#calls me with the express purpose of going to sleep on the phone together and like this isn’t new or anything we r veterans of long distance

[we-return-in-waves]

not to be gross on main but i lov my partner 😩

[selfishdoll]

LITTLE MISS PERFECT FT. EREN YEAGER ୨୧ ｡ ⟡

⠀ ⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 it was just your luck that a coworker you simply couldn’t stand figured out your side gig as a bottle girl.

❛content warning(s)...❜ ━━ ooc eren (this is my first time writing for him) | reader & eren argue but it’s really unresolved sexual tension | eren is a tease | they are both 21+ | porn with minimal amounts of plot | pet names (mama, pretty, sweetheart, etc) | reader calls eren a stalker | semi-public sex | buzzed(?) sex | ass slapping | eren likes eye contact | service dom (?) eren | he has shoulder length hair | orgasm denial (like twice) | throat holding | etc. if i forgot something let me know.

❛author’s note...❜ ━━ i’ve never written for eren before so don’t clown me yall— also i know little about bottle girls so also don’t clown me, i just like the way they look.

You were delicate and careful, assuring the oddly shaped makeup tool was setting the makeup perfectly. You couldn’t afford to mess up or restart your routine— you were already three minutes behind schedule.

“Damn you Yeager..” You mumbled to yourself, glossed and lined lips pulled into a subtle frown. Why exactly were you forced to work with him? With that.. absolutely annoying man child? His temper was too much for you at times, and the way he just loved questioning just about everything— God, some days you believed your supervisor purposely set you two to work together.

So it was no surprise you two got into an usual spout; for what, you can’t even remember. You simply remember your gaze fixated on his — dare you say — handsome features, absolute venom escaping your plump lips. Words faltering every single time you saw his own jade colored gaze fall to your lips.

You could not stand Eren Yeager no matter how much he made you weak at the knees.

You tossed the tool to the side, rising from your vanity whilst grabbing the bottle of setting spray. Closing your eyes, you quickly sprayed your beat face, assuring to get every inch. Having it run in the middle of your shift was something you wanted to avoid.

You slammed the bottle down once you were done, stepping back and glancing at yourself in the mirror. French white nails carefully plucked the curls of your burgundy colored lace, nodding at the way they fell so pleasantly around your features. The second thing to critique was your outfit; a mesh sleeveless romper that had several splits between your cleavage and was just dark enough it covered your bottom half. Your eyes traced yourself for a split moment, finally nodded once satisfied.

Grabbing your bag, phone, and keys— you rushed out of your apartment after locking the door.

You reached the night club you work at about ten minutes late, your close friend luckily getting most things ready before your arrival. Once arriving you cleaned up your sections, assuring the tables were spotless and booths were in proper order. Finishing that task you moved towards the locker room to touch up yourself, spritzing your body with a sweet perfume whilst your friend separated your curls.

“You and that Eren guy should just fuck and get it over with.”

You scoffed at her words, placing your perfume away; going for your lipgloss next. “I’d rather chew on glass.” You murmured softly, gliding the stick substance across your two-toned lips. Fuck Eren? He was easy on the eyes, sure— but not easy anywhere else. As said before, you couldn’t stand him. And you highly doubt you would stand him enough to sleep with him.

You heard your friend sigh, releasing your hair to walk around and face you. “I don’t know.. it just sounds like unresolved tension or something— ya know?” Her lips curled at the deadpanned expression that crossed your features, gaze watching you hurriedly place your things away.

“C‘mon our sections may be filling up.”

“Don’t ignore me, [Name]!”

The night continued as pure usual, you lifting large bottles of alcohol ranging from Hennessy to Pink Whitney and much more; over to your booths, flashing forced smiles and moving your hips to the beat of the music. The multicolored lights reflected off your sun-kissed highlighting each feature you had.

At certain tables a customer would get up and dance with you and the other girls; causing your smile to worsen but otherwise continue the service with no issues.

That was how your shift as a bottle girl was supposed to go. No issues, just simple adult fun.

Until you reached a certain table.

You walked over as pure usual, pearly whites on display account of the glossed smile stretching your features. Sauntering over with a notepad, you gave your usual winning pitch; attempting to persuade the customers to buy the most expensive alcohol to assure the best experience — usual customer service nonsense.

Except as your eyes cased the table surrounded by men, your gaze settled upon a certain one. One whose own gaze was fixated onto you. A rather, familiar gaze.

“Ma’am?”

You cleared your throat, eyes blinking over to a man with light ash-brown hair. “Ye—yes, have you decided what you wanted to order?” You questioned, smile becoming even more forceful the moment you noticed a smirk from your peripherals. You barely registered the order that escaped his lips, scribbling upon your notepad quickly whilst the other men chimed in with their own requests.

“Okay, I’ll be right back!” You spoke, spinning on your heels and basically rushing towards the bar. You stood behind it, eyes tracing the many bottles lining the case. It took a moment to find what you were looking for, stepping back a bit before a small ah fell from your lips, approaching a case. You pulled the large bottle of Gin from its rightful place, turning and jumping the minute your focused gaze landed on someone else’s.

“Hey [Name]..” Was the cool words that escaped Eren fucking Yeager, lips curled into the most subtle grin. You took in a deep breath, placing the bottle down and turning to search for another.

“Sir, the whole point of a bottle girl service is I bring the drinks to you. You have no need to approach the bar.”

“There’s no rules stating I can’t though, right?”

You gritted your teeth a bit, noticing the clear amusement circling his tone. Grabbing a bottle of cream liquor you turned once again, placing it down with a little more force. “Eren, would you fuck off? Save your taunting for another time, i’m trying to work!”

The man tilted his head, strays from his messy bun intruding on his face. “I didn’t come over here to taunt, [Name]. I was just..” He trailed off for a moment, lips curling into an even more prominent grin. “Surprised little miss perfect had a job such as this. Didn’t seem like your style.”

You rolled your eyes a little, grabbing a few shot glasses and placing them on a tray. “Well, everyone has their side hustles..” You murmured softly, beginning to pour a few shots— grumbling the moment ring covered fingers lifted one. You settled the bottle down once you were finished, eyes focusing back to the man infront of you. “You gonna blab to the whole office you saw me working here?”

You weren’t ashamed to be a bottle girl, if anyone asked you were more than happy to share. However, that didn’t excuse the fact you enjoyed keeping your private life.. well, private. You could just imagine the annoyance it would be with such information circling your “normal” workplace.

“No.” Eren began slowly, lifting the glass to his lips and taking the shot. His tongue glided across his bottom lip after pulling the glass away, placing it back down on the tray. “I’d much rather keep you all to myself.” His eyes flicked between your eyes and lips, enjoying the perplexed expression that crossed your face.

Eren rose away from the bar with a soft hum shortly after. “See you at the table..” He dragged giving you one last look before stalking off towards his section.

Leaving you the perfect mixture of confused and heated.

The rest of the night continued without a hitch. Except his eyes followed your every move. From you walking over with the shots, hips rocking along to the harsh beats of the music blasting — to you dancing beside the other bottle girls.

You tried to ignore it all, tried to focus on anything but him. But, you found your eyes trailing over to his own constantly— spotting his pretty lips lift into a smile.

Suffice to say, you were a little distracted for the remainder of the night.

And several others down the line.

Your schedule was so you worked Friday-Sunday, taking up a shift once in a while as a favor. Either the man had guessed your schedule or he asked because every other Saturday Eren and his friends were seated at your section; his eyes never leaving your form the entire time.

The second time he came in you remarked it as a coincidence, but the fourth? Yeah, you were sure the man was messing with you. Especially since he acted so normal at work; still as combative, and still as annoying.

It was boggling, you constantly questioning Eren’s motives. It’s not like he ever got extremely drunk; settling for a shot or two. Was he really just here to watch you? To antagonize you? To approach the bar each time you walked off just to speak or compliment what you were wearing?

You sighed heavily the moment familiar footsteps followed you back to the bar, walking around the counter; thankful it placed distance between you and the man. “You’re starting to act like a stalker, Yeager.” You mumbled, grabbing a bottle of Hennessy. You heard the barstool squeak the moment he sat on it, turning to spot his ringer covered fingers tapping against the sleek marble.

“Gonna have the bouncer throw me out?” He questioned, green gaze looking at you through pretty lashes. The moment you turned away silently Eren was smiling, tongue gliding across his lips. “Guess not..”

You tried to ignore him, you really did; attempting to focus on your shaky hands pouring the usual seven glasses resting your tray— not even batting an eye when he grabbed one without asking.

“You look nice tonight..” Eren spoke lowly, eyes not so shamelessly tracing over the black attire you wore; a black leather skirt, with a mesh halter top, a silver necklace hanging accompanying the outfit.

You rolled your eyes a little, reaching for another bottle. “You say that every single time you see me.”

“And I mean it— every single time.” He countered, placing the now empty glass down.

You could only blink at the man for a moment, completely forgetting the drinks as a heat covered your entire body. Your eyes fell to the bar, lip caught between your teeth as the softest stammer escaped you; “Why do you keep coming here? To compliment and watch me? You don’t even get drunk like your friends do.”

The words settled in the air for a while, Eren silent— his eyes focused completely on you; an intense stare you avoided. Moments passed before the man spoke again;

“I’d much rather show you, why I keep coming here.”

His lips were hot against your own, body flush against you whilst pushing your back into the cool bathroom wall. Eren’s large hands remained on your waist, pulling you into him each time you attempted to back away. Why exactly? Because he was so overwhelming. His taste, tongue, smell— all of it muddling your brain far too quickly, rendering you into putty he could so easily play with.

You were finally able to pull back from the kiss, when he needed air, pants flowing from your lips; lipgloss a mess with your mixed salvia tainting your mouth. The hands on Eren’s shoulders gripped the cream colored longsleeve he wore the moment his lips pressed against your neck, breath quickening as he sucked a kiss into your skin.

The events leading up to now were a complete blur, Eren uttering such words and suddenly leading you into the woman’s bathroom; locking the door the second the two of you entered. After that well.. you found yourself against the wall by the sink, Eren’s hands situated on your form to assure you didn’t move an inch away.

Truthfully, you didn’t want to.

It seemed he got bored of your neck quickly, rising back up to steal your lips in another kiss. You moaned against his mouth the moment his fingers gripped your waist, switching you around to place you onto the counter. Your legs naturally opened, Eren taking this moment to step between them, smoothing his hand down to your exposed skin.

You pulled back, hands rising to his hair quickly to tug the moment he tried to go for another kiss. “Let me breathe, Eren— fuck..” You gasped out, watching a smirk pull his lips which were stained with your gloss.

“Then breathe.” He spoke, leaning close and pressing his forehead against your own. Despite his allowance, you couldn’t; feeling his hand travel between your legs, tracing your inner thigh for a moment before moving farther. Eren’s other hand moved to your lower back, keeping you in place while his thumb pressed against your thinly covered pussy, brushing at the wet spot slowly starting to form.

“Already a mess down here, huh?”

“Eren, quit it..” You drawled, legs gripping his waist the moment his thumb pushed to find your covered clit, rubbing the little bud the moment he did.

A soft chuckle flowed from his lips right into your ear, lips tracing the delicate shell just to feel you shiver. “Quit what? Quit touching you?.. quit talking?—“ Eren murmured, pushing your panties to the side, exposing your pretty cunt to his fingers. “Either one, you don’t want me to stop at anyway. Not with how fucking wet you are for me.” He spoke, fingers gliding up and down your slick slit whilst his thumb pressed harder against your little bud.

Your legs widened, trembled— hands gripping his shirt and moaning the moment two thick digits pushed inside your awaiting entrance. Your walls clenched around his fingers, gasping as they pushed in and out of you so easily. He was down to the knuckle, reaching far deeper then your own fingers. The squelches of your messy cunt was drowned out by your own sweet moans, head pressed against the mirror behind you whilst your hand fell to his forearm; feeling his muscles twitch with each thrust of his fingers.

Eren pulled back from your ear to instead plant his lips against yours again, pace quickening. His fingers pushed against the rough spot within you, gummy walls sucking his fingers in each time it dragged in and out of you.

Your moans were muffled, eyes pinched closed with a tight band forming in your lower stomach. You were shaking at this point; breaking the kiss to allow sharp whines to escape your swollen lips. Your pussy was spasming around his digits, hips rocking to meet each thrust.

Eren took in your form, sucking in a breath as he felt his cock strain against his pants. You were so fucking close; your walls greedily sucking him in, your plump stomach rolling with each arch— fuck, from just his fingers you were already in such a state.

He sucked his teeth a bit, withdrawing his fingers before you could even reach your peak. Your eyes flew open at this, shaky gaze focusing onto Eren.

“Eren why’d y—“ Eren came close, cutting off your words with a gentle hand on your throat and lifting you away from leaning on the mirror.

“Whining over nothing… you’ll come baby, just wait.” Eren spoke, hands falling to your thighs and pulling you towards the edge of the counter. Once there, he stepped back to push his boxers and pants down to his thighs; allowing his length to spring out.

He was nice and thick, long too— tip resting just below his belly button, adoring minimal hair. You weren’t given much time to gawk before he was coming close, hands falling to your hips and pressing the crown of his cock against your wet slit.

Slowly, he glided his length up and down your wetness; coating himself in your arousal. Each time his tip bumped against your clit you were twitching, white nails digging into his shoulders while your hips moved for more friction.

Finally after what seemed like hours but was nothing more then agonizing seconds, Eren was slowly pushing inside; groaning the moment your walls clenched around him.

“Relax mama..” He murmured, leaning down to kiss you. A hand then released your hip to travel between your legs, slowly circling your clit. You moaned against him, feeling him ease the rest of himself inside; a soft squelch emitting from the intrusion.

Eren pulled back from the kiss, eyes traveling to where the two of you were connected; sucking in a breath. “Taking me so damn well, pretty girl..” His grin grew the moment your walls clenched around him, eyes flicking to your face. “Oh— you like when I call you that, huh?” A snicker escaped him the moment your eyes traveled to the side, leaning to kiss your neck.

“So cute when you’re embarassed [Name].”

“Sh.. shut up Eren..—“ The words barely escaped you before said man was pulling his hips back, tip resting inside you before flicking them forward. Your hands grip tightened on his shirt, legs tightening as the experimental pumps turned into deep, quick thrusts.

Sputters of his name escaped you, head resting back as your body rocked with each unrelenting movement of his hips. You were squeezing him so damn tight, greedily sucking him in each time he pulled out. The breaths that escaped his mouth were hurried, fanning across your hot skin whilst his fingers dug into your plump form. You were stuck there, unable to run, to move; exposed to the pace he set— ruining you so perfectly.

Perfect.

That was the only thought in his mind as he green eyes took you in, watching your pretty lashes fluttering— struggling to keep your own eyes open. What’s more, little tears began to form, threatening to spill and ruin the makeup he’s sure you spent agonizing minutes on. The thought alone caused him to bury himself deeper, hands falling to the underside of your thighs and pushing you to lay on the counter.

“F—Fuck—!” You cried out, feeling him lift a leg to lay on his shoulder; drilling into you. His heavy length was brushing you in all the right spots, tip pushing against your cervix; the pain and pleasure molding into a single feeling. “E—eren..hah— shit, you’re too deep!” You whined out, tears spilling, causing black streaks to run down chubby cheeks.

Eren groaned softly, pushing to hover over your body whilst gripping the thigh pressed against his chest. “You want me to stop, baby? Huh? Want me to pull out?” The moment you shook your head he was grinning, pace never faltering, the slick mess between your thighs growing.

“Thought so..” Eren breathed, pulling back to kiss against your chubby thigh while his free hand moved to your stomach, pressing against it to feel each thrust. “Wanted this just as bad as I did, didn’t you? So fucking mean at work, yet here you are— whining and making a complete mess on my dick.”

You wanted to tell him to shut up. That he was wrong and much more. But you couldn’t, the man drilling into you with such precision the only legible words escaping your bruised lips were honeyed moans of his name and pleads to come.

Which Eren ate up completely, biting your skin just to feel you twitch— watch you gasp. Fuck, you were the prettiest sight; a complete mess for only his eyes.

Eren lowered to hover over your withering body, lips pressing against your chin. “Look at me, baby— lemme see you.” He breathed, attempting to keep your gaze. Instead you kept looking away, even closing your eyes and refusing to return his look.

That alone caused the man to suck his teeth, hips slowly before stopping completely; eliminating the bubble forming inside you.

Again, your high was ruined; eyes flying open to complain— a surprised yelp interrupting as he snatched you up and off the counter; pushing to turn you and lay you out— stomach down, ass up.

You wished to question this sudden position change, only for the answer to stand right infront of you. The fucking mirror. You attempted to glance away again, moaning the moment he grabbed a nice hold of your braids, pulling your head back to force you to look.

Eren leaned over you, speaking right into your ear whilst sliding back in; “Close your eyes again, I dare you.”

You whimpered at his words, gasping as his quick pace returned. You struggled to keep your eyes open with each thrust into your weakening body, nails clawing at the sleek counter whilst your moans bounced off the walls. You had long forgotten the remaining two hours of your shift, forgot about the many customers you were sure your friend was saddled with— you could only focus on Eren, his dick, his hot breath and dirty words being whispered into your ear.

You were being consumed completely, so easily— and you welcomed it fully.

The wet sounds of skin on skin contact acted as a background to the combined sounds you two released, Eren pulling back to watch himself push in and out of your wet pussy. Your ass bounced with each flick of his hips, rippling the moment his palm slammed against a cheek.

Eren grinned at the sharp whine that escaped you, pulling you right back on his dick the moment you tried to pull away. “Nah.. take it, mama. Don’t fucking run.” He huffed, gripping your hip and keeping you in place.

You felt your orgasm approaching quickly, tears treading down dried streaks as you watched yourself in the mirror. Your edges were curled, lips wet with both lip gloss and saliva, while your makeup began to run from the sheen of sweat tainting your skin. Even so, Eren still looked at you as if you were completely perfect, leaning down and whispering such right into your ear.

You gripped your hands into tight fists, crying out as you stared at him in the mirror, desperate pleas falling from your lies;

“S—so close.. fuck, fuck! Eren, please—!”

The whines were music to his ears, eyes threatening to roll back the moment he felt you fucking back; ass slapping against his body with each messy bounce. “Shit, [Name]..” He dragged, blunt nails digging into you plush skin as he drilled into you. “Come all over me, mama. Make me a mess— don’t fucking hold it.”

Eren hissed, mouth hanging open the moment he felt you clench around him tight; creaming all over his length. A drawn out swear escaped him, leaning down close whilst his hand rose to your throat. “That’s it baby, cream all over this dick.. So fucking filthy.”

You were pulled into a sloppy kiss, tongues playing and teeth colliding as he pushed himself deep inside; flooding you with his hot, thick come. Your toes curled at the feeling, walls spasming around his length as your combined arousals slipped to his balls and down to the ground beneath you.

As his hips slowed the kiss became more uniform, breathing into the other’s mouth, Eren sucking your wet muscle.

Moments passed before he pulled away, watching your form rest on the counter; rapid pants escaping you. A satisfied grin pulled his features, slowly pulling out with a soft hiss— watching his cum slowly flow out of you.

He had half a mind to push it back in.

Instead, Eren whistled lowly, hand falling to your ass and massaging where he previously slapped. “Tired sweetheart?” He questioned, eyes flicking to the mirror. He grinned at the expression that crossed your features, gripping your butt even more.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Come on, I’ll take you home.”

You slowly turned onto your back, ignoring the feeling between your legs and standing on shaky legs. You warmed as he came close, assisting you in pulling your clothes back on. “But my shift..” You dragged, gaze lifting to his face.

“It got covered.”

You blinked slowly, the pieces slowly coming together. “She was in on this, wasn’t she?”

Eren remained silent for a moment, pulling his pants up. Your gaze narrowed, reaching over to lightly slap his arm. “Eren!”

The man snorted, coming close and resting his hands onto your hips.

“You weren’t worried about it the moment you stepped in here. And you definitely won’t be when I get you home.. so come on.”

REBLOGS & COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED <3

[sassypossumm]

It Happened One Night: Tequila and Bourbon

(Part 1) (Part 2)

The alarm on your phone went off, shaking you out of a deep sleep. So, you flung it across the room.

Your head began pounding, and breathing seemed too loud. Groaning, you tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but the churning nausea rolling through your gut would not be ignored. Flinging the covers aside you staggered to your feet.

Funny, your slippers weren't where you'd left them. Before you could ponder that quandary further, your stomach roiled again, sending you running, or more likely dragging your half dead carcass to the bathroom. 

Lifting the toilet lid, you dropped to the ground and wretched into the bowl. And then again. Resting your cheek on the rim of the toilet bowl, you closed your eyes and hugged the porcelain like a lifeline. 

"I feel like an extra in the Walking Dead." You moaned to no one in particular. At that moment you didn't care if it wasn't 'socially acceptable to talk to yourself'. You felt like shit, and if you wanted to complain to yourself, by George, you jolly well would.

Again, your stomach churned, and you again wretched over the bowl. Your body was shaking at this point, and a few tears slid down your cheeks from the exertion. 

Unbeknownst to you, you hadn't been the only party in bed, and said party was just stirring awake. And suffice it to say, he didn't look much better than you.

Miguel rolled over, sprawling across the bed and raised his head when his fingers felt the warm spot that had clearly been occupied recently. With some effort, he pulled himself up and cradled his head in his hands. 

Usually, he could handle his alcohol, but not this morning. While his stomach wasn't roiling like yours, he did have a splitting headache, and the overwhelming need to take a piss. Peeling back the covers slowly, Miguel rolled out of the bed and stretched, moaning in relief when his back made an audible cracking sound. 

"Getting old, O'Hara." He muttered to himself, running a hand raggedly through his hair. Pulling on his t-shirt, Miguel shuffled to the bathroom, stretching out his arms and yawning loudly. He felt as shitty as you but considering that the last six months of his life had been one long shit fest, this had become the norm.

They hadn't called it retirement, when Jess and Peter had suggested he take a break. No, of course not. Just... a break. It was of little consequence to him, in his mind Miguel had been put out to pasture like so much cattle, and he resented it. So how did he express that resentment?

By scarfing down cold empanadas and watching whatever terrible Tela Novela was on television. Sometimes to mix things up, Lyla appeared sporadically with cheery little reminders that he had a back log of messages from Jess. Messages he was ignoring on purpose.  

Yawning yet again, Miguel stepped into the bathroom and dropped his boxers... only to be met with a piercing scream... which he returned with a startled cry of his own. 

The mating call of the idiots.

"You!" Both voices shouted in surprise. 

The events of the previous night... 

"You need to take a break man."

"What I'm hearing is that you're ousting me." Miguel had shot back.

"What? No!" Peter had tried to pat his shoulder, but Miguel was having none of it. Folding his arms, he glared at Peter and Jess.

"After everything I've done, I pulled this society together with my bare hands, not to mention I've kept the universes safe,"

"We've kept the spider verse safe. Miguel." Jess said pointedly, mirroring his stance, refusing to back down. "We took down Spot as a team, Miguel. We saved countless lives as a team. And you seem to have forgotten that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Miguel reeled back at her insinuations. Jess looked almost regretful as she glanced at Peter and back at him gravely.

It means you're not God, Miguel, and you need a break."

"You okay, man?" The bartender's words cut through his bitter recollections.  

"Why shouldn't I be, okay? I'm a free man." He bit out the last words and held the drink up to the light. "You try to be a good man, take care of everybody and what does it get you?" Narrowing his eyes, he downed the bourbon and placed the glass on the counter with a 'thud'. "Cucked. Apparently, it gets you cucked." The bar tender shook his head and left Miguel to his misery. 

If only you'd done the same. But like they say, misery loves company. 

"Mind if I sit here?" Without waiting for an answer, you plopped onto the stool next to Miguel, and took a sip of your tequila. 

"It's a free country." He muttered without looking at you. Shrugging you turned to flag down the bar tender. 

"Tequila, please, a whole bottle." He raised a brow at your still half full glass, and you gave him a tight smile. "Go big or go home, right?" The bar tender slowly returned your grin and reached behind the counter for a bottle. 

"Here you go." 

"Thank you, my good sir." Sliding a wad of bills, you'd won in a slot machine across the counter, you topped off your glass and glanced again at Miguel. "I see we seem to have the same mission tonight." 

"What?" He finally glanced at you, albeit through eyes that were growing glassy. You jutted your chin towards his half empty bottle of bourbon. 

"Getting swacked. Seems to be the theme of the night." Miguel shrugged and turned his attention back to his drink. "I've never actually gotten properly drunk before, figure," Shrugging, you take a drink straight from the bottle. "What the hay, break up with a shitty guy, might as well get wasted." You bit out the last words and took another swig.  

"Are you always this chatty when you drink?" He grumbled, turning again to glance at you and his eyes narrowed. "The shitty guy, he did that?" Miguel's voice took on a dangerous edge as he gestured to a deep purple bruise near your left eye. Humming, you shrugged nonchalantly and squinted to read the label on the bottle. 

"That's nothing, you should've seen the going away present I gave him." 

"What'd you do?" Miguel turned to face you, leaning against the bar, interest piqued. You chuckled darkly and took another swig. 

"Cuffed him in the jaw with a shovel." A twisted grin ghosted over your face before it fell, and you took another drink. "Hope he's not dead. The shit's not worth my time in prison." You grumbled. Alcohol made your tongue loose and lowered your inhibition, which was why you rarely drank. Miguel snorted and took another drink of his bourbon. Refilling the glass, he looked at you again, a healthy dose of respect in his eyes. 

Your eyes flit to the shot glass of tequila you'd abandoned. "Haste makes waste, or whatever it is they say." You muttered, downing the shot. By that point, you felt that warm hazy sensation overtaking your body, and whatever decision-making skills you possessed where swiftly being ignored in favor of instinct.

Taking note of the jukebox in the corner, your ears perked up as you recognized the song. Seven Spanish Angels. It'd been a favorite of your fathers. Miguel noticed the tears pricking at your eyes, and he raised a brow. 

"You, okay?" Wiping your nose with the back of your forearm, you shook your head and sniffed. 

"No. But who is, right?" He couldn't argue with that. "That is..." Squeezing your eyes shut, you swallowed hard. "Was my dad's favorite song." Miguel's eyes softened, and he topped off your shot glass with some of his bourbon. "Thanks." You smiled weakly at him. 

"Don't mention it." He said gruffly, refilling his own glass, emptying the bottle. You downed the shot and put the glass on the counter none too gently. "I'm not one to preach to the choir, but you might want to pace yourself." 

"I might not be Paul Bunyon, mister, but I can hold my liquor."  

"Paul Bunyon?" His lips quirked. "Am I supposed to know who that is?" You brushed off his snide tone and sighed heavily, gesticulating dramatically with your hand. 

"A giant lumber jack with a giant blue ox." 

"And I remind you of this, giant lumber jack?" Miguel said bemusedly, with a raised brow.  

"I'll bet you'd swing an ax, real pretty, mister." Giving him a sly once over, you leaned an elbow on the counter and propped your chin in your hand. Miguel felt a distinctive heat prickle across his neck, and he coughed.

That should've been the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. But with the subtle twang surfacing in your voice, and the almost hungry way you were staring at him, Miguel struggled to find it anything other than positively erotic.

"In case you were wondering," His breath stalled when you scooted closer and looked into his eyes with an exaggerated sense of gravitas. "I am objectifying you to a disgusting degree." A tingle slithered down his spine and curled around his tail bone, and he released a shuddering breath. 

Present Morning...

Getting your bearings, you dragged yourself to your feet and sat on the edge of the bathtub, head in your hands. 

"I have so many questions..." Glancing up you saw Miguel pacing, boxers still around his ankles. So, he wasn't so much pacing as he was waddling. There was so much to take in all at once, but you shook your head and shielded your eyes. Now isn't the time to be getting horny you idiot. You grumbled to yourself. "Please put that thing away."  

"Thing?" Miguel paused midstride and glanced down. Looking up, he noticed your attempts to block your vision and smirked. "You don't like what you see?" He said, propping his hands on his hips cockily, seemingly forgetting the circumstances at hand.  

"That's hardly the point right now!" You sputtered and groaned when a splitting pain shot through your skull. Miguel rolled his eyes and pulled up his boxers. 

"I'm not naked anymore." Tentatively you peeked between your fingers and dropped your hand, looking up at him. 

"You look like shit." The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. Miguel smirked. 

"You're not exactly sleeping beauty yourself." You felt your face flush, but you couldn't argue. It didn't take a mirror for you to know how you must look. Your stomach roiled again, and you flung yourself over the toilet bowl and wretched.

Miguel held back your hair. You shuddered violently and pulled back, wiping away tears and filmy residue. Miguel's eyes softened at your vulnerable state, and he helped you gently to your feet. 

"Thanks." You rasped. Miguel's brows furrowed, and he seemed to be studying you. Tilting your head back, your expression mirrored his own. "What, hey!" You squeaked in surprise when he hoisted you up by the waist and sat you on the counter by the sink. Without a second glance at you, he turned on the water and rifled through the drawers for a wash cloth. "What are you doing?" You watched him, curiosity piqued.

"Your face is disgusting." He said simply, lathering up the wash cloth he'd found. 

"Gee, thanks a lump." You muttered, folding your arms. 

"You know what I mean." He sighed and squeezed the excess water out of the soapy cloth. You reached to take the cloth, but he pulled it back and narrowed his eyes at you. "What do you think you're doing?" You blinked at him, confusedly. 

"Wash my face?"  

"I'll do it." 

"I'm perfectly capable of washing my own," 

"I said, I'll do it." He cut off your protest firmly, tilting your face up. You opened your mouth to protest, but at his glower, you closed your mouth. Satisfied, Miguel gently washed your face with the cloth. Up close, you had a chance to admire anew just how good looking he was. No, good looking was an understatement.

This man was the stuff of Michaelangelo's wet dreams. Oh, to be a sculptor. You thought, wryly, tracking the subtle twitch of his eyebrow and the way the muscles ticked in his jaw as he focused. His eyes locked on yours, and you glanced away, flushing. 

"You weren't this shy last night." Miguels lips twitched, but his tone remained neutral. And for some reason, that made it all the hotter. Your eyes flit to his momentarily, and at the shit eating grin that spread across his face, you huffed. 

"Asshole." You grumbled, folding your arms. Miguel simply grunted, good naturedly and rinsed the rag before wiping the soap off your face. "I don't remember very much about last night." You admitted when he finally pulled back, giving you breathing room again. 

"And I seem to remember even less." He said, tossing the cloth in the hamper. 

"I guess we both got pretty swacked last night." You groaned, rubbing your temples thoughtfully. "I don't even think I caught your name." You breathed, looking up at him slowly, shame flushing your face. Miguel folded his arms and leaned against the bathroom wall. 

"Miguel O'Hara." Were you not actively fighting to tamp down a rising waive of panic, the subtle accent that rolled off his tongue with the words would've had goose bumps prickling your skin. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sighed heavily. 

"All things considered, you're taking this really well, Miguel O'Hara." You glanced up to catch his shrugging his shoulders. 

"As you so eloquently put it, we got 'swacked', is it? And it seems evident to me that we hooked up." You were taken aback by his cool demeanor. 

"Oh, is that so evident to you, Mister Smarty Pants?" Narrowing your eyes, you jumped off the counter, and immediately stumbled. Miguel reached out and caught you before you fell. 

"Mujercita espinosa." He grumbled, wrapping an arm supportively around your waist. 

"I don't think I want to know what you just called me." You groused as he slowly led you back into the bedroom and gingerly helped you perch on the edge of the bed. Fighting through another wave of nausea, you placed your head between your knees and groaned. "Just let me die." You moaned loudly. 

"You might really want to when I tell you where we are..." Miguel sounded genuinely concerned. 

"Oh, yeah, why's that?" Opening your eyes, you turned your head and saw Miguel standing tensely by the window. Feeling the blood pounding in your head, you slowly sat up. "Might as well tell me what other piss poor decision we made last night, where are we?" Miguel glanced at you warily. "Miguel... where are we?" Narrowing your eyes, your tone grew firmer.

He sighed and pulled the curtain further aside, looking again out the window. In the next tense moment of silence, your eyes fell on a sheet of paper sticking out from under the lamp on the nightstand and reached for it curiously. 

As you read the paper, your heart dropped. You didn't need him to tell you where you were. A marriage license. With the proud country of Mexico stamped at the top. 

"I think I'm going to be sick..." You struggled to breath, and dropping the paper to the bed, you curled in on yourself and began hyperventilating. Crossing the room, he started to reach for you, but froze when his eyes landed on the paper. 

"Mierda." He muttered under his breath, as he scanned the writing. He recognized his handwriting, and the accompanying signature he attributed to you. At least he had a name to go with your face now. 

And a wife to go along with it, cabrón."  He thought bitterly, dropping the paper on the nightstand. Tempted to give in to his familiar spiral of self-loathing, but paused when he looked down at you. You'd curled up like an armadillo and were shaking like a leaf.

His heart crumpled at the sight. He couldn't be selfish, you clearly needed him to be the stable one right now. Running a hand through his hair, he took a ragged breath and sat heavily next to you. 

"Hey." He rested a hand in the center of your back, causing you to tense. After several minutes of his soothing strokes up and down your back, you started to uncurl yourself. "You, okay?" He whispered gently when you finally sat up and crossed your legs. Breathing out a shaky laugh, you ran shaky fingers through your hair, and glanced at him with slightly wild eyes. 

"Not even a little bit." You said, shakily. Miguel could only nod, his own mind trying to wrap around the overload of information. Moaning, you flopped back on the bed again. "I'd always assumed I'd get married, but this is ridiculous!" Not that he didn't agree with you, but for some reason, his ego still stung at your caustic tone. 

"It's certainly not ideal." He said tentatively. You shot up and looked at him, eyes panicky. 

"Not ideal. Not ideal. He says!" Sensing you were going into another spiral, Miguel took your face in his hands, gently but firmly and turned your head. 

"Hey, look at me." The authority in his voice caught your attention, and you narrowed in on him, breath still rapid and shallow. Miguel leaned closer and looked intently into your eyes, his voice never wavering. "This is going to be okay."

You began sputtering, but he simply shifted a hand so he could place his thumb gently over your lips. Your eyes widened at the motion, and you glanced from his thumb back to his eyes. Had they been that startling russet hue last night? You couldn't remember. 

Just like you can't remember anything else, you dodo. You thought bitterly. You felt the rough pad of his thumb grazing softly over your bottom lip. The combinations of that sensation and his deep voice whispering your name, brought your thoughts to a screeching halt, and you couldn't do anything but stare at him. 

"Are you with me?" He said a bit louder, and said your name again, more pointedly. You nodded as best as you could with his hands keeping you so firmly in place. Taking a deep breath, he let his hands slacken a bit and you took a bracing breath.

He looked back into your eyes. "This is a shitty situation, and I've got a splitting headache, but it's going to be okay, I promise." Your heart stuttered at his firm tone, and searching his eyes, you found that you believed him. 

"I believe you." You choked out. His eyes widened, and you saw his pupils dilate and retract before he released your face and leaned back. Releasing a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding in, you studied this perfect stranger, this... husband, more intently.

Something about him made you want to believe him. Made you want to believe that if there was a monster in the closet, he'd vanquish it. Made you want to believe that he'd slay a dragon if it meant keeping you safe. 

Wishful thinking. You shook your head, clearing out the fanciful thoughts. He was just a man, like any other man. And men failed. You were certain, Miguel O'Hara wouldn't prove to be the exception. But, for some reason, on this one thing... you had no qualms about putting trust in him. When he said this would be okay, you knew it would. 

"What are we going to do?" You gave voice to the nagging question, flopping back on the bed. You bounced a little when Miguel's heavy back hit the mattress. After several minutes of silence, you turned your head and saw him staring intently at the ceiling.

"Miguel?" He hummed. "What are we going to do?" A muscle ticked in his jaw, and slowly, he turned his head to meet your eyes. 

"My lawyer is in Nueva York. We'll fly back, and he'll look over the license. He can tell us if it's legally binding or not." 

"And if it is?" You pressed, raising a brow. Miguel breathed out through his nose, and he shrugged. 

"Then, we'll cross that bridge when we reach it." 

@feyhunter78 (figured out how to tag!!!)

By the by, I AM open to suggestions about where we can take these two idiots in the future! Kinda wanna try to actually have some follow through and develop a full fledged plot for once!

[wzy3ka]

| busy彡 Y.JW ( 양정원)

idol!jungwon bf!jungwon x reader

warnings: none

Jungwon has been missing your phone calls lately because of work.

He's preparing for their world tour and he always comes home very late at night.

You hated him being away from you. you were slowly losing your patience.

When he came home, he was exhausted and couldn't even walk properly..

"Babe... I'm sorry." he said as you faced your back at him pretending to sleep

"Are you mad?" He pouts as he walks over to you

You never spoke a word to him as he plays with a strand of your hair.

"I'lI make it up to you. I promise!" He said

You look at him with a grumpy expression.

"I'm sorry I couldn't pick up your calls, I was practicing too much that I even forgot to eat.." he chuckles making you sit up

"What???" You yelled

"Are you okay?? Why didn't they feed you?? You're overworking yourself!! Stop doing that!!"

Jungwon laughs and gives you a peck on the lips

"I'm just playing.." he laughs

"Why you-"

"Well, that's the only way I could get you to talk to me.." he shrugs

“I'm kinda hungry though,"

"C'mon, I'll make you something.." you said

"Wanna watch a movie?"

"You always say that and end up sleeping halfway through the movie."

"I can't help it..the couch is very comfortable. Really showed its' purpose. This is a good couch!" He said and pats the seat beside him

"What movie are we going to watch?"

.

"She would've ended up with him if she confessed. right, ba-." you look over at him and he was fast asleep

"You're the one who suggested we should watch a movie, now you're sleeping again.." you mocked

You couldn't stay mad at him because of how adorable he looked under the covers.

"I'll make it up. to you. y/n.." he was sleep talking

You let out a laugh and rested your head on his chest as you slowly drifted to sleep.

.

Once you woke up, you noticed Jungwon wasn't there beside you anymore and left for work.

You were about to pick up your phone and found a note beside it.

Good Morning, My love! I already made breakfast for you. Meet me at the train station at 8. I promise I'll make it up to you!

P.S. dress nicely!;)

Love you always, wonniewon!

"Silly guy." you thought

A notification popped up and it was jungwon sending you a message.

I’ll see you there! ;)

"If you would actually be there.."

you joke

.

It was nearly 8 and you've finally arrived at the train station.

Memories suddenly hit you like a bullet train. This was the place where you and Jungwon first met.

Two teenagers very passionate for their future, never thought would end up together.

You let out a laugh as you recall all the memories with him at this place.

Raindrops start to fall.

"Ugh! I forgot to bring an umbrella.."

The main was too far away and you wouldn't want to miss Jungwon if ever he'd come.

You were having second thoughts if you should stay where there is roof or just wait for Jungwon.

"What's taking him so long. " you said

You suddenly hear footsteps behind you..

You were suddenly covered with an umbrella.

"Missed me?" He asked

"Where have you been?!" You turn around and punch his shoulder

"And I love you too!" He laughed

"Wait, you're soaking wet." he said and takes out a napkin from his pocket

He wipes all the water off your face and gives you his coat.

"I was a little late because.. I got you these.." he said and handed you a bouquet of tulips

"Tulips reminded me of the first time we met here.I was crying about my first crush and you were listening to For you by Leehi and Crush while drawing tulips on your arm."

"Oh yeah. and I handed you my earpiece because I didn't know how to comfort you.." you laugh

Tulips look good on you, my love."

He smiled

"Really? Thanks, babe.." you gave him a peck on the cheek

"I should be given an award for this," he said as he celebrates his victory

"Why?" You laugh

"Because I'm the one who remembered our anniversary."

"It's today??" You were shocked

"Happy Anniversary, Babe!" He said and kissed your forehead

"I totally forgott... I'm sorry.."

"It's fine.. satisfaction check, did I make it up to you?"

"You sure did!"

"Were you satisfied?"

"Very!"

"Do you still love me?"

"Ofcourse! And it would stay that way till the day I die!"

"I'm sorry I didn't get you any gift. " you pouted making him chuckle

"That's alright, maybe next time you could get me one if you could still remember when our anniversary is." he said as you smack his shoulder with your pouch

"Hey, give the man a rest! I've done so much for this to happen!"

"So, what are we gonna do next?"

You asked him

"Well, better get ready. Our adventure awaits!" He said and holds your hand as the train finally arrives.

[joobywooby]

8:17 p.m

Angst, mentions of anxiety and self doubt, like one curse world, lots of fluff and comfort at the end <3

Jooyeon's smile dropped from his face the moment his eyes scanned the text message on his phone. "I'm so sorry baby, I won't be able to make it to the show tonight, work called me in :( ", it had read. He felt his heart drop, a million thoughts rushing through his head as he reread it over and over again. He had been preparing non stop for their upcoming showcase, prepared a nice bit of time after the show for the two of you to just spend some time together after what felt like forever, only for his efforts to go in vain.

He wasn't angry at you, he didn't even know if he had any cells in his body capable of being even slightly irritated at you. He just missed you so much, and this was one opportunity for the near future to make you feel special, and it just seemed like the universe just didn't want that to happen.

Little did he know, you were already packed and locking the door to your shared apartment to be at the concert on time. He was always doing things for you that made you feel special and loved, so you figured now was the time to return the favor to your sweet boyfriend.

Rehearsal was going....well, to be quite frank it was terrible. Jooyeon wasn't able to recall any of his lines, nor was he able to play a single note, no matter how hard he tried to focus. The others noticed (And were also in on the surprise). Sighing, Seungmin made his way over to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, ushering him gently backstage for a "Quick sip of water and a break to clear his head". Sighing, he reluctantly agreed, dragging his feet behind him, at this point just wanting to get the concert over and done with so he could go back to his room and go to sleep.

"Shit, I think we may be out of water bottles, let me go check the fridge down the hall", Seungmin says, signaling for Jooyeon to wait for him to get back. The older was surprised with himself for how well he had been able to keep his composure, a twinge of guilt hitting him seeing how upset Jooyeon had been about you not being able to make it.

He's quick to meet you in one of the empty meeting rooms, placing a finger over his lips signaling you to keep quiet and not ruin the surprise. Tiptoeing back to the rest area where Jooyeon was slumped on the couch, you stood for a moment, admiring the way his sharp jaw jutted his lips into a pout, mess of hair sat atop his head, his freckles sprinkled just perfectly across the bridge of his nose and at the top of his cheekbone. He was so perfect, making you unknowingly hold your breath.

"They were out in the back too, but they had these and I know you like these so I grabbed one instead", Seungmin can't help his smile now after clearing his throat to announce his presence to the younger. Slowly and reluctantly, Jooyeon turns around to see what his friend had brought, eyes going wide and a choked sob leaving his throat as his gaze met yours.

His phone he was scrolling on is long forgotten as he tosses it on the sofa, scrambling to his feet, and although he almost trips in the process, he makes it to you in a fraction of a second, squeezing you tight in his hold, finally letting himself cry, releasing the emotions he had been trying not to feel all day.

"I'm right here baby. Shhh I'm here", your whispers are gentle, fingers carding through his hair, breaking up the tangles that had made their way to his head from working. You were his entire world, and even just the slightest feeling of not having you by his side made him feel so lost, all purpose he felt he had seemingly gone. All of that didn't matter now, not with you safe and secure in his arms.

"I'm so glad you're here, I was so upset when you texted me", he feels small, not used to expressing his emotions verbally, opting for showing you how he felt instead. You feel your own eyes begin to tear up, small smile making its way to your lips as you bring him into a kiss, tender and slow, his hand moving to cup your cheek to bring you almost impossibly closer. There was nothing else in the world that mattered to him at that moment, not when he had you to have and to hold.

[slippinninque]

✨📱Kiss me Through the Phone 📱✨

Fontaine x black!fem!reader

Warnings/content: fluff, cursing, mentions of smoking/weed, long fic. Black!Fem!Reader, ramblings

He treated his phone like the tool it was. There were few apps for entertainment, and the necessary apps to stay updated on what was going on in his streets.

Fontaine was never one for taking pictures until he met you. Now he has a nice collections of you on his phone.

Particularly, there is a folder of photos in his phone dedicated to your stuffed face. You turned full hamster when you were hungry and he thought it was adorable. This is top secret.

You have a folder of photos in your phone dedicated to catching him sleeping during movies. From cozy shots of him latched on to you like a giant octopus to the bent neck, open mouthed snooze. What started off as a cache of evidence became an absolute delight. This was also top secret.

Fontaine didn't save many numbers. Due to his business, the less information he made available the better. You swore his memory was his super power.

The first picture you ever sent Fontaine he'd swore he would get framed. It was purposely unflattering with an expression he didn't think your pretty face could make. It was sent to him by mistake but made him nearly choke on his '40 and he knew then he needed more of you.

------

A little bit of sun was all the Glen needed for it's parks to come alive with get-togethers and hang-outs. That was the whole reason you and your girls were out in the first place, looking to get some warmth before the heat vanished again,

You were sitting close to each other sharing whispers and smoke. It was a lovely day though the breeze was relentless. Fontaine was already unzipping his jacket when you shivered for the umpteenth time.

The sight of him was poetic. Leaning up a bit just to whip his jacket over your shoulder, the sun taking it's place immediately with delicacy. Fontaine's face was soft at least enough for his golds to glimmer between full lips.

He was gilded in the setting sun as he stepped a bit closer to zip you properly into the jacket. You felt like you were staring, but you couldn't look away.

"There we go," he grinned at you as he passed the blunt to you and resetting your brain, "Wear it better than me."

"Better stop before this hoodie come up missing." You took a puff and laughed a bit,

"Y'know how clothes just be adventuring off on their own..."

"Is that so? You wanna takin' down my number so you can let a nigga know if his thermals come knocking at your door?"

"Your-your weed is good, so I suppose I'll be neighborly."

He laughed and you couldn't even feel the full thrush of embarrassment at your fumbling. You could only shake your head at yourself as you handed over your phone.

Fontaine typed in his number and you traded the blunt for your phone. He didn't save it at first and you added him to your contacts with the quickness.

Just as you always did, first thing that came to mind--

Sunglow.

Quickly after that you keep you eyes to your keyboard as you sent Fontaine a wave with a smiley face.

-------

You jerked awake, hearing hard knocking and loud voices seeping in through your cracked window.

Heart pounding as you stared up at the ceiling, you scrambled for your phone to see it was well past midnight. The TV was still going from when you fell asleep on the couch, but it wasn't enough to drown out the slurring call of your name.

Clutching your throw blanket, you swallowed as much of your panic as possible. It was your neighbor, drunk again and "confused" despite it being the third time this month.

As much as you tried to be understanding, it made you more than uncomfortable. The man was all grins and half-apologetic in the daytime, insisting that their front doors were nearly twins despite there being 3 houses between them. His roommates thought it was funny and made a few comments about how you even resembled his ex.

He even asked what the issue was with letting him linger until he sobers up enough to go home.

The next knocks were thunderous and got you out of bed. You weren't keen on opening the door or even speaking to him, it would only make it worse...

Tearing up as you heard the stumbling and nonsense filter through your door, you chewed your lip as you slowly typed out a text.

[Are you up?]

You winced. It sounded so dirty to you at the moment but you were scared and tired--

The sound of your ringer startled you enough to answer.

"Um, hi, sorry." You crept to your room in the dark, afraid to turn on the lights, "Did-Did I wake you?"

Fontaine made a soft noise, "Ain't doin' shit but runnin' to the store. What's got you up so late?"

You struggled for words for a moment but hissed when the banging came again. This time it sounded like he was hitting the front room's window.

"What the fuck is that?"

Fontaine's tone broke you, a sob stuttering out as you told him everything. You curled up and tried to make sense but a headache was beginning to grow.

"I'm comin', sweet heart, I'm on my way." Fontaine's voice was soothing in his promise, "Stay on the phone with me."

"Okay, 'm so sorry."

"Don't be. Just keep listening to me, you hear me? 'M on my way."

Fontaine's voice flowing through that little speaker was your life raft. You did as you were told, listening to the sound of him getting into his car and driving.

Your neighbor went quiet and it knowing where he was was worse. Imagining him stalking around the perimeter of your home, looking for things to "accidentally" break, ways into your home, would he do something to your car? In the dark feeling small, you quietly hoped that there were no red lights to keep Fontaine long.

The call ended and before your panic to dwell to hysteria, there was commotion from outside your house.

There was hollering and another terrible clattering noise. Running back into the living room, you peeked through the blinds with shaky hands.

Fontaine had your neighbor on the ground, bent up and yelping next to your overturned trash can. You could only see the back of him as he wrangled your neighbor.

You felt rooted to the spot, watching from somewhere else as you watched the terror that's been stealing your peace get the ragdoll treatment. Fontaine tossed him here and there, his voice furious and low.

Fontaine hauled your neighbor up enough to walk him down the street and out of sight. Still shaking, you took a seat on the couch and tried to pull yourself together.

You aren't sure how long you say there with anxiety eating away at your stomach. When your phone rang again, you hurried to answer.

"Hello, hi..."

"C'mon to the door, it's okay now."

You peeled yourself off the couch and went to the door, flinging it open but still unable to look him in the face. He was wearing only sweats and a grey long sleeved shirt. Quietly letting him in, you couldn't stop the tears when they returned.

Fontaine told you that he made absolutely sure that your neighbor knew what his porch looked like. You could only imagine what he meant by that.

"Don't cry anymore, you're okay now," Fontaine came near you, hand hovering your shoulders in a mimic of touch. You leaned forward until you could feel the softness of his shirt.

"You did good, I'm glad you let me know. Promise he ain't gonna bother you anymore, trust thayt."

Wrapping your arms around his waist, you asked if he would mind staying until morning. Fontaine cupped your face and ran his thumbs along your stinging cheeks.

"Of course."

He went toward the couch but you pulled lightly, leading him to your bedroom. Fontaine was quiet and you still sniffled as you crawled into bed. You only had to look at him and Fontaine hurried to follow.

Cuddled close and worn out, your nerves cooled enough for exhaustion to wander in.

"You can always call me. Just know that, yeah? If you're scared....call me. Don't matter what it is, I'm gonna be there."

Grateful, you could only nod again. Fontaine's hand splayed along your back and to the sound of his steady heartbeat, sleep finally came back for you.

------

"It's probably somewhere in the car," you said to Fontaine as you searched your bag, "I think I left my lip chap anyway."

Fontaine paused in searching himself and pockets to give you a grateful nod.

" 'Preciate you."

You tossed a wink over your shoulder, turning to jog the short distance between the porch and Fontaine's car. He stayed behind, sorting the grocery bags more comfortably to key into the house.

The car was still unlocked and you whipped out your cell, dialing Fontaine's phone to hone in on its hiding spot.

I'll be your groupie, baby (oh whoa)

'Cause you are my superstar (ha, superstar, yeah)

No way. You nearly knocked your head trying to look beneath the driver's seat. Legs nearly hanging out the car as you laid as flat as you could. You were cheek to seat as you scrabbled beneath the seat, the song playing on.

I'm your number one fan, give me your autograph

Sign it right here on my heart (I'll be)

Pushing aside some loose change and grabbing Fontaine's phone, you went to decline your call when your eyes caught on the screen.

My Baby

The big softie, giving you butterflies and he isn't even near you. Wriggling and utterly smitten, you couldn't believe how much you liked this man.

Fontaine gave you such shit for having a crush, but then he goes and lets his homies hear your favorite song every time you call.

Grabbing carmex from the cupholder you could finally wriggle out of the car. Closing the door, you turned and saw Fontaine had been holding the door waiting for you the entire time.

----------

Fontaine texted and you sighed, wishing that you could see him in person. Sometimes the phone just wasn't enough.

Your phone vibrated again, the notification sound pinging through the earbud in your ear. Music definitely made the time spent pouring over technical details a bit more managable.

Fontaine's texts were little nuggets of gold you hoarded through the shift. An aimless sort of conversation that didn't make you feel pressured to answer so soon.

He sent you a picture of a stay cat you looked out for, hunched over what looked to be a half of sub sandwich. You sent him a picture of a goose sitting in one of the managerial parking spots at with all the attitude of a Cadillac.

Only you and a few other ladies jumped at the chance for a short shift the following day, but of course it mean sudden overtime. You glowered at the dwindling piles straight tab files and binders.

There were still records to edit and submit. Then a well deserved long-weekend after to look forward to.

Your phone vibrated in your lap, the only safe place for it since your desk turned into a disaster of binders, white-out, and sticky notes.

Sunglow: [come out side]

[I'm not at home remember?]

Sunglow: [never said you were]

You frowned at your phone. What the hell was he talking about?

You jumped when you heard the blare of a horn. It echoed in the empied parking lot and you were sure you aren't the only one who was leaving their desk to check.

Your cubicle had one of the best views of the parking lot and a few streets over, you put your face to the glass at the same time another horn sounded.

In all his glory, Fontaine leaned up against this car with his phone visibly in hand and the other tucked inside to rest on the steering wheel.

Surprised and fumbling back to your cubicle, you managed to dial Fontaine before he tried summoning you again.

"Romeo, Romeo, stop bein' so disruptive!" You hissed into your phone,"Stop honkin' that horn, you're going to wake up the guard!"

"I know you better bring yo' tail down that tower and give me what I came here fo', Juliet."

With only a sheepish grin to offer "mhmmm" and "okay, then, girl" looks you got, you hurried down the stairs while Fontaine grumbled about the integrity of your building's security through your ear.

Smoothing out your cardigan as you exited the building, you were wishing that you wore something a bit more flattering when Fontaine was already meeting you at the double doors.

You went when your hand was pulled and you were hugged by Fontaine as he rested up against the brick wall of your office. It was a little hiding spot that was mainly used by the night shift.

It was the perfect spot to hide away from supervisors and sudden rains.

"You got somethin' for making yo' man wait for so long?" Fontaine asked, keeping a hand at your waist while the other one steadied you by the chin. You chuckled before looking up at him and pursing your lips.

"Mhmm, don't mind if I do..." Fontaine purred and pressed his silky lips against yours.

Sweet and slow. Fontaine took hold of your hands, left them to massage your shoulders, used on hand to settle at the dip of your waist.

"I can't stay down here for too long," you breathed after parting, "Very tempting to hop into that passenger seat, though."

"Give the word, I'll peel out this bitch."

"Oh, I know you will," you laughed and kissed his cheek before pressing yours to his, " 'M happy you came to surprise me. I think I can make it to the end now."

"I aim to please."

The wind blew a bit tougher and you burrowed into him as best you could. He rested his chin on the top of your head, hands locking at the small of your back.

It felt like being set out in the sun to dry. A nice, long stretch after an afternoon nap. Just...good.

"How much longer do you have?" He asked voice quiet. You probably had another five or so minutes.

Shifting around so your phone could be brought up between you, "About this long."

Hitting play, you both listened to Ms. Hill remind you how nothing mattered more than where you wanted to be most.

-----

ending notes: this felt kinda long lol! thank you soo much for reading! I appreciate every pair of eyes that lands on my writing, it means so much to me! 🥹

taglist✨: @megamindsecretlair @thadelightfulone @mag1calenchantr3ss @cocoeffects @wide-nose-and-wonderful @8ttached @thadelightfulone @hobiesmain @thickeeparker @longpause-awkwardsmile @ms-angiealsina @educatorsareslutstoo @mysterychick93@mcondance@sageispunk@kindofaintrovert@hunnishive@notapradagurl7@blowmymbackout@educatorsareslutstoo@blackerthings@miyuhpapayuh@westside-rot

[mazeinthemiroh]

you need a holiday. [part 1]

pairing: hongjoong x best friend! reader

genre: friends to lovers, slow burn / slow romance, slight angst, and, of course, a sprinkle of crack

word count: 1.6k

warnings: cursing, allusions to mental health issues + insomnia

summary: hongjoong feels like he is just going through the motions in his life. the spark has gone. but you have the perfect solution that will solve all his problems... [part 2, part 3]

author's notes: to get in the summer holiday spirit, i present to you part 1 of this hongjoong holiday series. we all deserve a rest every now and then, and time off is just what you need to get back on track. stay tuned for part 2 which will be published shortly! let me know if you want to be tagged in the next one <3

Hongjoong felt all his days blended into one. He was, quite truly, going through the motions. Sometimes he woke up not knowing what to do. Not feeling like he had a purpose. Which, of course, was not the case. He was a captain, a producer of fine music, a rapper, a dancer, a writer. His work was his life and people relied on him for things only he could accomplish. So he had a purpose. Of course, he did.

But things started to feel vacuous. They held no meaning. 'What was the point of it all?' He would think to himself as he stared at the keyboard in front of him, sitting by himself in the studio in the early hours of the morning yet again. Alone. Very much alone.

He needed something else. Something. Just a little kick up the ass, a slap in the face to give him the wake-up call he needed. He wanted someone to say 'You've got it good, you ungrateful bastard. Money, fame, charm. You've got it all, so stop whining about such trivial things and get back to work.' He needed to hear those words.

So he picked up the phone one night, another night in the studio, and his thumbs lingered over the screen before deciding to search for a name. Your name.

'Let's meet up for coffee tomorrow. If you're free, that is.'

He couldn't tell if his text sounded abrupt and rude due to his sleep-deprived mind waning slowly away. He knew you might not be up at the same time he was so he decide to wait until morning.

And a couple of hours later, he was fighting the urge to settle and sleep for the hours he deserved, instead getting ready for work. He shoved himself into the shower and 'cleaned the tiredness away', as he liked to put it. Because apparently, according to the wise Kim Hongjoong himself, a shower could cure you of most things, especially sleep deprivation.

So he went to work, going about his business, knowing that he would see you for a coffee break at around lunchtime. You had replied to him in the late hours of the morning, ignoring the fact that he had texted you at 3 am. It was typical Hongjoong behaviour and you knew him all too well to question the time in which he was up.

Lunchtime came around and there you were together, opposite each other as you tucked into the delicious sandwiches before you.

"So, how have you been?" Your voice was light, but you had your suspicions on your friend, who never usually made plans so out-of-the-blue, instead preferring a week in advance to prepare himself, ideally. That's why you were so surprised to have read his message.

"Me?" Hongjoong asked as if you were talking to anyone else in the café, which obviously you were not, "I've been good."

'This is not why you invited them out' Hongjoong's mind scolded him. 'There's a reason why you're here with them. Speak.'

Hongjoong let out a sigh, knowing that he was right. He needed to just... express himself.

"Well actually..." Hongjoong winced at the upcoming awkwardness, as if trying to brace himself for having to open up to you. He hated burdening people with his problems. A burden is truly what they felt like when expressed and left hanging in the air like that, all exposed and vulnerable. A person's problems could change your perception about someone, which Hongjoong never liked risking because his reputation was important.

But you were his friend. And if you ever confided in him about something, he would embrace your openness with a kind heart. Why did he think you wouldn't do the same?

So, taking a deep breath, he tried his best.

"I've been struggling, to be honest."

Already he could feel a lump form in his throat. That felt like a massive confession in itself, when it really, in hindsight, was just a simple statement. Everyone struggles, sure. But saying it out loud and solidifying these feelings verbally felt intense.

You nodded, already understanding where he was coming from. He looked tired. Not only because of the dark circles under his eyes and the occasional yawn that rose in between sentences. But also, in his eyes, the casual and chipper sparkle that he always held had dwindled tremendously. He was still as handsome as always, but his spark had gone. And that very concept exhausted him more than any lack of sleep could.

"You need a holiday," you decided aloud. It felt like more of a command than a suggestion. But after you had heard all of Hongjoong's worries and concerns and rants about anything and everything, you confirm that it was the only right thing to say.

He looked at you in bewilderment. In utter fascination.

"No, that's not what you should be saying," Hongjoong shook his head, "you should be telling me to get a grip and stop moping about."

You laughed at his reasoning, but he looked dead serious, biting the inside of his cheek impatiently.

"What good will that do?" You hummed, not waiting for an answer, "You're allowed to feel this way, Joong. And you're allowed a holiday too."

"Okay, if I went on holiday every time I had a problem, I wouldn't be at work at all. I'm not like you, I can't just run when things get tough," he snapped, one hand turning into a fist, before unclenching. He realised he sounded very harsh there and his eyes grew wide.

"I..." he swallowed harshly. "I'm sorry. That was over the line."

"No, no," you shook your head, trying hard not to take offence at his harsh words. You knew he was stressed. "You're right. I don't have the same circumstances as you. But I don't run away when things get tough. I just allow myself to get away, just for a little bit, every now and then. A slice of fantasy before going back to reality. Everyone needs a holiday. Everyone needs to get away from the mundane routine of their lives. So when you do have some time off, why not embrace it?"

Hongjoong stared at his now empty plate, still feeling guilty about being hurtful with his words. What had gotten into him? He sighed and sank back in the chair.

You watched him for a moment, before continuing:

"You want me to be serious and honest with you? Fine. You will destroy yourself if you don't give yourself a break. A little rest, Hongjoong, you owe yourself at least that. And if your life is not full of joy like it used to be in, despite having your dream job and dream life, a little break will do you good. Otherwise, you will drive yourself crazy," you shrugged, a frown on your face to match his, "which you're in the process of doing now."

Hongjoong looked up. It wasn't the sternness he was expecting, but it did make sense. He licked his dry lips and fixed his hunched posture.

When he didn't say anything you said your last bit.

"I am going away to Spain for 5 days in about a fortnight," you placed the cutlery delicately on the plate, "just 5 days, that's all. You're more than welcome to join me, if you feel it's worth your while. Because, trust me, it will be."

On getting up, you had slipped your jacket on elegantly as he watched you, eyes glazed over with deep thought. You pushed him out of his daze by placing a kiss on his cheek, something you wouldn't usually do. He blinked and looked over at you curiously.

"See you, Joong. Thanks for lunch. And I hope to see you soon."

"Y/N thinks I need a holiday."

Hongjoong didn't know why he was confiding in yet another person today. But here he was, talking to Seonghwa about the conversation you had with him earlier that day.

They were both standing in the kitchen, Hongjoong unmoving whilst Seonghwa worked around him, making himself a late dinner.

"Of course you need a holiday," Seonghwa said without looking at Hongjoong as he reached for the top shelf, moving around his standing friend who gazed at him, baffled.

"You think I need a holiday too?" Hongjoong was perplexed, clearly not seeing what everyone else was.

"We all need a holiday," Seonghwa looked at him now with a playful smile, before sinking into seriousness, "but you need it just a little bit more than the rest of us."

Hongjoong pursed his lips and sighed, shaking his head.

"You work so hard for all of us. 5 days is nothing, Joong. We can cope without you for 5 days!" Seonghwa tried to convince his friend.

"Oh is Hongjoong leaving? That means I get to be captain, right?" Wooyoung butted in, reaching over Seonghwa in an awkward position just to ram his mouth full of the already opened popcorn left on the counter.

"You wish. I'll be in charge when Hongjoong is gone, obviously," Seonghwa rolled his eyes and gently shooed Wooyoung away, who shrugged and disappeared without another word.

"Good to know I'll be missed," Hongjoong snorted as his gaze followed the disappearing Wooyoung.

"You won't be missed," Seonghwa stated, "because we would all have peace of mind knowing that you were finally relaxing for once. Or, at least, I will."

Seonghwa always knew what to say, and Hongjoong couldn't help but feel a little better about entertaining the idea of going on holiday with you.

But that doesn't mean he had been fully convinced.

"I'll think about it," Hongjoong nodded, before making his way back to his room.

He wasn't convinced. Not yet.

taglist: @a-wandering-stay, @xlovehwa, @yeosangsbiceps, @anyamaris, @acciocriativity, @hawaiian-angel, @toolovelyforyou, @honeysugarbby, @dutchessskarma, @saltedplum-squid (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

[leviathans-watching]

i have a solomon x reader request! you're supposed to meet up somewhere for a date with him but he ends up forgetting, focused on his experiments so you are sorta disappointed but he tries to make it up to u!

solomon forgetting your date

includes: solomon x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: .6k | rated t | m.list

a/n: thank you for the request and i hope you enjoy!! my inbox is open to chat, req, or leave feedback, so come say hi!!

plz reblog <333

sighing, you check your ddd for the nth time. your texts are still unread, calls not returned, and you know solomon’s officially stood you up

you’d been really looking forward to this date too. both of you had been so wrapped up in your own stuff that you’d been unable to see one another for any significant amount of time in the last few weeks. this dinner date was supposed to fix that, was supposed to give you that much-needed time together.

but solomon was a no-show.

you know it likely isn’t on purpose. for all of his faults, solomon’s never been cruel. it’s more likely he got sidetracked, or lost his phone, or something else came up. you were still hurt though.

flagging down the sympathetic waiter, you get the bill, paying for the two drinks you’ve had since you sat down and leaving a sizeable apology tip. you get some pitying looks as you walk out, but you keep your head up, heading back to the house of lamentation.

thankfully, no one is in the living room when you walk in, meaning you get to avoid being interrogated about your early return and muted demeanor. you’re not really up to dealing with the circus that is the brothers.

deciding to just go to bed, not even in the mood to eat dinner, you change out of your nice, carefully planned outfit then slip quietly into bed, still half-hoping for your ddd to light up. it doesn’t.

you’re on the very edge of sleep when you hear something at your window. despite you ignoring it, it persists, and you climb out of bed, going to see what’s causing the noise. on the other side, stands solomon, a remorseful expression on his face.

he motions for you to open up, and after a brief moment of hesitation, you do. he clambers into your room, dragging a paper bag and bouquet of flowers in behind him.

“i am so sorry,” he says hurriedly. “i know i’m awful and terrible and there’s no excuse. i was just so wrapped up in what i was doing and–” he takes a deep breath. “anyway, like i said, there are no excuses and i’d understand if you’re really pissed at me. but i brought flowers! and food, because i’m assuming you didn’t eat at the restaurant.”

he hands you the paper bag, and you see it’s takeout from the all-you-can-eat yakiniku restaurant, one of your favorites.

“i am kind of mad,” you say honestly, “but you didn't have to come all of the way here.”

“of course i did!” solomon says, affronted. “i fucked up, and i needed to fix it. mc, i am so, so sorry.” setting the flowers down on your bed, he pulls you into a hug, barely avoiding crushing the takeout. you feel yourself melt, even as you try to stay mad.

“fine,” you relent. “i’ll forgive you, but only this once. and only because you brought me food.”

he sighs in relief, and you realize he’d truly been upset, truly been sorry, and your heart warms. you turn your head up to him and he gets your memo, kissing you gently.

“i love you, mc,” he murmurs. “so much. i’m sorry.”

“i love you too,” you reply. “and it’s okay. well, not okay, but you’re here now and that’s what’s most important.”

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

[chaotic-nick]

wc: 1170

note: I wrote this last year when I was deep in my Attorney Woo Young Woo phase and was a second-year uni student taking broadcasting subjects [I used the Shawarama shop mentioned in the fic for my project and it closed down a month after.]

Relationship dynamic: Boss Erwin x secretary Reader/ secret relationship AU

“Give me fifteen minutes,” Erwin said to his secretary who walked behind him, swiping through his schedule on the work iPad. Once the elevator doors closed, he reached for his card in his pocket and extended his arm out to her. “What was that coffee you got me?”

Scrunching her face in thought was the first expression different from a plastered smile,“Iced cafe Vanilla . . . from Mcdonalds.” She bit her tongue back from reminding Erwn that he took a sip from her coffee and only realised that the one meant for him was on his desk when he was packing to go home.

“Woke me up last time.” as the elevator floors took them up to his floor, Erewin swallowed and slowly turned to her with a reluctant look on his face as he said, “And I’ll fire you if you don’t get yourself anything.”

“Of course, Erwin lied when he said fifteen minutes. (And he swallowed his own words, “Ordering coffee only takes— what? Five? Seven minutes. That’s all you need, when she made him order his own coffee.)

He wasn’t that type anymore. Slowly relaxing after five years of being the company’s CFO.

And slowly, after a morning of meetings with the board of directors and potential shareholders, Erwin let himself turn the swivel chair to face the blue sky stretched across buildings and lean a little more further into his chair to rest.

His mind drifted to what restaurants he hadn’t taken her to.

Using her back to push open the door, and careful not to spill any coffee on the sandwiches she bought, ”Sir!” She called out ready to tell him what she saw— one of their almost clients already bragging that they got Erwin’s signature.

Turning around she was greeted by a human image of a cat napping in the sun. Erwin’s face relaxed and the sun highlighted the premature grey hairs on the sides of his face. “Sir,” she called, setting down the coffee.

When he didn’t move, (Y/n) threw a quick glance at the door and circled to the table. “Erwin, wake up.” She said, placing her hand on his face.

“Back so soon?” He yawned— then violently shook his head. A pitiful attempt in waking himself up or removing the sleep that lingered. Always giving him dizzy spells rather than its intended purpose.

Going back across the desk to sit down. “Another fifteen minutes and it would’ve been an hour. Sir.”

“What did you get yourself?”

“The same thing as yours. I needed to wake up, too.”

“How about?” His tongue darted out to lick away the mayonnaise on the side of his mouth. And she looked at him longer, seeing an older version of his childhood picture —one that she kept as her lockscreen on a personal phone— come to life again. “We go to dinner after this? Have this Thursday* night to ourselves.”

(*Thursday nights = the last day of the week where I live)

“Sure,” (Y/n) followed “I’m not busy after work anyway. My boyfriend’s too busy with work all the time.”

Though he knew she joked, Erwin’s heart was hit with a pang of guilt. “My girlfriend’s the same too, unfortunately. I think her boss is keeping her after hours.”

The restaurants within their buildings were full enough for Erwin’s name to be treated as another person trying to use their work title. When he was informed of the business meetings being conducted inside, he only nodded and thanked them for their service. He was becoming sick of it. Really sick of it.

“I know a place,” (Y/n) chirped when she saw him sigh into his seat and run a hand through his hair, “not really sure if you’d like it.”

“Sure, why not. I’ll get to know you better.” As if they haven’t been together in silence for nearly a year. Though she knew what he meant. It was the little things from before their paths crossed that made them into . . . them. “Tell me where it is.”

“I only know how to go there by the metro.” Her little thing was that her life after highschool was exploring the country with the trains. It fascinated her and made life more cinematic as she’d describe it.

“We have GPS.” And then that’s Erwin’s little thing. Calling location apps GPS. “What’s resto’s name?”

“Erwin . . .it’s written in Arabic,” her eyes were wide and her posture slumping in distress,“I don’t know what it’s called.”

“Then,” he sighed into his seat, beginning to reverse his car out of the parking lot. “We’ll find it by car, right?”

Leaning to reach for the control panel, her finger hovered over the button with a waiting look thrown at Erwin’s concentrated face. “Right,” she smiled, watching how his roof slowly folded, the streetlights illuminating his face.

“So,” she asked Erwin who rested his torso against the steering wheel, eyes watching the workers made one shawarma after another and send it off to their delivery drivers. “this helped me survive college and all my internships.”

“This place?” It was different from all the restaurants he’d taken her to. And different from his world. “It’s all chicken?”

“No, no. It’s a shawarma place, but there’s more than that inside,” pushing the door open, “Don’t worry you’re with me.” She said and then stretched her arm up to yell, “Helloooow, UNCLE!”

His eyes scanned every part of the restaurant, still though, he remembered to hold the door open for her to come in. “They also know my mom . . . and my dad. Ooh also my brothers, they know everyone here. Basically, if you come here enough they’ll have your orders memorised and poof. That’s it.” Only two tables and yet the delivery drivers came one after another.

“Chicken Barbeque.” He read on one of the menus.

“Hmm?” (Y/n) followed his eyes focused on the grill. “That’s what you want?”

“Sure, yeah. I’m putting all of my trust in you—” “You don’t wanna read the menu, ‘Win?” “I’ll do that too . . .”

“Chicken Barbecue,” repeated ‘uncle’ when he put the silver platter in front of them. A whole chicken resting on bread with vegetables on the side. On the other were sauces in overflowing the plastic containers they were in.

“Wow.” She said, “Thank you, uncle.”

“Yalla, enjoy.” He said, throwing a towel over his shoulder, and turning the TV on to a live broadcast of their home country’s football team.

(Y/n) reached her hands for Erwin’s still buttoned sleeves.  “Gimme, gimme.” 

“You can wash your hands there.” She pointed with her chin as she folded his sleeves. Never removing her eyes from him, whose face looked younger with curiosity.

“You eat this with your hands?”

“First time?”

“It is!”

“Don’t worry you’re with me.”

“I’m full,” said Erwin, falling behind a few steps for the first time. Rubbing his belly over the white shirt he sighed again, “Very full.”

She grinned tiredly at this, angling her shoulder to push her apartment door open, “Wanna come in for tea?”

“If I fall asleep it’s the chicken.”

“Okay, okay. You left your toothbrush here the last time.”

[jounosparticles]

Jouno's Birthday - Suegiku

Jouno was enjoying a day off when his work partner pays him an unexpected visit

Genre: Fluff Word Count: 1665

Today was Jouno’s day off from working. He had many long shifts recently, and was finally rewarded a well-deserved break for everything he’s done. Today also happened to be Jouno’s birthday, so he planned to take the day to enjoy himself. Getting a day to sleep in, do whatever he wishes, and get a break from dealing with his coworkers was all the man could ask for. 

Jouno started his day off by making himself a green tea, and sat outside on his porch. It was surprisingly quiet outside, not many people nearby. Jouno checked his phone, and listened to a happy birthday voicemail from Tachihara and Teruko; he must have had his phone silenced when they initially called. Jouno wasn’t the type to celebrate birthdays, too many smells and sounds makes the overall celebration rather overwhelming. He was glad to not need to deal with any of that this year.

As evening falls, Jouno changes into his pajamas, and figures he would just order dinner instead of making anything. As he went to pick up his phone, there was a knock at his door. Perplexed, Jouno shouts towards the door, “who is it?”

“It’s me,” the voice said. Jouno stopped in his tracks. “Can I come in?”

“Fine. Just a moment.” Jouno replies, with a slight tinge of annoyance. The white haired man quickly walks back into his room. Mumbling to himself, “why is Tetchou here? The one day I think I can get away from him for a bit and he shows up at my door?” Still, he gets changed into nicer clothes, and approaches the door. Even though he won’t express it, Jouno cares a lot about Tetchou’s perception of him, which is the main reason he quickly attempted to make himself more presentable for the unexpected guest. 

“What do you want?” The white haired man asks, as he moves to let Tetchou inside.

“Just came to wish you a happy birthday. I made you a small cake.” The brunette walks in and immediately makes his way to the kitchen, grabbing a knife and piercing it into the cake. It was definitely small, enough for two people; Jouno couldn’t help but appreciate the gesture. He was definitely annoyed to see Tetchou of all people, but at least he wasn’t being particularly annoying. Jouno sits down at his kitchen table, grabbing the fork and plate his partner just set down. Something smells slightly off, but Jouno chooses to ignore the sense. He takes a bite.

“Tetchou. What exactly did you make this cake with?” The brunette looks at his partner, fighting back a smile.

“Oh, I was out of tupperware so I put my salt and sugar in a bin together. They look similar enough to be interchangeable.” 

Jouno spits out the food he was eating, and lets out a loud sigh. “How is someone so dumb capable of being one of the Hunting Dogs? Obviously salt and sugar are going to taste different! You’re such a dumbass.” He scowls at the man sitting across from him. Tetchou lets out a small laugh; typically, he’s a very composed man, however, he feels safe enough to let his guard down and have a little fun when only Jouno is around.

“Why are you laughing at your own stupidity? Don’t tell me you did this on purpose just to piss me off.” Tetchou doesn’t say anything back, he’s just smiling as he waits for the man across from him to talk again. 

“You did, didn’t you?! You’re such a bastard, Tetchou. Now I have to call for food.”

“Don’t worry about it. I already ordered a pizza for you before I arrived, it’ll be here soon. I just wanted to see your angry face for a second.” Tetchou throws out the extremely salty cake he had brought, and he tells Jouno to go rest until the pizza arrives. The white haired man does as he is asked, although reluctantly. Shortly after, the pizza arrives, and Tetchou goes to sit beside his work partner. To Jouno’s surprise, the pizza wasn’t covered in questionable ingredients.

 The two eat quietly for a moment, before Tetchou decides to break the silence. “Have you enjoyed your day off? You’ve been working a lot lately.” The brunette cares a lot about the wellbeing of his coworker, and was genuinely happy to see him take a day off. Jouno works himself to the limit often, and pretty much never misses a day. Admittedly, Tetchou found it strange to not see Jouno at the base, which is why he chose to pay him a visit.

“My day was going well until you showed up. Did you miss me or something? You know, I’m there every other day.” Tetchou smirks at the snarky comments, knowing Jouno isn’t actually mad. His partner has never been warm with people, but he has gotten used to reading his partner’s true emotions despite whatever he claims.

“Just figured you wouldn’t want to be completely alone today.”

“Sure, but why would I hang out with you? Of all people.” 

“Do you have anyone else?” Jouno replies with a sigh. The two spend so much time working to the point where outside social interaction has become a rarity. That’s just part of the job, not much can be done about it. Although Jouno would never admit it, the company of the person he sees most often is comforting.  

The two finish their pizza, and Tetchou begins to clean his and Jouno’s plate. Reluctantly, Jouno thanks him for everything, and follows up with a question: “Why are you being so nice to me today? You never come over, let alone buy me dinner.” Jouno was genuinely confused by this, the two saw each other so often at work that they rarely met up outside of it. 

“What’s wrong with me wanting to wish my friend a happy birthday? You have got to start letting people do nice things for you. I am having a good time with you tonight.” The white haired man was surprised by Tetchou’s words. Hearing his coworker call him a friend made him smile a bit, although not enough for anyone else to notice. 

“Well, thank you. I’ll accept it as an apology for how you scarred me with the cake.” Jouno slaps his partner in the shoulder, making him spill a little of the water he was cleaning the dishes with. Jouno goes to grab a towel to clean the mess.

The brunette stops him from cleaning. “I’ll get it, just go get into some comfy clothes and relax.” 

“You know, I am fully capable of cleaning. I don’t need you to take care of everything.”

“Just go, it’s fine.”

 Jouno sighs and heads to his room. He throws on some pajamas and goes back to sit on his couch. Something about being dressed informally makes him feel slightly vulnerable. Regardless, he sits patiently and waits as Tetchou finishes tidying and approaches him again.

“Just how long are you staying? You must really miss me when I’m not around.” Jouno listens as Tetchou’s heart beats a little faster. He doesn’t mention it, but it feels a bit strange.

“I guess I do.” The white haired man was taken aback by his partner’s honesty. He didn’t know how to respond. “I can leave if you’d really like.”

Jouno lets out an exasperated sigh, “it’s fine.” He was having a hard time coming up with a remark after what he heard. For once, he didn’t feel like snapping at his partner and was just enjoying the company. He encourages Tetchou to come sit beside him. 

Tetchou yawns and stretches a bit. His partner faces him, “long day?”

“Yeah. Lots of paperwork and negotiations. Work has been really tiring lately, I’ve barely slept all week.” 

“You’re telling me.” The two exchange a sigh, and ramble on about their cases to each other. Hours pass as they continue to talk, not even realizing how late it has become. As Tetchou checks the time, he abruptly stops their conversation. 

“It’s getting pretty late, and I still have to drive home. I’ll have to leave soon since we have a meeting in the morning.” Jouno is a little disappointed by the sudden change of topics. He was enjoying listening to Tetchou talk more casually, putting his guard down and just having a fun night. He could tell his partner felt the same way. 

“Why don’t you stay here overnight? You can have the couch.” Jouno was surprised by his own question. He just wanted the night to last forever.

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah. I have some comfier clothes you can change into, come with me.” Jouno leads Tetchou to his bedroom, and points out the drawer to his pajamas. “Wear whatever you’d like.” 

After getting changed, the two sit on Jouno’s bed and continue talking. Laughing about their old cases, arguing over the abominations Tetchou calls his lunches, and discussing future plans for the Hunting Dogs. After a while, Tetchou lets out another yawn.

“You can sleep if you’d like, Tetchou.” 

“I will soon. But, there’s something I want to do first.”

“What is it?” Jouno immediately notices the brunette's heart begins to race, and listens as his breathing becomes a bit shallow. “Is everything alright?”

Without speaking, Tetchou looks at Jouno for a second. He then brushes the side of his partner’s face, and quickly leans in to kiss him. After a second, he pulls away to see Jouno’s face, which was nearly as red as the tips of his hair. Jouno doesn’t say anything, he’s completely surprised by what just happened. He wears a confused, yet flustered look on his face.

“I’m sorry, was that too much?” Tetchou’s words carry a heavy sound of worry and embarrassment. Before he realizes, Jouno grabs him back and brings him back into a soft kiss. Pulling away, The white haired man smiles at his partner.

 “This was all I could have asked for.”

[ithinkilikeit-reactions]

Kingdom “They have a nightmare about their s/o”

Kingdom Masterlist                                    Group Masterlist   

Ask:  Hi! Could you do a Kingdom reaction about them them having a nightmare about their s/o? Thank you!

First reaction with Hwon!!! Tell me how I did!

Dann/Seungbo: 

(Hims cute or whatever)

He was watching you in your sleep, there was no better way to put it. Seungbo had had the worst nightmare, you had died horribly and he just couldn't seem to get to you in time. It left him shaking and sweating as he woke up, relieved to see you still sleeping and your chest still rising and falling.

"Seungbo, I can feel you watching me." You said, opening your eyes and sitting up. You blinked a few times, rubbing your eyes before realizing how distraught he looked. "Are you okay?" You asked, instantly reaching out to hold him. "I'm fine, I'm fine. You're fine so I'm fine." He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him. His hands stroking your hair as you laid down together.

"I just had a really bad dream, I had to check if you were okay."

Arthur/Yunho: 

He was going over it in his head, back and forth, whether to call you or not. It was so unusual for him to have a nightmare, let alone during a nap and let alone about you. It left Yunho stressed and well maybe against better judgement, he couldn’t help but call you. 

“Yunho? Is everything okay?” You asked when you answered his unexpected phone call. “Mhm, just wanted to hear your voice.” He mumbled, still a little drowsy from his nap. He was just happy to hear you especially after seeing something so awful in his dreams. “Hmm really? I’ll take it.” You paused, knowing there was something else but putting it aside. If he wanted you to know, he’d tell you. “I wanted to hear your voice to so I’m glad you called.” You smiled and he could simply picture it, finally being able to relax in his bed again. 

“How’s your day? Tell me about it, I just want to hear you talk.” 

Mujin/Sungho: 

Sungho was naturally clingy to you, it wasn’t an odd thing. Though today was new levels of attachment. You didn’t particularly mind but you couldn’t help but wonder why he was hugging you as you looked at the cafe menu to order. Kissing the side of your cheek repeatedly and tickling your skin. 

“What has gotten into you?” You asked as you sat down, Sungho pulling your chair closer to him. “I love how loving you are but right you’re way more affectionate than normal.” You asked, cupping his cheeks as he pouted at you. He knew he was being obvious but he just couldn’t help himself, that nightmare made him so aware that he could lose you at any minute. “I had a really bad dream last night and now I just want to spoil you.” His words made you pout, pecking his lips quickly before scooting even closer to him. 

“I won’t stop you, you can spoil me.” 

Louis/Dongsik:

He had been pushing you away all day, despite asking for you to come by. Dongsik had been distant, borderline ignoring you and it was upsetting but you could tell there was something going on. You could also tell he wasn’t entirely doing it on purpose. 

“You’ve been ignoring me all day, if you didn’t want me here why did you invite me?” You asked, a little tired of his attitude and watched as Dongsik’s expression turned soft. “I do want you here, I just-” He hesitated, leaning forward and grabbing your hands. This behaviour coupled with his actions made you nervous, looking in his eyes. “It’s just last night, I had an awful dream and it made me realise how easy it would be to lose you.” He admitted, pulling a little closer to him so that he could hug you. 

“Thought pushing you away a little would make it those thoughts easier, but it definitely doesn’t. I don’t want to lose you.”

Ivan/Yoosung: 

The nightmare left him tossing and turning for a majority of the night. Staring at the ceiling, toying around with some of the stuffed animals on his bed, but he simply could not get the harrowing images of his nightmare out of his head. While Yoosung didn’t like doing stuff like this, he needed to call you, he just needed you.

“Yoosung?” You sounded tired as you picked up and a wave of guilt overtook him. “Did I wake you?” His voice shook a little and you found yourself waking up a little more. “You did but it’s okay. Is something wrong?” You asked, finding yourself now sitting up in your bed and tucking your knees under your chin. “I had a really bad nightmare and something happened to you... I just wanted to hear your voice.” You found your heart break at his words. “Oh, do you want to talk about it? Or do you just want to call until you fall asleep?” You asked, getting yourself comfortable again for either option. 

“I just want to call until I fall asleep, if that’s okay? Thank you for picking up.” 

Hwon/Youngjoon: 

Dates late at night to go grab ice cream were a frequent thing you did with Youngjoon. He liked going out at night, talking for hours and sharing ice cream while hanging out. Though tonight seemed different, he wanted to hang to avoid something and you could tell, even as he laughed and ate ice cream, you could tell. 

“You’re avoiding something aren’t you?” You asked, little spoon in your mouth as you adjusted how you sat on the bench. “You know me too well.” He remarked, taking a spoon into his mouth as he flashed that dopey smile at you. “Seriously, though what’s wrong?” You asked, taking the bowl of ice cream and leaning your head on his shoulder. “I had a really bad dream and I’m a little scared to go to bed because it might happen again.” He admitted and you glanced up at him. “Oh I’m sorry. It must’ve been really bad if you’re scared to go to sleep. What happened in it?” You asked and grabbed his hand comfortingly. 

“You got really hurt and it scared me, it scared me really bad.” 

Jahan/Jihun: 

Anyone who knew Jihun knew that being touchy and affectionate wasn’t something he was the most comfortable with. So imagine your surprise when he pulled you into his arms for a hug, held your hands and kissed your forehead without a prompt or ask to do so.

“Is everything okay?” You asked as you settled on the couch next to him. Jihun wrapped his arms around you and you giggled, this being exactly what you meant with the question. “Just a lot on my mind. Feel like I haven’t been showing you how much I love you.” You hugged him at his words, burrying your face into his chest. “You do enough! What makes you think you don’t?” You further questioned, wondering if something in your own behaviour made him think that. 

“I had a really bad nightmare the other day and something happened to you. Made me put some things into perspective. I don’t want to lose you in any way.” 

A/N: I haven’t written in so long. I got pretty sick this week and extremely busy with my schoolwork so I dropped the ball really bad. Anyways, I’m excited for Kingdom’s comeback!!!

[carpehistoryandthepens]

Legacy (what is a legacy?) Part 7

It’s planting seeds in a garden you never get to see I wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me

Hamilton, the world was wide enough. LMM.

one, two, three, four, Five, six

Summary: Mike is 13. Born May 2009. Sid didn’t know he had a son. All Mike had was hope and a prayer for his and his half-sister’s safety.

(Sid is a dad of a teen he didn’t know about AU) Sidgeno.

Warnings: (for the total story) post-child abuse (all off-screen but it affects things and is spoken about often), learning how to parent, panic attacks, anxiety, based on last season, OCs?, realization about sexuality. Post breakups. Desperate lack of in-depth research for CPS in both PA/CA, melodrama?, kidfic, angst, slowburn, playing fast and loose with the law for drama/storytelling purposes.

-

Zhenya watched Nikita sleep for a long while after Zhenya finished reading his bedtime story to him. His little bobcat, Zhenya thought fondly, was such a good sleeper. 

Zhenya was reluctant to leave. Today was difficult and scary, and sometimes, a man just needed to ensure his child was safe from the world. 

Before moving to Pittsburgh full-time just last month, Nikita was six and had protested he was 'getting too old for bedtime stories.' But now, with the move and the new school, Nikita had asked for them again. Zhenya would never say no to his son. Not for this. 

Zhenya had taken every opportunity to read to him since Nikita wanted to listen, keenly aware of how much of Nikita's life he would miss. Anna hadn't protested when he kept up the habit after the move – even though she would be out of Nikita's life more often than Zhneya was now. If reading to Nikita gave him more time to ensure that Nikita was safe, then that was an added bonus. 

It probably helped that Nikita loved Facetimeing Anna when he felt like it and would do so ad nauseam if left alone with a phone that could Facetime. He never called Zhenya like that.

(He and Anna had asked once a few summers ago, and both were worried that Nikita was afraid of Zhenya since he was always gone. Instead, what had happened was something so much better. Anna had said within Nikita's earshot that she preferred to Facetime. Nikita took that seriously, so he always called her because Mama liked it. They both died of the cuteness, to be honest. Very little was done in the Malkin-Kastrovia household that day.) 

Zhenya looked down at the soccer book in his hands. A flash of guilt and pain ran through him; he hoped he was a good father, but this new interest - a sport they all liked to watch. Not one Zhenya had ever played. He didn't know, not really, now to support his son with his new interests. 

The one sports-related thing Zhenya insisted on to Anna was that Nikita knew how to skate. Now that Nikita has learned how to skate, Zhenya had to confront the fact he really wanted his son to follow in his footsteps. 

Nikita might not. 

Zhenya carefully closed the book and put it on Nikita's beside shelf. If hockey was Nikita's passion, so be it. If it wasn't, Zhenya would do his best to support his son – even if he didn't know how. 

On a Zoom call, Anna talked to an agent in the dining room. Zhenya could hear her talking. So he had a few more moments before leaving his son's room. She was working on getting a job here in the States, probably modeling in the short term, but she was also trying to find or start something in broadcasting, her real passion. 

Zhenya felt guilty about having her leave what she loved to do just to be with him in America. However, the last time he had expressed that feeling, Anna had smacked his shoulder and told him off for a good half an hour, saying it was her choice in the end and if they were going to work together, they would have to realize that a lot of the options taken were taken together even if it was an individual decision. 

As confusing as that statement was, Zhenya understood. He had made choices independently but made them with her and their family in mind. 

Nikita sighed in his sleep. 

Zhenya put the book away and made sure to tuck Nikita in with his current favorite stuffed animal. Some of the stress over the last few weeks was still on Nikita's face when he was awake, but now he was calm and unbothered. 

Zhenya hoped that the move would stop stressing his son out soon. 

There was a buzz from his phone in his pocket, an incoming phone call. Zhenya's ringer had been off since Nikita was trying to sleep. But Zhenya stood and checked it, ensuring the light wasn't bothering Nikita's sleep. 

It was Sid. 

It was late enough that the younger kids would mostly be in bed, but on a typical game day, they would not be done with the game or at least off the ice. Not an average time for them to call each other. 

But then again, today wasn't a typical day. 

Today, Sid was a father. And Sid wasn't going to know how to do that. 

When Zhenya stepped out of Nikita's room and shut the door behind him, he answered the phone in Russian. "Sid, Late to be calling. Everything okay?" 

"Yeah," Sid's exhausted voice answered in English. They had long gone past greetings in their phone conversations during the season. They saw each other far too often to bother. "So far, everything is fine." 

Sometimes, Sid spoke in English and Zhenya in Russian. Both were too tired to translate and respond but fine to understand. 

Zhenya tutted. "Not if you call. What's up?" 

There was a long pause. "Geno… I'm like a father to them, right?" 

"Yes, Sid, you father now," Zhenya said in English. He frowned at the possibility that Sid might not be this kid's dad. It was clear with how much they looked alike that Sid was one-half of this kid's genetic makeup.

"Everyone told me that I would be a good one." Sid took a deep breath, "But I'm terrified I won't be." 

Zhenya nearly laughed. Sid would be an excellent father when he got a handle on things. "Are kids fed?" 

"Yes?" Sid said, unsure. 

"Are they asleep?" Zhenya asked. "Are then unharmed since they came into your care?" 

"Yes?" Sid said, even more unsure. 

"Then they are fine for tonight, Sid." 

There was a long pause. Then Sid laughed at himself a little. "I guess I'm panicking, eh?"

"Yes, Sid. New father panic. I got mine during finals. Get yours the first night. Now it's over, and can move on now." Zhenya said. "Tell me what happened."

"Oh well," Sid hummed over the phone. "When we left the rink, after the DNA test, we went home. OR well, my house. My home – I don't know if Mike or Marisol would consider it home. Yet. Or at all. But –"

"Sidney," Zhenya said, interrupting him. It wasn't often that Sid rambled, but he did it to teammates when he was nervous. Zhenya had to cut him off. "What happened after home?" 

Sid was quiet for a long moment. "… They were quiet. I think they were overwhelmed. But, to be honest, Geno, so I am." 

Zhenya nodded, even though Sid wouldn't see him. "Parenthood is sometimes." 

"I don't know what to do next, and Mike, my probable son, keeps looking at me like he wants me to know what to do." Sid took a deep, ragged breath. "I want to know too." 

Sid is captain, Zhenya realized. Sid was used to being in control and being able to help rookies with their problems. And right now, he wasn't used to not knowing what to do. 

The thing is, Sid was good with kids, and even though this whole situation wasn't an event he planned on happening, he would be good with them again. 

Once he stopped panicking, Zhenya thought ruefully. 

"I mean, I'm proud that Mike could make it this far. But they need so much." Sid said. Over the speakers on the phone, Sid's pacing was loud; he was a pacer when he was worried. "Helena came over after they crashed." 

"Oh?" 

"Yeah. She's pretty pleased with the house and how the kids were comfortable enough to fall asleep. But she's concerned about our schedule still." 

Zhenya hummed. "I'll ask Anna for the nanny's numbers. She would know." 

Sid's grateful huff of laughter wasn't faked in any way. "It's a good thing my agent is flying out. He won't believe me without seeing them. Him. Michael." He broke off and sighed. "It's all rather hard to believe, but Geno. He's mine. I know it." 

Zhenya agreed. There was no way Michael wasn't Sid's son. He's got the same brave will of steel and brown eyes as Sid.

"Apparently, I need to think about schools." 

"Yes. Yes. Kids always need schools." Zhenya agreed, wandering down to the bedroom he now called his own rather than theirs. Anna had chosen one closer to Nikita's bedroom than another of the guest's rooms near the master bedroom.

"Helena suggested I might want to homeschool them with a tutor rather than send them to school for now," Sid said. "But I don't know." 

"Sid! You don't make decisions all in one night. Some things take time." Zhenya admonished. Sid liked to know everything upfront, but this situation differed from what anyone could figure out in a night. 

That got Sid to laugh, self-deprecatingly. "Oh, you know I'm bad at patience." He said, tone fond rather than worried. "I'll trust you on this. You're the father here." 

"Yes. Yes. seven years pro to you one day." Zhenya said. "I have experience." 

Zhenya got Sid talking a little longer, gradually letting the tension wind out of Sid's voice. By the end of the conversation, Sid was no longer panicking, and all Zhenya could feel was the warm happiness of helping Sid. 

The moment he hung up, Anna scared the shit out of him. "Was that Sid?" she asked in Russian from behind him. She was leaning on the doorframe with her arms crossed, smirking slightly, looking haughty and dangerous. 

Zhenya had loved that look once. Now, all he is fond of is a friend. "Because that is your Sid smile." She finished with a smug look. 

Zhenya sputtered back in Russian, words making more sense in his head than English ever could. "How did you know…" he trailed off before realizing he would never get an answer. "I don't have a Sid smile!" 

"Yes, you do!" Anna said teasingly. "Anyway, how is he? With the changes?" Zhenya had briefly explained the situation when he got home from camp that afternoon. Anna had made sympathetic noises but no ideas. Yet. She always had a plan; just sometimes, it took her a while. 

"Overwhelmed. As can be expected, to be honest." Zhenya said. He crossed over to the bed. He wasn't sure how to explain it all. 

"He went from not having children to having two. That's a lot to happen." Anna said, shrugging, uncrossing her arms, and moving more into the room. 

"Yeah." Zhenya agreed lamely; he stared at the wall for a moment. It was a lot to happen. 

"What does he need right now?" She asked, perching on the corner of the bed. "Babysitters? Food recommendations?" 

Zhenya thought about it. "Probably a nanny. Or an au pair. Someone who won't mind the long hours. But I have no idea what his plans for road trips are." 

"Too soon to make decisions anyway." But Anna hummed. "I'll ask the Lady Pens if they have any idea." 

Zhenya smiled at her in gratefulness, knowing that while she isn't too active with the Lady Pens, she has kept tabs on them. However, she always felt a little nervous with her English and never really connected to other women in the Pens WAG group. 

Then something occurred to him. "Are you planning on telling the Lady Pens? About us?" Zhenya hadn't told many people yet. 

Anna blinked; a frown of irritation crossed her features. "I thought you already told the organization." She said shortly.

She always hated how much his personal life was considered public to the Pens organization. It was something they had long argued over. 

Zhenya sighed, sitting on the bed. He forgot how much she hated that and hoped this would not lead to a fight. "Not yet. I've only told Sidney and Tanger," he said honestly. He hoped that would be enough. "I wasn't sure whom you wanted to know." 

She took a moment to consider that, still frowning but no longer gearing up for a fight. "Of course. The core always knows." She said that Sid and Tanger weren't some of the reasons he could calm down and sign with the Penguins over the summer. "But no one else?" 

"You never liked it," Zhenya said simply. "So, I didn't say." 

Of course, he didn't ask either. And by the face she pulled, Anna wasn't happy that Zhenya just assumed. Again. 

Zhenya felt a flash of guilt and did his best not to lash out at her in response to the feeling. One of their main arguments was how much they assumed of and for each other. He didn't want an argument tonight, but they might have one if he stuck his foot in his mouth. Zhenya was trying hard to maintain a good friendship and partnership with her. He had to stop making these mistakes. 

Anna visibly took a calming breath and re-studied herself. Not trying to provoke him as much as he was trying not to with her. "Thank you for taking my wants into consideration. Now that I have the option," She said meaningfully, "I don't want to tell the Penguins yet. I'm unsure about our next steps, but I don't want to close any options until later." 

Zhenya nodded; he was right not to tell the front office. He was also correct as to why. He let the victorious feeling run through him before reminding himself that just because he was right didn't mean it wasn't the proper thing to do. He should have asked first. 

"That being said, if there are people on the team you trust not to run and tell management, other than Sidney or Kris, then you are welcome to tell them. I'm sure you will have to tell Jennifer sometime sooner rather than later, but she's always been on our side." Anna continued. 

It's true. Jen had always been on Zhenya and Anna's side. With all of the ups and downs in their relationship, the media, and that one time that Zhenya had made a mess on Twitter, Jen had ensured he and Anna were comfortable with what had to happen. 

"But not yet?" Zhenya confirmed. He wanted to get things right. 

Anna nodded. "But not yet. I'm… not ready for that." 

Zhenya nodded back. They were being so careful with each other. They had to be. 

They were both trying so hard, and it felt like ships were passing by each other in the night rather than traveling together. It was better than before; since before, that was always an explosion, but now? They were all out of gas, and yet they were still hissing. 

"How's Nikita?" Anna asked, clearly ready for a change of subject.  

Zhenya jumped at the topic. "Sleeping like a champion." 

"Good." She said, a relieved smile crossing her face. They had been worried at the sudden regression to wanting bedtime stories again. But Nikita's Pittsburgh pediatrician said it was normal. 

They briefly lost themselves, talking about Nikita, his new schedule, his soccer team, and school. They both use him as an emotional shield sometimes after hard conversations. They were so instep in how they wanted to raise him that they had been able to ignore many of their other problems for a long time. 

Eventually, after deciding that if Sid were interested, they would be okay with Nikita meeting Michael and Marisol, they went to bed. 

Long after Anna left, Zhenya stared up at the ceiling. 

-

Sid stared at his ceiling, a legal pad beside him on the bed. 

He was a father. He had a son. He was a father. He had a son. His son was abused. 

Other than the occasional burst of worry and other concerns, that mantra was all he had going on in his brain. Just on repeat. 

He was a father. His son was a teenager. His son was abused. He had a son. He was a father. He had a son. His son was abused. 

What the fuck was he supposed to do?! Geno had been great at calming the worst of Sid's worries, but this was more than something one of his best friends could manage. He had a son. That son was a teenager.

The kids were asleep. His agent was flying in three days. The first preseason game of the year was that day. Sid already knows he won't be playing. 

It was hard to believe it was already late September. Most kids were in school now.  

School was…. Something he had to think about. Sid wrote home school programs down on the pad. There was already a hefty list on the paper. Nanny, food prefaces, favorite movies, hobbies, and even religion(?) were written in stark letters on the notepad. 

Michael talked about a travel team. he was good enough for one of his coaches to work with Sid on a camp once. Did Marisol know how to skate? 

Ice time? Sports. Sid wrote that down on the pad and returned to staring at the ceiling. 

He was a father. He had a son. His son was abused. He was a father. He had a son. His son was a teenager. 

-

Michael stared at the ceiling, not quite sure how to go to sleep. 

Marisol was tucked into his side, fast asleep, on a bed that was for guests. It was larger than any bed Mike had ever slept in before. 

Sid had offered to get them set up in different beds, but Mike refused and just asked for more blankets for Marisol.

Sid hadn't pushed; he just ensured they had pillows and knew where the bathroom was. He had some of Marisol's pull-ups delivered before they went to sleep, and Mike was so grateful for that. 

His Mama's phone was on a desk, attached to a charger Sid had assured him would be okay to keep. It was one of the few times he had been able to charge it to full power since they had left Anaheim. 

Everything sounded weird. There was no traffic noise, or other people, or fans, only the chirping of the animal nightlife and the AC. 

They were safe. They were fed. They were warm, not sleeping on a bus or a train or in a station. Marisol was snoring. The bed was soft, unused, but soft. 

They were safe. They were fed. Marisol was asleep. They weren't surrounded by people who could barely call themselves 'family.'  

Instead, Sidney Crosby was his father. 

Probably. Maybe. Mike hoped. 

"Fuck," Mike blinked at the ceiling, eyes growing blurry with what he forced himself to believe was exhaustion and not tears. He would be selfish for the first time since his parents died. Marisol was safe, and he had a bed. 

Sidney Crosby was his father. They were safe. For now, at least. There was the DNA test, and whatever Aunt Cynthia and Uncle Rodger might do…. Why else would Sid need a good lawyer? 

What comes next? 

Michael had no idea, but maybe he could skate soon. 

Marisol snored beside him on the bed, unmoving in the way children could sleep, and Mike let his eyes close. She was safe. 

-

[callofthxvoid]

WHO: Fleur Villiers and Quincey Harker

SUMMARY: Two idiots turn their fake relationship into a real relationship. But because they're, you know, idiots, only one of them is genuine about their feelings.

QUINCEY had a towel around his shoulders, drying his hair as he walked into the room he shared with Fleur. Considering it's late he'd only bother to throw on a pair of shorts. The last month had taken some getting use to, plus dealing with a pissy Quill was never fun. Though what actually had him concerned was how distant Fleur had started to be. "Hey," he greeted, his southern accent making the word more drawn out, "Are you and me cool, or you joining the Quincey hate club with Quill?"

FLEUR was sitting in bed, staring down at her phone as if it would magically produce the internet from her sheer intensity, when Quincey's greeting caused her to look up. The corners of her lips tugged up when she caught the slight drawl. "We're cool," she confirmed, dropping her phone onto the bedside table and turning toward him completely. There was a thoughtful expression on her face. "I mean, I guess I've just been thinking... Why are we still doing this, exactly?" She shrugged. "It's not like my parents are around to care what I'm doing. Feels rude to still police what or who you're doing."

QUINCEY felt his lips twitch and tried not to frown before he sat down next to her. His hands were fiddling with the towel, still drying at his hair despite the fact it wasn't even wet anymore. They'd been together for over 3 years, the idea of going to bed alone now seemed foreign. "I mean yeah guess your folks ain't around," he mumbled. He let the towel drop around his shoulders, thoughts racing, knowing how Fleur could get without restrictions. It was more likely she'd be out alone without him if they weren't together, being her boyfriend meant being able to keep an eye on her. Though he'd need a better reason than that for why to keep it up. "I mean haven't really looked around for that kind of thing," not a complete lie, too busy being scolded, "We've had a good thing going, why change it?"

FLEUR looked genuinely puzzled when she looked over at him. Yeah, their fake relationship had been wildly successful, and she had sincerely enjoyed large parts of it, but at the end of the day, it was still a means to an end. It had outlived its purpose. "Why keep it going?" she asked, running a hand through her hair. "It doesn't have to be like, a dramatic breakup, or anything. The good thing about all of this being pretend is that we can decide how we call it quits." She shrugged. "Obviously we're gonna stay friends. And nothing's stopping us from still fucking whenever we feel like it. We'd just be able to also fuck other people."

QUINCEY was chewing on the inside of his lip, moving to lean back on his hands not even caring how exposed his chest was now. He looked up at the ceiling in thought for a brief, she wasn't wrong their friends were likely to only be about as upset as that two of them acted about it. If they hardly reacted they'd forget about it. He almost wished he had Quill to bounce things off of, he was always better at getting things under control. The idea swung by his head and without thinking he looked at her, "What if I don't want to fuck anyone else, what if I just want you now?"

FLEUR didn't bother to hide how her gaze dropped to his bare chest when he leaned back. She was attracted to him, he knew that she was attracted to him, why bother being coy about it? Once they were done with this conversation there was nothing stopping them from fucking and then going to sleep. It wasn't until he looked at her and said that that she shyly dropped her gaze to her hands. "I—I mean—Do you?" She looked up at him again. Clearly, the question had rattled her. "Quince, I swear to fucking god, if you're fucking with me right now..."

Now would be the time to run this back, think it through. Maybe come back with a more clear argument for why to stay together, why it would be beneficial. It what's Quill would have done, but he wasn't Quill. He was QUINCEY, and he'd always been impulsive and maybe a little stupid. He's not technically lying, he currently doesn't have anyone else he wants to have sex, but saying he only wants her? It could be true, maybe, he's not sure he's never thought about it. Shifting on the bed he cupped her cheek and brushed his lips against hers, "I'm not fucking with you, I like being your boyfriend and taking care of you. We work right?" He's never thought about their relationship in the long term, it was convenient and fun, made his job easier. In their lives people got married for worse reasons, stayed together for worse things, he wasn't the bad guy, right?

FLEUR stilled when he brushed his lips against hers. She was having a hard time wrapping her head around what he was telling her. Yeah, she had friends, but did any of them actually like her because she was her, or because she was rich like them? She had hooked up with plenty of people before being with Quincey and none of them had ever shown the slightest bit of interest in dating her. Quincey hadn't even shown interest in dating her. Their relationship had been a business arrangement. "Yeah, we do," she replied quietly, brushing her lips against his in return before tentatively kissing him. It felt nice, and it hit her how desperately she had been longing for real affection from someone. She slowly licked her lips before looking him in the eyes. "So... You wanna be like... My boyfriend for real, then?"

QUINCEY kissed her back, a small sigh slipping out when she pulled away. Kissing Fleur had always been nice, it was why he'd gone to her when he'd been upset in the past, and maybe why she'd picked him in their friend group for the fake boyfriend. Getting picked first had felt good, though he'd never really asked why she'd picked him, a small part worried he'd find out he hadn't actually been the first choice. "If you're willing to let me be, then yeah I do," he said nodding as he looked back at her. He kept his hand on her face stealing another quick kiss. "I want you to keep being my girlfriend," he added.

FLEUR felt like she was in a romantic comedy. Okay, it wasn't quite as dramatic as it was in the movies, but being in a fake relationship only to have her fake boyfriend develop real feelings for her? That was some Hollywood shit. It was a great story that would probably have done bonkers well on social media and yet, for once, that wasn't what she was thinking about. She was too focused on the warm feeling in her chest from the idea that there might be someone in the world who loved her like that. "I want to keep being your girlfriend," she replied, leaning in to kiss him again. Without breaking away, she moved to straddle his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. A soft chuckle left her lips when she finally pulled back. "Can't believe we're actually together now," she whispered, brushing her lips against his.

QUINCEY grunted when he found himself with a lap full of Fleur, the towel falling onto the floor. Wrapping his arms around her waist this wasn't new for them, if anything they'd gone a bit long without physical contact, PDA had always been one of the biggest factors in their relationship. Kissing her back he pulled her closer to him, chuckling with her. A voice sounding vaguely like Quill's saying they'd need to discuss this, but as he'd done in the past he flicked that little combo of angel / devil off his shoulder. "Cool," he mumbled leaning his forehead against hers, not able to hide the relief in his face that things had gone over alright. He was vaguely aware he was still shirtless and they were on their bed, he knew how things would usually go, but something told him that that would be a step too far to do when he hadn't been completely genuine. Brushing his lips against hers he idly rubbed at her back, "Think we could just sleep together? Like actually just sleep?" He asked softly.

"Cool," FLEUR repeated with a small smile, leaning her forehead against his as well. She hadn't realised how nervous Quincey must have been about having this conversation, but based on how relieved he looked now, it seemed like quite a bit. She found that oddly endearing. Just like she found it oddly endearing that he didn't actually want to have sex with her after all of that. A small part of her had been a little worried that he'd just said what he did to keep sleeping with her even if she had already said she'd be down even if they weren't together. "Yeah, of course, babe," she replied, leaning in to give him a soft kiss before climbing off him and slipping under the covers. Tucking one arm under her pillow, she used the other to reach out and gently tug at his wrist, encouraging him to get under there with her. "You don't have to ask if that's okay. If you're not in the mood then you're not in the mood. I might get a little whiney about it if I'm already worked up, but you know me, that's just what I'm like."

QUINCEY had felt his shoulders relax when she said it was fine, more than a small part of him worried she might get offended. It wasn't like he wasn't into her, but something about it all had made him hesitate. A new one for him, though he doubted it become a habit, he was too impatient and impulsive. Letting her tug him under the covers he wrapped his arm around her, shifting closer until her head was tucked under his. "Yeah I do know you," he mumbled, "And you know me." She knew him, eventually he'd tell, maybe. She'd understand, they were friends, she'd seen him on one of the worst days of his life and hadn't thought he was lame. He was just returning the favor for her having his back, it wouldn't be that big of a deal. "Night babe, love you," he mumled pressing his lips to the top of her head.

FLEUR shuffled closer when he wrapped his arm around her and pressed her face to the crook of his neck. It wasn't that unusual for them to be close like this, but it did feel a little different now, in a good way. It was one thing for them to be affectionate in public. It was an entirely different thing for them to continue being affectionate in private. The fact that they had been doing the latter for years, whether she'd thought about it or not, made a small smile tug on her lips. It really was like a romantic comedy. "Love you too," she mumbled back, pulling herself a little closer and settling in for the night. "G'night babe."

[easypeasylindyvesey]

I Think it’s Strange We Never Knew: Jimmy Vesey x fem!OC

Summary: After the unforeseen death of Abby’s boyfriend, one of the NHL’s star defenseman and her teammate, she severely struggles with managing her grief. She confides in Jimmy Vesey, who is not only another teammate of hers, but is one of the very few people she has a strong friendship with. That is until that night and the days that followed. Does this life-altering news change the trajectory of their personal perceptions of each other? Or does it entail a chance of crossing boundaries for the risk of moving on?

Word Count (excluding title and heading): 15,745

*(General) Warnings: (foul) language, mentions/discussion of death, suicide attempt (brief, closed door description), eventual confession of feelings, grief, panic attack(s), angst, eventual sexual implications but no smut, age gap

*Note: This story takes place in the future. Abby is 24-25 and Jimmy is 33-35.

MAY 2027  (Warnings: angst, grief, mentions/discussion of death, suicide attempt (brief, closed door), (foul) language)

I am confined to this state of nothingness. I feel like I am passing through each day without any purpose. There’s nothing to do, nothing to distract myself with. The hours take so long to pass. It’s probably because I spend them in my room.

I’ve fallen into a pattern where I only leave my room to use the bathroom and to get food, otherwise, it’s my little private habitat. I don’t even attempt to talk to Jimmy. He’s forcing himself through the exposed cracks that happen to be parts of my soul. The forced conversation does not work. I see it as a little tactic of his. I hate to break it to him, but he’s not going to get anywhere with his strategy. If it’s not going to work with anyone else, it sure won’t with my roommate. God, it still feels so weird to call him that.

Ever since the argument about the panic attack, we haven’t had any others that have escalated to that point. A few quick arguments here and there, but he’s done better with not verbally attacking me. We didn’t even have a discussion about that fight. There were no apologies or anything. It was kinda shoved aside and forgotten about. Well, I wouldn’t say forgotten about. More like something that didn’t want to be revisited. After that, we’ve still talked to each other, but it’s more short-term, if anything. I think we’re both avoiding the elephant in the room. The meals are shortened, quick pleasantries are said half-heartedly, little to no quality time is spent together in the same place. I don’t mean to shut him out. I really don’t. I’ve always craved my own space, and he’s starting to realize that now. It doesn’t change the fact about previous encounters, but he’s being cautious. It’s as if he’s walking on eggshells. Now again, I don’t want him to feel like he has to do that. He’s probably afraid of saying the wrong thing, which he’s actually never admitted before. Hey, there’s a first time for everything. He’s not getting an out.

I’m watching how I talk to him, too. I have to remind myself that he is still hurt and upset by everything. It just might take him a little while longer to fully express it. The thought of him exploding at any minute never leaves my mind. I’m not prepared. So in order to avoid it in the near future, guess I’m walking on eggshells too.

The room grows dark as the evening sky makes its way to settle in. I’m watching the HGTV channel. It’s been my hyperfixation for most of the month. The shows are calming and have great personality among the hosts and guests. There’s no mystery, no uncertainty. It’s there to boost your spirits and keep you engaged. It sure has kept me focused. It has definitely not boosted my spirits, that’s for sure.

Out of the corner of my eye, my phone lights up next to me on the duvet. It’s a text message, and who else would it be from than the man that’s about 10ish walking feet from me right next door? I quickly gaze at it. Sleep well, it reads.

I unlock my phone and tap my fingers on the screen. you too, I answer, hitting send. I lock my phone and turn it camera side up. A new alternative the both of us have silently came up with is engaging more in text than verbal conversation. It gives us the choice of actually wanting to respond without being forced when we’re stuck in front of each other. It’s not like we go all day without talking, but you can tell there’s some sort of weakened part in us being able to hold a dialogue. Then again, it’s a touchy subject, and I’d rather not talk about it. One of us will end up getting hurt. Both of us are used to it by now. At least we’re making the minimal amount of effort to maintain contact. It’d be nearly impossible to ghost him and vice versa. It would’ve poured out in an argument at some point or another.

I end up watching TV for another hour before shutting off the lights and getting comfortable to go to bed. The only problem is that I’m wide awake. My eyes are completely alert and show no signs of rapidly closing. It’s probably because my brain is racing. It’s racing with the thought that tomorrow is going to be a very tough day.

Tomorrow was supposed to be Ryan and I’s second year anniversary. I know my last year self was so excited about getting past 1 year. When it comes to relationships, whether you’re still with the person or have ended it, the time you were together matters. Even if they were the biggest asshole to walk this planet. You wouldn’t be able to consider it time really wasted. At one point, you meant something to them and were prioritized. The unsatisfying part is never being fully aware of when it started to spin sideways. Where it started to slip away from which both of you would not be able to fully recover.

The thought of never being able to find out if the two of us were going to stand the test of time is one of a million thoughts that is going to forever haunt me. Then, I’m reminded of Jimmy’s comment saying that it was a blessing in disguise. Even though it didn’t come off as sincere, he really wasn’t wrong. Who knows what the universe had in store? Who knows if we were really built for a future? Who knows what his true, bitterly raw feelings about me were? If there’s one thing I do know, it’s that I never regretted the time we had together. It might have been cut short, but it was evident that we were always going to share that special bond that no one else would ever be able to understand. It’s somewhat comforting.

What’s not comforting, however, is the fear of having to replicate another close bond with another man. It’s not going to be the same, not that I want it to be, anyway, but to open up my heart and soul again will be even more daunting than I might realize.

Okay, that’s enough thinking for tonight. I hit my head on the pillow and shut my eyes, hoping that the task of faking to be asleep will eventually pay off. I can’t be kept up all night. Not by him, anyway.

I’m awoken again, this time not by noise, but by what feels like bright lights. I squint my eyes open and look to the carpet floor. I don’t see any outside light pouring in. My curiosity decided to get the best of me and I find myself dragging out of bed to open up the curtains. 

Well, now I know the source of the “bright lights.” It’s cloudy.

So much for a good day. Even the sky knows it’s not time to celebrate.

“Well, that’s just great,” I say aloud. I discard my unmade bed and head straight for the door, taking a quick peak to see if Jimmy’s awake. By the looks of his closed door, I can tell that he’s not. It’s either that or he’s doing his morning social media scroll. I wouldn’t blame him because I do it too.

I use the bathroom and wash my face, spritz on the perfume, roll on the deodorant, all that jazz. I tiptoe into the kitchen and do everything I can to be quiet while making breakfast. I’ve always been known to act like a mouse when it comes to wandering around places. I don’t draw too much attention to myself and I’ve got tiny feet, so it doesn’t really count for much noise. Jimmy’s kinda the same, I’d say. I mean, he can’t help his tall stature, so he can be a little loud when moving around, but he does his best to maintain my mouse-like quietness. Although, there is one time where I recall sleeping within the last couple weeks, and since I’m a light sleeper, I heard footsteps approach my door and it creaked open, shutting several seconds later. This is under the assumption that he was either watching me sleep, which is really creepy, or he wanted to see if I was awake and wanted to have a conversation. Should I even give him credit for trying?

I settle for scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast with a side of store-packaged fruit, specifically the assorted containers with cantaloupe, watermelon, pineapple, honeydew. That’s the good shit. I take the fruit out of the fridge and keep it out on the counter while looking through the newly organized cabinets for a decent sized pan to cook the eggs in. I decide to double my workload and make breakfast for him too. I hope he appreciates the sentiment, even if it’s through expressions rather than words.

I crack the first 2 eggs into the pan and prepare the toast by dropping the slices of bread into the toaster. It’s only 9:10. A little earlier than I get up, but I guess both my brain and body had different plans today. While waiting for the food to get caught up to speed, I decide which fruit to pick out. The package isn’t even open yet, so I have first-hand advantage. I pick one of everything, arranging it on the paper plate and pushing it off to the side. My attention returns to both the eggs and toast.

It’s too quiet in here. I don’t hear any shuffling or evident signs that he’s gotten up yet. That’s okay. I’ll just take the time to think, collect my thoughts. Maybe by the end of it, I’ll have my shit together. Oh, who am I kidding? Everyone knows I won’t.

I continue folding the eggs around on every corner, every crevice, every edge there possibly is until I’ve gotten them all yellow and scrambled before I remove them from the pan with the spatula and place them onto the crisp, golden brown toast. I reach into the cabinet above the pots and pans, moving my hand around blindly to grab the salt and pepper. Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t hard because they were right in front of me. I sprinkle a small amount onto each slice before I locate them to their own spot on the counter. I reach bag into the egg carton and grab 2 more and crack them above the pan, watching them fall out of their shells and sizzling underneath the flame. At least that one can be retained. Mine’s upgraded into a wildfire.

Conversation has continued to be limited with the team. There hasn’t been much to really discuss, other than the fact that it’s technically summer vacation and we’re free to do whatever we want without the constant routine of showing up to the rink and practicing almost everyday. With that temporary absence of a consistent schedule, it’s been difficult figuring out how to spend my free time. Then again, I’m having several solo parties a day in my room. It really cannot get that much better, right?

I’m so adjusted to the drastic decrease in communication that I don’t even realize another voice infiltrating the room. “Morning.” It’s said in a sleepy voice, just like the one in Minnesota. I hear the scrape of a chair on the floor.

I turn around and meet his gaze. He was already looking with my back turned to him, wasn’t he? “Hi.”

“This for me?” He points to the full plate I pushed away earlier.

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m making my own now.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure. Killing two birds with one stone.”

I immediately regret using that phrase, as it brings me back to the night of that argument. I remember him saying he wished I would’ve died with Ryan, hence, the two birds being us and the stone being that drunk driver and his stupid fucking truck. Sometimes, I wonder if he really wanted it to end up that way.

Returning to the eggs, they look perfect. I shut off the stove and take the toast out of the toaster, unplugging it right after. I arrange the toast on my plate and gently put down my eggs on top, sprinkling the salt and pepper for a perfect finish. I decide to take a fork out from the drawer and just eat the fruit straight out of the container. I turn back around to face him, my forearms leaning down on the counter. “Got anything planned today?” I say, attempting to sound as honest as possible.

Jimmy shakes his head. “Not really,” he responds. He points to the plate with his fork, a diced piece of watermelon taking up its space. “This is really good, by the way.”

“I’m a good cook.”

“Hell, you’re better than me.”

“Don’t I know it,” I reply sarcastically.

“Alright, stop that.” He flashes me his little smile.

I can’t help but flash one back at him.

“What about you?” Now it’s his turn to pry into my personal mental journal of thoughts.

“Nope. Got nothing better to do than just sit here.”

“That’s fair.”

I give him a little nod.

“I’m, uh, I’m sorry about today.” He flashes me those sparkly puppy-dog eyes, that even I, too, can really see they are filled with sadness.

I look down at my plate and then look back up, glancing everywhere around the room that isn’t directly into his eyes. “It’s fine,” I mutter.

“Is there anything you’d like to do today, to uh, like, commemorate it or anything?” He’s sincere when he says that, too.

I shake my head. “No. It’s not the same without him here.”

“For what it’s worth, if anything, I thought you two were a great match for each other.”

I finally gain the courage to look at him. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he continues. “You both really cared about what was best for one another. It was evident there was some other level you two had unlocked that no one else could’ve cracked. I don’t want this to come off as creepy or anything, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you happier than when he was in the room. I know you didn’t have to be everywhere with him, and you were fine with that, but he just generated a different aura, you know? I’ve never seen you not smile when he was there. It made me happy to know he was treating you well.”

A rare sighting of sweetness?

“He did,” I admit. “There were rarely any arguments, and even if there were, it’d be over stupid things, like where to go get ice cream after a day on the beach or what music to play when driving. He was never too serious. I mean, he obviously was about his career, that’s a given. Don’t get me wrong, he was serious about us too, but I never had to question if he truly enjoyed it. If he could make me laugh at least three separate times during each time we saw each other, then maybe it was something worth my time.”

“Never made you cry?”

I stare him down. “Not until recently. He never made me go to bed wondering if I wasn’t an important part of his life.”

“Sounds like he was the perfect guy for you.”

I scoff. “Well, he wasn’t perfect, by any means. He obviously had flaws, just like you and I do. However, he did put in the effort. That’s what mattered.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s always going to matter.”

Jimmy clears his throat and gets up from his chair, retreating to the fridge and grabbing the jug of orange juice to place on the counter. He takes a cup out of the cabinet and pours himself some to go along with his breakfast. He looks in my direction, jug in hand. “Want some?”

“No thanks. Orange juice is dehydrating.”

He scrunches his eyebrows. “What do you mean? No, it’s not.”

“Uh, yes it is,” I sarcastically argue. “I don’t know how anyone drinks it God-willingly.”

“You’re so weird,” he replies back.

“Damn straight.” I give him a devious smile.

Now it’s his turn to scoff and shake his head. “You want anything to drink?”

“I’m good.”

He puts the orange juice back in the fridge and shuts the door, walking back to where he was sitting. He takes his piece of watermelon and pops it into his mouth.

“You excited for Wednesday?”

He finishes swallowing and looks at me. “I guess so, yeah.”

“You don’t wanna turn another year younger, do you?”

I get him to crack a smile, and with teeth. Damn, I’m good. “Not according to you, no.”

“But, like, do you have an idea of what you wanna do? We can’t just do nothing. Maybe, we can do a team outing or something.”

“Not everybody’s here,” Jimmy corrects me. “Lots of the guys went back home for the summer, remember?”

Oh crap, I forgot about that.

I exhale a frustrated sigh. “Alright, fine. I’ll go buy a tiny cake from the store and stick 34 mini candles in it. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like a fire hazard.”

I wave my hand away in his face. “I’ll keep it under control.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will. But seriously, we don’t have to do anything crazy. We can run to Dunkin to get breakfast and then maybe come back here and just lounge. We could walk around the city if it’s nice out. Just wanna keep it lowkey, okay?”

I nod. “Got it. Your parents aren’t gonna be in town?”

He shakes his head. “Not this year. It’s not a big deal. You didn’t celebrate your birthday with yours, either.”

“Well, yeah, but I did it with another family instead.”

He nods in agreement. “Have your parents checked in on you at all?”

“Yeah. I call my mom once a week. I’m tired of her constantly texting me, asking if I’m okay. She should know by now that I’m not. My dad hasn’t thought to formulate a sentence, but that’s how he is.”

“When did you last call her?”

I finish the last bite of my toast before moving to my fruit. “Yesterday. It was only like 15 minutes. It’s the same old shit. There’s not much to talk about.”

“Does she seem worried?”

“She’s always gonna worry about me, even if I’m in the happiest mood ever,” I retort. “She was a nonstop mess when I moved here and had to live on my own, but she feels slightly better that I’ve moved in with someone.”

“Has she said anything about me?” Jimmy wonders.

I pretend to think. “She told me to thank you for being there when she couldn’t.”

“Well, tell her that it’s my utmost duty.”

“Okay, now you’re just being a little shit,” I laugh, closing the fruit container and putting it back in the fridge, then throwing my plate in the trash can. “You done? I can take it for you.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Thanks.”

“Oh, it’s my utmost duty to serve you, James.”

“Okay, enough of that,” he laughs. “What do you wanna do?”

I look around the apartment. “Actually, I think I’m gonna get organized. Make the bed, put away laundry, maybe start shifting some stuff into the other closet so that it doesn’t come crashing down on me the next time I open it.”

“Sounds like a great idea. Today’s probably not gonna be a good day to go out, anyway.” He gestures to the windows behind the TV.

It’s started drizzling. That’s great! Perfect weather for a somber day!

“Well, thank goodness for our lives being boring and having no plans!” I reply. “And with that, I’m going to go distract myself with plans.”

“Let me know if you want any help.” 

Oh, like he’s ever done that since that night? He cannot be serious.

“I will,” I respond. It’s the only thing I can say that won’t start something. I make my way to my room, shutting the door behind me.

I start off with making my bed, propping up all the pillows so they look fresh and totally not worn out. I brought my pillows to sleep on and kept Jimmy’s boring ass white shams. Same thing with the duvet. To make the room a little more interesting, I placed a couple throw blankets at the end to add in some color to make up for the lack thereof. The next task was perhaps the most daunting of them all as an adult: laundry. The basket was heavy because I let it build up, and Jimmy always wanted to take my basket down when our laundry had to be done so he could separate our clothes. He has not yet made the mistake of throwing in one of his own articles into my basket yet. I’m still waiting for the day.

After the longest 25 minutes of flipping shirts inside out, finding unoccupied hangers, hooking them on the closet rail, folding all of my pants and putting them in the drawer, repeating the process with my bras and underwear, which now, it got me thinking. I wonder if he ever peaked at them longer than he should’ve when I wasn’t around. Oh, who am I kidding? He most definitely did not. He’s too innocent for that. Although, he was guilty of calling me a burden, so I wonder if he’s gonna reverse his charges. Wait, what was I alluding to? Oh, yeah. My laundry’s done.

I move all of my hockey gear, equipment, all of its corresponding bullshit to the empty closet. It’s not one that I want to open in the near future. I forgot how heavy my duffle bag was, so I literally had to shuffle it across the carpet because I really don’t want to throw out a shoulder right now. Not that it would matter because we’re not playing, but it would make my life just the tiniest bit easier. I go back for the skates, stick, and gloves. Only they’re not mine. They’re his.

The other option was that they get discarded in some deep, dark closet that no one would ever open again, the lock being kept in place. I drove up to the practice rink one day to get them. Of course, I chose not to tell Jimmy where I was going, so when I got back an hour and a half later, when I opened the door, I found him sitting on the couch and immediately turning around to give me one of the most disapproving looks. We quickly bickered about how I need to let him know where I’m going, yet I’m a grown adult just like him and that he doesn’t need to become a helicopter “parent” and know all of my whereabouts. The good news is that he hasn’t had to worry since. I have not stepped foot out that door probably since close to the end of April. The closest I count to escaping is standing out on the balcony for a little while until I start to feel claustrophobic, and then I make my way back inside. I finally got an apartment complex parking sticker, so I did end up bringing my car over, but it’s never left its parking spot since the day I came back from Greenburgh. I don’t know where to go. I don’t know who to go see.

Exhaustion begins to set in after moving everything around and rearranging my space. I don’t even make a run for lying down on my bed and instead settle sitting next to the deep, dark closet on the carpet. It’s not even 12 yet and this day is already going by too slow. I need it to be over. The goal is always getting to the next day without feeling the need to perish. Has it gotten easier? No. Am I starting to come to the conclusion that this accident was probably the one thing the universe did to me on purpose? Yes.

I hear a faint knock. At first, I think it’s at the bedroom door, but I hear footsteps make their way from the room next door all the way across the apartment. Someone’s here. Who is it? What do they want?

There’s a distant sound of voices. Are they conspiring on something? Does someone know I’m here? Are they coming to kick me out? Are we being invaded? Are they here to tell me that someone else is dead?

Now is the time when the footsteps approach the bedroom door. I hear a light knock. If it’s actually him on the other side, kudos to finally taking the hint at knocking. Every time that I’m in here, he never feels the need to. I could be standing naked in the middle of the room and he wouldn’t be able to burn that image out of his head. That would be the day where his embarrassment would’ve created a permanent fixture of remembering the importance of knocking on a door. It’s courteous. It’s considerate. It’s smart.

“Who is it?” I call out.

“It’s me.” Ah, yes, Mr. Boston boy!

“Come in.”

The door opens and he emerges onto the carpet, keeping his hand on the knob. He notices me sitting on the floor. “You, uh, you okay?” 

I cock my head at him. “Yeah, why?”

“Because you’re sitting on the floor.”

“Because I couldn’t find the energy to flop down on my bed after moving everything around.”

“I see.” He looks skeptical.

“Still find me weird?”

“Yeah, definitely. Hey, listen. Laf’s here. He says he’s got something to give you.”

“Laf?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, what is it?”

“I don’t know. You gotta go see it for yourself.”

What is this? What could he, out of all people, have to give me?

I gather myself off the floor and drag my feet on the carpet, following Jimmy out into the hallway. He was right. Gosh, I haven’t seen him since the funeral. It feels like years.

I walk past Jimmy to approach him first. He’s standing by the far side of the island. “Hey.” It comes out as a combination of curiosity and surprise.

“Hey, Abb.” 

“How, uh, how are you?”

Alexis looks around the apartment before back at me. “Good. I’m, uh, I’m flying back to Quebec in a few hours, so I’m not gonna be back in the states for a little while. I was cleaning out Ryan’s apartment for the new tenants and I came across this.”

I don’t even pay attention to what he’s holding. I ask the more important question first. “Wait, what do you mean you were cleaning out his apartment? They just decided to end his lease?”

He coughs. “Well, yeah. I mean, he’s not there. Landlord needs to clear out space.”

Yeah, I’m not buying it.

“Since I had his spare key, I spent a few days cleaning out what I could. I was looking through his room, and it took me forever, but I found something stored away in the back of his dresser.”

It’s when I look down at his hands and notice he’s holding a light blue bag. It’s got white tissue paper sticking out and a lime green envelope.

It’s my birthday present.

The one he forgot because he was in a rush.

The one he promised he would give to me after practice the next day.

And he broke that one, too.

I stare at it, wondering if I should even accept it. It’s two months overdue. I meet Alexis’ eyes. “You didn’t think to give this to me sooner?” My voice is riled with hesitation.

“There was never a right time. The funeral, the wake. Everything was happening so quickly that I wasn’t sure if I was going to bother. I had it sitting in my room for the longest time before I remembered that I was leaving, and it’s not like anyone else would’ve been able to get it. That’s why I’m here.”

“Did you peak?”

“No. It’s wrapped up pretty good. Your guess is as good as mine.”

I outstretch my arm to release the gift bag from his grip. I continue looking at it, as if there’s an unwanted surprise that’s going to jump out and scare me.

“You don’t have to open it now,” he says. “It’s whatever you want.”

I turn to look at Jimmy. He’s sitting against the back of the sofa. “Yeah, Abb, you don’t have to do it now. It’s probably something that would mean more if it were just you that opened it.”

I sigh, thinking over my options. I’ve done everything on my own for this long. This should be shared with someone else. It was the original intention anyway.

“No, I’ll open it now.” I pull out a chair from the island and sit down, deciding if I should focus on the card first or the actual gift at hand. I settle on the card. The writing will probably throw me in for a quick waterworks show. Shocker.

If you ever looked at Ryan first glance, you would assume that his physical appearance would indicate that he was very tough and manly. You could indicate based on his tone of voice that he was always so stoic and serious; never had time to joke around, didn’t seem like the type of person to let themselves have fun. Oh, you would’ve been so wrong.

I wouldn’t say that he was the absolute best at giving gifts, but I told him to never go over the top, whether it be for Christmas, Valentine’s Day, my birthday, our one and only anniversary. Did he ever listen to me, though? No. I’m about to be proven that.

I tap my fingers on the envelope, flipping it upside down and opening it. I wiggle the card out and turn to look at the front. It’s got an animated illustration of two cats. One’s playing with a ball of yarn and the other’s watching from afar on the couch. I don’t realize the destroyed birthday cake in the bottom corner. The cat on the couch has a speech bubble above its head, saying “The sweetest of lives are lived with you.” 

Alright, here it goes.

I open the card to read what’s in the middle. “Here’s to the rest of them. Happy Birthday.”

I drop it on the counter, head already in my hands. I let out a tiny squeak. This really is hitting a lot harder than I thought it would.

But it’s not over yet.

He filled up the whole card. Both sides.

If I’m being honest, Ryan would sometimes be an annoying little shit because he would choose not to communicate his feelings verbally, so that’s when he resorts to writing it out, whether through a card or a quick text or even on a Post-It note. He never ignored me deliberately. I’d give him some time for him to sort them all out, and then when he was ready, he would come find me and we would talk about what was bothering him. He would always start off with “It’s not because of you.” And he really meant it.

I direct my eyes to the top of the card and begin reading.

Dear Abby,

Happy 24th! It feels as if I’ve known you in a past life, and it’s given me the privilege of replicating in the real one. I’m gonna be sappy real quick. Where do I start? Oh, yeah, thank you for literally being the BEST girlfriend, the BEST person, the BEST human that I have ever had the pleasure of getting to know. I’m aware that I don’t tell you as often as I should, and that’s my fault, but you are everything to me. I’m fortunate to make you the happiest I’ve ever seen you, and you’re fortunate to make me the luckiest and most blessed man. I appreciate your mind and your heart; the way you care for everybody and only want what’s best for them, the way you’re never afraid to say what you want/need, the way you’ve become more comfortable as a player and a person, dealing with the consistent pressure to do well. You’ve handled it with such grace that I’m almost jealous, only because I wish I could do that. You are the greatest gift I could’ve ever received, so the one that I got you might finish in second place. Here I am to say that if not for you, I don’t know where I’d be. I guess the extra time of just remaining teammates and friends really paid off. I’m excited to celebrate with you and everyone else, and I can’t wait. You’re perfect. Just as you are. And to me, you always are. Excited for the next one. There is truly no one better, and there never will be. At least, not for me.

Love always,

Ry

I shove the card to the far edge of the countertop, distracting myself by ravaging through the gift bag like a hyper kid rushing through opening their presents on Christmas to see if they got the toys they asked Santa for. There’s two things. One is placed in a skinny, rectangular box, and the other is standing up, wrapped in blue tissue paper. It seems like it could be fragile, so I place it down gently on the counter without having it hang too close to the edge.

It almost seems like I’m opening the gifts by myself until I hear a shuffling noise in the background. It causes me to turn around in my chair. Laffy’s moved over to sit with Jimmy on the back of the couch. I furrow my eyebrows at them. “Why don’t you guys come over here and we can open it together?”

“We don’t wanna impose,” Alexis pipes up. “It’s not our business to know what he got you.”

“You’re not,” I say. “C’mon. Please?”

Both of them stand up and make their way to the kitchen area, still maintaining their space by hovering near the pantry. Good God, what are they so afraid of? What’s the worst they’ll have to do? Comfort me? Watch me cry? Grow up.

I start off with the box. I lift up the cover and my eyes are immediately drawn to the two presents inside that I don’t even know what to pick up first.

How about with tickets to Country Fest in Detroit Lakes in August?

He told me this was one of the reasons he always looked forward to summer. He went every year with friends and always had the best time. I kept mentioning that I would gladly go with him, even though I don’t religiously listen to country music like he did. Every time he’d drive us anywhere, it would always be on. He stuck to his true Midwestern roots, and never once let them go.

Is there even a point of using them now? He spent a good amount of money. I don’t want it going to waste. Maybe I’ll sell them or something. Why would I go when it’s not going to be intended quality time?

I reach to the second gift. I speculate on how to open it; that’s even if there’s a right way. I move the tissue paper, pushing it down until all of it hits the counter. The good news is that it’s not glass. Essentially, it’s two things in one. The first thing, giving way to its tall stature, was a rectangular pillow. It was red and white. Embroidered in large font and large letters, it read Abby & Ryan, and on the bottom, it read 05/22/2025. It had tiny red hearts protruding from each side. It looked stitched to perfection, handled with so much care. 

I stare at it for a couple seconds before snapping myself out of my trance and looking to find the next part. I scoff. As if it couldn’t get any worse than a personalized pillow.

It’s a personalized photo blanket.

With what looks to be several 4x6 and 5x7 photos all meshed into each other.

On the top, it reads A different type of warmth that will never die.

On the back, this time in smaller font, it reads Happy birthday. You’ve warmed my heart, and now it’s time for me to return the favor. -R

Just when I think it’s over, it’s not.

A container of something spills out from the middle of the blanket and onto the floor. I reach down from my chair to pick up. I see a tag attached to what looks like to be a bottle. I turn it over.

It’s his favorite cologne.

I look at the tag.

In case for when you start to miss me.

My lip starts to quiver, but I bite it so hard to prevent myself from a meltdown in front of one more person. I look over at the two men still lingering by the pantry. They’re looking along as well.

“Those are really nice, Abb,” Jimmy says. “Guess he meant it when he said you should’ve opened it in front of him.”

“Are you glad to have gotten them?” Alexis asks. “He really knew you like the back of your hand.”

I turn in my chair and face the both of them, one eye focusing on each. “Yeah, he did,” I mutter. 

I stand up and grab the gifts, stopping myself in my tracks before heading to my room. I look at Alexis and attempt to sound as grateful as I can. “Thanks for stopping by,” I say. “I’ll see you around. Be safe.”

He folds his mouth into a grimace and nods his head. “Of course,” he responds quietly. He reaches past me to retrieve the card off the counter. “You almost forgot this.”

I take it from his hand. “Thanks.” I walk past him and into my room, shutting the door. I let out a long, frustrated sigh. I quickly walk over to the deep, dark closet before I can change my mind, and lackadaisically throw the pillow and blanket on top of his equipment, shutting the door immediately. As for the card, cologne, and concert tickets, I walk in a different direction, this time to my nightstand drawer, and toss them in, closing it loudly. Sliding down the side of my bed, I find myself present on the carpet again, staring out at the balcony. It’s stopped raining, but everything is wet. Dreary. Diminished.

“You stupid son of a bitch,” I whisper under my breath. “You stupid fucking idiot. Can’t use this shit now. Couldn’t have held on for one more day, right? Took the easy way out, like Jim said? Forget how I feel. No one could understand. I mean, I’m sure you could. But you’re not here, so it doesn’t fucking matter.”

I hear mutters of conversation from the kitchen before I hear the door close. An exasperated sigh escapes Jimmy’s mouth. “Goddamn it,” I hear him say.

Well, at least we’ve finally agreed on something.

The unfortunate yet familiar footsteps creak outside my door. Another knock.

“What?”

“Do you want me to come in?” He sounds sad.

“Leave me alone.”

I don’t hear anything.

I try again. “You just gonna fuckin creep out there?”

“I was just gonna ask if you needed anything.”

“I need you to go the fuck away.”

“I-”

“JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GO!”

The door opens.

Alright, time to kill him.

I hear his footsteps on the carpet. “Where are you?” his voice calls from behind me.

“Dead.”

He follows the trail of my voice and finds me sitting next to the nightstand and up against the bed. “Nice try.”

I shrug. “Not like it’d be hard.”

“Abb-”

“I told you to go away and you still don’t listen.”

“Because you’re lying.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, I think you are.”

“I literally just said I’m not.”

He kneels down on the carpet, sitting on his right leg. “What is wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Now, see. That’s a lie.”

“Oh, what the fuck do you know?”

“I know that you’re upset.”

“I’m fine.”

“You are not.” He sounds legitimately serious.

“Yeah, I am. I think I can manage.”

“Have you, though?”

The tips of my ears start to burn.

“Not in the way you want me to.”

Got him there once again.

“I think you should talk to someone.”

What an absolute abomination.

I heavily focus on the balcony, shifting my focus to the trees in the distance past the buildings. “I absolutely do not. I already talk to you.”

“Yeah, barely.”

Okay, it was in due time he returned the hypocrisy back to me.

“It’s like you don’t wanna talk about it. You can’t let it eat you up for so long. Everything’s going to come out one way or another.” Wow, how inspiring for a man who went to a fucking Ivy League, Daddy’s money funded institution. The advice can seriously not get any better.

“Is it finished eating you up, or has it never bit you to begin with?”

Jimmy sighs. “It lingers around from time to time.”

“Then you can’t tell me to spill it all out. I don’t have anything to say.”

“So all of your underlying feelings are gone for good?”

Pause.

“You’re brave enough to leave out the pillow and blanket on your bed?”

Another pause.

He motions to stand up. “That’s exactly what I thought. Seriously, though, you should talk to somebody. It doesn’t have to be me, but I think it’d feel a little less heavy if you expressed how you feel. You know?”

I look up at him, my eyes seething with rage that is invisible to him. “No, I don’t know,” I snap. “Maybe you should talk to someone to help with your nosiness.”

He laughs.

“I’m not kidding, Jim. You need to give me space. Still haven’t learned that, either. Who ever knew you were so stubborn?”

“I give you space. You’re always locked away in here. It’s like there’s nowhere better you’d wanna be.”

Actually, there is one alternative.

He continues. “You do know you are allowed to leave here, right? You can go out and drive around the city for a little bit. You can go to the park and feed the ducks. Hell, we could maybe go out and get dinner once in awhile. Have you ever thought about the idea that we haven’t spent any time together?”

I roll my eyes. “That’s all we do.”

He shakes his head quickly from side to side. “No, Abby, I mean really spend time together. I’m talking about actually walking around Manhattan and spending the afternoon acting like tourists or going for a quick run around the block. I feel that I’m somewhat confined here too because you refuse to leave.”

I blink at him, then look away.

“Just think on it, okay? Remaining trapped in here isn’t going to make anything easier. I think it’d be good for us to go out and get some air. Obviously, not today, but sometime in the near future.”

“You have no idea what’s good for me.”

He sighs frustratedly. “You’re right. I don’t. But I think a step in this direction might have us both uncover what actually is.”

I don’t say anything.

“Wanna give it a shot?”

I lift up my hands and slap them against my knees. “Fine.”

“Okay. And with that, I will now leave you alone.”

Finally.

He walks across the carpet again and grabs hold of the door, shutting it quietly behind him. The footsteps disappear.

I have to admit, he’s not wrong. I have been making the decision to stay in the apartment. It’s not helping me, but it’s what I’ve adjusted to. Why change the routine when it’s working? No one else needs to agree. No one has to support it. No one has to approve. I’m choosing how I deal with it. And it’s enough.

The rest of the day is spent in my own head. I don’t even attempt to start another conversation with him. All he’s gonna do is talk about what he thinks I need to change. I don’t wanna say that he’s trying to force it on me, but I just feel that constant pressure to be over it by now. Every single day has not been easy since. The saying “Try to be a rainbow in someone else’s cloud” is exactly what he’s trying to do. He’s anything but a rainbow. More of a category 5 hurricane trying to wash everything away and take me with him.

It’s dark out now, the stars illuminating the sky. The post-rain air has made its way in. I’ve opened the balcony doors to cool down my room. The distant sound of traffic makes me temporarily miss being stuck in it. The bright LED lights on the store signs makes me tempted to go down and walk through the doors of one. The sturdiness of the black railing makes me want to sit on the edge and drop from it.

But I won’t. That’s too easy.

In fact, I know an easier way.

The closet has made its return. I open the door and grab the pillow and blanket, tossing them to the floor behind me. Stepping over them, I walk in the opposite direction to the nightstand where I placed the card, cologne, and concert tickets. I take all three and place the tickets inside the card. As for the cologne, I wrap it up in the blanket. I pick everything up off the floor and make my way out to the balcony. I stand there for a few moments, clutching it all tightly against my chest. I can’t bear to hold onto it. My arms are getting tired. Everything about me is just tired. It never seems to end. Two months later and he’s still finding a way to haunt me, this time through gifts that I cannot utilize. You know what? Maybe it was a good thing I had to wait so long to get them. They sure weren’t going to help me anyway.

I drop everything over the balcony, watching it fall to the concrete. Then, I shut the doors and close the curtains. I do the same thing with the closet and crawl my way into the bed, turning off the lamp. If I am not allowed to enjoy these things to my fullest potential, then no one else will be allowed to. Fuck him.

As I drift off to sleep, I can’t help but think about a random stranger finding them on the sidewalk and just stealing it for themselves. All of that is personalized. It was just for me. Doesn’t matter. It can make someone else happy now. There’s no coming back from that, and I don’t think that I’m ever going to.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The chirpy birds serve as my alarm as I keep my head buried in my pillow. “God, leave me alone,” I mumble.

The sun has returned, as I see it peaking on the carpet. There’s only so much light that can protrude through before it becomes an eyesore. Aggravated weekend traffic has resumed, given the nonstop honking. It helps to know that other people must’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed, too. Dragging myself out from under the covers, I sit on the side of the bed and vigorously rub my eyes. It’s clear the eyebags are still there. I’ve thought it would’ve become a permanent part of my physical appearance by now. Strands of hair fall next to my eyes, temporarily interfering with my ability to see. I push it out of the way and grip the bed, my feet landing on the carpet first before I stand myself up. Ignoring the closed curtains, I open one of the balcony doors and overlook the city before looking down at the spot where all of the gifts landed.

They’re gone.

Well, that’s a relief, I think to myself. The worst case scenario would have it still be lying there. At least it held enough value for someone to take it. Whoever that person was, they definitely hit the jackpot. Enjoy.

I walk back into my room and shut the door, keeping the curtains where they are. Making my way toward the actual door, I handle the knob before emerging out into the kitchen. There’s something on the counter. It looks big. It’s definitely taking up space. However, it doesn’t look edible, so it’s not breakfast. I walk a little further to get a better look.

First, I’m met with the judgmental eyes of the man of the year. His hands are planted on the counter. I can see his veins. I’ll go under the assumption that he’s building some type of tension there.

And then I’m met with the pillow. And the blanket. And the card. And the cologne. And the concert tickets.

“You’ve got some explaining to do.” I can tell he’s so over it. You’re not the only one.

“No, I really don’t.” I walk over to the living room area, looking out the window so that I don’t have to face him. “How did you even find it?”

“I’m not an idiot, Abby. I was taking out the trash and I saw everything lying there. I mean, what the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking to get rid of it.”

“Why on earth would you do that?”

“Because I don’t need it.”

“Hey, you know how much he must’ve spent on all of that to give it to you?”

“Yeah, well, he never did, did he?”

Another deafening silence.

“You could at least store it so that it’s not just lying away.”

“Oh, yeah, for it to only collect dust? What a real smart idea.”

“It’s better than having it spread out on the concrete in Manhattan.”

“I was doing myself a favor.”

“Which was what?”

“Getting rid of him.” I move to the other window on the other side of the TV, still avoiding any type of contact.

“I don’t think that’s the right way to do that.”

“I don’t give a damn what you think.” I raise my voice in the slightest octave. “Why can’t you just let me do things the way I want to? You keep trying to save something that’s already gone. There’s no need to salvage it.”

“You can’t replace these things.”

“It’s not a matter of replacing. It’s a matter of letting go. Something you’ve already done.”

“And something you’re not even remotely close to doing, so why start now?”

Ouch.

“Abb, you need to get help.”

Here we go again.

“I don’t need help.”

“Yeah, you do. If you were thinking clearly, you wouldn’t have even thought of throwing away those memories.”

“They’re not memories, they’re pity prizes.”

“Fine, call them whatever you want. In the meantime, I’m gonna call someone who can work this out with you.”

“No.”

“You have not left this place since the day we got back from the funeral. Go out, get some air, and I’m not talking about just standing on the balcony. I mean really go out and take some time for yourself.”

“Oh, you’re not gonna join me?” I reply sarcastically. “That’s a first.”

“I’m worried about you.”

Those words cause me to turn and look at him. “Now you’re worried about me? A month ago, you wished that I was dead, but all of a sudden, you care? Your empathy’s been restored? Your heart’s finally started beating again?”

“Your’s hasn’t.”

Ouch again.

“I can’t stand to see you like this,” Jimmy says. “We need to figure something out.”

We? I thought this time, it’d be me. You know, since it’s been us against each other.

“Not now.”

“Okay, fine, not now, but soon. I don’t wanna go out one day and come back here and see you passed out on the floor.”

“You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Oh, I think I do.”

“Jim, I promise that you don’t.”

He lifts his hands from the counter, moving them to his hips. “How do I not know that you throwing that stuff off the balcony was alluding to someone else doing the exact same thing?”

“Because it’s not.”

He rolls his eyes. “I give up with you. Really, I do.”

I just stare back at him.

He walks over to the direction of where I’m standing by the window, positioned toward the door as if he’d leave. “I am letting you know right now that if you ever, ever, ever try to pull something like that on me, and I’m the one that finds you, and they’re not able to get you back, I will never forgive myself. You understand? I know that I seem like a helicopter whirring over you, but seriously, it’s in my best interest. I know that you don’t trust me right now, and that’s fine. I’m just gonna put it out there and say that doing what you might want to do as a last resort and getting away with it, if you fail, it’s going to take a long time to earn my trust back. I’ve always been here for you, and it’s only fair you do the same. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Directing himself back to the kitchen, Jimmy reaches into the pantry and pulls out a brown paper bag. He got bagels again.

“Pick the one you want and I’ll throw it in the toaster,” he instructs.

With slight hesitancy, I make my way to the island, peering through the bag. It smells so good, so fresh. I think Sunday bagel breakfasts should be a little tradition that we start. I’ll ask him at a better time. Choosing the sesame seed bagel, I give it to Jimmy, who cuts it down the middle and pops it in the toaster. He does the same to his bagel. This time, he chose an everything one. I’m surprised he deterred from the plain. You’d think it’d be impossible for him to give up that consistent routine of picking it, but I won’t call him out. I always thought plain bagels were boring, and the man that loves them is surely not.

“Jim?”

He turns around, not even looking at me. He’s handing me a plate. “Yeah?”

“Are you really that worried about me?”

A disgruntled sigh leaves his mouth. “Abby, I literally did not sleep that night because even I couldn’t figure out what was really going on. Frequently, I can’t sleep because I think about how you might not wake up after I find out you’ve done something to yourself. I don’t like the change in mood. I’m not blaming you by any means, but I’ve noticed that it’s become a little more drastic and I just wish that I could have a bigger role in stopping its growth.”

“Then just watch me sleep from now on,” I reply. “You’ve done it before.”

He scoffs. “C’mon, I’ve never done that.”

“I once heard my door open while I was sleeping and then shut like 20 seconds later. It would’ve been impossible if someone wasn’t there to twist the knob.”

Another sigh. “Okay, fine, it was me.”

I smile. “No shit, Sherlock. Do you want me to move in your room, share a bed? I call left side.”

He laughs. “I’m good. Plus, it would be your turn of invading my privacy.”

I bat my eyes at him. “Yeah, but I’d only be trying to help you, right?”

“Fuck off,” he responds, and I giggle.

The toaster dings and Jimmy turns around, taking out both bagels. He hands mine over to my plate and slides the cream cheese over. “I know you’d never voluntarily take butter.”

I take a knife and open the container, sticking it in and spreading it on the first half. “You know what’s funny? I always thought you were a butter guy.”

He shakes his head. “Nah, it’s too much sodium for my liking. You can buy several flavors of cream cheese, while butter just remains the same. It gets redundant after awhile.”

“Like me?”

There goes the puppy-dog eyes. That’s when I know he’s about to be serious with his words. “Anyone but you.”

Anyone but you.

Anyone but me.

The world could end tomorrow and he’d probably want to spend the last few minutes with me, wouldn’t he?

I don’t think so. Nice try.

Breakfast is quick and quiet as always. I don’t even end up finishing all of my bagel. I tell him that I’ll save it for later. Both of us know that’s not true.

I get up from my chair and motion toward my room. That is until I forget the gifts are still sitting on the counter. No. I don’t wanna bear the weight of them in my arms again. I’d be carrying the burden right back in when I don’t need it. However, I’ve somewhat succumbed to the thought already. Would it really make a difference?

Picking up from where I left off, dead in my tracks, I lift my feet again and head toward my place of solace. Again, it can’t hurt me if I don’t see it. Well, that doesn’t apply to everything, but whatever.

Shutting the door, I walk over to the nightstand and grab the remote, turning on the TV and flipping through the channels. Brain rotting for the rest of the day sounds better than talking about nothing.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Monday was the same.

Tuesday was too.

Wait, what day comes after Tuesday? Last time I checked, I was repeating the same cycle over and over.

I’m awoken not by my alarm, but my phone lighting up my home screen. It sent me a notification. It’s a message.

And of course, who else would it be from?

It reads Ran out to get us Dunkin. I’ll be back in a little bit

How long is a little bit? Ten minutes? Thirty minutes? An hour? Ten hours? Hell, not coming back at all?

I drag myself out of bed and head straight for the door, opening it to walk the short distance into the bathroom. I shut the door and turn on the light. Staring at myself in the mirror, I evaluate my reflection. She’s unrecognizable again. The hair is too messy, the face is forming boarders of stress zits (at least that’s what I suppose), the eyebags look a little heavier, skin a little paler, brain more foggier.

I grip my hands on the sink and wander my eyes down to the counter. Jimmy was obviously in here before he left. His toothbrush looks to be drying and a razor sitting on the marble countertop.

I pick up the razor, looking down at the shiny blade with what feels like not a wave of exhaustion, but a wave of dehydration coming over me. It occurs that I never filled up my water bottle before I went to bed. I could always get up in the middle of the night and refill it, but I don’t wanna wake him. Besides, I’ve never felt comfortable being active in the late night hours. How weird to be awake when everyone else is asleep.

My vision starts to blur, and I immediately grab the counter for support. I crouch down onto the floor an lay my legs down on the bathmat and my head back against the wall, shutting my eyes. Gosh, I’m freezing. It’s not like the A.C. is on. I blindly fumble for the razor that’s still sitting on the sink, feeling it fall into my lap. I press the blade to my face, feeling the cool metal rest on some part of my body. Surely, it will help.

But it doesn’t.

I move it to my kneecaps. Nope, not there, either.

I pin it to my wrist. That’s the spot.

The feeling of goosebumps take over my body, legs shaking at the sensation. I still can’t see clearly. Shutting my eyes again, the blade traces around my wrist. I still feel cold.

One slow, steady motion.

And then another.

A rapid gasp escapes my mouth, settling into the intruding warmth. Now I feel better.

Until I don’t.

Between the dizziness and the absence of sharp metal doing everything it can to keep me warm, my head slides off the wall and hits the floor. It’s at a cool temperature. I don’t feel myself starting to slow down, but my eyes are pressed closed. I can feel my lips slowly part.

I see him. He’s smiling. He’s been waiting for me. “There you are, babe. I hated waiting this long. Let’s go finish the story we never got to write.”

I take a weak yet deep breath. “Okay.”

And then he’s guiding me past the gates.

Or so I think.

He disappears. Where did he go? I guess this pattern of leaving continues in the afterlife.

Or so I think again.

He comes back with his A bracelet. He smirks. “You really thought I left without it, huh?”

I shake my head, smiling. “But I did.”

“Don’t worry about that. That’s what this place is for. It’s all about fresh starts.”

A fresh start, you say?

“I can’t believe you’d do that for me,” he continues.

I look into his bright blue eyes. “I had no other choice.”

“Of course you did.”

“And what was that?”

“To live.”

I look back at him with a blank stare.

He grabs me by the hand. “Live for me.”

I sigh. “But I already did.”

“No, you didn’t. You’ve barely even started.”

“I can’t do it.”

“Sure you can. You’ve done it for 2 months already. It’s just the rest of your life to go.”

“That’s a long time.”

“You know what? Maybe it is. Soon enough, you’ll be here when you need to. But not right now.”

“What do you mean?”

I see the gates open. He turns around, dragging me by the arm.

“Go live for me, will you?”

I try to escape his grip. “No, no, I can’t do it again! Why can’t I just come with you?”

“Because that’s not how this is going to work.”

“Well, then, how is it going to work?”

“It starts with you waking up each day and me not being the first thought. You’ll move on from there.”

“But I don’t want to!” I yell in earshot.

“Gonna have to, babe,” he responds. “You’ve got people waiting for you.”

‘Yeah, like who?”

“Your family, the team, anyone that you have ever known is anxiously awaiting your return.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Then why do I see you lying down on the gurney in the back of an ambulance?”

What?

“Why does Jim’s face look red, like he’s just finished crying?”

But he’s never cried. What is he even doing here?

“Why are you intubated?”

I don’t know.

“Why did your heart stop beating again?”

It’s never beaten since you’ve left.

“Why are paramedics pushing down on your chest?”

It’s a lost cause.

“Okay, never mind, babe, you came back. Whew! That was a close one.”

Damn it.

“Oh, the ambulance stopped! I think we’re here!”

Great.

“Hey! New York Presbyterian! I died here! What makes me think they’re gonna save you?”

I hope they don’t.

“You know what, Abby? You might have actually gotten your wish.”

God do I hope so.

“Aw man, do you see Jim’s face? Look at it. He looks scared out of his mind, like he saw a ghost or something. I’ve never seen him like that.”

Me either.

“Yeah, you might wanna turn around and walk back through these gates. Once you wake up, he’s gonna kill you.”

I’d dare to see him try.

“You’re really brave for doing this on his birthday. What a great present for him to have, right?”

Oh, no.

Wait.

Wait.

Oh, my God.

I forgot about that.

“Still wanna go back?”

No.

Anywhere but there.

“Help me,” I manage to say.

“Oh, honey, I can’t help you,” he begins. “But I can guide you, make sure you don’t do anything like that ever again.”

“I wanna go with you.”

“No, you failed this time. You’re not ready.”

“But I am.”

“You will be very soon.” He kisses my hand. “I gotta go. Do me a favor and wake up, yeah?”

And that’s exactly what I do.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My eyes struggle with fluttering open, but I feel another cool metal surface beneath my hands. It definitely doesn’t feel like the bathroom.

It’s quiet. I can hear distant murmurs, but none of them can be picked up on in a close distance.

I wiggle my fingers and then my toes. My vision slowly starts to come back, too.

The first thing I notice is the grippy socks that are covering my feet. They’re blue. They barely fit. Something’s not right.

After that, I look at the closed door. There are signs on the back of it, depicting a pain scale and informational resources. Physically, my pain is a 10. Emotionally, my pain is a 10 too, thanks for asking.

On my left side, there’s a sink with a long countertop and numerous cabinets. I wonder what’s in them.

I start to feel like I’ve been stripped of my clothes. That’s because I have been. 

I look down ay my legs and notice I’m covered in a cotton gown. It’s got blue and white designs. I’m starting to feel warm again.

My wrists feel tight, and that’s because of the bandages and gaws that are taped down. It’s difficult to move them around. Wait a minute. Why do I have bandages on?

I take a deep breath and divert my gaze into the corner. I see a shadow sitting in a chair. It’s slightly hunched over, their face buried in their hands. I don’t think it’s crying, but it sure looks discombobulated.

I don’t even know who it is.

The shadow lifts itself up from its bent position, sitting up straight now. I can hear the tapping of one of their shoes on the floor. A shaky breath, rubbing their hands on their thighs. A sniff of the nose. The feeling of their eyes watching me.

I look down at my right wrist. It’s got a bracelet on it. Only it’s not the one with the R in the middle.

It looks like an admitted bracelet.

It’s got my name, birthday, and unit that I’m placed in.

Emergency.

What happened?

I look back up to the shadow.

Only it’s not a shadow anymore.

There’s an actual person sitting there.

An actual person has come to see me? Oh, how sweet.

That is until I get a better look.

At him. 

Ryan was right.

Jimmy. 

He’s actually sitting there.

RIght where I can see.

And it looks like it’ll be his turn to kill me.

His face is red, his body completely on high alert. He might just bounce out of that chair if someone opens up that door.

He doesn’t say anything. He looks at me with the darkest set of eyes I have ever seen. It’s like they’ve lost their sparkle, their shine. Let’s just say they’ve gone lifeless.

He’s not the only one.

I stare back at him. I can feel my glasses on my face, helping me see him better. Come to think of it, I’m not sure if I’ve ever noticed him look so utterly hopeless. Not until this moment, at least.

I don’t say anything either. I’m waiting for one of his sarcastic, knife-stabbing words to take a dagger at my heart. You know, the one that literally stopped beating? That’s a first occurrence where I don’t have to live in a figurative state of mind.

Everything about him looks absolutely disheveled. His face, his clothes, his hands that are holding so much tension right now, given that I can see his veins, that I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to strangle me and have me go for another round.

But he doesn’t budge.

And with sudden abruptness, as the door starts to open, he quietly says these three words.

“You promised me.”

I just sit there, no change in expression. Wait, what did I promise him?

Both an ER doctor and nurse emerge from behind the door. The doctor is a middle-aged man, probably not too much older than Jimmy. The nurse is a woman with her shiny blonde hair in a slick ponytail. She’s got pink and purple pens sitting in her coat pocket. Neither of them look excited. Instead, sad.

The doctor opens his mouth as the nurse shuts the door. “Hi, I’m Dr. Sanderson.” He points to the nurse. “And this is Dr. Rileston. She’s gonna take some of your vitals real quick.”

I adjust my sitting position on the bed, watching Dr. Rileston listen to my heart, both on my chest and upper back, “Elevated, but steady,” she reports.

Then she takes my blood pressure. “Elevated, but steady,” she repeats.

Then I have to follow the pink pen waving in front of my eyes. “Alert and functioning. Doesn’t look like there’s any signs of brain damage.”

Guess she’s a woman of few words. Concise and to the point.

That’s how I wish our conversations would go.

It’s time for Dr. Sanderson to possibly interrogate me. “Can you recall what you were doing before the attempt? Do you remember what happened? Anything helps, even if it’s the smallest detail.”

I swallow the saliva in my throat. “I don’t know,” I squeak out. “I was in the bathroom and then got dizzy, so I sat on the floor.”

“And you don’t remember taking anything with you?”

I pause. “No, but I did get cold.”

He clears his throat. “There was a profuse amount of bleeding from both your wrists when paramedics arrived. Not before your friend here found you.”

I’ve just made his most recent nightmare an actual reality.

“He said,” gesturing to Jimmy, “that you were pale and your lips were dry. Could it be that you were dehydrated before this?”

“That explains the dizziness, I guess,” I reply soft spokenly.

“He found a razor in your right hand. That was yours, I presume?”

I don’t answer.

“Based on the extent of the injury, we can assume that this was intentional?”

I don’t answer again.

“Yes.”

That didn’t come from me.

Dr. Sanderson turns his attention to Jimmy. “It was?”

He meets his eyes. They’re not glassy, but they might as well could be. “I’m completely positive.”

I hate him even more than I ever thought I did.

“Has she ever had thoughts of killing herself?”

“Yeah, she’s joked about it a couple times.”

I hate him.

“She lost her boyfriend in a car accident 2 months ago. Hasn’t been the same since.”

I hate you.

“Any changes in mood, appetite, lifestyle?”

Jimmy answers for me again because God forbid I should. Who cares? Let the man blabber on.

“She has her own place, but she’s been living with me for the time being. Appetite’s been the same, but I’ve noticed her not eating as much, let alone finishing her meals. I’ll say that her mood tends to differ, but honestly, she’s been upset and sounds a little hopeless that nothing will get better. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have done this.”

It feels like a knife being stabbed to the heart.

“Are you concerned about her inflicting harm on yourself or others?” Dr. Sanderson asks.

I look at him, and then at Jimmy.

“She’s already done so, just not physically. But to answer the question, no, I am not.”

Did he really have to mention that first part? Of course he did.

“Well, we have two options here,” Dr. Sanderson continues. “We can keep her here under 48-72 hour watch and then refer her to grief counseling, where they’ll prescribe her treatment, or we can get someone in here to clean and bandage up the cuts, give you the referrals, and then you’ll be on out of here.” He looks at Jimmy. “It’s up to you.”

Wait.

It’s not up to me?

“Given her current status, we’d feel more comfortable if someone else were to make the decision. The situation can account for not being in the right mental space to think about something like that.”

Seriously?

“If I were to keep her here, she’d have to be admitted, right?”

Oh, don’t tell me-

Dr. Sanderson nods. “We’d admit her to the ICU, have a nurse check in on her about every hour or so, perhaps bring a psychiatrist down and speak with her about options to seek help.”

God, I hate that word.

I can tell that Jimmy’s concentrating. I don’t think he’s even afraid of saying the wrong thing. If he wants to get the hell away from me, get some temporary freedom, maybe it’s his best choice to have me stay.

He catches me looking. Please, please don’t do what I think you might. However, he has every option to do so. As we’ve already established, I’m not in control of this decision because I’m too weak, too empty minded. What kind of patient care is this? I swear it has to be some sort of hoax. It’s gotta be, right? No.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll let her get bandaged up.”

Oh, thank God.

Dr. Sanderson tilts his head, perhaps in uncertainty. “You certain?”

“Yeah,” Jimmy replies. “She’s not a danger to anyone.”

“But do you think she is to herself?”

“I don’t think she ever will be again after this.”

He sighs. “Alright, then. We’ll have a nurse come in and clean the cuts, then stitch them up.”

Jimmy clears his throat. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Dr. Sanderson replies. He and Dr. Rileston walk out the door, shutting it behind them.

The sound of noise coming from the hallway is the only one that fills the room. I hear a loud, frustrated sigh, face buried in hands again.

I stare up at the clock. It’s a little past 11:30. It feels like we’re here at night, but my mind is playing tricks on me. I want to get out of here.

Neither one of us thinks about talking. He’s too distraught, and I can’t take back what I did. I can’t justify it. I will say this, though: He is definitely having a harder time at grasping this than I am. Did he seriously think it wouldn’t happen? I literally warned him.

There’s a knock on the door. A woman enters. She’s got curly brown hair and glasses. “Hi, I’m Dr. Cole,” she says. “We’re just gonna clean and sterilize these cuts and then bandage them up good as new. I’m just gonna remove these gaws, okay?”

I don’t even nod. Instead, I zone out on the posters plastered on the wall. Then, I decide to close my eyes. Perhaps I can transport myself into another world where I meet with him under different circumstances. That was until I feel the rubbing alcohol make contact with my left wrist, making me wince.

“Yeah, it might sting a little bit. Just gotta hang in there.”

Oh, I’ll try.

Jimmy can’t even bear to look at me. He’s got his phone in between his hands, probably texting the group chat (you know, the one without me, of course) about what happened. Then again, it is everybody’s business, right?

I don’t know it took me this long to see this, but he’s got my purse resting on his lap. He seriously thought to bring it? Okay.

Dr. Cole moves her spinny chair over to my right wrist, starting the cleaning process. I turn away from the both of them, staring at the cabinets. I wonder what hospitals really keep in there. I’ve never seen them open, let alone be touched. Are they just there for show? The rubbing alcohol burns my skin again, so I clench my left hand into a fist, digging my fingernails into my palm, forming tiny crescents. It’s only a few seconds before she applies this cream onto my cut, taking away the uncomfortable sensation. She goes back to my left side and does the same for my other one. Finally, she takes the bandages resting on the tray and unwraps the roll, cutting it with scissors at an appropriate length before lifting my wrist and rolling it around tightly until it ends. She repeats the procedure once more.

“Given the depth of the cuts, there is a possibility they might scar if you don’t take care of them,” she says. “You’ll want to clean them out with rubbing alcohol and any kind of anti-inflammatory cream. It will decrease the current bits of swelling and the risk of infection.”

Great. Another thing to keep on top of.

She gives me a sympathetic smile, but I barely look at her. “You’re all set. One of you will just need to sign out at the front desk, and then Dr. Sanderson told me to remind you about doing research on certain grief counselors in the area. He’s already got a list printed out.”

Jimmy nods. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” She shuts the door behind her.

I sit up from the bed, my legs dangling off of it. I hold on to the tiny bit of courage I have to speak. “Do you know where my clothes are?”

He reaches underneath his chair, my pajamas scrunched up in a plastic bag. Yeah, that totally doesn’t elicit a similar memory.

He extends his arm out for me to grab it. “I’ll let you change,” he mutters, not even looking at me, as he stands up and opens the door, shutting it quietly behind him. I don’t hear the footsteps fading away. He’s seriously trying to guard me? When will it end?

I notice that he took my purse with him. Does he not know I could easily wear it myself? Why can’t I just get through to him? It’s exhausting.

I undo the knot on the back of the gown and shimmy my way out of it, the only thing remaining on being my underwear. I open the bag and fumble for my bra, T-shirt, and shorts. Oh, and don’t forget the slippers (Yeah, he totally picked those out. I guess those would be the easiest to put in there). After I’ve put everything on, I take one last look around the room. It’s a miracle he chose to let me leave. Someone in their right mind would have me remain here against my will, but I don’t think it would do him any better if he wouldn’t be around to check on me. Guess I’ve signed up for more of his helicopter “parenting.”

Opening the door, I slowly walk out, looking around for him. Where the heck did he go?

And then I spot him at the front desk with the receptionist. I would assume he’s signing me out. In his right hand, he’s holding what I believe to be Dr. Sanderson’s list and a bunch of brochures. Damn, he’s really not gonna give me the chance to explain myself, huh?

Then again, I’m not sure if this can be worth an explanation. 

He turns around and notices me awkwardly hanging by the door, motioning his head toward the exit. Ah, I see we’re on no speaking terms again. I walk as quick as I can in my slippers and remain behind him. He’s literally walking so fast that it’s freaking me out. I’m afraid he’s actually planning on abandoning me.

Just as I think that, he stops dead in his tracks on the pavement outside the hospital. Turning around again and looking at me, I’m expecting him to start a scene. No, he wouldn’t do that. His self-control is too high. He walks a little closer, my heartbeat picking up speed, the opposite of what it did just around two and a half hours ago.

“I rode in the ambulance, so obviously, I can’t drive home. I’m gonna order an Uber, ‘kay?”

He sounds impatient, if anything, the tiniest amount of pissed off. I don’t even bother to respond.

We find a bench to sit on that surrounds the flowers growing in their own little corner. They’re so many different colors. The miniscule attention to detail when it comes to those things do not usually go unnoticed. They’re always so pretty that I wish I could pick one up from the dirt and take it home. I’m obviously not going to do it now, but it’s just a thought. It’s a nice distraction.

He’s looking out at the parking lot, watching cars roll on by, pull into an unoccupied spot, people entering and exiting. Anything he can do to avoid me. I don’t blame him.

“Could I have my purse, please?” I ask.

He flings it over to me, hitting me on the thigh. I bite my tongue, doing my very damn best not to cry. That action alone can signify he’s already given up on me.

I clutch it in my hands, my eyes already starting to burn. No. I will not let him win. Not today, at least.

Side-eyeing him, I can see he’s on his phone again, probably telling the group chat ‘Oh, hey, she’s walking free! Without being given any time to think about her decisions! Isn’t that great? Fuck yeah!’ His leg bounces like it’s an out-of-control bug that’s buzzing around a room. I wanna hold it down so it can stop, but I’m sure he’d lose his mind at the thought of me, out of all people, attempting to provide any comfort to him right now.

Our Uber shows up about 5 minutes later. At least it wasn’t too long of a wait. I don’t know how more I could’ve continued sitting next to someone who has all of their emotions bottled up and slowly leaking from a powder keg. If it won’t happen today, I’ve delayed the inevitable. And that’s my fault. I know.

Entering the backseat, I sit down quietly, putting on my seatbelt and listening to Jimmy giving the driver the address before we take off. I try to remove all of the voices in my head by staring out the window. The sun is shining at perhaps its highest angle of the day, and I’m not even halfway through it yet. It’s almost blinding, but maybe it can cleanse my eyes, help me see in a different light. Bad joke, sorry.

The drive is dead silent that you could hear a pin drop. I wanna jump out of a moving vehicle again. It feels like I’m suffering, as this could’ve been the worst punishment the universe chose to grant me. However, I think the worst punishment has already occurred. There’s no need for another one.

When we make it back to the apartment, both of us get out of the car and walk through the parking lot to get up to the entrance doors. He doesn’t even wait for me. That’s deserved.

I see him get in the elevator and watch the doors immediately close. It’s okay. I’ll wait for the next one. When the next one does arrive, I step in slowly, pressing the ‘4’ on the keypad. As the doors close again, this time around me, I have never felt more alone. I’m so used to him being next to me that I recently started to push him away without totally realizing it. It’s not like I reached my goal, but my actions and attitudes are continued catalysts for it to actually become a thing, where I’ll have to listen to him telling me to pack my things and go back home and to never come here again. Because I didn’t promise him.

The doors open and I walk out, tiptoeing down the hallway. The apartment door is still open, so at least he didn’t forget that I was still trailing behind. I thought it would be in his benefit to not let me in at all. Luckily, I have a key. Unless he actually locks it with the latch. I won’t have so much luck then.

Walking through the entrance, I notice the Dunkin sitting on the counter. He’s got his regular, bland, boring coffee, and for me a matcha latte. He knows how much I love it. There’s a corresponding bag next to it. I think there’s donuts in there, but at this point, I don’t think I’ll ever get to know.

He’s sitting on the couch. The TV’s not on, so I’m not sure what he’s staring at. I shut the door behind me and lock it. That’s enough to grab his attention and shift his frame to intimidate me once again.

“Get the hell over here,” he says gravelly.

I kick off my slippers and walk over hesitantly. I stand on the rug that’s beneath the couch.

“Sit down,” he continues.

I sit on the coffee table in front of him.

“Look at me.”

Again, why should I?

I do it anyway. His face isn’t red anymore, but you can tell the life has been drained right out of it. He doesn’t look relaxed; in fact, kinda the same way he did after we drove back from packing up my things at my condo.

“What-,” he begins, “in the hell,” he pauses, “is wrong with you?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

He scoffs angrily. “You don’t know? I’ll let the blood on the bathroom floor do the talking then.”

“I’m s-”

“Don’t give me that bullshit.” He seethes through his teeth. “You are not, and you sure as hell ain’t getting out of it this time.”

I look down at my bandaged wrists.

“How could you be so selfish?”

I continue looking down. “I wasn’t.”

“Really? That type of action doesn’t scream selfish to you?”

“No,” I whisper softly.

“What was that?”

“No.”  I say it a little louder.

Another frustrated sigh makes its way out of his mouth. “Do you wanna hear my side of the story?”

I don’t, but I know he’s going to tell me anyway, rubbing more salt in the wound.

“I walked through the door, put everything down on the counter, and saw your bedroom door was open, so I thought you were in there. It didn’t take me long to see the bathroom door, though, was closed. So, I had to make a choice, figuring out where I thought you were. I chose the bathroom. I walk over to the door, knock on it, call out your name. No answer. I knock on it again. No answer. I notice it’s unlocked, so I open it, bracing myself to accidentally walk in on you using the bathroom as worse case scenario. I don’t even get to move it halfway before I just see you lying there, motionless, my razor in your hand.”

Can’t even imagine how he feels right now.

“It takes me a quick minute to notice the blood trickling on the floor, trying to figure out where the hell it’s coming from. I thought you might’ve accidentally ran into the wall or something and passed out.” He smiles as he scoffs. “Oh, boy, was I wrong.”

Can’t even look at him.

“So I back out of there, my hand literally shaking as I grab my phone on the counter, dial 911, speak to the operator, telling her my name, my address, why I’m calling, waiting for paramedics to arrive. They knock on the door. I let them in. They rush into the bathroom, hook you up to the Lifepak. The lead paramedic tells me you’re not breathing. He says it’s perhaps due to the amount of blood you lost. I watch them lift you up on the gurney, buckle you in as I’m running into your room to grab your things. The bed’s not made, the blinds aren’t open, nothing’s the way it should be. I grab your slippers to make sure you have shoes to walk in. I grab my things off the counter and follow them out. My heart is beating one million miles a minute. I feel like I might as well have a heart attack in that moment to be dramatic.”

Still can’t.

“And we’re in the back of the ambulance, literally clenching your purse in my hands, wondering if this is all I’m gonna have left of you. They got your heart back, and then you flatlined. Four minutes.”

I can feel his eyes burning into my face somehow.

“Pushing down on your chest, fighting to get you back. And they did. The only thought I had in that moment was having to attend another funeral.”

Well, good thing you don’t now.

“Got to the hospital. They dragged you out of the back and onto the pavement, rushing you in while I slowly followed behind. Heck, I was so close to just not walking in at all. But, if I remember correctly, I said that we have to be there for each other, and I can’t go back on my word. You did.”

I know that.

“The emergency trauma unit brings you to your own room. They unstrap you from the gurney, get you changed out of your clothes, get you your own bracelet. Meanwhile, here I am, sitting in the chair, you sitting in the bed, eyes closed, an IV jabbed into your arm, hooked up to monitors so that your body doesn’t get another chance to crap out.”

I didn’t even hear the sound of a monitor when I woke up.

“The paramedics bandaged you up in the bathroom. I’m looking at them. They’re almost blood-soaked red. It makes me wince. It makes me wanna wake you up myself and take that knife I pointed at your chest and move it to your throat.”

We’re really bringing that back? I thought we were past it.

Guess not.

“And I got to wondering: how do I make the best of this situation? There’s always a silver lining, right? Wrong.”

Damn.

“You could’ve fucking died, and I would’ve been the last one to see you. I thought that maybe I shouldn’t have left the apartment. I should’ve stayed. I feel responsible, even though there’s no logical reason for me to.”

I stare down at the carpet, distracting myself with the patterns.

“Finally, like the grace of God, and the grace of the universe, you woke up. I knew you would. You had to. Why? Because I was not letting you leave without hearing from me first.”

Of course you wouldn’t.

“By the way, the reason I didn’t let you stay is because for these past two months, you have never been good at doing things alone. I don’t wanna get a call in the middle of the night to find out you’ve flatlined again or worse. We’ve already been here on the other side of things, having to wait for news. This time, we were part of the actual event. Again, I still waited. You, however, were tired of waiting.”

Jimmy shifts on the couch, sitting up from what was his lackadaisical posture, and sits up straight, moving toward the edge of the cushion. He takes his hands and places them on my kneecaps. His palms have taken their turn to start burning. That gesture alone reluctantly makes me break the avoidance and I look straight at him, brown eyes lacking so much life. I grip my hands on the table.

His voice returns to normal, less agitation and still the same amount of seriousness, but it’s somewhat shifted elsewhere. “I’m going to look through those brochures, and the names that Dr. Sanderson has on that paper, and I’m gonna research and see which place has the best reviews, the best people to see, the best outcome they can give you. This is non-negotiable. No more excuses, no more outs. No more hospital visits. I’ve only been saying it for so long. You need help, and now you’re getting it.”

The only thing I can manage to do is blink. “Sorry.”

He looks at me apologetically. “But you’re not. If you were, you never would’ve done it. We both know that.”

I can’t even nod. I just look away.

“C’mon,” he says, removing his hands and standing up. My knees are hot. “You gotta drink something.” He motions over to the counter, holding my matcha.

I get up and walk over to him, taking it from his hand. I rip the paper covering off the straw and poke it through the middle of the cup, taking a small sip. I could say that matcha does cure all sadness, but right now, it doesn’t.

Jimmy takes the donuts out of the bag. One’s double chocolate, the other’s strawberry frosted. He folds the bag over on the counter. I guess we’re using it as our plate. The strawberry one is definitely for me. Taking a bite, I savor the feeling of the icing and sprinkles relishing in my mouth. Some of them are definitely gonna get stuck in there, but they’ll eventually find their way out.

He’s sipping his coffee while staring at the top brochure, then moving his gaze to the window. The wind is moving the leaves around in a swift manner. It’s calm. His mind is definitely not.

I feel the need to remind him. I still keep my quiet tone. “Happy Birthday.”

There is no reason for me to even say that after what just happened, but I can’t wait another year. What if everything’s different then? We might not speak, I might be moved back in. There’s too many possibilities. There’s one action I already regret, but this one, I don’t.

He just looks at me with the slightest of frowns. It’s a combination of dissatisfied and sad. He does the right thing by not responding.

So we sit in silence, eating what we could consider our lunch, given it’s already the afternoon, with the brochures becoming more appealing. At least he now gets to do his favorite thing.

Helping me.

[wonderlandleighleigh]

Does Midge take Lenny up on those apology orgasms?

She almost turns him down.

Her set goes really well, and he takes her out to dinner after, and it feels just like it used to. Like it did, and, like in Miami, she's worried about breaking the spell.

About ruining what feels perfect with crossing a line.

But she's missed him, and it's so hard to say no to his offer.

There's something different about him, too. Something more alert. More present. A little happier, even.

And so she says yes.

Laying in his bed afterwards, tangled with him, his arms around her as she breathes hard, her eyes still closed, it's hard to regret that choice.

"I like your apartment," she tells him once he settles in beside her, still holding her. "It's nice."

"Well, it's no Classic Six," he teases with a grin. "But I thought it was nice. Room enough for my kid to come and stay with me for part of the summer."

Midge grins and curls in against him, her arm wrapping around his middle. "I like it. It's cozy."

Lenny chuckles. "It is a little cozy, isn't it?"

"The fireplace is nice," Midge agrees. "Good kitchen. Big windows."

"Like I said before, you like a man with a lease," Lenny teases.

"And yet the first time we slept together was in your hotel room," she points out.

"In my defense, it was a very nice hotel room," he reminds her.

Midge laughs softly and nods. "Best one I've ever been in."

"Well, I'm glad the apartment passes muster as well," Lenny says, looking around. "It's still a little strange..."

"What is?"

"I uh...I've been clean since Carnegie Hall," he admits. "And everything is still feeling a little off. A little...different."

Midge smiles slowly and sits up, kissing him deeply, her fingers threading into the hair at the back of his head. Lenny moans - almost whimpers - as he pulls her closer.

"Even that?" she asks softly.

"You know, I'm not sure," he says thoughtfully, one of his hands roaming down her back lazily. "Let's try it again - for strategic, scientific purposes, of course."

She laughs and nods. "Right, of course. For science." She kisses him again, shivering as his hands glide over her skin, and it's her turn to whimper. "Lenny..."

"You can't say my name that way," he warns as he rolls her onto her back and starts planting kisses down her neck and chest. "You start saying my name like that I am not going to be able to let you leave, and then that entire naval fleet of people you call your family will start filing a missing persons report, and they won't know that you're here, in my bed, getting debauched."

When his lips connect with her breast, she moans softly. "Debauch away."

She can feel him smirk against her skin. "As the lady wishes."

*****

She's drifts out of a deep sleep before the sun comes up, and curls in closer against him.

"Are you awake?" she asks softly.

Midge gets a soft grunt in return and his eyes crack open, just slightly. "You cannot possibly want another found," he mutters. "Not that I'm complaining about the enthusiasm, but at this rate, we may actually run out of condoms."

She laughs softly, titling her head to press a tender kiss to his jaw. "No. But. I uhm...I wanted to talk a little."

Lenny sighs softly, his eyes opening a little more. "Yeah."

Midge sits up then, carefully pulling a sheet to her chest as she gazes at him. "Lenny, I have real feelings for you."

His expression goes soft, and he reaches out, taking her hand without responding. The feeling of his thumb stroking her fingers delicately - lovingly - lets her know he feels the same.

"And it really hurt when you disappeared," she tells him. "And as wonderful as last night was with...with the dinner and the sex, I don't want to go through this again. I want this...us...to be real."

Lenny nods, thinking all of that over. "Right. So. Regular dates. My phone numbers...holiday dinners...meeting the kids."

"Not right away," she assures him quickly. "At least not the kids or the holidays. But the regular dates and the phone numbers, I'll take."

He sits up, too, still holding her hand. "I haven't been in a real relationship in a long time. And a lot of people argued that my marriage wasn't even a real relationship with how things wound up...But if I was ever going to try and make this kind of thing work, I'd want to make it work with you. I do want you in my life, Midge. And I have no desire to hurt you again."

She leans in, kissing him softly, her arms wrapping around him, and he lays back again, taking her with him.

He nuzzles her, his eyes still closed. "So? What happens now?"

She hums and kisses him again briefly. "Maybe another hour of sleep. And then maybe coffee. And then maybe you write down those phone numbers for me?"

Lenny chuckles. "Good plan. That's a good plan."

"See? My plans aren't always such dog shit," Midge jokes.

It makes him laugh a little louder.

[intercoursefluids]

WDIB Chapter 13

“I am not joking, no.” Damian said.

Adrien leaned back, running a hand through his hair.

“We look nothing alike!” Adrien said, throwing his arms out.

“No, I look more like my mother, as I assume you do.” Damian said, pulling out his phone to look for a local place they could get a paternity test done.

Adrien pressed his lips together, rubbing his face roughly.

“Are you sure we’re siblings?” He asked, slouching in his chair.

Damian shook his head, pushing his phone across the table to him.

“No, but with my, our family’s luck. It’s the most likely option.” Damian explained.

Adrien picked up the phone looking at the location Damian had pulled up.

“What is this?” He asked, looking incredibly stressed.

“They sell paternity tests, you send it off and they send you the results.” Damian explained. “If you want to find out, I can go get one for you right now.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but it would take at least a few days before you heard anything back. A few weeks is probably more feasible.” Alya said, leaning forward and placing a comforting hand on Adrien’s shoulder.

“For most people yes, but do you really think my father wouldn’t have ways of getting results faster than average? With his reputation nonetheless.” Damian asked her, lifting his eyebrow.

Alya pursed her lips, nodding.

“Yeah, that checks out.” She said, turning her attention back to arguing with strangers on the internet. Apparently, Adrien had also been spotted.

Adrien wrapped his arms around himself, looking between Damian and the two men having a hushed conversation by the door.

“Which one is it?” he asked, turning back to Damian.

“The one without the glasses.” Damian said, pointing to Bruce. “His name is Bruce Wayne, the one next to him is Clark Kent, Marinette’s biological father.”

Adrien looked back and forth a few times, a strained expression on his face.

Damian waited, he knew he was being impatient, especially after everything that had happened, but he wanted to know as well.

“Are you sure we can get a test right now?” Adrien asked cautiously.

Damian checked the time on his phone. He had about 30 minutes to get there before they closed.

“If I hurry, yes.” He decided on.

Adrien nodded, springing up from his seat.

“Lets go then, I know that store.” He said, marching towards the door with purpose.

Damian followed after him, deciding against telling him to stay there.

He paused, a few steps from the table before turning to Nino.

“I apologize if its an imposition, but could you keep an eye on Jon for me?” Damian asked, hoping Jon would finally get the sleep he’d been missing out on but worried he would wake up anyway.

Nino nodded, tilting his head to Adrien.

“I’ll keep an eye on yours, you keep an eye on mine.” He said.

Damian nodded, both boys coming to a mutual understanding.

Damian hurried after Adrien, meeting him by the door and reaching for the handle when his father called out to him.

“Where are you boys going?” Bruce called, a worried expression on his face.

Damian opened the door, pinning his father with an unamused look.

“Seeing as how you can’t keep it in your pants, we’re getting a paternity test.” He said, swinging the door shut on his fathers shocked face.

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