, once again! let me know of more prompts, questions or your reviews! feedback and criticism very much appreciated! thank you all, once again for the endless love!!

words: 3000 words.

ao3

Sol shouldn't be any less shocked during Yeseul's trial. When Prosecutor Jin cornered Joon Hwi with his question, she turned to look at her roomie at the same time she did. Then, she saw Joon Hwi’s eyes trail nervously, fluttering between them both. Sol knew his answer from the look on his face. 

It was never her to begin with.

She wasn't angry. She wasn't upset. She expected it. Sol B was sophisticated, graceful and beautiful. She knew how all the freshmen would nickname her "Ice Princess.". Could anyone disagree? Furthermore, coming from a family of lawyers and prosecutors, who wouldn't love her? She was a dream child. She possessed both the brains and the beauty. 

Joon Hwi was always open with his teasing and words. He loved teasing her over their first meeting at the bookstore. He loves visiting Byeol randomly, even when Sol isn't home. He often comments with sentences that could have secondary meanings, and was very much teased by Bokgi. Even though he infuriated her sometimes, she always smiled with him.

Sol felt special, if she was honest. She felt like the only girl that he had his eyes on. She couldn’t help but feel tingly inside and her heart blooming like flowers in spring. Yeseul spent hours convincing Sol that Joon Hwi likes her, and on some nights, she liked to fantasied to the thought of it. 

Of course, it means nothing to her now.

Sol sits alone in the study room, huffing out a sigh. She ruffles her hair and buries her face into her sweater sleeves. She can't believe that she can't study due to Joon Hwi liking her roommate. She doesn't like the twisting feeling in her stomach, and she doesn't know what it's called, too.

Was she... jealous? 

Sol shakes her head vigorously and slaps her face a couple of times. No, she thinks, and lets out a breathy laugh. She can’t be. As far as her feelings went, she never considered seeing Joon Hwi more than best friends. The chances of him liking her was held at a much higher percentage than her liking him, in Sol’s head. 

But thinking back, she couldn’t deny her feelings anymore. She couldn’t bury her feelings any further, especially now that she has accidentally dug them up. Her snarky remarks, the way she acted with him, the burning feelings she felt whenever someone spoke bad of him, her smiles that she would sometimes save for him. 

Maybe, she does had feelings for this second round judicial exam passer. 

But at the same time, she felt wrong. Her roomie was oh, so obviously in love with Joon Hwi, harbouring such toxic feelings felt wrong. It felt backstabbing and so betraying. She couldn’t be jealous. She can’t be, anymore. She should be happy, for her best friend to fancy such a perfect partner like Sol B.

Even if it meant that her feelings were not returned, she didn't mind. 

Because his happiness and smile was enough for her. 

-----

Sol did her best to squash those toxic feelings. She reminded herself that her roomie was in love with her best friend, and her best friend felt the same. She avoided every moment she was caught between them and always scooted away when Joon Hwi wanted to sit with her. She gave lame excuses (”I want to sit with Yeseul”, “Yebeom needs to help me with a case”), but her feelings only bubbled up stronger inside. 

She witnessed as her cold faced roomie soften in her speech when talking to Joon Hwi, the way her eyes softened when he would explain something to her, the way he gave the exact same smile to her when he witnesses her finally figuring things on her own. Or the eyes that he gives when he devours his ramyeon while Sol eats her extra pickles with equal fervour. 

If Sol was being honest and straightforward, she wanted to take out her anger on Joon Hwi. For leading her on to believing that he liked her. For being so flirty with her that even BokGi wanted to join in on the teasing. For playing her into this game, only to leave her hanging and lost and completely blindsided by his feelings.

But no, she couldn’t. She knew it wasn’t his fault. She blamed herself, for letting herself be lead by him. She blamed herself for falling for him, instead of focussing on her studies. She was always more rash and emotional. 

It was her decision to fall for his charms, not his. 

She can’t bring herself to blame him, knowing that Joon Hwi was always like this. Mumbling with low spirits, she sunk lower into her chair in the empty study room. She purposely didn’t want to tell anyone that she would be studying in the study room, in hopes that she could be alone. Heading back to her dorm was not an option, since her roomie’s presence would made her so guilty.

“Why the long sigh, sunbae?” She freezes at the nickname. Internally, a part of her lights up, recognising the voice, but even more the nickname that was said. As quickly as it came, it dissipated as she finally registered who it was, and her guilt ridden feelings came right back up. 

Joon Hwi walked in, with his bag slung over, his signature smirk on his face. Pulling a chair, he scooted it over nearer to Sol. Peering over her book, he leaned closer and grabbed the pen she was holding.

“Ooh, criminal codes. Are you having trouble?” He asks, leaning closer to her. 

Sol was so glad he was not looking at her. His body was so near hers, that she could smell the fresh cologne he wore, and the slight musk of sweat from a whole day of work. She couldn’t stay here any longer, while having a knot in her stomach. Leaping from her chair, she gathered her books, nearly scaring Joon Hwi and she quickly packed her things. 

“I... I just remembered that I needed to meet Yeseul for something!” She blurts out, before running out the room. 

She ran up to where the lecture halls were at, before going back down and escape to a part of their campus garden. She always took the same spot, a hidden corner hidden away by a tree that even Joon Hwi isn’t aware of. She frequented that area many times, when she was still insecure about making friends and found it particularly comforting.

“This is no good, I can’t run off every time I see him.” She mumbles to herself. She knew she was right. She knew Joon Hwi was smart to catch on about her not attending classes as usual with her seat next to him. Even though she still showed up for study group, she knew that he could sense the change in her mood. 

She needed a plan, and she needed it ASAP. 

-----

A week passed after her awkward encounter. Sol had gotten used to the twisted feeling in her stomach. After a week of debating in her head, she formulated her plan to get her feelings over and done with. 

She was going to have her roommate and Joon Hwi date. 

Sol had figured that if there’s anything she does best, it’s to disappoint herself. Instead of losing face to her best friend and confessing to him about how she felt, she much rather have her feelings crushed instead. Because she knows that he will probably debate on who to choose and she couldn’t let him be the decision maker. He doesn't need to make such a difficult decision. 

Besides, Sol knew her roomie’s situation. With an overbearing and controlling mother, the least she could do to make her happy was to have the man she crushed on. He could at least help her in her studies, benefitting her mother’s dreams of being a judge one day and have him by her side forever. 

Sol knew the date was going to go well. Sol B had the hugest crush, Joon Hwi would have might as well admitted to her that he had feelings for her in front of the whole court room. All they were missing were private moments alone, without their textbooks and no mentions of school. Oh, and maybe a few glasses of wine and a fancy restaurant in town.

And so Sol found herself in the study room alone again, thinking about how to tell Joon Hwi about setting up a date between Sol B. 

Apparently, fate meant for it to happen now.

Because Joon Hwi strode in, a familiar smile on his face, in his hoodie. 

“Stuck again?” Joon Hwi says, nodding to her books on the table. She contemplates going into small talk and saying yes, but pushes her thoughts aside. No, she needed this out of her system. 

“Joon Hwi, how would you like to go on a date with Sol B?” She blurts out, literally making her point across. Joon Hwi is stunned for a moment, as he sets his bag on the table, leaning on a chair. 

“Well...what makes you think I would enjoy it?” Joon Hwi stutters back, clearly stunned. 

“Oh, I mean, well, you know how Sol B likes you, don’t you? And I think it’ll be nice for you to go on a date with her. You know get to know my roomie more.” Sol replies as casually as she can. A part of her hopes he says no, that he rather spends his time doing anything else. 

But instead, he just shrugs and nods. 

And her heart drops, shattering like glass into a thousand pieces. She maintains her bright smile on her face, and even gives a convincing laugh. Sol sits through the next ten minutes of her telling Joon Hwi when she’s free tomorrow and promising she won’t tell anyone, not even Yeseul. 

As best as she can, she excuses herself from him, hoping her voice isn’t shaky when she says “I hope you enjoy your date!” as she walks away. Her steps are shaky and she feels lightheaded. She doesn't notice how her eyes are teary, the same way they get when she cuts onions. 

Rushing to the washroom nearest to the garden, she locks herself in a cubicle and takes deep silent breaths. She concentrates on breathing and tries brainwashing herself. Come on, Sol, you can’t be upset for him. You should be happy! Joon Hwi is going on a date! And he’s going with the best girl you know! Why are you upset? She repeatedly chants this in her head, holding in her tears as best she can.

But it unfortunately isn’t enough when she finally cracks, letting the pent up sadness explode from it’s cage, her tears streaming down. She prays the bathroom is empty when she wails and sobs, crumbling to the floor in a heap of tears as she can’t help but get the image of her crush and roommate holding hands and kissing. 

For once in her life, she has never felt so hurt, but she couldn’t blame anyone but herself for putting herself in this situation. She landed herself in this ditch, and now she has to deal with the fact that her crush, her best friend, will be dating her roommate. 

Composing herself, she wipes her tears dry and washes her splotchy face. She rejects Yeseul’s offer for dinner, resorting to spending her night at the campus garden away in her hiding spot. She’s cold, but it’s nowhere near the numbness she feels in her heart deep down. When it gets too cold at 2am, she sneaks back into campus and goes to the long sofas in front of the Lady of Justice statue. 

She sits there staring into space for a long while, before carrying her bag to the, now empty and deserted, study room, where she crouches to the corner of the room. She’s reminded of the moments where he would sit with her so close, their shoulders brushed each other and their fingers always fumbled around for stationary. Everything reminds her of him, and she falls asleep, huddled in a corner, just as the rare rays of sun start to emerge.

She wanted him, but he wasn't hers anymore. 

-----

“Sol. Sol, get up.” She hears a familiar voice say. Having slept for less than six hours, she’s groggy and rubs her eyes. Her back hurts from being hunched over, and her joints are sore and stiff. Her vision comes to focus as she comes face to face with Joon Hwi.

“Ah!” She yelps out, startled by his presence and retreats back, only banging her head against the metal cabinets instead. She winces and rubs her head, soothing her pain. Joon Hwi sighs and holds out his hand. She swats his hand away. 

“Why are you here?” Sol asks Joon Hwi. Joon Hwi holds a serious expression as he steps back to let Sol stand on her own. 

“I take back what I said yesterday.” He says suddenly. 

“Huh?”

“I’m not going on a date with Sol B anymore. I don’t want to.” He blurts out. Sol takes a moment to register his words. Immediately, anger floods in. She can’t tell if it’s residual anger from being mad at him for playing her, or anger on behalf of her roommate. 

“What? What do you mean? But Sol B likes you so much! You should at least give her a chance!” Sol argues back, making her way to the other side of the table at the same time, dumping her bag there. She’s proper angry now, letting her emotions take charge of her actions. Her eyes are frustrated and her face frowns. Joon Hwi stops her and grabs her wrist, stopping her from moving away from him and pulls her back to the same side of the table that he is. 

“I don’t like her. And I don’t think I ever will.” He admits. Sol is breathless, taking in all this new information. But during the court, it was so clear that it was her roommate. She can’t do it, having Joon Hwi so close to her, wanting to be with him, yet getting told that he harbours no feelings for Sol B. The tension she felt was driving her crazy.

“But...” Her speech comes out breathless, almost suffocated out of anger and frustration. 

“Sol.” His voice is an octave lower, as he leans towards her, his face closing the distance. “Listen to me.”

“It’s you. It has always been you. From the beginning, it was always you.” 

Sol lets out a breath, almost suffocating from the tension. 

It...it was her? 

All this while...? 

“I thought... I thought...” She hates how her voice is so full of breath. She’s leaning against the table, and his hands have shifted from her wrist to the side of the table, trapping her.“I thought you liked her. I thought this entire while, she was the one you liked.”

“Maybe this will make you trust me.” 

And he presses his mouth against hers. 

Sol’s startled, not used to Joon Hwi being so dominating. But his soft lips against hers distract her. She removes her hands from the table, bringing them up to his hang around his neck. His hands slowly make their way to her waist as they move in sync. When they finally part, Sol’s face is blushed bright red. She feels his hot breath against her face.

“Believe me now, sunbae?” 

-----

bonus:

Sol B tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ears when she stops in her tracks to meet Joon Hwi.

“Hey, um, can we talk?” He asks awkwardly. She doesn’t know why she feels so calm, knowing that she should be feeling butterflies for having her crush talk to her. Nodding, they head to a spot until the staircases. 

“I don’t know how to put it...” Sol B realises where this conversation is going. In fact, she has been waiting for this day, ever since Yeseul’s court hearing. She knows what he’s going to say before he even says it. 

“You don’t like me, you like Sol A, right?” She completes his sentence. Joon Hwi fumbles in his speech and finds ways to defend himself quickly. But Sol B is quick to cut him off.

“It’s okay.” She says, the closest thing to a satisfied face she can make on her face. “I fully support you.”

“You’re... you’re not sad? Or angry?” Joon Hwi is cautious with his questions. Sol gives a slight scoff. If she’s honest, she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know what begin her crush for him, to begin with. She can’t remember if it was the way he answered questions, or the time he helped her put on her glasses. All she knows is that he didn’t like her, and she felt peace with that.

“I’ve seen the way you look at her. Your smile and your eyes are enough to prove it. Besides, that's who you were talking about in court, wasn’t it? You wanted to protect her.” She asks. He nods, eyes unable to meet hers. 

When Sol B went to bed the night before, she noticed that her roomie was nowhere. Assuming that she was out studying, she went to bed. But when she woke up the next morning, Sol B found her bed still the same state as last night. It was obvious she didn’t return to the dorm. 

“She didn't come back last night.” Sol B says and Joon Hwi’s eyes widen in panic. 

“What?”

“Check the study room. She might just be studying there.”

“Okay.” He says and turns around. But he turns around once more before jogging away.

“Thank you, for everything.” 

Sol B gives a suppressed smile as she watches Joon Hwi get further and further from him. She tries all she can to find anger, jealousy, sadness, brokenness, denial. 

But yet, all she feels is calming peace. 

[pillow-anime-talk]

genshin month ; twenty-first day.

synopsis: Venti felt a lack of inspiration, but fortunately he could count on your light help.

# tags: scenario; current relationship; romance; fluff; a bit of nudity; sfw

includes: gender neutral reader ft. venti {genshin impact}

author’s note: i really don’t know why the plot takes place in the bathroom again! anyway...

Inspiration was a complex concept and was never constant, or at least that’s what artists of all kinds – like painters, singers, composers, writers and even dancers – thought. Venti, as a very well-known and respected musician, also believed so and more than once in his very long life he felt a lack of inspiration; and the reasons for this were various, sometimes foolish. So very often (practically always) he saved his willingness to play with high percentage alcohol, sometimes he read poems or books to motivate himself, and occasionally he just let the boredom take up his precious time, which he could devote to something much more productive.

Now, however, neither the good and expensive wine from Dawn Winery, nor the wonderful poetry, nor even the several hours rest helped him restore his will or physical strength to play the lyre. And both you and the citizens realized how much a young-looking man was frustrated and even disappointed by this; after all, everyone was hoping for some music on their evening walks, and instead, from many days, they had only been accompanied by the sound of the wind and a few sounds of nature like wolves howling or birds singing.

Naturally, you knew very well that blue-haired had a serious problem, but how could you help him when you’ve never been into art things, or at least not as much as your partner? You wondered if a sincere conversation would be enough. Or warm tea with his favorite ingredients and some honey? Or maybe a few kisses and a cute hug...? But it seemed to you that even these things wouldn’t be enough for such a serious issue.

“... My dear, why don’t you just rest instead of thinking about new songs?” After the sixth day was over, you started to worry more and more. Venti not only stopped playing, but also had trouble with other, more basic activities such as eating and drinking water. Therefore, your anxiety grew when you forcing him to take medicine or get out of bed. “Venti?”

“I will sit here a while longer, but you can take a bath and rest afterwards if you want. I promise, I’ll go to bed earlier than yesterday.” Always cheerful and full of joy, now the aqua-green-eyed boy seemed empty and bored. However, in order not to upset him, you nodded slightly.

You definitely needed the bath due to the fact that you were the person closest to Venti and you experience everything as much as he.

So while you were resting in the hot water full of white bubbles, the bard decided to close the huge, oak window and then headed towards the bathroom to wash his tired face. Of course, due to his own thoughts, he forgot that you’ve been in the bathroom for eight minutes. Therefore, as soon as his person entered the small room and his gaze landed on your calm face, closed eyelids, perfect arms, as well as the outline of your collarbones and breasts, somewhere at the bottom of his own heart, Venti felt inspired. 

It was a tiny, really strange, intimate inspiration.

The hand in which he always held the lyre rose gently, and the fingers of the other, free hand tugged at the breathtaking, bluish strings. The melodic sound of the instrument echoed throughout the cottage, and you opened your eyes in surprise as you stared at your lover standing by the sink.

“V-Venti...” The blushes on your face were visible and extremely sweet, which made the man felt an even greater desire to play. He decided to sit on the edge of the bathtub to be closer to you. “Beautiful.” You admitted listening to your beloved’s new song, and he just nodded, smoothly touching the strings.

“You’re definitely the most beautiful here.” He chuckled, causing another wave of heat; this time on the nose and both ends of the ears. “I was losing hope of ever playing something again, but... you made me want to do it again, and again... and again. You are an amazing muse, darling.”

“Ahhh, don’t say that, please... I don’t know what to say. I am just lying in the bathtub...?” You tried to look anywhere but at the face of Anemo Archon, but his graceful, cool fingers cupped your chin, making your glowing eyes look only at him. You definitely didn’t care that the foam was slowly disappearing from your delicate figure, revealing far more skin than it was even thirty seconds ago.

For a brief moment the quiet music faded and your lips met in a light yet affectionate kiss, but as soon as you pushed your faces away from each other, the lovely melody hit your mind afresh.

“... What should I name this song?” He asked, amused, looking over your foam-covered body as you rolled your eyes in amusement. “Maybe just... ‘Y/N’? I think then it will be perfect.”

“I... Thank you.” You admitted shyly, and the man giggled one more time, leaning against the wooden wall.

“No. I am the one who should say ‘Thank you’, angel.”

previous day ; mona ♡ next day ; zhongli

[twinklelilstarkey]

Roommates (Pt. 1) - Jamie Oleksiak

Words: 4.4k+

Type: ANGST

Summary: After many years of being best friends with Jamie, you’ve grown tired of hiding your true feelings and fearing the end of your friendship.

Warnings: Female!Reader. Mentions of sex while intoxicated (consensual). Age gap. Sad, sad reader.

Jamie Oleksiak. The name of your best friend and the defenseman of the team Dallas Stars. As well as your roommate for the past few years.

You two met at a bar a few years back. He was playing for the Penguins at the time, and you were in college. 

You weren’t a big fan of hockey at the time, so you actually needed the help of a friend to know his name in the first place. Something, he found funny for some reason, while you, just felt deeply embarrassed.

It’s no secret that you two had sex that night. You two were equally tipsy, which did make everything seem easier and more fluid, in a way. Yet you never forgot the night.

Not only was it the beginning of an amazing friendship, it was also the best night of your life.

It took you two a few weeks to reconnect again and have your share of laughs. Your humor helped you out with him liking to hang out with you more and more each day. As well as the fact that it never seemed like you were interested in anything else but a conversation and company for lunch or periods in between classes.

You were just different, in a way.

Years went by and he was traded back to Dallas.

By the time it happened, you two were still heavily attached and, also, calling each other best friends. And yes, you had to be the first one to call him that.

You had finished your degree at that time and Jamie took that as a good reason to try and make you move in with him to Dallas. You were shocked, to say the least. You had just gotten used to living in Pittsburgh and now he wanted you to go with him to a whole different place.

It took a lot of pleading and being way too annoying for you to say yes, but he got you to do it. It was easy after he mentioned that you could live with him in the center of the city, where everything is, and also that he will pay for most of the rent. What can you say? You’re a simple girl.

And who says ‘no’ to free things?

Oh, and why most of the rent and not all? Because you felt bad at one point (that point being: one week in) and made a whole tantrum until he allowed you to pay a small percentage of the large rent.

Being best friends with Oleksiak got you a lot of things. Got you happiness (which can be discussed). Got you to like sports, especially hockey - which surprised your family since they had been trying to make you like it for years.

Got you Instagram followers. Since you know, that’s the most important thing of this whole friendship (*sarcasm*). Which, by the way, did made you more active on social media and be Big Rig’s fans’ personal provider of content.

Got you to live in a beautiful city with him. But most importantly: It got you to fall in love with him.

You first realized you were falling in love with Jamie back when you were in his old apartment. You had just woken up from a big party, with a big headache and his large arm over your waist.

It was early in the morning and the sun was starting to rise. Jamie was sleeping next to you, with his back to the windows, protecting himself from the harsh lighting. You looked back at him and his peaceful look as he slept silently next to you. You turned and laid your head back on his pillow, admiring his face. You were bold enough to bring your hand up to his face, and smoothly running your thumb over his cheek as you cupped it.

You could kill to have that every morning. To have him quiet and leaning into your touch unconsciously like it was your morning routine. Welcoming your hold as if it was his safe haven when he needed someone.

And even though all of those things already were true and present in your day-to-day life, it was never how you liked it. Always in a friendly-loving type of touch. Never a whole another loving type of way.

And that’s when you got it. You were falling in love.

Those feelings got stronger and stronger with each day that passed, and Jamie... Well, he’s completely oblivious to it all.

Your friends tease you about it. Always saying stuff like “close your mouth, you’re drooling” when in games or other innocent things like that.

They imagine your stares and glances as just a possible small crush, or that it was your way of looking out for your introverted friend. Never that you were staring at the man you’ve completely fallen in love with.

Nobody knows how you feel. Nobody. Except for you and your overthinking mind.

God, you don’t know how many times you cried over him. All when he was just a few doors away from you as you laid in bed. Or how many times you tried to be independent and look for love in another man, but always ending up disappointed, heartbroken, and unsatisfied.

You had and still have to see him bring girls home late at night, sometimes even talk to some in the morning while he sleeps. Fake being happy for him when he gets a new girlfriend and falls in love with her. Fake liking his girlfriend and act as if she’s exactly who you’d love to see in his life.

Yes, maybe you were being an awful friend, but your feelings were too much for you to just ignore them and not let them affect you.

You’re starting to grow tired with all of this.

“Hey, how was practice?” You ask Jamie right as you walk in the kitchen, not expecting to see him standing there on his phone.

“Good.” He answers, obviously distracted.

You don’t care enough to tease him over the short answer like you always do, so you just walk over to the fridge to get your water bottle. 

You just woke up, your eyes feel swollen from crying last night and, god, you feel dehydrated.

Jamie brought a girl home yesterday after the game, right when you were supposedly asleep. You heard them walking down the hallway, him shushing her as she giggled away.

You weren’t all that affected until you met her in the kitchen at 4am. And she had the audacity to be nice. She knew you were the roommate, so she wasn’t shocked when she saw you. But you were to see her.

You had just finished binge-watching a show, and she, well, she had stopped at least moaning an hour before.

You adjust the hood of your hoodie to try and hide your face and eyes from any morning light, and of course, a particular pair of eyes. Jamie leans back on the counter, putting his phone back on his pocket, eyes completely on you, now.

“What’s wrong with you?” He teases, smile prominent on his tone.

“Nothing.” You answer, head still low on the ground.

You put your water down and you scrub your face with your hands, harshly trying to wake yourself up to the day that you still have to experience.

It’s god damn 12pm.

Jamie leans back a little on the counter and takes a look at your face. God, you look sad. Your eyes are puffy and your lips are slightly swollen, just like under your eyes. You, for sure, had been crying.

“What happened?” He asks, concerned.

You look up at him to already find him staring. You plaster one of your usual fake smiles over your lips and shake your head.

“Nothing, dummy. I’m just tired” You say with a completely different tone than before.

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not.” You reassure, shoving your hands on the front pocket of the hoodie you’re wearing, his hoodie.

He looks at you worried and you smile more wide, walking close to him and wrapping your arms around him. You rest your head over his chest and he hugs you back right away.

“I’m okay.” You whisper.

You close your eyes as you feel him squeeze you close to him and try your best to enjoy the moment. Not that you don’t get a lot of hugs from the giant man, but these ones are different. They’re the comforting ones. The ones that almost make you, not only cry all over again but also, be in a better mood in a few more hours.

You blink your tears away and try to pull away from him, but he doesn’t let you. You look up and he’s staring back.

“Can I go take my shower, now?” You ask him with a playful tone.

“Nop.” He says, squeezing you back to his chest, “Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” You say with a small chuckle.

“Stop lyiiing!” He sings the words and you smile a little.

He kisses the top of your head and you sigh.

“I’m tired. I didn’t sleep at all, tonight,” You tell him and he lets go of you for a bit, “Can I please go now?”

“Why didn’t you sleep?”

You shrug, stepping back.

“I saw a horror movie.” You lie and you know right away that he didn’t believe you. “I’m serious.”

“You’re lying!”

“I’m not!”

“You. Are.” He says with a playful tone, definitely not wanting to start an argument since you’re not in the best mood.

You sigh and turn around, walking over to your room before he could even reach to hold you back and make you talk.

(...)

Jamie expected you to be in a better mood after you showered, but that did not happen. You took your shower, walked to the kitchen to get something small to eat, and closed yourself back up in your bedroom.

He thought about going over to your room to talk to you but he hesitated when he realized that he didn’t even know what to say or ask. 

So, he stayed in the living room, playing video games while giving you some time. As well as promising himself that if you don’t walk out in an hour, he’ll go in to check if you’re still alive and haven’t turned into a zombie.

You scroll through your social media on your phone. You watch everyone’s Instagram story with a serious look on your face, some of them just make you grin slightly at their contagious laughter or bad jokes, but most are just boring.

You slide off the app and click on your gallery. You scroll to the top and a grin appears on your face as the memories all hit you at once. You scroll and stop midway, where most of your videos are.

You click on one specifically and stare down at it.

It was a short video of you in the kitchen playing around and singing along to a song. You smile at your dramatic dancing and pointing towards an off-screen Jamie, and you turn up the volume.

You were singing along to the lyrics of the sappy breakup song while pointing at Jamie, as if you were dedicating the whole performance to him.

You stop dancing for some seconds, panting, and you hear Jamie laughing loudly off-screen over how tired you were.

“You danced for like 30 seconds!” He exclaims and you glare at him.

“Fuck off.” You curse.

He laughs again and you smile before walking back to your phone to stop recording and change the music.

You swipe for the next video and it’s another whole performance, but this time Jamie was on the screen, just in the corner.

You smile as you scream the lyrics and laugh like a maniac at his expression of complete terror. The video ends with you randomly hugging him as you laugh, which meant that you cut the rest, for some reason. You swipe again and the videos of that day ended there. 

You look through more videos and you find some others that are just as funny, and others just completely random. Like the one where it’s just 5 seconds of you zooming in on Jamie washing his teeth in the bathroom while you’re laying on his bed.

Things only drunk you understands when doing them.

You go through all of the random ones and find some with your friends. Most of you all drunk in a club screaming “Happy new year” before everyone starts kissing one another. 

A knock on your door makes you look up and Jamie peeks in.

“Can I come in?” He asks and you nod.

You continue laid on your bed and Jamie lays beside you.

“What have you been doing in here all day?” He asks and you look over as he also looks down at your phone.

“Not much.” You say with a shrug, “Just scrolled through social media, and now I’m watching old videos”

“Of...?”

“Nothing in particular, even though most of my stuff is me annoying you.” You say and he smiles.

He takes your phone from your hands and you let him, grabbing your pillow so you can rest your head over something that isn’t your fist or arm.

He clicks some random video and you see that it’s the one you were smiling at not too long ago. He smiles as he sees you do your whole performance and scrolls down for more.

You stay like that for some time and you sigh.

“I’ve been thinking-” You start and he nods.

“That’s good.”

You chuckle under your breath and continue.

“I think I should move out.” You admit, ignoring the small pain building up in your chest.

Jamie looks up from your phone and gives you a look, scowling in what looks like pure confusion.

“What? Why?” He asks defensively.

You shrug before answering, “I just feel, like, we don’t have a reason to live together anymore.”

He blinks at you, not getting it, and you sigh.

“Jamie, we started living together so we could hang out more. We almost don’t even have time to hang out together.” You tell him and he’s still scowling. “You have practice every morning. I work all afternoon. You have games when I get out of work and when you get here after games, it’s not exactly... appropriate... for us to hang out”

“What do you mean?”

“Yo-you always have girls with you.” You explain.

“Ooooh, are you jealous?” He asks with a small smile, his hard expression breaking.

Oh, God.

“I’m serious.”

“I know, but what you’re saying is ridiculous. We hang out every day I have off, always have lunch together and I even let you sleep in my bed on Sundays.”

You roll your eyes and look away, turning on the bed to stare at the ceiling. He’s not lying. You two do spend time together, but, god damn, you need to complain about something for you to be able to get out of this... situation.

“We would hang out just as much if I had my own apartment.” You spit and he locks your phone.

“Is that really your reason?” He asks and you nod, “I don’t believe you.”

“I just... forget it” You sigh.

You sit up and a familiar weight starts resting over your shoulders and chest, it’s like if guilt and heartbreak had a love child. That’s how you’ve been feeling for the past few months. And it’s just awful.

“No, don’t get upset on me, now. Just explain what’s wrong” He says, pulling you to lay down again next to him.

You stare at him for a second and you take a deep breath.

“It’s personal things, Jamie. I just feel like we both could use some privacy, you know?” You ask.

“Personal things...?” He questions, more to himself than anyone else.

“It’s stupid, just forget it.” You repeat, looking away, “You won’t get it, we can talk about this in another time.”

He stays quiet for a bit.

“Do you really want to move out that bad?” He asks, his tone is different, softer, worried too.

You shrug. You don’t want to do it, but you can’t help but think that this is what’s best for you. After so many years of fighting your feelings for him and having them double each day over having to see him every day, is just frustrating.

You need your own space and your own time.

At least somewhere you can cry over heartbreak and not have to worry about the person behind it walking in your room.

“Since when have you been feeling like this?” He asks, breaking your train your thought. “About... moving out?”

“A few months.” You admit.

He stays quiet and you continue to eye the wall intensely, while at the same time have Jamie stare sadly at you.

It’s not every day your best friend says that she wants to move out of your home.

“Is there anything I can do to make you stay?” He asks, feeling helpless.

You think for a second.

“I’m afraid you can’t.”

You sniffle quickly and let out a loud sigh. You’re battling every emotion in you but for an outsider, you just look frustrated. Not sad.

Jamie continues to stare silently and you feel his eyes on you. Your heart is breaking at his silence, and it’s painful. Yet you don’t know what else to do.

You’ve felt like you’ve done everything you could, and this... this is just what you’re left with. This and your unconfessed feelings.

“Are you still planning on staying in Dallas?” He asks, breaking the heart-wrenching silence.

“Yeah,” You say, blinking some tears away, “Of course, I am. Or at least close. I might have to move out of the city and stay in the suburbs, but-”

“Why?”

“I’m not that well paid, Jamie.” You say in an amused tone.

“I can he-”

“No.” You say quickly, staring at him.

Your eyes are almost pleading for him to not do anything of the sort, not pay for rent or even be responsible over anything of yours.

If you want to start fresh, you can’t let him do it.

“Why not?”

“I have my own money” You assure. “I’ll be okay on my own.”

You blink some more tears away and he frowns at the sight of them.

“Are you telling me that or telling that to yourself?” He asks you.

“What?”

He doesn’t repeat the question, he just continues to stare at you silently and your urge to cry intensifies.

You’re so used to look at him as your safe haven that breaking down in front of him is just engraved in your brain as something natural. But this time it’s not about work, it’s about him.

“Why are you crying?”

You snap back to reality and bring your hands up to your face, forcefully wiping them.

“It’s...”

Jamie sits up quickly, not letting you move away from him or the conversation, and a small shaky sigh escapes your mouth.

“Talk to me,” He pleads and you breathe in sharply.

You look down at your hands and your heart starts to speed up in your chest. He also looks down at your hands and sees you angrily play with the string of the hoodie you’re wearing.

You want to open your mouth to confess everything, but your emotions get the best of you. Just the thought of how ‘it’s all going to be now’ makes you freeze. 

This could be the moment that will change everything and make him never look at you in the same light.

The moment when your friendship dies. And you can’t let that happen.

Jamie’s hand rests on your shoulder and your body shakes with your cries and he looks at you worryingly. He wraps his arms around you and your face meets the soft fabric of his shirt.

He holds as you cry it out, fear still present in you even though you have already talked yourself out into not saying anything. It’s like it’s permanent now.

“Is this about work?” He asks, trying to guess.

Guess you got to do what you do best: Lie.

(...)

Some would honestly agree that destiny, or whatever you believe in these situations, was on your side, when Jamie, days prior to you leaving the apartment, needs to go on a roadie.

He felt absolutely awful that he wouldn’t be home to help you move out, even offered you to wait until he came back, so he can help. But a ‘it’s fine’ was your answer.

You felt awful. He’s your best friend in the whole world and you were destroying your so ‘healthy’ and loving communication so you could get some peace in return.

“I’m gonna miss you.” You tell him as your voice is muffled by his shirt.

“I’m gonna miss you too.” He says as his arms hold you close to him. “I can still call you like before, right?”

“Of course, you can.” You tell him, in a tone as if you would be stating the obvious.

He’s wearing a suit, ready to get on the team’s bus before departing to whatever state he will be playing in. He smells like his cologne, strong as ever, since it hadn’t been long since you two left home.

You, on the other hand, are wearing an oversized t-shirt and some jeans. Nothing too special. Just good enough to take your best friend to wherever he’s getting a bus to work.

“Hey, Rig! Let’s go!” One of the guys screams from the bus door.

It’s not like he’s holding back anyone from leaving, since there are still staff members dragging piles of equipment in the bus’s trunk. But every player is already making their way up to their seats or is already seated.

“You need to go.” You tell him as you try to pull him away by resting your hands on his torso and pulling yourself off, “You have a big trip ahead of you.”

“I know.” He says before squeezing you closer to him.

You feel him lay some kisses on the top of your head and when you look up at him, he just has a small grin over his face.

“You better pick up every single call, uh?” He threatens and a smile reappears on your face.

“Or what?” You challenge, eyebrows held up as if to wait for his answer with an attitude.

He laughs, yet he doesn’t say anything, he just lifts his gaze from you to the bus. His hands lift from your back and rest on your shoulders, giving them a slight squeeze.

It’s time for him to go.

“I’ll call you tonight, okay?” He asks and you nod.

You two pull away from each other and he leans down to grab his bag. You watch him silently, trying to fight off your emotions that keep on building up whenever he’s about to walk away, and he looks down to give you another look.

“See you at the home game?”

You swallow harshly and nod at him again, a small smile on your face.

The game is 2 weeks away from happening but it will eventually be the end of this roadie. Jamie comes back and stays until the next ‘non-home’ game, which is just a week later, giving you enough time to run through your plan.

You’re not sure if you want to be there. What you’ve planned until now was something over the phone with one of your parents. They offered to help you out and said something along the lines of ‘why don’t come home for a bit?’.

You’re not going to lie, it sounds nice to go home. Maybe take a month or two away from Dallas, away from Jamie.

It’s just that you will miss the home game, or, really, many home games.

You stare as your best friend walks towards the bus and you blink your tears away. He gives his last bag to a worker, who carefully carries it to the trunk, and he takes his first step into the bus.

You inhale sharply, face warming up as your emotions start getting the best of you. The wives, a few feet away from you, are incapable of noticing what’s happening to you, but either way, it could be mistaken just by the ‘goodbye’ for the trip.

You look back up at the bus and see Jamie take his seat by the window, beside one of the guys, you can’t really tell who it is by how tinted the windows are.

His eyes soon find you again and you force your small smile to come back.

Your breathing is sharp and shaky, all because you’re trying to focus on every step of your plan and not on the man that is staring back at you.

All you gotta do is move out, act as if time and distance are pulling you two away, ignore some of his calls... And just let it happen. But, god, why does it hurt so much?

Jamie frowns as you look down at your shoes for a few seconds and his heart clenches as he sees you wipe your tears away, hidden from any of the wives’ eyes.

He eyes you and your head lifts as soon as the bus starts, vibrating under him and loudly signalizing to you that he’s about to leave.

You stare back at him as if in the long lost void, biting your own lips as if to hold back any sobs and eyeing the tinted windows, deep in thought.

You love Jamie. Love him with your whole heart, with your whole being. More than you can even put it into words. But, you can’t just lose him. Not by your confession.

You can’t bear to feel any more hurt, more broken.

The bus soon starts moving and you look through the glass to see Jamie look at you with a worried look. You hide your emotions, once more, with a smile and give him a wave of goodbye.

He waves back and soon enough, the bus leaves, leaving you with nothing but your emotions and self-hate.

Your phone vibrates in your hand and you look down at the screen, tears covering your eyes and making it hard to read. Your urge to break down multiplies by each time a person around you walks away.

Riggy 🥰: I’ll come back before you know it

Am I proud of this? No. 

Do I know how to make it better? No.

Really hope it’s not too shitty. I’ve had this on my drafts for so long, I just had to post it. 

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

Guess whose ankle gave out for no discernable reason while walking to the parking garage at 2am after a bartending shift?

Guess who has a torn ligament now (and possibly something called connective tissue deficiency syndrome which I just played off as me being both active and clumsy all my life) and lost an entire source of income JUST before finally becoming somewhat mentally and financially stable?

🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃

I was blessed with many things: I'm pretty cute, I tell an okay story or two, I'm fairly athletic, I have blue eyes and a high IQ (even though I believe IQ tests are a scam but I digress), I have a wonderful son, a beautiful and supportive partner, several loving family members to balance out the abusive ones, and the best friends a person can have. I've got a good work ethic and I'm charismatic when I want to be. I'm resourceful (even if that's from the ✨trauma✨)but...

One thing I was not blessed with? Luck.

I blame my four retrograde placements and the possibility that I leveled a small village in a past life.

In other news, Min Yoongi is ruining my life with his dilf era and long hair (also he's so big now? Sir you were supposed to be my smol kitten boi) and I cannot believe I ever trusted a man, all they do is lie and I cannot think about Changkyun's new tattoo without breaking into hives. Also the latest SKZ album has NO SKIPS and I don't take criticism. What's going on with Jackson Wang? He's suddenly like GHOST on social media when he used to thirst trap us every 45 seconds and then he drops Blow, the slut anthem of our generation? Jackson did you date a Scorpio again? Sleep deprived just home from the ER confession: Tae lip syncing First Class in that insta story seemed like a personal attack bc I love that song and my friends clown me about my inexplicable attraction to Jack Harlow at all times. Don't @ me I don't want be attracted to him.

Bisexuality isn't a choice, it's pride month.

I've been legitimately working 80 to 100 hour weeks between two jobs and commissions but rest assured, I'm still peeping my head into kpop to see what's going on.

Anyways if you stuck out this long, rambling, "I'm badly injured and have had three hours of sleep in two days and my mental stability is hanging by a thread" post, hello. How are you, lovelies? I hope your luck is at LEAST 100x better than mine.

I'm praying to all the gods that my mental health meds (which my psych is still adjusting dosages of) starts working overtime, because I'm an Aries/Scorpio and being unable to move around much and having to rely on others for help is my personal hell.

Have a lovely Saturday, stay safe, keep your chins up, and remember you're valid and beautiful and I see you and love you.

*also if you're double-jointed or have frequent sprains or dislocations with seemingly no cause, research ligament laxity or CTDS. My whole life makes sense now. Well, some of it. A not so fun fact: CTDS has a high percentage of sufferers who have complex PTSD.

[fruithonorific]

Something I've been thinking about recently as a larger sociological trend is that as a greater percentage of women in the US have entered the workforce (~30% in the 1940s, steadily rising until it peaked ~60% in the early 2000s, rn it's about 57%; source, U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics), that means working people and especially working families have less free time overall.

Like this is a very white/heteronormative basis I'm thinking of, largely informed by the demographics of people I work with in my union; but assuming a nuclear family with a man working ~40 hours a week and a woman staying at home to do the unpaid work of raising kids, cooking, and cleaning, that means the total paid working hours of a family were 40, with a whole person to do the home stuff (and sometimes even with help doing that, if they hired someone — most likely a woman of color — to do or help with those tasks). That leaves free time for both people in question. Now, if you have two working parents working full time, or even one full time and one part time, they both have less time to do the work of cooking, cleaning, and child-rearing at home. Having one person be able to earn an income that allows for another parent to stay at home is a privilege afforded to far fewer families than was the case decades ago, when labor in the US had more power from unions, more domestic manufacturing, etc.

I think this has to have drastic implications for working people's physical health, their stress levels and their mental health, their sleep habits, their ability to be social beings who spend time with friends and community around them, affecting their ability to get involved in community organizing, to be an active citizen or an activist who is able to expend the time/effort to stay informed and engage in their local politics or in labor organizing... the list is neverending.

I was looking at the Bureau of Labor Statistics and they have lots of data that breaks this down by gender, race, age, whether the person in question has children and how old those children are, full-time work vs part-time work, etc. Obviously there have always been some women who worked outside the home, especially women of color, unmarried/single women, women in poor families. Those people and families have always had less time for both domestic work and for leisure.

But I think the big picture remains the same, that as women have drastically increased their labor force participation, which is a *good thing* that allows women to be more independent and live without being financially dependent on men, there is a total sum of free time that the working class has lost. And this ties in to an argument that I've seen a lot of people make, that the 40-hour workweek is tied to a standard that no longer exists and is too long, but idk how many people I've seen explicitly tie this to the ability to engage in labor organizing work.

I was thinking about it this week when the instructors at my union hall were talking to me and the other 1st-year apprentices about how we need to get involved because a lot of the guys involved in local labor clubs and stuff right now are getting older. And I was thinking. Are/were these older guys married? Did they have kids? Did their wives (my union is dominated by straight white men, there's like three queer women counting myself who are all apprentices, there are zero out gay men) work or stay at home? How are/were their households organized? What were their average work hours when they were employed? (So many young guys in my apprentice class *love* overtime. They want to work a ton of it, especially now, I think; they might want to work less as they get older/have kids, idk.)

Tl;dr I think we need a shorter workweek for a multitude of reasons, but a big one for me is to get more young folks engaged in organizing. But I don't know how many guys I could get to be interested in fighting for that, and I think even if I could, which is not at all guaranteed, we'd face a strong uphill battle against contractors who benefit from long working hours in construction in order to meet aggressive fast-paced deadlines.

[nct-lian]

people who have a crush on lian (outside of the group)

ERIC SOHN, THE BOYZ

duration: april 2020 — present

he actually developed a crush on her after he had watched the music video to her pre-release single, “stay tonight.” he thought she looked SO good and went on to talk about how much he loved that kind of concept on her for weeks on end.

eric obviously knew about her prior to his discovery of the song, having a member that’s been great friends with her for about a year.

he thinks that if kevin would stop hogging lian and actually let her interact with more of the members, he’d be able to “win her over” but according to kevin, she’s his best friend and his best friend only.

do fans know?: yes

fans of both the boyz and nct figured out that eric had a little bit of a crush on her after watching the english line’s episode of the k-pop daebak show with eric nam.

it was the section of which eric nam was reading out all the questions jacob, kevin and eric had sent in for each other, and one of kevin’s questions for eric was, “do you have a crush on my best friend?”

eric nam widened his eyes, “you have a best friend that he has a crush on?” he asked kevin, who was trying not to laugh hysterically at the question that had resurfaced. “he might,” kevin nodded.

“jacob, do you know who he’s talking about?” jacob nodded and suppressed his giggle by lifting the pillow he was hugging tightly to his chest and covering his face with it.

eric held a look on his face that screamed, “i’ve been personally victimized” as he shot his head back and forth between kevin and the other two older men in the room.

“i don’t have a crush on your best friend.. well- you know- like- maybe a celebrity crush.”

kevin cackled, “she’s not a celebrity-” eric nam laughed at that and shrugged his shoulders when eric turned to him for some help. “i don’t even know who’s he’s talking about, don’t look at me!”

“to you!” eric shot back at kevin, implying that he obviously wasn’t going to see her as a celebrity, given their best friend status.

jacob let him himself laugh, “eric, it’s okay, you make it so obvious sometimes.” he reassured his younger member.

eric stuttered over his words and kept shaking his head. “it’s a celebrity crush. no real feelings.” he stated.

the man across from him, again, shrugged his shoulders in confusion. “i still don’t know who we’re talking about?”

kevin apologized and clapped his hands together, “she’s actually schedules to come on this show.” he smiled and threw him a thumbs up. “is she really? oh, i think i know who it is, then.” eric nam made a face and looked at kevin and jacob, who both matched his expression.

then they all looked at eric, “why are you guys looking at me like that? okay, next question.” he smiled in attempt to change the topic. eric obeyed, feeling bad that they were sort of teasing him, while the two others just laughed.

current status: acquaintances (they met through kevin moon)

( FIRST MEETING ) lian had been waiting at the door of kevin’s dormitory for a minute too long, and no matter how many times she knocked, nobody would answer. they were supposed to be going on a walk in order to catch up before their weekly schedules. 

lian pulled out her phone and called kevin through facetime, him answering almost immediately. “kevin, why aren’t you answering? i’ve been knocking nonstop.” 

he rolled his eyes and told her to just come in and that he’ll be a minute because he can’t find any shoes that look good with his outfit. 

she hung up on him and walked inside, greeted with the sight of the boyz’s maknae on the couch. she stopped in her tracks and watched as he scrambled to his feet in panic. “s-sunbaenim, what are you doing here?” eric scratched the back of his neck.

“huh? oh! i’m just waiting for kevin to finish getting ready.” she smiled politely and looked at everything but him, finding the interior of their dorm rather interesting at that moment.

getting uncomfortable with the awkward atmosphere her and eric had created, she yelled out for kevin to hurry up. “moon hyungseo!” she called him by his korean name, knowing that he didn’t like it.

“don’t you dare call me that, bae haneul!” he shot back at her, stumbling out of his room while trying to put on his left shoe.

she chuckled, “hah, jokes on you, i actually like my korean name.” he stuck his tongue out at her, “okay idiot, let’s just go.”

he opened the door for her so she could walk out first, “uhh, bye eric.” lian waved at him with a tight smile before exiting the dorm, kevin following after her.

eric waited for the door to close before he returned her goodbye, giggling like a little schoolboy who’d just received a lolipop.

“she knows my name.” a bright smile replaced the awkward frown on his face.

crush percentage out of 100: 60%

BANG CHAN, STRAY KIDS

duration: unknown — present

chan can remember keeping up with smrookies while he was still a trainee, and he developed some sort of jealousy towards lian. he saw her grow as a person, not just an artist. 

he watched her debut first, he watched her transition from red velvet into nct, he watched her achieve his dreams before he could.

this jealousy overtime somehow turned into feelings, and he had no idea what kind of feelings they exactly were.

he hadn’t ever really experienced feelings like this before, and he was terrified to admit what he thought they were. eventually, chan opened up to someone and it was clear that he had a bit of a crush on her — and a big one.

chan began to update himself on smrookies daily, constantly wanting to know what she was up to and what her debut plans were, especially because of the sudden group change.

even now that they’re great friends, he’s always calling her to see what’s going on and if she needs help with anything.

do fans know?: definitely

no doubt do stays know about his feelings — he was bound to slip up once or twice while live streaming to them.

and that slip up just so happened to be while he was reacting to lian’s “play” music video. everything was going fine — bopping his head to the beat and humming calmly, but he couldn’t stop the blush from spreading onto his cheeks while watching her dance with another guy.

yeah, he was jealous, but that doesn’t mean stays had to know. he hysterically fanned his face, somewhat over exaggerating to play it off. “oh- woah- is the ac not working in here suddenly?” he playfully laughed at the camera facing him.

the song soon ended, and chan was back to reading all of the comments. he read some aloud, some in his head, but he accidentally let one slip through his lips.

“do you have a crush on neullie?” he nearly cursed when he realized the question he had just read to the entire live stream said what it said, allowing himself to sit back in his chair as he watched all the comments flood in.

“well, do you?” “CHAN OMFG-” “christopher bang..”

“guys, come on, of course i don’t.” the viewers definitely wanted to believe him; like, a lot, but they couldn’t.

the way he smiles whenever she was brought up in a conversation, how he looks so incredibly proud when talking about her — it would be a complete lie to believe otherwise.

current status: good friends

( FIRST MEETING ) changed out of the sparkly, sequinned dress she’d been wearing for the last couple of hours and now sitting in a pair of sweats and a zip up, lian couldn’t be happier.

finally out of the uncomfortably tall heels and being able to sit down on a cushy sofa while waiting to leave the venue, lian pulled out her phone to check notifications.

five minutes probably passed before her manager gave her the “okay” to start walking to the exit, the car already waiting for her outside.

leaving the dressing room, she saw taeyong, who decided to tag along with the driver (and taeil) so he could see her. “hey, oppa.” she greeted, grabbing onto his arm and leaning on his shoulder for support.

“did you have fun? were you able to see sunmi-sunbaenim today?” he patted her hand slowly. she nodded and made a noise in confirmation, way too tired to give an audible response.

taeyong chuckled as he made sure to keep her upright while getting closer to the exit.

meanwhile, bang chan was talking with felix a couple feet away. he felt bad watching as taeyong struggled to help lian balance herself on her, for sure, wobbly legs.

he saw how terrific she danced that night, completely dominating the stage with her powerful choreography and her clear vocals.

subtly walking in their direction, he put his hand out the minute taeyong’s arm wasn’t able to hold her up anymore. lian looked like she was sleeping at that point.

chan gracefully caught her in his arms, taeyong apologizing and taking her back into his own. “i’m so sorry-” he bowed.

“no, no, it’s okay. she must be tired- uh- would you like some help?” chan offered a helping hand, but taeyong was sure he had other duties to attend to, being the leader of his group and all.

“no! please, i got it from here. thank you for catching her, though, you have no idea what yuta would have done to me if something happened- uh, i’m getting ahead of myself. have a good night.” he noticed how he began rambling on, but chan paid no mind to it.

laughing and keeping the air light, chan nodded his head and bowed, about to walk away after wishing him a safe trip back to the dorms; but that was when lian decided to wake up from her slumber.

“huh?” she looked at taeyong cluelessly, but chan caught her eye. it was then that she noticed johnny’s grey zip up was halfway down her arms, spaghetti strapped tank top (pretty revealing) on full display.

she hastily pulled the sleeves up and looked at chan awkwardly, bowing to him and proceeding to ask taeyong if they were going home.

taeyong nodded his head and put a hand on her shoulder, “yeah, the car is waiting outside. taeil’s in the backseat with your pillow.” he smiled.

lian’s smiled back with a toothy grin, clapping her hands excitedly as she now knew she would be able to sleep on the way home. again realizing chan was watching, she looked back to him.

“it was nice meeting you!” lian waved her hand at him, grabbing onto taeyong’s arm and gently dragging him towards the door leading outside. he complied, but not without shouting yet another “thank you!” to chan, who was still standing in the same spot.

crush percentage out of 100: 90%

CHOI SOOBIN, TOMORROW X TOGETHER

duration: october 2018 — present

soobin was really able to learn more about the different variety of idols in the industry when he first joined bighit, and that surely included lian. he admired her so much; she became one of the people he looked up to most.

she was the only female member in a group that included eighteen other men, how could he not immediately think the highest of her after finding that out?

he would keep up with her scheduling and make sure to listen in on her radio show appearances so he could stay updated. he even bought all of her solo albums so he could put her photocard in the back of his phone case!

do fans know?: yes

moas aren’t even able to count on their fingers the amount of times soobin has said lian was his ideal type or his #1 crush. like, the first couple appearances he had on camera post debut, her photocard was literally still in his phone case.

“moas are asking if you still have a crush on lian-sunbaenim.” yeonjun nodded his head towards soobin, the members of txt all sitting comfortably on the floor of a practice room.

soobin lightly brushed his hair out of his face as he nodded his head, “yeah, she’s gotten even prettier lately. have you see her new music video?” beomgyu nodded excitedly.

“it’s super good! the album is amazing, as well.” he beamed at the phone that was filming them and clapped his hands.

“yah, don’t get too excited; soobinnie will get jealous~” yeonjun teased. soobin playfully hit his hyung on the shoulder and told him to be less embarrassing, a small blush now resting on his dimpled cheeks.

hueningkai and taehyun both laughed at their leader, agreeing that lian has certainly gotten prettier, if that was even possible. the topic was soon over as they began talking about something else, but moas definitely added that into their list of “soobin fanboying over lian” moments.

look forward to the fifteen million new youtube videos about it!

current status: acquaintances, idol x fan

( FIRST MEETING ) soobin almost jumped straight out of his seat when he noticed the goddess herself, lian, walk into the section him and his group were currently in. he watched her bow to the members of itzy before sitting next to them and placing a fluffy blanket onto her lap.

she had just finished performing, and he was still shaking at how perfect it was played out; the sparkly outfits, the amazing choreography, her powerful vocals yet again never disappointed.

the curfew for underage idols now being hit, soobin and yeonjun both bid goodbye to their younger members as lian, yeji and lia did the same for ryujin, chaeryeong and yuna.

the three girls sitting in front of their section soon ran out of things to talk about while waiting for bts to perform their stage, a comforting silence falling upon them. lian allowed her eyes to wonder around her surroundings and ended up unconsciously turning around and staring right at the two members of txt that were left.

yeonjun seemed to have paid no mind to her lingering gaze, but soobin on the other hand could have sworn his heart dropped out of his ass at that very moment. lian, now shaken out of her thoughts, noticed how creepy she probably looked.

bowing in apology, she quickly turned around to talk with lia once again in order to distract herself from the embarrassment that was currently enveloping her whole.

once he knew lian was too invested in her conversation to notice his quiet squeal, he excitedly began bouncing his legs up and down on the cold floor and repeatedly hit yeonjun’s arm.

“huh, what? what’s wrong?” confusion took over his face, wondering why soobin was practically having a heart attack next to him.

“hyung- she looked at me! right at my face! lianna bae looked at me!” yeonjun couldn’t help but scoff at how incredibly excited soobin seemed to be at such a little thing, but it was cute.

crush percentage out of 100: 78%

KIM TAEHYUNG, BANGTAN SONYEONDAN

duration: somewhere in 2019 — present

taehyung has seen lian here and there whenever he browsed twitter on his secret account, and he’s definitely noticed the constant shipping and dating rumours that went on between their fandoms.

the fanwars, the manips — they’ve all been seen by him at some point in time; but he has to admit that from the manips he’s been able to get a good look at, him and lian would actually make a pretty nice looking couple.

but you didn’t hear that from him tf :)

do fans know?: kind of

the calming beat of lian’s “my friend” played in the background of taehyung’s vlive, the viewers all watching him eat peacefully and answer some of their questions.

“are you a fan of lian?” taehyung slowly read out the question as he tried to slurp some of his soup up at the same time. “yes, i like her music a lot..” he trailed off, once again focusing on finishing his soup.

he ate his last spoonful shortly after, continuing his sentence, “i noticed she likes to experiment a lot.. it’s admirable.” he smiled fondly and switched to another song on his playlist after “my friend” ended.

“uh, she’s also really pretty; she fits my ideal type well.” he allowed himself to giggle, somewhat playing it off so the atmosphere on the stream stayed comfortable.

the topic of lian never reappeared that night, fortunately for him, but when he was chaotically woken up the next morning by jungkook, he saw at least five headlines about how he admitted to having a crush on lian.

current status: friends (?)

( FIRST MEETING ) venturing off and losing his members during isac was never taehyung’s intention, but he was able to see some of his friends, so it wasn’t exactly a bad thing. he met a few idols and befriended them, trading phone numbers with a couple new people before heading off to regroup with his six roommates.

on his way there, however, a girl with green sweatpants and a white long sleeved t-shirt caught his eye. he recognized her as nct’s only female member, who was currently running around with seulgi of red velvet.

if he was being completely honest with himself, he’d love to join in on the fun they looked like they were having, but he instead continued on with his journey towards bts. even after a couple minutes of searching around the large stadium he was still unable to find his members.

eventually giving up on his mission, he just decided to back to wherever he last saw some entertainment. he found himself now engaged in a conversation with johnny suh, looking back at lian every now and then to see if she’s gone anywhere.

after a little while, johnny seemed to have caught on, “why are you staring at lian?” taehyung jumped at the question, shrugging his shoulders awkwardly and turning to fully look at the older male beside him.

“uh, i can ask her to come over here if you want. i’ll be a wingman,” johnny winked playfully at the fellow idol, and went over to grab lian before taehyung was able to give a solid answer.

“hey, lian, taeyong wants to talk to you.” he grabbed her hand, and began to drag her towards the bts member, who was literally shitting his pants. seulgi on the other hand, was following the two to wherever lian needed to be, not quite ready to leave.

“noona, go away.” johnny lightly pushed seulgi away from lian, being a shot an “i’m incredibly offended, you’re dead to me” look as as she stomped away from them and over to joy and wendy.

lian silently followed johnny to where “taeyong” was but instead she was met with the face of kim taehyung. she looked back up at johnny with confusion written all over her features, but he shrugged his shoulders and walked away as well.

now, they were just standing there awkwardly looking at each other with nothing to say. “uh, hi, you’re not taeyong.” lian laughed to break the ice, taehyung following shortly after. “yeah, i don’t know what he was trying to do here.” lian nodded in agreement.

lian suddenly became aware of all the fans in the audience and the numerous amounts of fansites that probably had their cameras facing directly at her.

she was able to wrap up her conversation with taehyung pretty quickly, making a mental note in her head of the phone number he’d given her so they could talk later.

once taehyung walked away as he’d finally caught sight of yoongi, lian stomped over to the member of nct 127 and roughly pushed johnny into jungwoo, but he was far too strong to be toppled over like she wanted.

“you idiot, why would you do that? that was so awkward, i hate you and i’m not cooking for you ever again.” johnny simply laughed and ruffled her hair, turning back to hyuck, who was also laughing at her.

she huffed as she was engulfed into a hug by yuta, who almost immediately asked what the hell they were talking about over there.

crush percentage out of 100: 40%

[dreadpoetssociety]

I Just Want My Brother

TW: Kidnapping, Abuse, Death, Drugs, Mentions of blood. 

Prompt: hi! i loved ur reid x sis!reader!! i was wondering if u could do one with reid x teen sis!reader and maybe she was a witness to something or got kidnapped and survived or something so they have to give her a cognitive interview and she refuses to do it unless spence is there or the one asking her the questions

Note: I really liked this request. I feel like I may have gotten off topic a littttttttle bit, but I tried my best! Also, sorry for any grammatical mistakes! 

()()()()()()

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 3589

You were never really one to defy your elder brother’s rules, given how lenient he was with you, but it was supposed to just be one fun night out with your friends. The night scene that your friends adored was never really your cup of tea due to the horror stories Spencer would come home with. Girls getting kidnapped going on a run, girls being drugged and killed at a party, girls just going missing off the streets never to be found until it was too late, things like that. After a while, he slowly stopped giving you the gory details when he’d noticed the actual effect it had on your own life, whether or not you chose to acknowledge that when begging him to tell you more, but not knowing what was out there did scare you. Especially after stealing one of Spence’s files and looking at the photos that it held.

But, you were feeling daring on this particular night. Your friends finally convinced you to sneak out of the house. Spencer wouldn’t be back from his current job until morning, and even if you did get caught, you were generally a good kid. You bent the rules from time to time, but most high-schoolers you knew were sneaking out regularly, skipping class, doing hard drugs and even getting arrested from time to time. How bad could you be? At least, that was the reasoning your friends put into your head.

So, you thought hey, if you ever have kids, mind as well at least have one cool story to tell them. You didn’t even bother to go through the apartment window, you just walked out the door and met your friends out on the street. It was nearly midnight, but the night had just begun. 

It was hours of going to this person’s house and that person’s apartment, stopping by a random party and making noise in the streets, until finally, your friends made it to a bar. 

“You know,” you laughed a little anxiously, “maybe we shouldn’t. I mean I don’t even have a way of getting in there.”

“Y/N, chill. I know your brother freaks you into obeying the rules, but those things he sees have like a .0001% of actually happening. Like what are the chances really?” your friend, Elliot, smiled at you. 

“Actually, about one out of 300,000 people get kidnapped, which doesn’t seem like a lot, but the actual percentage is-“

“Y/N, we’re fine! Kids do this all the time. Plus, I already paid that Barry kid to make you a fake. Consider it an early birthday gift.” your other friend, Sheila, pulled out her purse and passed you the piece of plastic. Although incredibly concerned, you were impressed by how realistic it was. You sighed. 

“Fine, you’re right.” you laughed, “But there’s no way I’m convincing that bouncer that I’m 21.”

“Confidence is key. Just stroll past him like you know what you’re doing. If you look nervous they’ll know. I swear, Y/N, those dudes can smell fear.” Elliot laughed. The three of you made your way to said club entrance, and although the bouncer did seem suspicious of you, he just let you in anyway. 

The club was loud, there was a band on stage and lasers going throughout the room. Alice and Elliot didn’t hesitate to drag you to the bar first. You’d drank a little before, but you’d never gotten buzzed, let alone completely drunk. It wasn’t really your style, and thankfully, Elliot and Alice respected that. They pressured you to do a lot of things, but not anything like drugs or alcohol. They merely pushed you out of your comfort zone sometimes, and irregardless of whether or not the adults around you thought they were a good influence didn’t matter to you. 

“We’re going to go dance, but we’ll be nearby if you don’t want to join us! Just make sure not to go too far alone, Y/N” Alice stated, knowing you would absolutely not agree to dance with them. You smiled and nodded and the two went off to do their thing within your sight. 

“What can I get you, young lady?” the man at the bar caught you off guard. 

“Oh, uh, maybe just a glass of water?”

“Ah, designated driver I presume?” he laughed.

“Yeah, something like that.” you replied, “Someone’s gotta keep an eye on those two.” you nudged your head towards your two friends who were living it up with some other people in the crowd who you think might’ve been your age, too. You were sort of surprised at how easy it was to get into this club, considering so many of your peers get thrown out of it or get caught. 

The man passed you the water and walked off almost a bit angrily. Understandably, though, because water is free.  You made a note to leave the man a tip later anyway. It was the least you could do. You played with the straw, took a few sips, and watched as your friends danced the night away. 

After a while, though, you began to feel off. Dizzy even, and you couldn’t think clearly. It was a hot summer night in a hot crowded club, the one cup of water you drank all day was right in front of you, so you figured it was the heat. You decided to take a quick trip outside to try and catch some air.

It was when you left the club that it really hit you. The world was turning, and you were barely able to stay awake. 

The club was located in an area that wasn’t super lit other than the one club sign. The bouncers must’ve been in the midst of switching shifts because there wasn’t one outside. 

“Hey young lady, you okay?” a man’s voice was all you could make out of him. You could see him, but you couldn’t, and it didn’t make sense. Someone grabbed you and the world went dark.

()()()()()()

You woke up slowly. You didn’t recognize your surroundings, the walls were concrete and disgusting. The room reeked of something. 

You tried to stand, but something was holding you to the floor. Having looked down, you noticed sort chains attached to both wrists. Your heart sped up, but you didn’t scream.

How the hell. . . you thought. How did they get me here? 

The last thing you could really remember was the water. What was in the water? It was too slow to be ketamine, too fast to be rohypnol. You wondered. Oh my god, gamma hydroxybutyric acid. Or cherry meth. 

You heard someone make a noise and instantly forgot about the debate in your head. Being able to think more clearly, and your eyesight less blurred, you began to take in your surroundings. There were windows in two two of the walls without glass. Taking a look, you noticed three other women in you line of sight. One in the room with you, who was starting to wake up, and two through the left and right windows. Straight ahead was a doorway that showed a room with a table on in the middle.

It was then that you really began to understand what was happening. The exact thing you were afraid of this whole time. Your breath sped up, your heart was nearly coming out of your body, your blood ran cold. 

“Hey,” the girl was awake now, “I’m Charlotte.” you looked at her wide eyed. Here you two were, chained against a wall, she was bruised and bloodied up and down, and she decided that it was appropriate to introduce herself? 

“What’s happening?” you didn’t even think to reply back to her. She could be anyone. She could be the person who took you, acting as your friend. Your paranoid mind raced through multiple scenarios.

“Look, you’ll be fine as long as you listen.”

“Listen? Listen to what? To who? Who took us? What are they-“ 

“You need to calm down.” she whispered, “If they hear you they’ll come. They haven’t been so nice to the noisy ones.”

If anything anybody had never shut you up before, that certainly did. You could feel the fear in every nerve of your body. he other girls around you faced the floor. One was in a party dress, the other in a pan suit. Looking at them, the girls had nothing in common. One had dark hair, the other had her hair dyed a faded blue, and the last was blonde, each with a different eye color and skin tone. You tried your best to think like your brother, but you couldn’t. Unlike him, you weren’t a genius, you were just average.

You heard a door creek open and all the girls instantly looked up. Through the doorway of your room, you saw a masked man walk in. You could almost hear the other girls’ hearts pumping. You watched in terror as he began to step towards you. When he got into the room, though, he turned towards Charlotte, and began unchaining her.

“No, please!” she cried, “Please, I’m sorry.”

“Shut up.” 

Charlotte went quiet. He aggressively picked her up by her arm and dragged her to the table, of which he pinned her down onto and began to strap her in. It wasn’t long before he opened a cabinet out of your view, and pulled out various rusty tools.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you asked. You didn’t even think out what you were doing. What the hell do you think YOU’RE doing, Y/N? you thought to yourself. Unconsciously, you knew that you can’t profile this guy like Spencer could, you couldn’t talk your way out of this, but you could protect the girls around you. How? By pissing him off. 

“Don’t speak, woman.” he growled.

“What are you going to do about it? Kill me?” he slammed a knife-like tool straight down into the table a millimeter next to Charlotte’s abdomen, “What? Did I hurt your masculinity, big boy?” 

He unstrapped her quickly. You figured what was coming for you next, and it wasn’t long before you were on that table. The leather restraints were on way too tight, there were splinters in your back already from the poorly sanded wooden table, which you figured was on purpose. And all you could do was watch, and scream, as this man did whatever he wanted to you. hitting you, cutting you, seemingly testing out tools you’d never even seen before. The camera on the ceiling told you that he was recording this all to watch later.

And all you could do was scream out your brother’s name.

()()()()()()

You didn’t know how long you were there. Hours, days, weeks, you had no idea. Time didn’t exist down there. Ever since your first encounter with the man, you tried to deter him from the other women around you any time he came around. And fortunately for them but not for you, it worked.

All of the pain and screaming left you numb, but it wasn’t until you saw him get angrier with one of the other girls that you weren’t able to comprehend your situation anymore.

She hadn’t been doing well, the one in the party dress. The color in her skin was drained, making her paler, her eyes sunk. And you watched as the man pulled a knife from his pocket, and stuck it right through her heart. The screams from you and the girls flooded the room, and it was like the air in the building was being sucked out. 

You would never forget it.

()()()()()()

You were asleep when suddenly you heard the door open again and your body began to shake. But it wasn’t the man who came in.

“Reid! I got her!” the sound of Morgan’s voice echoed in your ears. Spencer burst into the room, and while Morgan Prentiss, JJ, and Rossi tended to the other three girls, Reid and Hotch came straight to you.

“Y/N? Oh my god, Y/N, you’re going to be okay. We’re going to get you out of here.” Spencer panicked as he tugged at the chains, “Come on!” 

“Y/N, do you know where the unsub went?” Hotch asked. You looked at him, you understood his words, but all you could manage to say was,

“Liquid cherry.” 

“Y/N?”

“No, cherry E.” you were so distorted, either from the pain, or from the shock.

“Y/N I don’t understand.” Hotch said.

“Liquid cherry?” Reid repeated, “Y/N, do you mean Liquid E?” you nodded.

“Cherry meth.” Hotch confirmed. You don’t even know why you brought it up. It wasn’t important, and although that’s what the man used on you, it wasn’t even relevant at this point.

The rest was a blur. Being free had a different meaning to it for you then. But yet, you were brought into an interrogation room after the ambulance had deemed that you didn’t have any truly hospitalizing injuries, just horrible bruises along with scars that would probably never fade away. You looked down at the table.

Emily Prentiss and JJ sat on the other end of the table. 

“Y/N, we know you’ve been through something traumatic, but that man is still out there. The other two girls aren’t conscious, and you’re the only one who knows what he looks like.” Prentiss explained, “You might not remember, but we if you’re able, we want to do a cognitive interview with you. It might help you remember details you didn’t know you picked up on.” 

“I don’t want to be here alone.” you whispered. JJ sighed sadly for you, “I don’t want to do it unless it’s Spencer.”

“I know, Y/N, but your brother is personally involved now. He can’t work on this case.” she said. In your heart you knew why, and you understood completely. But your mind just didn’t follow, and you shook your head. You looked up, and the color of the room and placement of the mirror seemed to eerily familiar, and the scene switched.

There you were, back on that concrete floor, screaming out for Spencer. All you wanted was for your brother to come save you. You saw the man walking towards you. You screamed louder as he got closer.

You felt someones hands on your shoulders and the scene had changed again. You were breathing heavily, the interrogation chair was on its back, and you were in the corner of the room. Emily and JJ were crouched with concerning eyes in front of you.

“Y/N? It’s us.” 

“I can’t do it.” you sobbed, “Not without him. I won’t.”

Emily and JJ looked at each other and nodded. Emily walked out of the room while JJ sat on the floor with you.

“You’re safe now.”

“He’s still out there he’s not going to stop.” you whispered, “I just want my brother. I just want Spencer.”

She held you tight.

“We won’t let anything happen to you. Spence won’t let anything happen to you.” she reassured. 

It wasn’t long after that Spencer finally entered the room and signaled that it was okay for JJ to leave.

“Y/N,” his voice was soft, and you instantly felt safer in the presence of your brother, “are you sure you can do this?” you nodded in response. As much as it terrified you, you didn’t want that monster hurting any other girls. He was still out there somewhere. Spence helped you up and fixed your chair. You sat across from each other.

“Y/N, I need you to close your eyes.” he said. You did so, “Now think. What’s the weather like before you met the unsub? Was it cloudy, light, dark?”

“It was night. The sky was so clear.” you replied, imagining the time in your mind.

“You’re going out. Who are you with?” he asked.

“Alice and Elliot. Spencer, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have broken the rules.” you cried. Spencer hadn’t even considered the thought of you sneaking out until now, but had decided that it was a talk for another time, if he thought you’d ever be able to handle it.

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N. I’m just glad you’re safe.” he said. With your eyes closed, you couldn’t see the tears pricking your brother’s eyes. He’d seen many tragic things, done some of the most gruesome cognitive interviews, seen the most disgusting and vile actions done by the most heartless of monsters, but none of that beat this. His own sister. He’d watched the tapes that the man had recorded , and his heart sunk every time you screamed out his name, but his anger grew just as much, “Where did you guys go right before you met the unsub?”

“The club on 16th street.” you stated, seeing yourself and your friends right outside the doors, “Alice and Elliot convinced me to go in.”

“What are you doing in there?”

“Alice and Elliot went to dance. I don’t like dancing, so they stay near me while I sit at the bar?” you realized that you talked as if you were presently there.

“Who is around you? Anyone you recognize?” he asked.

“No, I’m alone with the bartender.”

“Is he talking to you?” Spencer questioned. It was then that you recognized something.

“What can I get you, YOUNG LADY?” the bartender’s voice echoed in your mind, and aligned with the man who asked if you were okay outside before you were taken. You realized that the size and stature of the man who had tortured you matched with the bartender. You gasped and opened your eyes quickly. You were visibly distraught, so Spencer grabbed your hand in a quick attempt to comfort you.

“Y/N, are you okay? If it’s too much we can-“

“The bartender, Spencer.” you huffed out, “He said something to me and spoke to me outside after I was drugged.”

“Do you know what he looks like? Or his name?” he asked. Your thoughts were so fragmented now that you couldn’t remember, and a few tears slipped down your face as shook your head, “Do you want to try to keep going? You don’t have to Y/N I don’t want to put you through this again.”

“No!” you yelled, “No, it’s okay. It’s important. I can do this as long as you’re here.” He smiled slightly at how much you trusted him, but it quickly faded.

“The bartender,” he started, “He’s talking with you, what’s he saying?”

“He asks me if I want a drink. Calls me ‘young lady.’” you replied, as you saw yourself seated at the bar. The man just looked like a blur to you, and you tried so hard to remember him.

“What’s around him?” Spencer asked. 

“Well drinks, obviously. Alcohol.” 

“What kind?”

“He’s got all kinds of fancy bottles. Jim Beam, Captain Morgan, Patron, Bacardi,” you paused, “The Smirnoff is the same color as his shirt. A red shirt as a bartender. He stands out in an odd way.”

“His shirt, is he wearing anything? A name tag?” 

“He has a lanyard. It’s got pins on it and a picture with his-“ you see his name in big black letters on the end of the lanyard, “Andrew Vaughn. The drug is started to hit me now Spencer I-“

“Hey,” his voice was soft as he quickly got up and hugged you, “you’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

“I’m so sorry!” you sobbed into his shirt, grabbing onto him. He put his head on yours.

“It’s not you’re fault Y/N. You’ve been through something traumatic, you can’t be sorry for it.” he said.

“If I hadn’t gone out like you told me, Spence! And those other girls. The one in the party dress! I watched her die! He just stabbed her and she bled out in agony, Spencer!” you nearly yelled. You almost couldn’t breathe, and your face was wet with the tears.

Spencer’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. Reid knew some what of what you were going through. He reminded himself of what it was like when Tobias Hankel, and tried to think of how he wanted people to treat him then when he was freed, and how long it took for him to be okay again. He never really was, and he was afraid that you would never be able to feel safe again, but understood why you wouldn’t. He just wanted to take care of you, and blamed himself for not being there.

Within the next few hours, Hotch had refused to let a very angry Spencer go with the team to the unsub’s house. The BAU, although, successfully brought your kidnapper into custody.

“You don’t have to worry now, Y/N” Morgan said to you, “We’re gonna make sure he never sees the light of day again. He’ll live the rest of his life behind those bars.” 

“Yeah.” was all you managed to say with the slightest smile as you walked through whatever precinct you were in. 

“Y/N, Garcia told me to tell you that if you ever need anything, she’s here. I think the same goes for the rest of us.” Rossi explained.

“Thanks. I owe you all everything.” you said.

“Let’s get you home.” Spencer put his hand on your shoulder, careful not to touch any of your injuries, and the two of you walked out together.

You would never be the same after that, but at least you had your brother by your side.