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criticalbennifer · 9 months

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Ben Affleck on the pain and catharsis of ‘The Way Back’

By: Jake Coyle

February 27, 2020

NEW YORK (AP) — Of the many stories that have stuck with Ben Affleck from his Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, one has especially resonated for the actor. Recovery is often described as a process of removing a damaging habit from your life. One man articulated it in a more positive way. He said he quit drinking so he could be a free man.

“That’s one of the most moving things that’s stayed with me,” says Affleck. “The desire for that freedom, and so I can be accountable to my kids.”

After a turbulent few years, Affleck, 47, is trying to reclaim his life and reorder his career. In Affleck’s new film, “The Way Back,” both missions converge powerfully. He plays a former high-school basketball star brought back to coach his alma mater’s team in Gavin O’Connor’s movie, which opens March 6. The film has obvious similarities to Affleck’s life. It’s about a man struggling with alcoholism, divorce and midlife disappointment. It’s about the hard road to recovery, a path that Affleck has been walking, with a few stumbles along the way, the last three years.

“I don’t know all the answers. I’m only an expert in my own failings,” Affleck says. “But the more expert you become in your own failings, interestingly, the less likely you are to repeat them, I’ve found. That is how my life has been getting better. I have a better relationship with my kids today than I did three years ago. I have a better relationship with my ex-wife, I think, than I did three years ago. I think I’m a better actor. I think I’m a more interesting person because most of the growth that I’ve had has come from pain.”

Affleck smiles. “You notice how you never succeed and all your wildest dreams come true and you go: ‘I got to change something!’ It’s when you hit a stumbling block that you say: ‘OK, let’s be really honest.’”

And honesty is what Affleck is now practicing, to a degree rarely seen in Hollywood, let alone for someone whose personal ups and downs have been such regular fodder for tabloids. In an interview early last week, Affleck was candid and clear-eyed about his battle for sobriety and the roots of his drinking. He met with The Associated Press at a New York high school after taping a special with Diane Sawyer and shortly before The New York Times published an intimate profile on him. Occasionally his voice quavered but mostly Affleck spoke earnestly and straightforwardly. He seemed freshly unburdened. Making “The Way Back,” he said, helped him.

“Sometimes just feeling those feelings again purges them a little bit and frees you a little bit,” says Affleck. “This movie was hard to make. Sometimes it was painful. And sometimes I was embarrassed. And sometimes I couldn’t believe my life had any similarity to this.”

When Brad Ingelsby’s script came to Ben Affleck, it was titled “The Has-Been.” Affleck was being pitched to direct. Coming off the best picture-winning “Argo,” he last helmed the Prohibition-era crime thriller “Live by Night,” an ambitious gangster film that made a modest impression at the box office. Affleck immediately connected with the character: Jack Cunningham, a former star athlete whose alcoholism, isolation and grief is lifted by a reluctant return to basketball.

If he made it, Affleck knew he’d get questions about parallels between the film and his life. “But, frankly, I get asked about that stuff, anyway,” he shrugs.

“Unfortunately, I had actually lived that life and done the research. I brought a certain perverse expertise because I knew what it was like to feel in thrall to a compulsion that wasn’t good for me,” Affleck says. “I knew how hopeless that can feel. And I knew how enormously frustrating it is. But I also knew something really important which is: People get better. You can get better.”

Affleck appealed to O’Connor to direct. The two previously collaborated on the 2016 thriller “The Accountant,” and O’Connor (“Warrior,” “Miracle”) has proven adept at channeling larger themes through sports dramas. But until they began working on “The Way Back,” O’Connor didn’t know the extent of Affleck’s problem.

“Once we started to prep the movie, he went into rehab. He sort of fell off the wagon. So now we were prepping the movie while he was in rehab and we thought it was going to fall apart,” said O’Connor. “But he still wanted to do it. When he got out, he was incredibly raw and vulnerable and I think a little lost just in regard to having to confront the demons.”

Affleck says his drinking worsened around the time his marriage to Jennifer Garner was falling apart. Garner and Affleck, who have three children together, separated in 2015 and divorced in 2018. In those years, Affleck has made several trips to rehab. Last October, he was captured drunk on camera, which he then granted was “a slip.”

“The times that I’ve relapsed, personally, have been not been because I’ve had some bad thing happen. It’s been when I thought I had it licked,” Affleck says. “I’m fixed! I’ve been fine! It’s been a year and a half, who cares! I can have a glass of wine! And the next thing, you’re on TMZ and it’s a disaster. That teaches me that it’s just not something I can do.”

Coming to terms with that has been a humbling journey for Affleck. His track record, he grants, hasn’t been perfect. “But for the last three years, 99% of my life I’ve spent sober,” he says.

“It takes time to learn all the things you need to learn. And it also takes time to suffer enough until at some point there’s something inside you that says, ‘No mas. I give,’” says Affleck. “What it really is, personally in me and what I’ve seen in others that I want for myself, is a profound sense of humility. You are not stronger than the thing you’re addicted to. It is stronger than you. It will always be stronger than you.”

All of that pain, and then some, went into “The Way Back.” For a scene in which Jack makes amends to his wife, O’Connor told Affleck he was just going let the camera roll.

“It was probably the second take, Ben just had a breakdown. I’m getting chills thinking about it. It was like the dam broke and everything came out,” says O’Connor. “I just remember the crew, everyone was frozen, watching him bear his soul. It was obviously real. A lot of things that he probably had to say in his own life, or maybe he had said, I don’t know.”

The scene remains in the movie but O’Connor didn’t keep it all. It was too raw. “It would be too hard for an audience to watch, too personal,” says O’Connor.

For Affleck, making “The Way Back” wasn’t just about dealing with his own alcoholism, but also his father’s. He got sober when Affleck was 19, but that childhood experience had ever since colored Affleck’s impression of his dad. Affleck realized that he had been carrying a big chip on his shoulder from that time. “And it wasn’t doing me any good,” he says. “It was doing me harm.”

“He was what you call a very low-bottom drunk. He needed to get really, really far down before he could get sober,” says Affleck. “Unfortunately, those were really formative years for me. So I know how important these years are right now for my kids. These are the absolute most critical, vital years. I want to be there for absolutely as much of it as I possibly can.”

Affleck has come to realize his father was just doing his best. His grandmother, too, he says, killed herself with barbiturates and alcohol in a hotel on Sunset Boulevard. His uncle, his father’s brother, was an addict who shot himself in the chest. “Less and less do I see any real distinction between what the substance is that you’re using to medicate but just the fact that you’re medicating,” says Affleck.

O’Connor credits Warner Bros. Chairman Toby Emmerich with green-lighting “The Way Back,” a rarely seen thing in today’s Hollywood: an intensely personal, adult-driven studio-made drama. It was made relatively inexpensively, with a budget of $25 million, and it marks a clear pivot for Affleck. About a year ago, Affleck left behind Batman after several “Justice League” films. The standalone Batman film, once to star and be directed by Affleck, is instead being made by Matt Reeves with Robert Pattinson in the role.

“When I had the opportunity to direct and star in the Batman stand-alone movie, I realized I wasn’t passionate about it. And, A, if you’re not passionate about it, you’re probably not going to make a good movie. And, B, that movie absolutely deserves to be made by someone for whom it’s their lifelong passion and dream,” says Affleck. “My tastes have changed. I’m interested in different kinds of movies.”

His new course, which he jokes is “obviously not the most profitable path you can possibly be on,” is making human stories with pain and redemption. He’s been busy. Affleck’s brief stop in New York followed shooting “Deep Water,” a Patricia Highsmith adaptation co-starring Ana de Armas, and preceded production on “The Last Duel,” a medieval revenge drama directed by Ridley Scott. Affleck wrote it with Matt Damon (their first script together since “Good Will Hunting”) and Nicole Holofcener.

Battles with alcoholism are never over, but they can get gradually easier to win. For now, at least, Affleck feels like he’s grown. He’s humbler. More honest. And closer to feeling free.

“I would not wish it on myself principally because of my children and because it has caused them pain, which I would give anything to change,” says Affleck. “But I can’t change the past. I can go from today. I can make sure today I’m good. That’s what I’ve got. I’m a guy doing good today.”

#ben affleck #the way back #press/article #ap news #2020

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quirklessidiot · 3 years

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title : cigarettes and parfaits [2] pairing : older!nanami kento x younger!reader [13 year age gap, ft toji fushiguro] Genre: romance, fluff, josei, mild angst, comedy, strangers to lovers au

Summary: you’re pretty sure you’d remember marrying a man 13 years older than you, right?

Warnings: alcohol, smoking, mild smut, y/n making stupid decisions, everyones a human-au so yeh non-canon stuff and everyone’s happy (periODT) Notes: tbh idk how marriage works in japan, all i know is that once you have both your signatures in the marriage registration certificate with one witness then you guys r married skdjssks anyways onto the story- also might i add this is happy story?? i promise yall, all youll see is cute stuff in this story bcos fuck angst (ok maybe lil angst since you know plot development) but i stand by that nanami kento deserves that trip to malaysia under the sun with his lover! before i forget to add, the age dynamics is that y/n is around 25 and nanami is 38. no power play and all that, just two healthy consenting adults! sorry for the early delete had some minor corrections :(

Izakaya-informal japanese bar

Masterlist || taglist || [prev ; next] [updates; every friday yay!]

*13 hours earlier; a night before at some random Izakaya in Tokyo*

You sat in front of your phone and three bottles of saki, despite your friends advising you countless of times to lay off drinking too much, all sense and warnings are thrown off the window tonight.

You’re clearly far from sobriety as you recall the video chat with your otosan not looking too good and bright, “Why don’t you move back home? It’s not like the teaching job at tokyo is all that great! You’re alone there and your obachan and I don’t like that a lot…” your father’s words haunt you again and again.

Just what was wrong with living alone? And excuse your otosan but you definitely had a very good job at Tokyo High (It was a prestigious academy that paid well, best job out there that you still didn’t know how you landed). You mumbled a few curses underneath your breath, Oh, how much you love that oaf of a father and worrywart of a grandmother but could they lay off the idea of settling down? You were a responsible and good child who never had stepped a toe out of line. Wasn’t that enough already? You immediately downed the drink and let the saki burn your throat down.

“Oh ho, slow down there.” You hear someone say, “You’re all alone and it seems like you have no one to help you back home.”

It seemed like the men on the opposite side of the bar had noticed you.

“I can take myself home, thank you very much.” You mumbled, loud enough for them to hear. Unlike older men who liked to prey on you for your innocent stature. The men who sat across you in the Izakaya didn’t really exude that sort of energy (what can you say, you had a knack of experiencing that, unfortunately).

“Are you sure? We can ask the owner to call a cab for you. She’s a woman and she’s a friend of ours.” the other one in robes pipes in, wait, was that a Buddhist monk?

“No, I’m good. It’s just…” You paused before letting out a long sigh, “A bad time so I need to stick around for a bit.”

The white-haired stranger tilts his head just a bit, “Seems like you and a friend of mine are both going through some rough patches.” he replied, pointing towards his blonde company who you didn’t notice until now.

You wordlessly shifted your gaze towards the office worker next to the Buddhist monk, you hadn’t noticed the blonde man until now. It seemed like he was going through a rough time too since the pair was loud and boisterous enough to conceal his silent presence.

You notice how out of place he looks with his crisp and clean suit, hard gaze, and silence. It made you wonder what sort of man hangs out with two contrasting personalities, “You’re wondering if he’s our friend or our boss, aren’t ya?” the white-haired man asks.

You immediately turn red in embarrassment, were you that easy to read? You try to stutter out an apology but the monk waves it off, “It’s alright, we get it all the time. Contrary to popular belief, Kento is two years younger than us and is our junior from high school.” He smiles.

“Ah,” you nodded mutely, “Sorry. It definitely wouldn’t make sense to see a boss and his subordinates at an Izakaya.”

“Oh, Kento-chan doesn’t usually go out drinking but he couldn’t resist. After all, he’s a father with two very emotional teenage boys.” The white-haired man teased in a sing-song voice. It seemed like the three were close, with the way they were carelessly lounging around the stoic and kind-of scary man.

“I’m starting to wonder if he gets that teasing attitude from you.” The blonde man, seemingly out of his trance, called out his friend. Contrasting to his aloof features, he didn’t mask the annoyance in his tone.

“Oh, uh, do you need help?” you quietly asked, tilting your head to the side in wonder. The blonde man’s head snapped to your direction and quirked a brow.

“And you are?” he seemed to be calculating and observing you from head to toe. It suddenly made you a bit self-conscious because this older gentleman had no business being this good looking and scary at the same time.

“Oh, I’m Y/N by the way. I’m actually a high school teacher.” You introduced yourself sheepishly, “I’m always surrounded by angsty teenagers.”

His gaze narrowed just a bit, it seemed like he’ll be giving you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was a bit desperate since he was getting advice from a drunk stranger in an Izakaya out of all places, “So what seems to be the problem, Ojisan?”

He’s still quite hesitant so it’s his white haired friend who speaks out for him, “You see, Kento-chan here just moved last week because of a promotion from Kyoto.” he grins, telling the story for his friend, “His kids aren’t very keen with the moving, well one of them is outright showing it and the other one is well keeping it in since he’s just the sweeter one.”

The white-haired stranger keeps babbling on about how his friend had regretted taking the work promotion because it feels like he shouldn’t have done that. You peerlessly observe the older man’s reaction while his friend talks about his problems to you. He remains stoic.

It didn’t look like it but it seemed like this man had such a soft spot for his kids.

How nice, his wife must be proud of him.

“... and before I forget to add, Kento-chan is very much single.”

You almost choke on your saliva, this friend of his sure knew how to run his mouth. It suddenly dawns upon you why this man had been very worried, he was a single parent who only wanted what was best for his boys but he didn’t even know how he should proceed now.

“Um, ojisan?” You quietly call out, “I think you’re doing great.”

Silence lingered in the air for a bit, you cringed at your rather awkward and forward approach, “Excuse me?” the older blonde man asked, clearly dismayed by your response.

“It’s just…” you ears turn red, not from the alcohol but from embarrassment, “You wouldn’t have moved in the first place if the pay wasn’t better than your old job, right? Plus you’re alone and raising two kids. It definitely isn’t easy to provide for everything alone but I can see that you did some careful reevaluation on the whole thing. Obviously you can’t avoid the fact that they feel bad but you can sit them down and talk to them about how the whole thing was beneficial not just for you but for them too.”

You spoke way too quickly that you wondered if the man could understand you.

The blonde man holds his breath for a moment, “I know…” he mumbles, “I just don’t really know how to talk to them.”

“Well, maybe you could take them out?” You advised, “Spend a whole day with them for a while and just move around with them. Help them get acquainted around their new school or something!”

You watch him silently look at his glass and think it over. Man, if this guy wasn’t older, your obaasan would outright agree and tell you to go out with him since she was never fond of how men weren’t as calm or laid back as he was.

“That sounds plausible. Thank you, Y/N-san.” his voice turned a bit softer and you feel your stomach turn just a little queasy by his tone. God, was the alcohol this bad?

“Well, would ya look at that.” the white-haired man grins, placing his drink up as if he was signaling everyone to cheers with him, “I told you drinking at an Izakaya would solve all your problems. For that, we should drink here again next week!”

The man glared at him yet again, “No. I should be heading home now. I can’t be anymore away from S-”

“Ah, ah. You promised that you’d stay until 2 am.” The white-haired man hushed, “Or I’ll be pestering you for a whole month.”

You could definitely tell that a vein popped on his forehead and his blood pressure was shooting up. Man, you were really starting to doubt that white-haired man was older than everyone in this room. He sure had the mental age of an elementary student.

“You also said I could leave after five drinks.”

“That’s only your second.”

“Satoru…” the Buddhist monk dangerously hovers over his white-haired friend. Wow, middle-age men sure were amusing, “You don’t even drink that well and he has to drive home…”

“Tit for tat, I’ll hire one of my personnel to drive you home after five drinks and I’ll leave you alone for a wee-”

“Please just leave me alone for my whole life.” the blonde man deadpanned.

Unlike you, he wasn't such a bad drinker. Four bottles for him and one more drink for you later, you're both kind of woozy and you had gotten on even friendlier terms with the three men who you now know as Geto-ojisan, Gojo-ojisan, and finally, Nanami-ojisan. Nanami was well into his late thirties while Geto and Gojo were in their forties.

If you were sober, you wouldn’t be making friends with older men. With stories of how easily young people are taken advantage of in the big city, you’d swerve away from them. Luckily, it seemed like they were a good trio and not once did they invite you to sit on their table so you had some good distance between you four and so far, they hadn’t tried anything funny or uncomfortable.

Geto is currently a lawyer, Gojo’s apparently some swanky businessman of god knows what you heard jewelry or something and Nanami was an accountant. A job that he described was ‘dead-end’ and ‘fucking boring’.

“...What happened to your wife, Nanami-ojisan?” you ask, the alcohol slowly shedding your shyness away.

“I told ya, Y/N-chan. He never was married. The way he got the kids was just complicated!” Gojo Satoru frowns, splaying his long limbs in the air, for a man so enthusiastic with drinking, he sure got drunk pretty quickly.

“Really? Didn’t you have a hard time? Wow…” you whistled, “I have such high…” you raised your hand as high as you could, “...respects for like, single parents!”

“See? See? But he can’t get a partner because of that Y/N-chan.” Gojo pouts, “...We’ve been setting him up on dates and such but he keeps bailing on them!”

“I have kids.” Nanami deadpans, narrowing his eyes.

“What my friends are trying to say, Kento has a number of opportunities to bring a partner into his life but he likes to use the boys and his work as an excuse.” Geto surmised, it seemed like the lawyer was also starting to feel the effects of the alcohol since he had become more talkative.

“He’s good-looking, right Y/N-chan? If he probably didn’t act like some fossil from the Triassic period, he wouldn’t have a problem sometimes about the boys having a mother figure!” Gojo rants, making Nanami flick his forehead.

“Idiot, must you tell this stranger all my problems?” Nanami harshly interjected.

“Well, you do know that to actually get a partner, you must get out there, right ojisan?” you try to calm him down, you didn’t want a bar fight to erupt.

“I know.” he rolls his eyes, “But the kids-”

“I know.” You try to smile, “You aren’t very interested in bringing just anyone in your life, right? The boys need a permanent figure and you think dating around is going to help.”

“Holy shit, Y/N-chan.” Gojo exclaims, “I thought you were a teacher? How come you know all this shit?”

“It’s basic, Gojo-san.” you smile, ready to take another swig of your saki, “You should take into consideration that Nanami-san isn’t just anyone who’d settle for less. He needs stability since he’s technically a parent.”

“That makes you a perfect pair, don’t you think?” Geto nonchalantly replies, “I mean, you need a stable man in your life who has all of it figured out and wouldn’t hold you back at all while Kento here needs a person who could not only be a good parent but also be as understanding.”

“That’s…” you chuckle, he technically was right, “That’s definitely odd how all our problems will be solved if we both just went out together.”

“... looks young enough to be my child.” Nanami rejoined, “why would Y/N-san like-”

“I mean, you’re good looking.” you shrug, rather shamelessly, “I wouldn’t mind going out with you. Heck, I wouldn’t mind if I married you.”

Gojo spits out the saki he was drinking all over the table and that makes you cringe in disgust, “As long as he doesn’t get invited to the wedding. I’d marry you. If you’d like we could even get married right here, right now.” you proudly proclaim.

The blonde man is thrown off by your statement yet he’s too drunk to even sip in the seriousness of your words, “Well as much as I agree on not inviting Gojo to my wedding, I don’t know-” he tries to explain.

“You know what, isn’t Geto-san a lawyer? He could have it notarized and all that right now then we could get married. I’ll be a great mom and help you out then you could help me get my family off my back. You scratch my back, I scratch yours!”

Geto is definitely in shock, how odd was it that he even had a marriage registration certificate in his briefcase back in the car too?

You both could just sign it and Satoru could sign it as your witness and he could have it officially notarized since he had his seal back there too.

Solved.

“So, Nanami-san, what do you say? Wanna marry me?”

Oh god, were you shameless.

Who in the right mind would marry a stranger, one who was thirteen years older and a father?

One thing was for sure, your friends were right. You definitely needed to stay away from alcohol.

taglist [if crossed out, i can’t tag u ; - ;]

; @coldbookworm ; @frankenstein852 ; @neavil ; @shephard17895 @kristineyoshaii ; @airybnb ; @okachansenpai ; @amortentiaxo ; @rinvtaro ; @franko-pop ; @kozutenshi ; @kaldoesthings ; @moonlitdabi ; @chococroissant ; @bleepop ;

@Kurok1717 ; @hcn421 ; @shinhiromi ; @airybnb ; @katshuya ;

#jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you

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undermattsun-archive · 4 years

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Can you imagine hanging out with skate rats Kumini and Matsukawa getting high while watching a crappy movie and eating takeout? Then you wake up in the morning tangled together. And it's almost nice before Kunimi says he needs a cup of coffee and some weed. Then Matsukawa says it's too early to be high. And you push them both off the bed so you can go back to sleep

(skate rats) matsukawa issei + kunimi akira x fem!reader

this was suppose to be short but my brain went brrr,, thank u again @theygottheircages for sayin it’s ok <33 pls forgive me for my sins of this morning,,

18+ university age

tw drug use, tw dub/noncon

stuck between the two of them you get so fuckin high you barely know your lefts from your rights, bobbing in n out of consciousness, barely a handle on reality.

you watch as nimi and mattsun run their hands up and down your body, slowly pulling off ur clothes without a care for whatever you’re trying to mumble out. your head tips forward, eyes trying to focus as you give a weak shove to nimi’s head as he settles between ur thighs shoving a few fingers into your cunt lazily pumping them in n out.

you mumble out again, not even coherent to yourself, only to have it swallowed down by mattsun moving his lips against yours, whining as nimi retracts his fingers making you squirm around when you feel something thicker push at ur entrance. the brain lag doesn’t allow you to register he doesn’t have a condom on, you can barely even register the sloppy lip lock with mattsun.

mattsun who’s taking your hand and shoving it down his pants making you grab at his half hard cock, guiding your hand. youur attention is brought back to nimi, the way he’s damn near pulling all the way out, then slamming back in has your intoxicated mind reeling. when has he ever shown such effort before? you try to groan, indicate your discomfort at his unrelenting movements when there was a distinct lack of prep but all you can manage is a half giggle, half moan as mattsun continues to ravage your mouth.

there’s a moment of stark sobriety when you feel nimi twitch inside of you, the sound of him cussing fuzzy in your ears as you feel his cum spilling into you. you clench down on him, with way your body burns and the tightness in your belly you think you’re coming, but the faintly pleasant sensation doesn’t last long as nimi pulls out and settles back onto the couch beside you, sparking the blunt he had rolled earlier. you feel his fingers tangle into your hair as he pulls you away from mattsun and slots his lips against yours, without warning he exhales sharply forcing you to choke down the smoke he had been holding.

with a few coughs tumbling from you, your mind reels as mattsun pulls you onto his lap, you feel like a thread is being pulled at your forehead, pulling, pulling until you feel it connect with mattsun’s shoulder. without warning you feel him guide his cock to your entrance, and with a bruising dig of his fingers into your hip, he slams you down onto his cock. he’s bigger than nimi and the burn pulls you into another moment of sobriety making you let out something between a moan and a pained groan, earning u an amused chuckle from both men.

you hiss at the feeling of mattsun continuing to dig his fingers so sharply into your hips forcing you to bounce up and down in his lap making u take his cock deeper and deeper, faster and faster, the pain overlapping with the pleasure and the feeling of melting away wracking through your body.

with one last hard thrust you throw your head back, hands flying up to grip at his shoulders. this time as the heat and electricity course through your veins mattsun is kind enough to fuck you through it grounding you. he hooks his hand around the back of your neck and yanks you forward, biting down on your collar bone as you feel him cum inside you. he lets you flop onto the couch unceremoniously between him and nimi, you think you hear yourself whine but you’re brain is trying to make sense of your body feeling so heavy and spent, cum starting to dribble out of your abused cunt and distantly aware you’ll wake up naked and alone.

#rae said its ok so im posting >:)#thanks anon for feeding me more mattsun n nimi u know me so well #everyone go h word #skate rat hq #miki writes #??#tw drugs #tw dubcon #tw noncon #just to be safe #under.mattsun #under.kunimi

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tngrace · 3 years

Note

Me again (sorry). They are such good prompts and I couldn’t pick but going with “Late night talks” 🧡🧡

I wanted my own version of TK finding out Carlos's parents knew about them so here you go. *were also ignoring the last 2 mins of the finale and pretending it didn't happen* I hope you enjoy and never apologize for sending prompts! I'm slow but will always do my best to get to them @immortalstrand 💙

Thank you @moviegeek03 for all your help as always ❤

GTHB masterlist; Read on A03

Carlos ran a hand over his face, the exhaustion from the past twenty four hours starting to creep in. Owen and Gwyn had just left, and TK looked to finally be resting. Carlos watched him, just thankful he could watch him after everything. His phone rang disturbing the peace, and Carlos tried to quickly answer it, without looking to keep, from disturbing TK. He'd forgotten to silence it when he'd entered the hospital, not expecting anyone to call him this late at night.

His mother's voice rings through clearly, and Carlos let's out a breath before quietly talking in Spanish to her. He can see TK stirring a little, so he moves over towards the door hoping it won't bother him anymore. Gabriel had relayed the entire day to her, not surprising Carlos in the least, and she was worrying over them both. Carlos tried to reassure her they would be ok; he still had not wrapped his head around the fact his parents knew and were ok with it. But Andrea insisted on doing something, so Carlos relented and told her once they were home she could cook and bring it over. Once his mother was appeased, and he'd promised to keep them updated, he sank back into the chair by TK's bed.

"Babe?" TK questions softly, voice still heavy with sleep and pain.

"I'm here. It's ok," Carlos says softly smoothing some hair back from the bandage to soothe TK.

"You were talking.... in Spanish," he murmurs, his face scrunching in pain before it tugs too much on his stitches and he relaxes his forehead once more.

"I'm sorry," Carlos whispers kissing TK's cheek. "I was hoping not to disturb you."

TK's eyes finally crack open, and he reaches up rubbing Carlos's cheek. "Is 'k. But isn't it late?"

"Yea kinda. You should be resting before the nurse comes around for the next check."

"You haven't slept," TK points out. "Is everything ok for someone to be calling that late?" He questions as he rearranges to try and get comfy once more. The pain and confusion are really starting to get on his nerves even though he knows it's to be expected.

"Yea. Everything's fine. Mamà was just checking on us." He softly rubs TK's arm and strokes the hair he can reach hoping to relax his boyfriend back to sleep.

"Us?" TK says scrunching his face in confusion even more. "I know I have a concussion, but why would she even know about me, much less check on us?"

TK is adorable all the time, but Carlos finds TK's sleepy confusion the most adorable. Although this time he knows it's pain laced and not just his normal early morning confusion. He gives TK a smile as he kisses the back of his hand. "A lot happened today after I left the station. I was hoping you'd be feeling better before I told you, but they know Ty. They know we're together so Mamà was worried."

"How? I mean, did you tell them?" TK reaches up to rub his head to try and ease the pain, but Carlos catches his hand before it makes contact. TK's happy they know, but he's also really confused.

Carlos chuckles softly as he shakes his head. "Apparently I'm not subtle, and I still can't lie to my parents." He gives a soft shrug.

"Subtle? Carlos we haven't seen them since the farmers market."

"Oh." It clicks that maybe TK doesn't remember Gabriel being at the scene. "Well apparently I wasn't subtle then either. Dad was at the scene. It was his cas---"

"His case?! Shit! Carlos did I do or say something to out us? Oh fuck. Carlos I'm so...." Carlos leans up and cuts TK off with a soft kiss, interrupting his boyfriend like TK interrupted him. He could see panic overtaking his boyfriend, and that's the last thing he wanted with how much pain TK was already in.

"Shhh cariño. Take a breath," he murmurs as he softly rubs TK's chest to help calm him. "You didn't do anything Ty. Nothing. And it's ok. Dad wants a proper introduction, and after talking to Mamà just then, they're ok with it I promise."

He can see with each word that TK relaxes into the bed even more. "So everything's ok?"

"Yea mi amor. Everything's ok."

TK lets out a soft sigh as he tries to get comfy again. Carlos helps him arrange the pillow like he likes. "So tell me what happened?"

"You sure you're up for all of that right now babe? It can wait I promise."

"No. I wanna know. You'd started telling me about your day before your dad called you back to the station. So I wanna know what happened between then and now and how they know."

Carlos nods and squeezes TK's hand. "Ok. But just know you can drift off at any time."

TK nods and squeezes Carlos's hand back.

"So after I left the station, Dad called me in because they'd found the robber; well he turned himself in. His story was legit; I was right. He identified the two guys who kidnapped yall. Dad told me they were working out of a brown panel van, but that was it. He wouldn't admit I was right or that I'd done good." Carlos shakes his head with a sigh trying to shake it off because in the end his dad had told him he was proud of him.

TK squeezes his hand and Carlos looks up giving him a smile. He can see his own pain reflected in TK's eyes, and he hates that he's adding to TK's pain and worry.

"It's ok cariño. It all worked out."

"But he still should've had your back Carlos. You're his son." Carlos could tell TK was angry on his behalf, and while it warmed his insides, he hated making TK feel that way.

"I'm sure Mamà has given him a good lecture if he told her everything," Carlos reassured TK with a chuckle. "Anyways. I left the station and went home. I was stressed and you know cooking helps. I made homemade pasta for spaghetti and a salad."

"Fuck I missed home spaghetti," TK whines making Carlos smile.

"I'll make it again for you," he grins. TK gives him a little nod, before Carlos continues.

"So then when you didn't come home and weren't answering, I was worried. So I went to your dad's. Long story short, he called the captain on duty, and we left. He told me in the truck that yall were missing so as not to worry your mom anymore. He called Grace, we went to the parking garage, and I found this," he says holding up TK's sobriety chip. "Pretty smart of you," he murmurs.

"I do have an awesome cop for a boyfriend that's taught me things," TK grins as he runs his finger over it. "Figured it'd be evidence."

Carlos shrugs with a bashful smile and slips it back in his pocket until they're home so it doesn't go missing here at the hospital. "Pulled some strings and got to keep it. Found the brown panel van and the pieces started clicking together that it would be the same people as dad's case. When yall weren't in the garage, I remembered Charles talking about still using the restaurant and knew it was near by. I called dad at your dad's insistence, and he ordered me to stay put. But I'm so glad we didn't." He softly kisses TK's hand again.

"He showed up at the restaurant not long after we did, but I'm not surprised you didn't see him with how out of it you were. I knew he was there, but you were my first priority, always. So even if he hadn't known before, he would've figured it out then."

"I'm sorry babe," TK murmurs hating that Carlos didn't get to tell in his own time.

"Don't be. I didn't like hiding my love for you. I always want everyone to know how much I love you."

"And I love you," TK grins.

"Anyways he told me he was proud of me, that I did good, and then asked if I was going to ride with you. That's when he told me they'd known since the market, and that he expects a proper introduction next time. He must've went home and told mamà everything, which isn't unusual. They always talk about their days."

"I can't wait to meet them," TK says as his eyes get heavy once more.

"I can't wait either. Rest mi amor. It's late."

"Only if you'll sleep too." TK tries scooting over in bed to make room, but Carlos stops him. "Please," he whispers with the sad puppy eyes and pout.

"Alright but I'm blaming you if we get in trouble." Carlos can never tell TK no, so he carefully crawls in bed. TK settles with his head on Carlos's chest, falling fast asleep once more.

Nurses were in and out through the night and into the morning. TK kept passing all the tests so the doctor decided to discharge him before lunch. She gave them strict instructions on taking it easy and coming back if anything was amiss. Carlos promised to keep an eye on him, and they scheduled an appointment for in a week to come back and have his stitches looked at.

TK signs the discharges papers, and Carlos lets everyone know they're headed home but not sure TK is up for some visitors just yet. He sends his mother a similar text, but he knows she'll ignore the no visitors part in lieu of bringing them food. He gets TK settled in the Camaro his dad dropped off for him and thanks the nurse for helping get TK out. He slips some sunglasses over TK's eyes to try and help before tossing the duffle in the back. "Alright cariño let's get you home," he says as he takes off for the house.

He keeps the music off, and does his best to avoid any pot holes. He speeds slightly wanting to get TK out of the bright lights because he hates adding to TK's pain. "Almost there. I told everyone to hold off on visiting," he says softly. "But I should warn you, mamà will probably ignore that last part. She'll show up with food and want to fuss so I'm giving you warning now. I'll do my best to keep her downstairs, but she's hard to argue with."

He cuts off his rambles when he feels TK squeeze his hand. "It's ok babe. I don't mind if she comes over."

"You say that now," Carlos teases with a grin, but he does relax some. Once home, he hurries around and helps TK out. Alright let's get you upstairs in bed," he says softly leading TK to the front door.

"Shower first," TK pleads and Carlos knows he'll give in.

"Ok bath," he compromises. "You can't get your head wet yet, and I don't think you can stand on your own that long."

"Only if you'll stay in there with me," TK grins relaxing now that they're in the darkened house.

"Of course. I let you out of my sight and you get hurt. Can't have any more injuries," Carlos teases.

"Rude," TK pouts as they slowly start upstairs.

"Accurate," Carlos counters lovingly. He gets TK in a warm bath, staying right beside the tub. He let's him soak for a bit before he gently washes him. Once clean, he can see TK is fading fast so he helps him out, gets him dry, and into some sweats. He doesn't bother with a shirt, planning on putting TK right to bed. TK rests against him before they move back to the bedroom. "Thank you," he whispers into Carlos's chest.

"Don't have to thank me cariño." Carlos gently strokes his back before helping TK to the bed. He makes sure the black out curtains are pulled after he tucks TK in.

"Stay?"

"Ok," Carlos says with a soft smile. He decides he'll take a short nap until his parents show up because he knows his mother will be there before dinner. He sleeps for a couple hours before he hears the knocking. TK is still sound asleep, so Carlos carefully disentangles, closing the door softly before heading downstairs.

"Mamà, dad," he says as he opens the door trying to make it look like he hadn't been asleep.

"Told you we would wake them," Gabriel says getting an eye roll and a slap to the stomach from his wife.

"It's ok dad. I was expecting yall," Carlos says with a wry grin.

His mother heads straight to the kitchen with her bags and his dad moves to the couch. "TK is still sleeping," Carlos tells his parents as his mother makes herself at home in his kitchen.

"How is he?" Gabriel asks, and even though Andrea is bustling about starting on enchiladas and rice, Carlos knows she's listening intently.

"Sore. In pain. Got ten stitches in his head and a moderate concussion, but he'll be ok. Just needs to rest and take it easy."

"And you?" Andrea asks shooting them a look before refocusing on her food.

"I'm fine Mamà. I'm not the one injured," Carlos says with a fond eye roll.

She levels him with a look; "You may not be the one injured, but you still had a rough day. And you're playing caregiver right now, so I know you haven't slept much."

Carlos sighs softly before nodding, knowing he can't lie to her. "I didn't sleep much, no one sleeps much in a hospital, but I'm fine. I'll get over yesterday because TK is safe, and that is all that matters."

"It's not all that matters," Andrea exclaims exasperated.

Carlos shoots his dad a weary look as Andrea pounds the chicken for the enchiladas.

"She's mad at me mijo," Gabriel offers as an explanation.

"Ah," Carlos says softly. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, wrapping his arms around his mom from behind. "Don't worry Mamà. I'm ok," Carlos tells her kissing her cheek. He gets himself and his dad some water bottles before stealing a cookie he sees on the counter. Andrea must have baked them last night when she was stressed. He gets stress cooking from her and he knows it. Andrea swats at him, making him grin like he did as a kid. "Dad was just doing his job," he tells her softly. Yea he took it personally yesterday, but she doesn't need to know that.

She starts to argue before Gabriel pipes up making Carlos turn and give him his attention. "No your mother's right mijo. I do owe you an apology."

"No you d-"

"Yes I do," Gabriel insisted pulling Carlos down on the couch beside him. Carlos sits, his hands twisting together nervously in his lap. Gabriel lays his hands over Carlos's and squeezes gently. "I was wrong yesterday. What you did, was smart, was safe, and you do have good instincts. Had you put Armando in your squad car...." He cuts off and Carlos can see its hard for him to even consider that possibility.

He gives his dad a minute, squeezing his hand back. "I was so proud of you yesterday. You stood your ground, you saved the paramedics. You did good mijo, and I was so proud of you. Captain Strand was impressed too."

Carlos wipes at his eyes feeling bashful. "Thank you sir," he says biting the inside of his lip before Gabriel pulls him into a tight hug. "You're a good cop mijo. Never doubt that," he whispers. Carlos hugs his dad tight, but quickly pulls back when he hears the stairs creak.

"Sorry... didn't mean to interrupt," TK says with a wince.

"No no. It's fine," Carlos says rushing over to help him. "I didn't hear you get up, or I would've come help you."

"I'm fine," TK says, but he let's Carlos help him over to the couch. Gabriel moves to the chair so TK can stretch out despite TK insisting he can sit up for a bit.

Carlos hears Andrea come out of the kitchen and he remembers his dad's comment about wanting a proper introduction. "Mamà, Dad, I would like you to meet me boyfriend,TK Strand. TK this is my Mamà and dad, Andrea and Gabriel."

"It's nice to meet you both," TK says with a smile.

"Likewise," Gabriel says before Andrea goes into full motherhen mode.

"How are you feeling? Can I get you anything? Carlitos says you've got a concussion and stitches."

Carlos chuckles as he sits back watching as TK blushes. "Really I'm fine mam."

"Oh none of that," Andrea said with a wave. "You're family so just relax." Carlos and TK share amused grins as Andrea brings TK some water. Carlos sits down on the couch by TK finally as his parents get to know his boyfriend. He knows they still need to have some conversations, but for right now, TK is safe, his parents are here and he feels happy, happier than he ever thought he could be.

#911 lone star #tarlos #911 lone star fic #tarlos fic #tk x carlos #gthb #good things happen bingo #writers life

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megthemewlingquim · 3 years

Text

TO BE SO LONELY

Summary: He’s just an arrogant son of bitch, who can’t admit when he’s sorry.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: angst angst angst, Loki is drunk

A/N: This is Chapter Seven of my “Fine Line” series! This one is inspired by To Be So Lonely. I hope you like this series! If you do, please reblog and leave feedback. I heavily encourage you to listen to the album (because it’s phenomenal), or listen to each song before you read each chapter. Speaking of chapters, they will be uploaded every Sunday at 12:00 PM EST.

Find the “Fine Line” masterlist here!

Read Chapter Six, FALLING, here!

There is a time where an itch arises.

It comes in the early afternoon, where the white walls of Loki’s living room are alight with the soft golden sun, and the old, vintage, beige phone is sitting on the coffee table.

He supposes the itch is there, also, because he is wildly and completely drunk. His mind is elsewhere, and he cannot control his thoughts nor his actions.

He has had a millennium of experience with drunkenness and sobriety, but mostly drunkenness. The tales are true - when under mead’s influence, he becomes foolish, wistful, reckless, but he stays ever cunning and proud. Oftentimes, his drinking caused him to be banished from Odin’s halls, for his words had become insults, and he had spoken truths that the Aesir and Vanir had not wanted to hear about themselves. When those times arose, God of Mischief had not lied, but he had offended, and so he was sent away. That is until the gods needed his cunning again. So the cycle went.

But this time, he knows that his cunning will not save him.

You arrogant son of a bitch.

He wants to call you. He wants to call you and apologize, to take it all back, invite you over, and settle things over a bottle of wine, or a cup of coffee. Running a sweaty, clammy hand over his face, he sighs. Everyone makes it look so easy, calling someone on the phone.

He dials the number, letting his fingers run over the smooth, circular dial. The phone itself feels warm in his hand. He hears the ringing, his heart pounding in his chest.

Then,

“Hello?”

Loki’s mind races, and yet all thoughts are incoherent. He decides to go all out, completely off the rails. Everything he wants to say, he’ll say - right here, right now.

“Look,” he slurs, “don’ blame me for doing this - calling you.”

“L-Loki?” you stammer, incredulous. “Wh-”

“Wasn’t ready for it all,” he says, and you can hear a smile. “Don’t blame me for falling…”

“What the hell, Loki? What are you talking about -”

“You can’t blame me, darling,” he whispers suddenly. “Not even a little bit. I wanted to hear your voice again.”

“Are you drunk?” you ask, your voice rising.

“Ah,” he says as if thinking. “Yes.”

You should’ve hung up right then and there. You should’ve put your own phone down, back on the receiver, and went along with your day.

“I’m not ready to hear you yet,” you say.

“Not ready?” he cries. “Not ready?” He chuckles angrily. “I’m sure you don’t say that to your new friend. The boy with an art gallery. I’m sure he’s inside you every night, isn’t he? Not ready…”

“Shut the fuck up,” you hiss. “Shut up.”

“So I’ve struck a nerve, have I? Good. Now you’re vulnerable. Now you’ll listen, won’t you? Because you most certainly are ready to hear from me, eh? You just don’t want to. Well, then, you shouldn’t have left me your number…”

“What… do... you want?” your voice asks quietly, completely enraged.

“Baby, I was stupid. An arrogant son of a bitch who can’t admit when he’s sorry.” Now, for a second, his drunkenness clears. “I care. I miss you. And you’ve said that. You care and you miss me, too, huh?”

A pause. “You’re -” Then, a laugh. “You’re sorry?” You laugh more, but he remembers that this is what you sound like when you mask a sob or two. “You’re sorry for what you said? What you wanted?” He hears you take a breath. “Loki Laufeyson. Fuck. You.

“All you ever wanted was a place to get off. You used me, ok? You wanted me around only to think about later, when I wasn’t there. Your hands were always on me -”

“You wanted it.”

“I did, yes!” you cry. “I did! But that’s all you wanted! You never wanted me to love you! You never wanted to date, to get married, have kids, I-”

“We were courting,” he seethes. “For six m-”

“Courting?” A sniff from your end. “That’s what you call it.”

“I can change,” he says, his hand gripping the phone now. “You know I can. I’ve done it before - with my brother, with the Avengers. I’ve turned my life around.”

“Says the drunk calling his ex three months after the breakup, huh?” He can now hear you clearly - you’re sobbing. “I miss you, of course I do. I’ll always love you. But all you ever want me for is my body. You don’t love me at all. And that’s why I can’t go back to you.

“It’s hard, y’know. It’s hard for me to go home. To be so... lonely. And yeah, I’ve got - I’ve got Brendan here. I’m going to marry him, I think. That’s what I like to think. Because he values me for me. He doesn’t want to just fuck me and say he adores me after. He says he loves me. You couldn’t even do that.

“I’m happy with him, Loki. I’m over you, I think. It’s time for you to move on, too.”

For once, the ever-talkative God of Lies is silent. Sobered. Shaking.

“Oh, and Loki?”

He perks up.

“Don’t call me ‘baby’ again.”

The call ends. You’ve hung up.

#fine line #loki odinson #loki #loki of asgard #loki fanfic #loki fluff #loki fandom #loki x y/n #loki odinson x reader #loki x reader smut #loki (marvel)#loki x reader #harry styles #fanfiction #angst #smut #fluff #romance

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wendystales · 3 years

Text

Memories - lrh (Chapter Sixteen)

Memories (also on Wattpad)

Chapter Fifteen ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ Chapter Seventeen

Luke pov.

“Do it again.” Ashton asks, staring at me intently.

We were about to leave my house for my surprise party, which I discovered in less than an hour. I was rehearsing a face of surprise so as not to end the surprise, cause I know everyone worked hard for it.

I widen my eyes, breaking into a smile.

“I can't believe you deceived me.” I say with my voice altered by the ‘surprise’.

“Don't say that, it will be very obvious that you know. Says ‘I can't believe you threw a party for me’.” he suggests.

"I can't believe you threw a party for me." I redo the entire acting.

“Yep! Me either. But what doesn't M&Ms ask, that I don't do?” Ash dries the water bottle with a shrug. “I'm just kidding.” he laughs after seeing my face.

“Speaking of her…” I fill my glass with some more wine, since it's too early for us to go. “Something new?” Ashton denies, frustrated too.

“I commented that she was acting weird, but she just changed the conversation and said that she's been busy and that she was nervous about the party.” he sighs. I massage my forehead, annoyed.

"Am I going to have to put her against the wall to get something?" I look at him, not knowing what to do.

“You know this isn't going to work. She's going to run away, you're going to fight, she's going to walk away and you're going to be more annoying than you already are.” I appreciate my friend's attempt to change the mood with provocation, but it has no effect.

"I can't find any reason to give me any sign of what's going on. Was it my fault? I knew I shouldn't have stayed with her that Saturday, I pushed the situation too hard and now she's pulling away, avoiding me-”

“Oh shut up! Don't even start with that.” Irwin raises his voice, cutting mine off. "Marnie isn't like that, she doesn’t do these things. If she wasn't comfortable she was going to talk. You said yourself that she asked you to sleep there. She let you pick her up on Monday and asked you to take her home, even after you dedicated Best Years to her. She didn't run away there, because it was remarkable how much she liked the song. You should pay more attention to the way she looks at you.”

A silly laugh escapes my lips when I see Ashton imitate her looking at me and smiling. My heart warms at the possibility that she is actually falling in love with me, just as I already am with her.

"Luke, if she didn't want to get back together, she wouldn't open up so many gaps and opportunities for you to be together. She must just be confused about the feelings. That's how it looked for the first time. Look, let's analyze her behavior today, after all the stress of the party and then we get stressed.”

I agree with my friend. I'm freaking out over something that shouldn't be very important. Maybe it's all the pressure with finishing the album. The release date is approaching and sure enough, Jim freaking out in my ear for the publicity trip we were supposed to be doing, but we're still going against it due to Marnie's accident.

I don't know how many times I have to tell him I'm not leaving LA yet. This delay wasn't hindering anything, so I don't know why he makes such a point.

“Go, get rid of that dead face and let's enjoy your party.” Ash slaps my shoulder.

We left the house, heading to Jack's house, where the party would be. I've been training my face the entire way, wanting it to be as realistic as possible, even though everyone already suspects that I know.

Even if I didn't know it, the moment I see the street full of cars, I realize that I would find out there. Irwin tells them we're coming and I notice the noise of the music fade away. Discreet.

We entered the house, finding everything quiet and tidy. But when we turn to the kitchen and garden, a lot of people scream in surprise. I take a step back, like I'm really shocked.

"I can't believe you did that." I look at Ash, wanting to see that I did well. But his expression ‘so so’ disappoints me.

“In the car it was better.” he says before walking away and letting people get closer.

I don't know how many people I hugged, but I know the only one I wanted to see was the last one to arrive. I hold my breath, seeing her in a black leather skirt and a transparent black blouse, highlighting her tattoo between her breasts.

I swallow hard, cracking a nervous smile as she approaches with a huge grin, almost jumping into my lap. Unlike yesterday, where I just got a congratulations message, M&Ms hug me, leaving a lingering kiss on my cheek.

“Happy Birthday!” the gleam in her eyes proves to me she's already a little high.

I resist the urge to steal a kiss from her lips, just kissing her cheek back but giving her waist a squeeze, pressing her against my body. She seems to notice my intent, drastically changing her breathing.

"I wanted to talk to you later. If possible.” I say against her ear.

“About?” her eyes sweep me for any clues.

“Surprise.” I reveal, seeing her roll her eyes in agreement.

I watch her walk away with the girls, but she doesn't fully break eye contact with me, looking at me from afar. I let out a breath, realizing it's going to be a long night and another long battle to resist her and the urge to take her to a dark corner.

In the kitchen, where most of the drinks are, I start my work, drinking the alcohol, enjoying the burning sensation that the liquid leaves in my throat. I get distracted with video game conversation and allow my mind to relax with lighter, more relaxed topics.

The party had been going on for a few hours. My head is already light, due to the high alcohol content my body retains. I know I'm laughing at some bullshit Brian is talking about, even though his words don't make any sense in my mind. Maybe I've already had too much to drink and it's better to stop for a while. I don't want to be sick at my own party.

The term vibrates in my mind and I start searching the crowd for the cotton candy hair, worried about her condition. The feeling pulls my head out of the air, sobering me up for a few minutes.

I find her dancing hand in hand with Noah, laughing at the older man's exaggerated steps. I stare at the scene, happy that she is enjoying herself. Unlike at the beginning of the week, Marnie is now upbeat and not acting. Maybe Irwin is right and she was just stressed about the birthday party.

I push my thoughts away, concentrating on yet another beer pong game. I've played more times than I could count and I'm starting to doubt the two arms Jack has won since my last drink.

“Problems.” Michael sings beside me, pointing to the door. Pam walked in smiling excitedly, holding hands with a guy who sure as hell didn't want to be there. It's not possible…

Sobriety hits me like a cannon. All the alcohol and smoke that was in my body is gone and I am able to think clearly for the first time since I arrived.

I massage my forehead, bringing my gaze to Marnie, who's already staring at Pam without a specific expression. I cross the room with incredible ease, reaching for her, hugging her waist, pulling her to me.

“We can talk now?” Marnie didn't even seem to hear me, still staring at Pam, who was greeting some people. "M&Ms?" I call closer to her ear, but no effect. “Hey!” I drop a kiss to her temple, squeezing her waist.

Her green eyes cross mine and I can palpate the insecurity in them. Marnie just nodded, letting me lead her out of the room. We went up to a room, being alone. I look at her face, still half lost, and I approach slowly, feeling that little box weigh tons in my pocket.

“What do you want to talk about?” she gives a slight smile, turning her full attention to me.

“First I wanted to apologize for Pam. I didn't know what she was going to come.” Marnie rolls her eyes, shrugging.

“It’s OK! No need to apologize. My head is so full I don't even care about her anymore.” she sits up in bed, crossing her legs.

“And I believe she won't even mind us today, after all, she came with someone” I sat beside her.

“Yeah! Poor guy.” I let out a laugh at her pity for the poor boy. “It was just that?”

I lose myself in her eyes for a few seconds, wondering if that's all. I draw her face in my mind once more, recording every feature I fell in love with. My lips tingle as I landed my eyes on her mouth, slightly reddened by the drink.

At another time, right now she and I would be locked in some bathroom or bedroom, succumbing to desire and the alcohol in our blood. My fingertips ache amidst the memories of all the times I have run across her skin, feeling it burn under my touch.

My mind starts to cloud and the flashes of the two of us become more and more vivid. I try to push those thoughts away, but they seem to sink into my mind with force. My body heats up with every scene my mind plays. I feel the blood running the wrong way and I don't know how to stop it.

"Luke?" I'm startled by your touch on my hand. Marnie was looking at me with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “Are you okay?” I watch her hand squeeze mine, like she always did when I was angry or upset.

And just with that touch, everything stops inside me. The fire is gone and now I'm seized by a gigantic pain and rage in my chest, a rage for her being ripped from me so abruptly. I stare at her fingers moving gently, transmitting a caress throughout my body.

"Luke?" now she was looking at me extremely worried.

“Sorry. I think the drink hit.” I open a smile, trying to calm her down. M&Ms don't seem to buy much, but she smiles smugly.

“I already told you you're drinking a lot. In a little while you'll be passed out and won't even enjoy your own birthday party.” my smile widens in the midst of her care. "Don't give me that smile." she pushes my face away. "Is that all you wanted to talk about?"

“No!” this time I answer faster. “Actually, I wanted to give you something.” I fish the little white box in my pocket, feeling my fingers as soft as jelly. What if she doesn't like it? What if she gets angry?

“You know it's your birthday, right? You're the one who should get presents, not give. Especially for me.” she looks at me angrily, not wanting to accept the box.

"Well, it's my birthday and I'll do what I want, in which case I give it to you." I place the object in her hands. “I wanted to wait until your birthday, but it's still far away and I can't take it.” I lift my shoulders quickly, making her laugh.

Taking advantage of the fact that she was involved with the present, slowly, I move closer to her body, contenting myself with the least contact we have. I notice Marnie hold her breath at the sight of the blue quartz necklace, just like the one she had.

With no more reaction than that, I start to convince myself that I've fucked up and she hated it. It wasn't the time yet, as much as everything was going well, it wasn't the time yet.

“I can't believe you did this.” her voice comes out in a breath in surprise. I let my mind race to our first Christmas, where she gave me my necklace and I gave that star to her.

“If you don't like it…” my voice trails off as I see her eyes watery and filled with joy. It was the right time.

I'm not afraid to advance towards her, covering your lips with mine in a short kiss. The cherry taste becomes my favorite for the rest of the night. Marnie wipes her tears as she calls herself pathetic for crying.

"I know we used it as a dating ring, but it doesn't have to be-”

"Could you put it on for me?" she interrupts me, not caring about my fear. With my hands still trembling and cold, I close the necklace around her neck, enjoying the scene of her smiling enchanted by that stone. “Thanks!”

This time it is she who steps forward, stealing a kiss. The mood changes drastically. The screams outside seem to die in my ears, leaving only silence. The music that used to burst had ceased to exist.

That little kiss breaks, but she doesn't pull away, keeping her forehead still glued to mine. I'm startled when her eyes return to mine, I can see her perfectly there, in front of me, in my arms. I recognize that glow, that look and what it wanted to convey.

It was her there. The reason I get up every morning. The reason that makes me want to be better and better. The person I always want to impress. My girl. My Marnie.

I bring my hand to the back of her neck, bringing our lips together once more. I feel goose bumps as our tongues touch and her hand cups my face, holding me there. If she knew the last thing I want is to run away…

I'm surprised I feel despair on her side. The urgency on her lips. The need for the touch of her hands, the way they ran through my hair, the back of my neck and chest.

Easily, I pull her onto my lap, moaning, feeling her body against mine after so long. The fire that had previously ceased inside me, runs again through my veins, making everything too cloudy. I can't reason whether this was right or not. We both drink too much. She still hasn't given me full openness to so much attitude, even though she's still here, kissing me.

I try for a few minutes to clear my mind, to be a little rational and not get carried away by emotion, but the sound her mouth makes when I touch her neck with my lips ruins whatever train of thought I was building.

I touch the exact spots that make her moan and scramble for more friction. I watch thirstily as her eyes roll back and her lip is bitten in an attempt to control the moans. Her nails scratch the back of my neck, releasing an electric current that migrates between my legs.

I gasp when I feel her rub against my groin, spreading a current throughout my body. I want to beg her to do it again, but it's not really necessary, she knows and she does. So excruciating, but so good. Again I am startled to find that glow that I knew so much. I wonder where this Marnie was all along.

I shove my hand inside her shirt, enjoying her burning skin. I stroke the spot below her bra with my thumb, wanting not to frighten her. I suck the skin under her ear, lapping it with my tongue. My body combusts as she stirs and presses her crotch harder against mine. I cup her breast with enjoyment, hearing her call my name the way I liked it best.

Her desperate hands run inside my jacket, wanting to throw it away. I was ready to help when a heavy knock on the door disrupts our moment.

"What the fuck is it?" anger rips up my throat, causing a very angry scream. So much time to interrupt.

"It's time to cut the cake." I hear Calum's voice and feel like throwing him from the second floor.

“Serious? Stick the cake in your-” two small hands cover my mouth, preventing me from continuing.

“We're on our way, Cal.” Marnie yells louder and breathless.

I watch your body soften, lost and, I fear, even regretful. She is no longer there. She avoids looking at me, perhaps out of shame.

“It was better this way.” her sweet voice comes closer to a whisper.

“Was?” I stare at her, not wanting to accept that I was the only one to feel it. I know I wasn't, because her expression tells me I'm right.

“Was! You know it was.” her tone is still sweet, but her gaze is hard. "I think we'd better go downstairs." she gets up carefully, getting out of bed. I throw my head against my hands, visibly frustrated.

"Go ahead, I need to get both heads in place." I throw my body against the mattress.

“Sorry, Luke.” I can't stand her feeling guilty when she's the biggest victim of all this.

"M&Ms?" I leap out of bed, grabbing her before disappearing through the door. “It's not your fault. I'm the one who lost control, I'm sorry. You didn't give me the opening to attack you like that and I let myself go…” her lips silence me.

“It wasn't anyone's fault, can we do that?” I nod, stealing the last kiss before I let her go. "I'll wait for you downstairs." she announce.

I turn around, heading back to bed, still feeling frustration coursing through my veins.

“Hey!” I turn to see her there, standing in the doorway. My chest races with yearning from the many times I've seen her do the same scene. My ears and heart ache wanting to hear those words that always came next. Those three words that were so beautiful in her mouth. “Thanks for this.” she smiles and leaves.

I stare at the wood, snapping back to reality. I'm such an idiot for thinking she was going to say she loves me. I hide my face, exhausted. I look across the bed, able to see the two of us there, so given to each other.

I replay the scene in my head, tasting her kiss on my lips. Feeling my body tingle, still wanting her touch. The pressure on my pants becomes bigger and more uncomfortable. I need to make this go away. I scramble my mind for many things to calm myself down, but I can't. I can still feel her hands running around the back of my neck and her groin against mine.

"Shit!" I give up, going to the bathroom and locking myself in there. I don't care if I'm late, or what they think. I won't be able to eliminate this with thoughts alone.

I lower my pants and underwear, releasing my already throbbing member. I run my hand over it, making my body vibrate in relief. I let my mind flood with all thoughts and memories with her, feeling my body inflate further.

I increase my speed, being able to feel her touch through my body. I punch the wall, feeling my stomach contract. I rest my forehead against the cool coating, letting out several sighs. Her eyes flash in my mind.

The many times I've seen her face twist in pure orgasm under my touch. That smirk and that vulgar glow she always lets off before pulling me aside. And I always did, like a puppy.

My breathing gets out of control as I reach my orgasm. A wave of relief and lightness overcomes me, along with a wave of guilt. It must have been the 15th time since it all happened.

I can't have her. I can't stand the idea of looking for someone else, even though we are not officially together, so I have to get by with baths and my bare hands, but as a result I feel like the dirtiest human being, as she doesn't even suspect.

I walk down the stairs, not attracting any attention. I find her sitting on the couch, on Leah's lap, laughing at some imitation Ashton was doing. I approach the group, who make no fuss about my delay.

I pick up the bottle of white wine on the coffee table, flipping half the contents. I feel her green eyes burn on me and I don't even have the courage to reciprocate by ignoring her.

“Is everything OK? Sorry if I messed something up.” Hood says next.

“It's OK! In fact, it was better, if you didn't show up, we would have done something stupid.” I say dry.

"Is that why this sour face?" he raises an eyebrow.

"I'm feeling awful for almost bringing her to this and not having the conscience to stop." I reveal a part of the guilt that burns in me.

“Luke, you are not complete strangers. And maybe she really wanted to go further, she just didn't know how. After all, at that moment she was supposed to be your f-”

"I know!" I cut it off, not wanting to hear the rest of the sentence.

For my salvation, someone starts to sing happy birthday and the matter is closed. I open a smile disguising the shit my head was on. Michael puts a little purple hat on my head, blowing a plastic horn, very excited.

The scene makes me laugh, relieving the stress. I watch Leah and Kyleen swing colorful pom poms behind Marnie, who is holding a small cake with several candles.

I look deep into her eyes, noticing her happiness to be there and somehow mine too. After all, she's here, even if she doesn't remember much, she's still here. The accident could have been a lot worse and I could have lost her forever.

I push the damn thoughts away, blowing out the candles and driving everyone crazy. I'm surprised when Marnie leans in, stealing a kiss, not caring that she's in front of everyone. Her rosy cheeks manage to steal a smile far bigger than Michael did.

In the back of the room, I notice Pam with her arms crossed and sulking. I don't know if Marnie did it on purpose, intent on teasing, but something she did, and if Pam is pissed off, we're happy.

The clock was already showing around 5:00 in the morning. I've already fluctuated my alcohol level more times than I can count. While the boys filled me with rum, M&Ms filled me with water and food, afraid I would go into an alcoholic coma or whatever. Of course I took advantage of her concern and all the attention she was giving me.

At some point during the party, Michael took over the DJ's table and there we were, jumping up behind him, singing I Want It That Way at the top of our lungs, with the lost girls trying to do the choreography. That was definitely the best thing about the party, right after my moment with Marnie in the bedroom.

Right after his moment commanding the party's playlist, Clifford decided to climb on the roof to jump into the pool. Something that was already taking a while to happen. What he and no one expected was Marnie yelling at him, worried.

“It's comical, because if it weren't for the amnesia and the lack of alcohol, she would be the one on the roof.” Irwin comments lying beside me, watching the scene of her yelling at Michael, asking him to come down.

“And we called the fire department because she got stuck again.” I shake my head, wanting not to laugh at the memories. “Good times.” I'm toasting my friend, still watching her worriedly behind the older one.

Sitting in the garden, talking to some friends, I watch the girl laughing in a circle with Noah and Calum. She gets up, walking into the house, returning in a few minutes. I watch her come around, stopping behind me.

“Now the one who needs to talk is me.” she whispers in my ear. I don't think twice about taking your hand and heading out of the wheel chat.

I can see a large package in her hands and the idea of being my gift makes me anxious. A little farther away from the mess that remained, she hands me the black box with a gold bow on top. Before opening it, I take a look at her excited smile, letting out a laugh.

I find five rings and three necklaces arranged around the box. I can't hold back the smile, seeing what she's chosen. I know I might look like an idiot for some jewelry, but it's amazing jewelry she picked out.

“You liked?” she bites her lower lip, curious.

“I loved!” I hug your body, thanking her. I know she has no intentions other than to give me a birthday present, but of course I will wear these rings and necklaces with more affection than usual. “Thanks.” I mean, still ecstatic.

Hand in hand, we approached the crowd again, bumping into Kiki, Sophie and Michael.

“We were thinking about going to Michael's house. The party is already boring and I'm hungry.” Kiki comments. I look a little offended at her, after all, that was my birthday party. “Oh! Nothing personal.” she laughs, slapping me on the shoulder.

“What do you think?” I ask the M&Ms, who shrug their shoulders. "Have you talked to the rest?"

“Leah was going to call Noah and Ash, we were going to rescue Calum.”

“OK! We'll get our stuff and meet you at the door.” Marnie agrees and so we disperse.

Still holding hands, we walked back upstairs, looking for her bag. In the kitchen, I grab a bottle of vodka, a tequila, and a whiskey, trying to put everything in my bag, but it doesn't quite work.

“We should take advantage of the gathering and have your liver funeral.” I turn to Marnie who glares at me, seeing three bottles in my arm and me struggling to open one of beer.

Easily, we made our way to the front door, finding Kiki and Sophie. Gradually, everyone arrived and so we left the party, without saying goodbye to anyone.

“Uh, tequila?” Hood comes towards me, hugging the bottle.

Michael's house was the closest and, having drunk too much, we thought we'd better walk.

On the way, we stopped at a bakery, buying a bunch of things to eat. The day was already showing signs of life when we arrived at Mike's house. At the dinner table, we spread out the stolen drinks and food, starting our round table, as well as picking up several board games that Michael kept.

“I wanted to propose a toast to Mr. Luke Hemmings.” Noah draws the toast, making everyone raise their glasses and bottles. “One of the few people worth meeting in this hellish city where you can't trust anyone. The other people are unfortunately not present…”

A shower of paper balls and food flies towards the 20 minutes older twin. I'm surprised when I watch Marnie leave my arms, standing up.

“I also wanted to give a speech.”

“You didn't have to, babe.” I say, shaking her hand that still had our fingers intertwined.

“It's not about you.” she sticks out her tongue, causing everyone to scream.

“Ouch!” I put my hand to my chest, accepting the blow and still feeling my heart race.

“Shut up.” she screams, laughing. “Well, I wanted to make this toast in thanks to all of you. I know it's been three years of friendship, but for me it's only been a month and even with all the confusion and breakup.” her fingers squeeze mine and I move them, giving them a light caress. “You still took me in and took great care of me. I am eternally grateful for that. Leah doesn't even start crying, I need to get this over with and if I cry it's going to go wrong.” the mood breaks a little with the laughter. “Bottom line, I just want to say that whatever the future holds, I like you all a lot and that this isn't just a bunch of crazy friendship the universe threw at me, it's the family I've been looking for. As Noah said, you're the few people worth living in this hell of a city and I love you all so much. Cheers!”

Everyone raises their glasses once more, toasting her speech. I cross my gaze with Leah, who has also noticed something odd. She still hadn't commented on Monday's episode and I still had it hanging around in my mind.

It was very visible that something was troubling her. Her eyes wandering lost, her disappearance since Monday until today, claiming to be super busy and out of time. Everyone was sensing that something was wrong, but she wouldn't let go or comment on it.

“Especially you.” I focus my attention on her, who settles back into my arms. “Regardless of our future, I like you very much.” she whispers, before pressing her lips to mine. “Please never forget that. Promise?”

I get lost in her eyes, noticing a hint of fear and pain in them. It's horrible to see her like this and not know what to do. For nothing in this world I want her to feel unprotected or alone, she said herself that we are a family, so she wouldn't have to face anything alone.

“Only if you promise me you'll tell me what's going on.” I play hard, not caring if this becomes an issue between us, or if it pushes her away a little.

“Luke…” my name comes out in a painful sigh.

"Marnie." I say her name harshly, wanting her to understand that I won't change my mind.

“I'll tell. Just not today. Today is your day and that's what matters to me. So please let's enjoy?” she begs. As always, I surrender, nodding. I drop a kiss to her forehead, before pulling her to my chest again.

Hastings still looks at me suspiciously and unfortunately I only have reason to agree with her. Something was up with Marnie and she didn't want to tell us.

A minute of silence, our baby is turning 25 today and I am not knowing how to handle it.

14 notes · View notes

lawlerek · 5 years

Text

Not good enough

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader, Steve Rogers x Ex!Reader, Steve Rogers x Sharon Carter

Word count: 8.4k

Summary: You were Steve's girlfriend for two years, but now he left you for Sharon. You found comfort in his best friend, Sam Wilson.

Warnings: angst. Steve is kind of a jerk, but it’s not his fault. xD

A/N: Gif’s not mine.

Ok, I just don’t like Sharon. Very much. And I’m still furious about Endgame ending, so in this AU it’ll never happend.

Also, it’s pretty late and I haven’t check this out yet. Sorry.

I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as me. ♥

An annoying bell sounded from the front door just as Sam was in the shower and the water drowned out everything. Fortunately for him and his neighbors, the visitor knew exactly where Wilson held the spare key, so intruder picked it up and opened the door. Steve Rogers didn’t care if his presence would please Sam. He was just so exhausted by this moment.

Honestly, Steve was fed up with everything. He almost wished he had been extracted from the ice. If he was still asleep, life would be simpler. In fact, his life was easier in the forties when he was still a skinny and weak guy from Brooklyn. At that time, no girl even wanted to look at him. The equation was simple: no girls = no problems in a love life.

Steve walked through the living room to the small kitchen, went to the fridge and pulled out two chilled beers, even though he knew that no amount of alcohol would help him. This was another huge minus of his situation — unconditional sobriety, anytime and anywhere.

The sound of the murmuring water broke off the moment Steve fell down on the couch with a groan. Then Steve heard the shower door sliding open, the rustling of clothes, the quiet humming of his best friend. After another five minutes Sam left the bathroom. Steve imagined all his actions — in sweatpants and a towel on his shoulder Sam was heading for his bedroom, but he noticed the light in the living room, so he stopped. Probably his shoulders tensed in anticipation. The man's heart instantly beat faster when he realized that a burglar was inside his house.

Steve preferred to suppress all violence in the bud.

"It's just me!” He called and took a sip of beer.

Sensible senses made Steve easily hear Sam breathe a sigh of relief. The soldier moved briskly toward the living room. He also wanted to throw some sarcastic remark, but at the sight of his friend, all words died in his mouth. Wilson cleared his throat and, with much less confidence, and with greater caution (as if approaching a wild dog) walked to the chair and sat on it. When he noticed the second bottle of beer on the table, he immediately reached for it and opened it without even bothering to look for the opener.

"So... did you do it?” He asked uncertainly. Steve nodded slowly, his empty eyes locked on the TV wall. "And how did she react?”

This time it was Steve who sighed so miserably that Sam felt sorry for him.

"At the beginning it was good... I guess. I think so?” Steve said quietly. "I don’t know. She was silent. I had no idea what to say and she just looked at me. ” Rogers paused as if to gather his thoughts together. He frowned thoughtfully. "Then she asked if I was joking and I almost answered her that yes. I almost begged to be forgiven!”

Sam settled himself more comfortably in the chair. He sensed that he would not go to sleep as early as he intended, but he didn’t blame his friend for it. He knew that this whole situation was hard for Steve. In the end, Rogers never really had a girlfriend, he never had to break up with anyone in his life. He had no idea that remorse was an indispensable part of saying goodbye, even if he was not guilty of anything. Well, maybe not quite.

"She wanted to cry," Steve continued. "I saw the tears in her eyes. But she refrained. I told her that it was not her fault. That it's all me…”

Sam moaned, despite the fact that he wanted to remain silence. Rogers looked surprised at his friend and blinked a few times with a big question mark on his face. Sam felt sorry for Steve even more. And a little bit angry.

"Dude, you never say such things. Now she definitly must be thinking that it was her fault!” Steve grimaced slightly and Sam felt remorse. He didn’t intend to be so dry in relation to a friend. "Sorry. You told her why you're breaking up with her?

Steve was even more confused, while Sam groaned louder.

"You didn’t tell her about Sharon? Are you kidding me?”

"I wanted to," Steve said defensively. "But I didn’t know how. [Y/N] was so broken... I didn’t want to kick her when she’s down.”

Sam didn’t know who to rage more. Steve, who screwed up everything in its entirety or you for not asking anything?

At Steve, he finally decided. It was not your fault. In fact, in all this situation you were the biggest victim.

You worked for Tony Stark and earlier for SHIELD under the command of Nick Fury. From the beginning you were in close cooperation with Captain America and his team, even though your participation in the missions was limited to office work and improvement of the equipment used by the team. You were beautiful and extremely clever and your technical skills made even Stark impressed. Your only guilt was that you fancied Captain America and agreed to go out with him for coffee.

Sam didn’t want to remind his friend, but he told him that everything would end badly. Of course, he was more concerned with affairs between employees. Wilson didn't think another woman could wrap Steve around her little finger, so he decided to leave [Y/N] after more than two years of relationship and your plans for the future.

Equally, Sam didn’t want to remind him that you will learn about Steve's new partner sooner than later, which is totally a kicking a lying one (after all, Steve complained to his friend many times that you were jealous every time when Sharon appeared in sight, what you didn’t know yet, but you had a real reason to feel insecure) and it would probably bounce back on Sam and his relationship with you.

And you two had meeting next week.

"Well," Sam began after a long silence. "I hope [Y/N] will not break down completely after discovering the truth.”

Steve put his beer on the table and hid his face in his hands, as if he could hide from the whole world in this way. The men were silent for a moment and the only audible sound was Sam's swallow of beer. At last Rogers spoke, but his voice was muffled.

"She deserves someone better than me.”

Sam didn’t say anything about it. In part because he just didn’t know what he could say in such a situation.

It was hard to tell if you were broken with the news, which with the speed of light spread through the Avengers Tower. Even if Sam knew that Steve wanted to be a little decent and to hide his fresh relationship with Sharon, one person in the headquarters who saw them together was enough. One person who heard one sentence too much and rumors began to spread faster than a forest fire.

It's the damned Captain America, Sam thought with anger, staring at your hands. Everyone wants to know everything about his private life.

The only thing Sam knew for sure was that you were brave as hell. It is true that it was obvious at first glance that you didn’t sleep well. Your face was pale and drawn and under the reddened eyes he could see purple bruises. You lost something of your vigor, all your movements were automatic and slow. You also got more clumsy and distracted, but he couldn’t denny your self-confidence. You've been walking all day through the corridors of the Avengers' headquarters with your head tucked up and your breast thrust forward and you didn’t hide like Sam expected you to do.

Your meeting was more than awkward. At least when it came to Sam. You tried to keep the face of a professional you were and you never even mentioned Stevie or Sharon. You explained Sam modifications to Sam and showed all improvements you made.

"You should test it," you said, putting a heavy pack of equipment on the metal table. "As soon as possible," you added, staring at Sam.

He was torn. He liked you and he got used to your relaxed side. To your laughter and the loose anecdotes you told him every time Wilson walked in your lab. Ever since you started dating Steve and becoming friends with him, Sam never left your lab earlier than after two hours and at least one cub of coffee. This time, however, Sam's visit lasted about ten minutes. You began to talk as soon as he crossed the threshold of the studio and never let him gave a word, even though he wanted to ask how you are doing.

Maybe that's better, Sam thought. In the end, you were evidently upset about Steve's behavior.

Scowled Sam picked up his equipment, signed the statement you gave him under his nose and headed for the exit. The man stopped just at the door and, ignoring the fact that it automatically opened, turned to say goodbye to you. He was surprised to find out that you were staring blankly at his back and your lips were trembling as if you were holding back to speak. But you didn’t have to say anything. Sam knew exactly what you meant and immediately got you through.

"He didn’t cheat on you or anything like that.” Wilson hated himself for how weak his voice sounded. "Everything just...” he broke off abruptly, not knowing what to say next. That everything all happened this way? That love doesn’t choose? It was a regrettable excuse. "It's really not your fault," he added and your eyes glazed. He wanted to throw himself under the train, stab himself or let himself be launched into space. Maybe then he would stop the folly that only hurt you more. "When you want to talk or just go outpop out for a drink, let me know. You look like you need it.”

And he left.

Although Sam really meant you to call him if necessary, he was extremely surprised when on saturday, about three weeks after your conversation, at nine in the evening his phone flashed and your face appeared on the screen. He thanked God or the gods (he couldn’t be sure of anything in this world anymore) that he was alone at home because he wouldn’t know how to react in the company of Steve.

He answered, feeling unpleasant sucking in his stomach. He was afraid that such a late conversation didn’t bring good news.

"[Y/N]?”

There was silence on the other side, which disturbed Sam.

"[Y/N], please speak. For God's sake," he mumbled, shifting from foot to foot.

"I'm sorry," you said in a weak voice. Sam relaxed, because he knew you had cried recently. "You're probably busy and I'm just bothering you. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. It's nothing important, so...”

"You’re not bothering me," said Wilson, smiling slightly under his breath. "I'm glad you're calling," he added, even though he didn’t quite know why. He guess just to make you feel a little bit better.

You fell silent again, but this time Sam heard a dull clatter in the background. As if you were impatiently slapping your fingers on the back of the phone.

"What's up?” Man said mildly, switching off the television. He sat up more comfortably and put his legs on the table. He felt it would take a long time.

"I'm really sorry," you repeated mumbling. "I just don’t have anyone to talk to. Honestly, I shouldn’t call you either. God, I am such a burden to everyone! But lately I really cannot focus, because I still only see him with..." you broke off and Sam imagined that you were wrinkling your forehead.

Words left his lips faster than he could think about them:

"I'll be at your place in half an hour.”

As he promised, he was knocking on the door of your apartment half an hour later. Although Sam visited this place hundreds of times, this time every cell of his body and every brick house, shouted to him that everything is different. Not as it should be. Initially, Wilson couldn’t tell what the difference was. He simply climbed the stairs (the elevator, as usual, didn’t work), the bag with the logo of the 24-hour shop rustled in his hand and the bottles were buzzing inside. Your favorite wine and beer for him. And something stronger for both of you, just in case.

Standing in front of the door of your apartment, Sam wondered if it wasn’t strange that he knows what wine you like the most, but he reminded that it was normal when he sometimes accompanied Steve during shopping. Rogers very carefully selected all the products he bought for you, so it was obvious that all the details were stuck in his head. However, it illuminated him only when the wooden door opened and your silhouette appeared.

Sam never visited you without Steve. Never. Of course, it happened a lot of Times that he go to the apartment alone, but Steve was already waiting inside. And now you and Wilson were supposed to be alone in your home for the very first time.

Understanding fell on him and made for a great remorse that almost cut him off his feet. He immediately wondered if he was in any case putting his friendship with Steve to the test? Is he about to break some unwritten rule of buddies’ codex with comforting his friend’s ex? Even if the alleged friend behaved like a jerk?

Remember: tell Captain everything before he finds out.

You blinked in surprise. Sam thought that perhaps you didn’t take his words of immediate arrival to heart.

"Oh, Sam," you said in a broken voice. A man with heartache noticed the wet marks on your cheeks, the existence of which you probably didn’t quite realize.

"Sam Wilson's alcohol service comes to the rescue of a beautiful lady," the soldier replied in a false, cheerful tone, lifting the bag. "Can I come in?”

But you stared at Sam as if he was some kind of puzzle until your eyes lit up a little, the corners of your lips gently lifted. After a while you snorted a healthy laugh, from which you cried again. You didn’t really know if it was your mood's fault or the fact that Sam came to save you in his pajama pants. The man stood in the stairwell under your door in a thick sweatshirt, adidas and woolen gray checkered trousers.

Sam followed your gaze and realized too late of his fashion mistake (which explained the amused gazes of passers-by and shop assistants), but he thought that if his tomfoolery although slightly improved your mood, there is nothing to complain about. Unfortunately, remorse has only increased. In the end, what kind of guy is acting as stupid as he is?

Idiot, fool. You shouldn’t be here at all.

Rubbing your eyes with a fragment of a large T-shirt, you moved away from the door, letting the man come inside. In a separate passage of the room that served as the hallway, Sam took off his shoes and then followed you into the kitchen. Or rather to the kitchenette to the left of the front door. He put a plastic bag on the countertop and unpacked alcohol. He looked around the apartment while you were pulling out the glasses.

When it comes to furniture or the layout of the rooms, nothing has changed since Sam's last visit. Your flat consisted of one large room with separate zones: kitchen, dining and living room. Directly from the kitchen, there was a glazed door to the smallest balcony in the world. However, in the wall to the right of the entrance door, there were another two pairs of doors. One led to a small bathroom and the other to the bedroom.

Usually you were a very neat and orderly person, but Sam wasn’t surprised seeing this mess you made with pillows and blankets. An open album of your and Steve's pictures lay on the glass coffee table.

Sam looked away, pretended he didn’t notice.

"You didn’t have to come,” you finally said. Your cheeks were pink, lips bent and you avoided your friend's eyes. You took bottle of wine in your hands, as if you didn’t know what to do with it. "You probably think I'm pathetic, but you're too kind or you just feel sorry for myself to tell me to fuck of. Forgive me.”

"Stop this bullshit," Sam interrupted. He took wine and uncorked it yourself, seeing that your sluggishness. He poured alcohol into your glass. "You’re not pathetic and I know that you have to get used to this sudden change. I came because I wanted to. I will not leave a friend in need.”

You shuddered as if someone had hit you. Your cheeks became even more red.

"Well," you mumbled, taking the glass in your hand. You shyly raised your head and looked at Sams. "I'm very thankful. Really. You have no idea how much.”

Wilson nodded. He plugged the bottle back, then took out beer and put the rest of the alcohol in the fridge. He went around the table and sat on one of the three bar stools, so he was in front of you. Man opened the can and there was a small hiss of gas leaking.

"What happened, [Y/N]? At work you looked as if you were slowly going through it,” Sam added. He was uncertain whether he should say the last sentence, but the expression on your face didn’t change, which he took as a good sign.

For a long moment you remained silent, once slowly sipping wine, then again tapping your fingers against the glass with your eyes fixed on the balcony door. In the end, however, you sighed, stepped back a few steps and sat on the kitchen counter with unforced grace.

"Listening to rumors is one thing and seeing it with your own eyes…” You finally said, avoiding man's gaze. He could see perfectly well that you were trying to stay calm and not to burst into tears again. He appreciated it. "Just... It seemed so unreal, you know? I was thinking that Steve isn’t like that. That he would leave me for another woman. I thought people gossip because they have some sick satisfaction from this situation,” you began blinking quickly, trying to chase away the tears. You lifted a glass to your lips and drank its contents. You leaned your head against the wall and looked straight at Sam. You seemed to be smaller than usual. More helpless and lost. You looked miserable, man noticed, feeling shame for himself.

However, he admitted to you in the depths of his soul. He also personally believed that his friend would never be capable of such an act. He disappointed both of you.

"And yet I met him today,” you continued. "In the corridor. He flirted with her like it was nothing. He laughed. He touched her arm. He didn’t care that others could see. He behaved exactly like when he was with me. It hurts. The fact that I meant so little to him. Not much enough that he didn’t even bother to tell me about this bitch by himself,” you hissed in a poisonous tone. Wilson couldn’t get over the speed with which your mood changed.

There was heavy silence in the room. Sam raged at himself and that he couldn’t choose a side. That he put himself in a desperate situation when you cried to him, but at the same time loyalty to a friend wouldn’t let him say a single bad word about him. That is why he was silent, drinking only beer. When he finished the first can, he immediately got up, went to the fridge and pulled out another one. All this mess was over his nerves.

"I felt humiliated,” you added after some time. "Becouse he replaced me so quickly. ‘Couse she took my place. Of all the women in the world, it must have been her! After all...” Your voice broke down. "After all, she’s better than me. Prettier. Smarter. More resourceful. She has an amazing job. People respect her. She’s strong. And, of course, her name is Carter,” you said and Sam remembered your jealousy about everything that had anything to do with Steve's first love. Reasonable, it meant. Even if Steve didn’t always want to admit it. But even Wilson had to agree that Captain's attachment to Peggy, almost an obsession with her and her family's life, including Sharon's might have disturbed everyone.

Unfortunately, Sharon was not a saint either. He liked her for a while when he met her, but there was always something about her that made him feel uncomfortable. She treated Steve like a reward that she just deserves. Sharon was nice to you, but at first glance Sam could see that she does not treat you as a threat, but rather like a simple obstacle that can be easily avoided. As you can see, she did it.

"Sharon isn’t better than you," Sam said irritably. He came to you and grabbed you by your shoulders. He wanted to shake you, slap you, do anything it was necessary for you to see for yourself. For you to see how amazing you were. That Sharon couldn’t match you, not the other way. "She can easily manipulate people. She manipulated Steve. Do you think I'm not mad at how he acted? You said that he would never do it in a normal way! But what can we do about it? We should just let him burn by himself. Then he will realize what treasure he voluntarily released from his hands.”

"What if not?” You asked in a trembling voice in which were hidden huge layers of pain and longing.

"It will be a sign that you deserve someone better.”

You opened your eyes wide, staring at Sam. Thanks to the fact that you were sitting on the counter, so your eyes were on more or less one level and it made everything easier.

The silence was prolonged and you were still staring at each other. Wilson felt the tension that formed between the two of you, but he couldn’t let you go. He couldn’t look away. He just stood there and watched you hypnotized. He saw your worried face and evidence of lack of sleep.

"It's funny that it’s you who understand me. Or say that. After all, you're the closest person to him," you whispered. Your warm breath with a hint of alcohol touched man's face. "Nobody wants to talk to me about it. Nobody believes me. They say it's all my fault. >Steve Rogers?,< they say. >This Captain America? It’s impossible. You had to encourage him somehow. You must have been not good enough for him.<” Finally you couldn’t stand it. Tears of helplessness and sadness rolled down your cheeks, but Sam tried to rub his thumbs with it. You began to cry loudly and your body shudders. Wilson couldn’t tell how long he stood like that, embracing you and trying to provide you with emotional support. In the end, however, you calmed down a bit and began to continue in a broken voice, additionally muffled by thick material of his sweatshirt, in which you pressed your face. "My friends told me that. Damn it! My mother told me that! She raged at me because she lost such a wonderful potential son-in-law. >It is your fault! What did you do to him? How did you manage to scare him away? How badly did you treat him if he had to seek for comfort in another’s the arms?<” You were sobbing again. Sam could feel your fists on his back, desperately clenching on his sweatshirt. You clung to it as if it were your last resort. "So finally I thought… I thought that since everyone is repeating this around, it's probably the truth. Isn’t it?”

Sam was shocked. He knew that the environment always put pressure on you. The whole society required a lot from the girl of the Golden Boy of America. First and foremost — they had to know that you were worth him, however horrible it would sound. In the end, more than one evening Sam listened to Steve's complaints about the media, which gave no peace to any of you. Meeting Steve was like arranging a world-class celebrity – Americans were expecting someone as great as Steve himself. And as they didn’t know you, they considered you as ballast. They didn’t know how wonderful you were and that Steve is the one who should deserve you.

Wilson supported you both because he loved you two. He saw how you look at each other, he knew that you were happy together, even despite the pressure of the media. After all, society finally calmed down. And now? Even if the public knew the whole truth, no one would believe it.

Because real Steve would never act like a jerk.

And since Captain America would never hurt his girlfriend (almost a fiancée!), It means that she did something wrong, right?

Only now it all came to Sam. How lonely you must have felt with the whole company against you. How helpless and hopeless you felt when even your own family tells you that you’re not good enough.

Man in one second felt so angry that he wanted to destroy something. Someone, something. And the best option was his own best friend. No. It would also be unfair. Sam wanted to get rid of Sharon. In the end, she messed up everything. At first by pretending to be a sweet nurse living next door to Steve in Washington. Then, unscrupulous, setting Steve against you and wrapping him around her finger.

Sam stroked you gently on your back and put his head on top of yours. At that moment he wanted to be your shield. He wanted to hide you somewhere where you wouldn’t suffer. Somewhere, where you'll find happiness again.

"This is not true," he said haughtily. "And don’t let anyone convince you otherwise. You’re the most wonderful person I've ever met. So don’t you dare tell yourself that it’s different," he repeated.

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dyker-farmer · 4 years

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Ok this was supposed to be a quick draw and a description to go with, that blew into a full chapter and now it's also on Ao3 SO happy reading ig idk

I never see Shane works that don't go all in for romance nor explore the more realistic ugly parts of recovery, and I kind of crave That TM. So let me have at it too with the self-insert whump mumbo jumbo; no romo version.

Set post-8 hearts event, Farmer Uidelsib is two years or so in, full house built and married to Emily. They/them pronouns, same as me.

Diverges from then on, Shane-centric from an outside POV for the most part.

[[MORE]]

Take that can away if you can.

Gulp it down. Chapter 1/2/3/4

There's a few to-know to survive life in society, in the valley; there's no good way to comment on the age nor weight of both resident housewives, you can't say no to Evelyn's homemade cookies- and why would you, you fool-, you do not fight at the Saloon or you'll get no cheese anymore on your pizza and only sparkling water for drinks, and-

And you don't mess with Shane's alcohol related ritual.

Except I did, that night, because you do that, when your two-years long friendship with the guy taught you better than letting his impulses overcome yours, when your buddy is trying to recover from teenage long-lasting into early adulthood, trauma-enhanced heavy addiction, and you know, you know tomorrow he'll feel like absolute shit and question his right to therapy the moment he'll stop his pounding skull from splitting. Wonders what a three-dosage paracetamol can do.

At least he doesn't drink it out anymore.

So yeah, when you're in my shoes, you get that Joja store-bought crap out of Shane's hand, and you brace yourself for the incoming lash out.

The first fractions of seconds are always those to look closely into most. It's only a glimpse, but before the scowl slips on like a well-worn boxing glove ready to strike, there is always this open page I learned I needed to decipher as quick as I could.

Tonight, it's heartbreaking. When I peck his forehead- doting big sibling habits die hard, even when you're actually the youngest of the pair- the eyes I catch looking at me are so confused and bare of any emotion, except for the sorrow that goes beer-soaked tears, it pangs. I get used to the breakdowns, working in the fields I do when I'm off the farm's, but it's not the same when it's a friend.

When I straighten back, offensive beverage in hand, it's already gone in a flinch, away from the empty space behind the chair and onto the table, as he snarls.

"Wha- giv'me back- 's mine!" I don't know how much he drunk before he met up with me, but from the slurring, it's a Lot. A season and a half into sobriety. That's harsh.

I ignore him and walk behind him, pondering where to put the beer for now.

"Y-you can't just do that! It's my booze I got with m'money, not some- who d'you think you are?-" He sputters indignantly, angry tears fewer than the sad ones but still there. He tries to turn around and grab behind his back, but the wild movement is way off and only gets the chair to nearly topples down. I rush in time to stabilize it, and profit off the moment to set a strong hand on his shoulder.

"I can just do that, 'cus it's my house I got with my money, and I think I'm your pal who knows when you've had enough. Dude, I trust you to be an adult, but minutes before, you were already so torched I had to keep your neck upright so you didn't faceplant into the table, and you nearly just kissed my floor good evening. Not to mention you clung to my arms the whole way from the little entry stairs to the kitchen because, quoting, 'If I don't I'll fall in the hole and won't get up'."

I turn to the fridge again, going to open it, before I think better of it. Likely enough, we'll both forget it was there in the first place, it'll stink up my fridge- it's Joja's- and it'll be money out of Shane's pocket for nothing. I set it on the counter, with the rest of the pack. He'll put it to cool down when he's back to Marnie's. Or he won't, probably.

That's not a worry for now.

When I caught up with him, it was a few feet below my doorstep; he'd probably slipped up trying to climb the three steps up to it, and settled for it. He was nursing that same can, muttering to himself, head down, curled up on himself. Except for that leg sticked out, he probably hurt it when he fell, I'll have to look at that and work on it if it's too swollen. Hopefully that'll spare us from a visit to Harvey's.

Bad memories. Not mine, and it's warm and not raining outside, but. Déjà-vu.

Anyways, he looked the picture of "help I've fallen and I can't get up- and even if I can I won't because Fuck You", and it's been a hassle to have him cooperate. But when I asked if he wanted to leave, he shook his head with a fervor no somnolent drunk should have. That resulted in a lovely streak of vomit down the wall right next to the door. That's also for later. If Eryza doesn't lap it up. Ew. This cat's never predictable.

Now, he's staring at his hands, sitting at my table, contemplating something too far down for me to see- or maybe just zoning out with a sleeping brain. Then he mumbles. "Sorry."

I get back to the table and sit at arm's length across of him. "Nah, 's okay. I don't mind being a helping hand or touchy-feely, must be the frog-eater in me. Not for the helping part." I'd chuckle but my quip falls on deaf ears.

I go to put my hand over his. When he doesn't blink at it, I try and shake a reply out of him, gently. He startles and hawkeyes our joined fingers. When he's finally looking at me, I raise a single eyebrow. He doesn't say anything, but when he pulls back his arm, I let him. We both straighten up, and it's hard to keep up the eye contact.

"So…" There's a heavy air on us. Suddenly, like the last year didn't happen, we're sitting a stride away of each other, and yet it feels like he's all the way back to the forest, looking down at waves.

"Do you want me to do something?" I bend myself a little closer to him, not moving otherwise.

He puts his head in his hands, shivering. Can't tell if it's the AC or his system kicking the alcohol out, or itself, in stress. I think I hear something, but it might as just be his shuddering breath.

"Shane" I insist, voice level, not pressing. "I need words. I want to help, I truly don't mind, but I need words to know what to do." He's never shown signs of going nonverbal before. If he does, I'll improvise. Until then… I need words.

Time ticks slowly as we wait. Then, with great effort and deep fatigue, he drags his palms up from under his nose to his temple, spreading some snot and wet tears across his face from his scrunched shut eyes. Lips trembling but finally showing, that attempt to let out a sound that's not too garbled. He coughs, sniffles a bit, breathe in again, sounding like a sick dog, and blows through gritted teeth before his jaws go slack. Eyes still closed, he whispers, and I have to lower myself some more toward his crouched form to catch it.

"Can I get something to drink…?" His voice is hoarse.

The demand could be comical, if we were into sour humor. And we usually are. But right now, we're not finding the joke in the lines. I stand silently, and as I walk to the fridge again, I let my hand brush his shoulder- same spot as before.

I take a minute to choose, look into the pantry. When I'm back at the table with my items of choice, he's still sitting there, his cheek is cushioned on his arms, face hidden from view. His shoulder, except for the occasional tremor, rise and fall in rythm with his snores. Breaks my heart to interrupt that, but not really. Hangovers are mean bitches with the sharpest nail art on the blackest of boards.

"Psst, dude. C'mon." I rustle his hair backward. He hates when I do that, says it tickles, and it makes him sneeze. So I obligatory do it once a day if I can. Let's say today's my late quota for the last four days I haven't seen him.

He gruffly tells me to kindly refrain from such pleasantries, and raise bleary eyes back up at the table. I can also guess he tried to bat a hand at me, but his coordination is off and he slaps himself lightly on the ear. Then he glares bewildered at his hand for a few seconds, obviously insulted. I profit of this moment to grab a small basin from under the sink, on second thought.

When he brings his attention back to me, I'm sitting again. Between us, a jug of fresh milk from this morning, a small sack of peppers, and a juice carafe sit aside a green glass bottle. There's also some bread, mostly for me to munch on. Because, hmmm dough. He squints at it all, especially at the bottle. Probably trying to read the label.

"Yeah no, didn't get you one of my best wine, not sorry."

"Hot pepper… juice?" He looks at the actual peppers next to it. "With actual peppers?" And then I get the squint too.

"Hmph, I know you like your elongated hell tomatoes, man, what can i say."

At that, a feeble snort.

I decide that it is the highlight victory of my soirée.

"Welp, have at it." I gesture to the half-liter liquor glass right by his left.

He fumbles with the drinks and some splashes around, but I lay back on my chair, arms crossed, letting him do his thing. While I don't hold back from growing downright doting on him when I got to- or even when I don't- I don't see how more devotion right now would be not smothering. He can break my fancy glass cups if he wants and spill my milk, so long he doesn't cut himself or cry over it.

Now, you could be thinking that plain water would have done the trick just fine, if not better, in rehydrating him. Here's the thing, though; going from booze to tasteless liquid, for Shane, that's a sure way to puking his heart out. And I'd rather not have us deal with an acid bile throat burn on top of near alcohol poisoning. Sorry to not spare you the squeamish details, but his oesophagus is pretty sensitive ever since that stomach pumping back at the clinic. Hot fiery hell fruits he can do just fine, with relative moderation and hydratation- hence the milk and juice- but liquor bursting its way back from his guts? Nuh uh.

It had taken lots of coaxing, but he'd explained the plain tastes, or lackthereof, were very hard for him to deal with, especially when contrasting with strong ones like beers and whiskeys. I'd shackle it to gustative hypostimulation, but I don't know enough about him that way to say. He'd said sparkling water was a good compromise.

But I don't have sparkling water, because I do not like suffering.

I might buy a pack for when he visits though.

And I do know a handful about him already. Shackle that to perceptiveness and a stubborn streak on top of a year and so long camaraderie.

And having a certain uncontrollable fear of failing to act quick the next time coped with by accumulating information and patterns compulsively.

I shake my head to focus on the present again. He's switched from juices to soaking bread in milk to eat it small portion after small portion. He pauses in mid-bite when he catches me staring. He's still hunched on himself and red-faced and a tad bloated. His cheeks are drying and he's blown his nose. I smile calmly. Worst of the storm passed, unless I screw up and blow it.

"Ywou wan' chom'?" He offers a dripping piece of bread. In moments like this, when he's sobering but not quite, the resemblance with Jas are unmistakable. The glint in his reddened eyes that open wide, and his blank-but-not-quite wondering expression, it's all here to paint a scrutinizing but vulnerable picture of tired but bright minds.

"Nah thanks. You done with that milk?"

"...Sure." He eyes it, wary. He knows where this is going, and he doesn't like it. I take the drink off the table, and his gaze follows my movement until I bring it to my lips.

He frowns. A silent warning.

And as I lock onto him with a dead stare, not blinking a millisecond, I down the rest of the 2 liters jug in three, five gulps. I even take the time to lick my new mustache away, and close my mouth with a click of my tongue.

His expression is the macabre marriage of beffudled horror and pure affliction, disgust if you will. The face of someone who doesn't hate milk, but has grown out of it enough to not be able to live off the stuff like the brave souls I'm apart of. And probably with reason, as I actually can't, like most 20+ years old, digest the liquid in large amount. But I smile like a smug cat, perfectly content.

Cats really can't digest milk once adults, it's all social mythos.

We silently judge and fuck with each other like that for a while more, as more time passes, until the room's elephant gets it all humid with its prancing around. Enough that tears and nervous sweats start again, for no apparent reasons but the residual anxiety from the whole chain of events that led to this.

"I think we should talk about this."

--- to be continued.

#alcohol cw #emetophobia cw #self hatred cw #stardew valley shane #sdv shane #stardew valley #stardew valley farmer #sdv farmer #1!Dow Farm #Farmer Uidelsib #☆my art☆#♧Shane #*watch me push my autistic headcanons onto chicken boi*#*just you wait for the trans and hispanic ones*#*i'm about to destroy this man whole career of self depreciation*#*highly functionning dumbass energy vs immovable but movable force of sadness*#food cw #*fuck tumblr for not letting me put a read more on mobile rip ur dash y'all*#☆writing☆

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eloqvents · 4 years

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♡ ◟ ° › lucy boynton, female, she/her, twenty three ⋯ ❛ thank you for applying to SEX AND THE TITTY, ELODIE MONET ! before we start this job interview, i would just like to go over a few questions. you said your best attribute was DEBONAIR, right ? well, word around town is that some people find you to be a bit more GUARDED… but, nevermind that. i’m actually more curious about whether you were actually caught DRUNKENLY SERENADING OUTSIDE OF YOUR EX’S HOUSE AT 3 AM last year ? oh, you were ? that’s unfortunate. on the bright side, i heard that you excel at COOKING …. so that’s cool ! now, one more question … your last manager said that you’re hiding THAT YOU PRETENDED TO GO TO REHAB TWO YEARS AGO BECAUSE YOU WERE PREGNANT, is that true ? — haha , just kidding ! they didn’t say that, i just read that about you online . anyway , you got the job ! ❜ 】 eri, pst, she/her.

hello all ! it’s eri once again with another muse bc we just can’t get enough. anyway, please excuse how shitty this intro is going to be bc i am lacking sleep.

ok to start off, her parents are loaded so she’s very wealthy. original from la, her father was a well-known producer and her mother a stay at home mom. long story short, their marriage was a far cry from a happily ever after. growing up watching their parents fall apart, elodie and her brother latched onto each other and he remained her wall. it was painfully obvious however that their father favored the other, whether it be because he was the only son, or how musically and theatrically inclined he was... and she found herself thrown off to the side much like her mother, except a lot stricter rules set in place that she found herself easily breaking. curfew? forget it. no boys? she was sneaking them in all too often.... but even more easily having her girl “friends” over for sleepovers with no questions asked. she began resenting her father early on and it only grew the more rules, until finally she threw all caution to the wind and fell off the expected monet route.

by 15 she was known as the party girl. she did her school work most of the time, kept good enough grades to keep her parents off at least that aspect of her life. going out every weekend, never coming home on time or just refusing to answer her phone. she was a hellion, with no cares in the world, and she simply lived with no worries and absolutely no care or respect toward her parent's wishes. they virtually gave up on controlling their daughter by the time she was 17, clearly making her own choices and took no bother in chastising her as they knew their efforts would get them nowhere.

despite the dysfunction of the family, they did vacation to stone harbor every summer which had become some of elodie’s favorite memories of her younger years ( i would love any plot referencing her coming back every year and what not ok )

at 18 she had a choice. college, or follow her heart. new york was calling, as much fun as she had in la... it just wasn’t quite it. and new york was so exciting. the following summer she found herself back in stone harbor, unable to resist the tradition but instead opting to stay the summer..... except she never left. with all the fond memories she held in the place, and finally being far away from her family, she felt like she’d found herself. or at least the closest to home she’d ever had.

we gonna skip ahead to her getting pregnant three years ago, which is something she told no one (not even the potential father). the day she found out she was packing her bags and leaving stone harbor with no word, instead of leaving a note for her roommate ( plot wanted ) at the time, and sending out a group text explaining she had decided to go to rehab. it seemed like a good excuse, not a complete lie considering she did not touch any alcohol or substance during her pregnancy. she instead went and stayed with her aunt and uncle in london.

she went back and forth on what she wanted to do, spending her days swaying back and forth between keeping the baby and starting a fresh life or putting it up for adoption. but after a particularly painful depressive episode, she decided for the safety of both of them she had to give her baby girl up. this is when her aunt and uncle said they would take the baby in, not wanting to separate family, and it is a secret she’s kept in to this day.

coming back from rehab, she had changed. at first cold, extremely depressed, and she wanted to stay away from her prior addictions but within a few weeks she was right back into it. drinking nearly daily, taking whatever pills or drugs were offered, although she was much more cautious when it came to sex. becoming quite a bit pickier when it comes to men, however her love for women only seemed to grow.. likely due to the fact she could not get pregnant that way.

she’s had her ups and downs, about six months ago she came back from a few months at rehab once again after an especially harsh bender that landed her in the hospital. sobriety has continuously and still continues to be a struggle for her. she swore up and down that she wanted the help after begging her parents to pay ( not wanting to dip into her own hefty inheritance ) for her to go back, although within a month she found herself dabbling in other substances, occasionally taking a little too many of her medications at once, and having a drink, or two, or three....

while she was staying with her aunt in france, she spent a lot of time cooking with the elder woman and it became the most therapeutic thing to her... at least without getting high.. it’s become one of the only things that can genuinely distract her, although she does become a master chef when you add a little pot to the mix, but she hardly counts that against sobriety anyway.

personality-wise elodie doesn’t really hold back her opinion, and although she won’t go out of her way to avoid stepping on toes, she will try to make things as least confrontational as possible. in her opinion, life has shoved her around enough and she prefers to not allow anyone the excuse to do it too. but........ in those cases she will probably show her temper and make sure people know she isn’t going to be walked all over. she’s very upbeat, tries her hardest to be excited for life each day ( or pops an extra xanny if it’s a particularly hard day ). however.. her bad days are bad. if she’s down enough its nearly impossible to get her out of bed for anything other than a shower. some are harder than others, especially nearing the birthdate of her daughter delaney ( 2 currently ).

a few more facts bc this is long uh: she writes a letter every day to her daughter and saves it in a special box kept secret in her room. she dabbles in poems and other types of prose, and has a goal of one day writing and illustrating her own childrens book in dedication to her daughter. she has a lot of money and could technically afford to not work, however she took a bartending job at sex and the titty for side cash and to send a monthly check to help support her daughter. and laaaaastly, she is kind of a hopeless romantic and loves romcoms way too much. she is 100% the type that believes very strongly in love but just ... sucks at it. she’s scared to commit herself but she’s also not afraid to shout from the rooftops ??? rn she’s trying to work on herself so

oh and here is a playlist and pinterest for her even tho she wasn’t here for the task:)))

connection ideas ( plots page currently in progress )

an ex who she serenaded drunk at 3 am bc that rumor is definitely real

possible baby daddy

her old roommate that she bailed on, can be positive or negative

a best friend, like the blair and serena type ( minus all the fighting ... or not ) that can tell each other and count on the other for anything

exes in general, good, bad, ugly, any and all.

slow burn ??? or the one that got away ??? or maybe they just keep missing each other ???

maybe an enemy or someone she had a falling out with in the past

ANYONE SHE USD TO HANG OUT WITH IN THE SUMMER BEFORE ACTUALLY LIVING THERE. gimme them long term friendships / relationships

a good influence // the person who tries to help her not keep fucking her life up

alternatively .. the bad influence that encourages and participates in a lot of not so good activities with her

tbh i just want anything and everything so throw any ideas at me bc i’ll probably be in

listen i know i forgot like 239523852 things and rambled on too much but i just love her and could go on forever.

#stone:intro #uh hi i am so sorry for how long this is pls dont hate me #if you dont wanna read it just lemme know and i can paraphrase the important stuff ok

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madchenlover · 5 years

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Removing Stigma

TV star Mädchen Amick on bipolar disorder and moving mental health forward

Actress Mädchen Amick stars in the CW TV series "Riverdale." While she's best known as a star of the hit series "Twin Peaks," she is fast becoming a leading advocate for millions of Americans like her son Sylvester who have bipolar disorder. She spoke with NIH MedlinePlus magazine about her family's journey and her mental health advocacy.

Tell us about your son's journey to getting the right diagnosis.

It was a long journey! Sylvester went off to college in 2010. About halfway through his freshman year, he witnessed a traumatic event and that seemed to be a trigger. We started getting reports from his friends and coaches that he was acting differently.

At first it seemed liked addiction. But then he was admitted to a mental health hospital and we were told Sylvester might have bipolar disorder. As parents, hearing this was like a kick in the gut. Initially, it felt as if we were mourning the loss of our son's future.

It took about two years of seeing different health professionals to get a clear diagnosis of bipolar disorder. It turns out he was self-medicating with alcohol and drugs without knowing it.

Once he was sober and drug-free, it was clear we were witnessing manic and depressive episodes. That is when things started turning around for him.

How is he doing now?

After a long, hard road, Sylvester is doing great. He has dedicated himself to good lifestyle habits: his diet, his sleep, and sobriety. He takes a combination of medications (lithium and an antipsychotic) that work and keep him stable. And he's a songwriter and lyricist, which is a great creative outlet for him.

He's also dedicating himself to being an advocate and helping others. I'm proud that he's a counselor at a treatment center now.

You have been focused on the stigma associated with bipolar and mental illness.

There are so many people who successfully manage bipolar disorder. Yet, there are many negative stereotypes in movies and TV. People with mental illness are often portrayed as one-dimensional, evil characters. This feeds the stigma.

I'm trying to lead the charge in destigmatizing bipolar disorder by being open about it—by saying this is what it looks like and here is what a family dealing with it looks like. With the right treatment and support, you can live a wonderful, productive life with any mental illness. Collectively as a community, we can change the landscape.

What message do you have for people who need help but haven't gotten it?

Don't be afraid. Don't be ashamed. It can be very scary, but you can get help and you can be OK. There are treatments. Reach out and talk to someone you feel safe with. It might be a friend, a teacher, or a loved one. Tell them that you are struggling and you need help. You will be surprised at how many people will be able to relate to how you are feeling and encourage you to get help.

I want other parents to know that it is scary at first, but there can be a beautiful, bright future for the entire family.

How does the research supported by NIH fit in?

Research is so important. We need to push for more research that will help us understand the brain and mental illness much better. And we need more research to improve treatment options.

The great information from NIH about bipolar disorder helped us. We were able to understand what was happening with the chemical imbalances in Sylvester's brain. That helped us separate the disease from our loved one, which I mentioned is so important.

What does the future hold for Mädchen Amick?

My whole family is working with Glenn Close's mental health advocacy organization, Bring Change to Mind, to combat stereotypes. We are raising awareness and starting open conversations in high schools about mental illness. It is important to get to kids early with this information.

I'm also excited to move behind the camera in addition to acting. I'll be directing some episodes of "Riverdale" next season and I'm the executive producer and creator of "Behind the Curtain," a new talk show about mental health. We need to move the conversation on mental health forward.

#madchen amick #NIH Medline Plus Magazine #removing the stigma from mental illness #riverdale #parentdale #alice cooper #alice smith #mental health #bipolar disorder

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jjordanjr · 4 years

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My name is Jim, I’m an alcoholic! I don’t remember the day, But sometime in May 2020 I will celebrate 30 years of good clean sobriety. Shall I pick a day? Ok, lets say May 8, 2020. Works for me. I no longer go to AA meetings, though I did for 20 years, maybe more. Those 12 little steps are my life today. They’re who I am, as much a part of my life as air, water and food.

I have quite a story! I’ll get into it more as this blog evolves, but for now it’s damn near 3:00 AM, I’m at work on third shift at my job in a drug rehab in house men’s facility. Yeah, I work in addiction. I had a nice job doing the thing I am truly passionate about, photography. Portrait photography actually. I’m literally that guy who has never met a stranger, so I’m a people person and definitely an extrovert. It works hand in hand with portrait photography, and as a result I was very good at what I did and I was doing what I truly loved to do. Then one day I decided I wanted a part time job to supplement my income when my day job was in downtime, which was the first three months of any year. So my wife works here in the women’s facilities, and of course I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for addicts so it seemed a natural. What I didn’t count on was I’d end up falling in love with the job, the addicts I get to work with, and all the people I get to call my peers. So I thought about it, I prayed about it (yes I am a Christian), and in time I came to believe this is what I’m being called to do. As it happens the pay is perfect for me; I started taking my Social Security a little early so am allowed to make a certain amount of money from a job. My pay from this job bumps right into that limit, but I do have to really watch how much overtime I get. That’s a very nice place to be in heehee! I get to be the wise old man who has lots of sobriety and can just be there for these guys when they just want to talk, or I can share a little of my own experience in life. When I’m working on second shift with a partner he gets to play the hard ass, and I get to be the good guy! Works out perfectly. Anyway yes, I will get more into my story as this blog evolves as I do have a story to tell. But for tonight I’m gonna wrap this up and just say goodnight.....

#Addiction #drug addiction #alcohol addiction

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tonystarkisafruit · 5 years

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Ok, sorry if this is weird and ofc no pressure to respond, but how did you realise you had a drinking problem? I meet the criteria for alcohol use disorder in the dsm but idk, maybe I'm overthinking this, lots of people drink heavily at uni...

Anon you are very sweet. Don't worry, tho. there isn't a soul on this planet that could pressure me into doing anything i didn't want to do. Except for me, i suppose, but that's beside the point.

Look if you meet the criteria for alcohol use disorder then you are an alcoholic. Go to an AA meeting and listen. You don't have to share, just listen. There are secular meetings if God/religion isn't your thing or makes you uncomfortable. All you gotta do is google ['secular] AA meetings near me'. If you're anything like me, being able to relate to almost every story will kick the last of the denial out of you.

And for the record a lot of people at uni are alcoholics. That's where my alcoholism really kicked into gear. That's just how uni is and everyone acts like it's perfectly fine and it definitely is not.

Alright but for how I realized that I had a drinking problem: the short answer is I read an Iron Man comic, the long answer is well long.

I personally grew up knowing what alcoholism is and what the different severities look like. Every single person on my dad's side of the family an alcoholic. So, I also knew that I was likely going to struggle in this way.

So, I made rules for myself. I only drank two beers in a night, I only drink on the weekends or special occasions, I only drank with friends never alone, and i would only drink if I was in a good enough place mentally (i.e., i wouldn't use it to self medicate my mental health problems). This actually lasted for a few years with only a few slip ups here and there.

But self imposed rules are very hard to maintain. when I finally moved out of my parents house for grad school, i went out with my colleagues for drinks. I started out the night paying lip service to my two beers only rule but i ended up drinking so much that I was kick out of the bar, nearly passed out, and i threw up in a shake shack.

Even before then I did things like show up to class buzzed, went to work drunk, had meetings with other academics while drunk.

But throwing up in a shake shack was a little bit of a wake up call. So ya'know I just started doing all of my drinking at home. I would use just about anything as an excuse to drink. Cooking, cleaning, playing a board game, playing a video game, doing homework, watching TV. I would use my chronic pain as an excuse to drink and I would drink to soothe my anxiety.

For me, it became the question of "am I not going to drink tonight" instead of "am I going to drink tonight?"

My default had become drinking. I didn't say 'no' to the question "am I not going to drink tonight" every single night, but I wanted to. I wanted to drink every night.

And this all happened slowly over time. It wasn't an overnight change. It snuck up on me.

So, I knew all of this. I had been thinking about it and questioning if I had a problem with alcohol for a couple months when I read The Iron Age.

Tony gets sent back in time and he is confronted with his very drunk past self.

When past Tony offers current tony a drink, current tony thinks "yes" but says "no"

And my emotional ass broke down crying. All the doubts I had, the worry that I was just over thinking it went out the window for just long enough for me to decide I was going to go to an AA meeting.

If I could relate to a character famous for his alcoholism then I definitely needed to take my alcoholism seriously.

I didn't shake off all of my doubt until after a few AA meetings, but that was my moment of clarity.

My alcoholism never got as severe as a lot of other people's in AA, but that's only bc I'm lucky enough to have realized before I hit rockbottom. I was well on my way to pissing away my life, to flunking out of grad school and messing up my relationships. But i got my shit together before I did that.

There are posts on my blog where I talk about this. It's all probably under the tag "ben gets personal" or at least tagged "alcohol cw" or "alcohol tw" it's all from pretty early on in the blog's life, so you'll have to dig for it.

As of today I am 7 months and 20 days sober. My sobriety date is September 22nd 2018.

Anon if you ever want to talk about it my DMs are open. Or you can stay on anon if you prefer. I don't mind talking about this stuff publicly.

Also, if you are physically dependent on alcohol, then you should go to a detox clinic. Withdrawal symptoms from alcohol can be lethal. If you cannot go to a detox clinic then do not just stop. You'll have to wean yourself off. I wasn't physically dependent so I don't have much advice or experience with this.

#alcohol tw #alcoholism #ben gets personal #ask #anon #ben replies #long post

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lovemesomerafael · 5 years

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EL AMOR TODO LO PUEDE Chapter 18: Being There

Chapters 1-10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17

There was only a text. Two words. But it was all she needed to know.

Peter: He died.

Laura: On my way.

And then, being Peter, he texted:

Peter: I’m OK

She took a second to roll her eyes at that.

Laura: Still on my way.

That one didn’t even get a response.

Laura was grateful Peter had shared his father’s illness with her at all. He was private as hell; guarded even with her sometimes. But somebody had to support him as he walked through the emotional minefield he’d been in for weeks now, and she was honored he’d chosen her. Even after all they’d been through, Peter still knew he could count on Laura any time, for anything. The thought made her tear up a little.

As she sat in the back of the cab on her way to the hotel, Laura thought about a lot of things. She thought about whether she was going to sleep with Peter. Hard no. She’d be an emotional mess in ten seconds, and she wasn’t about to mess with his head that way, either, especially now. Given their history, it was a miracle they’d managed to figure out a friendship.

She thought about what she could say to him. Nothing that would make any difference to the shitstorm in his heart. Peter both loved and hated his father, and now he would be grieving both the man he’d been and the man Peter had needed him to be. All Laura could do is tell him, as many times as he needed to hear it, that he wasn’t alone and that he’d be OK.

And then she thought about Ben Stone himself. Laura had her own complicated relationship with Peter’s father. “Mr. Stone,” never “Ben,” even though he had been fairly kind and welcoming to her during most of her relationship with his son. She had tried hard, and succeeded in bonding with him a little over their shared Catholicism and, of course, Peter. The only obstacle Laura had run into in those early years was when she tried to express an interest in Peter’s sister, Pam. That effort had run into an absolute brick wall, and had actually cooled him toward her for a while. Apparently, Pam was not something Mr. Stone was willing to share with anyone. He barely discussed her with Peter.

Winning Mr. Stone’s approval had been critical to her. At that point, she had expected him to be her children’s grandfather. He was important. For a while, Mr. Stone had treated her as though she was already his daughter in law. He wasn’t warm or affectionate, but he let her in.

All that was before the drinking. The first time Peter mentioned to his father that Laura had a drinking problem was fairly late in the game. After all, Peter had spent an enormous amount of time and effort lying for her and trying to protect her from the consequences of what she was doing. That confidence between Peter and his father was all it took to end, irrevocably, any kindness or consideration from Mr. Stone to Laura. He didn’t simply stop liking her. He developed an active dislike that caused him to urge Peter, over and over, to dump her and never look back. For Ben Stone, alcoholics were to be hated and shunned, period. Despite her years of sobriety, Mr. Stone’s loathing of Laura persisted until the day he died.

When she landed in New York, Laura checked into her hotel room, dumped her luggage, and texted Peter. He was at the courthouse talking with his father’s friend, District Attorney Jack McCoy. She headed there.

Peter let the door fall closed behind him. He stood just inside, simply looking around the darkened courtroom in the patchy, accidental light that came through the windows. He let it sink in. This room had been a vital part, perhaps the most important part, of Ben Stone’s life. Peter tried to feel his father in the room, but instead felt only the same cold emptiness. It frightened him.

The building was venerable. Solid. The courtroom had a high ceiling and huge windows that rose from waist height nearly up to the ceiling. The walls were decorated with marble and carved paneling, with a seal of the State of New York hung just behind the Judge’s bench. A room meant to impress those who entered with the power of the State. The long pews were solid wood, the kind of thing furniture was never made from anymore, especially in a public building. Peter thought he could catch a faint scent of some sort of polishing wax.

For long moments, Peter stood, imagining the many scenes – glorious, tragic, mind-numbingly mundane – that this room had seen. The thick quiet of the room enveloped him. As he stood unmoving, the stillness began to affect him. He felt as though the room was suspended outside of time, outside of the real world.

Peter’s eyes were eventually drawn, as he knew they would be, just to the right of the gate into the well of the courtroom. There in the gloom, a simple wooden chair sat, neatly pushed under a plain wooden table. It was only natural, since that chair was his own domain as lead prosecutor in his trials. But not in this courtroom. In this courtroom, it had been his father’s domain. Ben’s Stone’s chair, day after day, trial after trial, through most of Peter’s life.

Like a wraith, Peter silently moved down the aisle toward it. He moved as though sleepwalking, unaware of his own body as his thoughts and emotions swirled. Pulling out the creaky wooden chair, Peter took his father’s seat. He sat without moving, only his eyes sweeping gradually across the jury box, the witness stand, the judge’s bench. He told himself he was seeing what his father had seen. Peter tried to imagine his father’s thoughts.

They would have been about evidence. Strategy. Precedent. Never about his son, a little boy desperate to please, and aching with loneliness for a father he barely knew.

It came upon him without warning. Peter was suddenly blasted from within by an overwhelming surge of loneliness and grief. He was six years old again, ten, thirteen… a hurt, confused kid in a baseball uniform, looking for his dad in the stands and knowing he would not be there. Knowing that this room, this chair, were what mattered to his father. Not the kid in the baseball uniform. Not Peter. And now, he never would matter to his father.

The choked sob that tore its way through Peter felt like a wave of molten rock, heavy and scorching. He reached out his hands, laying them flat on the table in front of him for support. More acid cries were wrenched from his throat. He moved to bury his face in his hands, clenching his head as though to keep from flying apart into a million pieces. He struggled to gain control, tears flowing unchecked down his cheeks, his breath ragged.

He thought he heard the softest sniff behind him. He turned quickly, squinting through his tears into the shadowed rear of the courtroom. There, in the back row, leaning forward on the row in front of her, sat Laura, a tear glinting on her cheek in a shaft of light that fell across her from the window.

Peter’s ravaged face was barely visible, but she could see him reach out a hand toward her.

Laura was instantly down the aisle and through the gate. She knelt before Peter, taking him into her arms. Great, wracking sobs broke from him as he buried his head in her shoulder, leaning all his weight on her.

“I’m here,” she crooned, holding him tightly, beginning unconsciously to rock him as he cried. She could feel him tense, fighting to gain control of his grief.

“I’m sorry,” he wept.

“Just let go. I’m here. I promise, I’ve got you,” she soothed. With one hand, she began to stroke his hair.

And he did. Peter was barely aware of the animal groans and muffled wails he uttered as he allowed himself to give full vent to his pain. Laura simply held him, rocking him gently back and forth, murmuring words of love and comfort. Neither felt the passage of time. It may have been a few moments or a few hours that Peter wept bitterly, allowing himself to depend entirely upon Laura as he surrendered fully to his burning, crushing loss.

When he seemed close to being spent, she lifted up from her knees to slip into his lap, never taking her arms from him. She cradled his head to her chest, still purring softly to him. Again and again she stroked and kissed his hair. “I know it hurts. I love you. I’ve got you…”

After a time, Peter quieted, sniffling and occasionally convulsed with the stuttering breaths that follow a hard cry. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said in a small voice.

A long time later, Peter and Laura emerged from the darkened courtroom. Each had both arms wrapped around the other, Laura’s head against Peter’s chest. It made for slightly ungainly progress, but it seemed to be what Peter needed at the moment. They saw no one in the hallway as they made their way to the door.

“Let’s get you to the hotel,” Laura said. “You need to sleep.”

Ben Stone’s funeral was excruciating. It was lovely, and well-attended, but Peter sat like a statue every moment. In a room full of people, he seemed completely alone. He let Laura hold his hand, but otherwise seemed unable to accept any comfort. His responses to condolences from his father’s many friends and colleagues were polite, automatic. Apparently, he had shed all the tears he was going to over his father, which scared Laura.

Laura was surprised to see Lieutenant Benson and Sergeant Tutuola at the church. The greetings were subdued, given the situation, but both had known Ben Stone, and wanted to pay their respects. Peter calmly and courteously accepted their condolences as though they were at a business meeting.

Olivia Benson pulled Laura aside. She looked over at Peter and then back to Laura.

“Are you two…?”

“Friends. Since college. I’m… backup.”

“Got it. Listen, it’s a strange coincidence that you’re here. I was going to get in touch with you. This isn’t the right time or place but, have a cup of coffee with me before you head back?”

Laura was disconcerted. What in the world could Lieutenant Benson want with her? It had been months since the Gentleman Barber case.

“Uh… of course.”

“I’ll text you.”

The coffee shop looked like every other coffee shop in the world. The last thing Laura needed was caffeine, given her level of nerves, so she ordered chamomile tea, the most soothing beverage she indulged in these days. She now knew what Benson wanted, and she didn’t have the first clue how to feel about it. Any of it.

When she’d called Hank Voight on the off chance that he might know what Benson wanted, she’d gotten a surprise. Voight knew all about it. Voight had made it happen.

“I figured she wouldn’t waste the opportunity,” he’d said.

“So you know what she wants?”

“She wants to tell you about your new job.”

“My new…”

“Your new job, Parker. She’s gonna offer you a place at SVU. And you’re gonna take it.”

“Wait, what? Are you firing me?”

“Talk to Benson.”

“Sergeant, this is… a lot. I live in Chicago. I can’t move to New York.”

“Talk to Benson.”

“What are you doing? Is this real?”

“Talk. To. Benson.” Voight had hung up on her.

Olivia Benson bustled in, caught sight of Laura, and gave a casual wave of recognition. Laura was so nervous she thought she might throw up. It appeared to her that the barista set a world record for longest time to put together a cup of tea and, even once Benson sat down, the pleasantries seemed to take forever before she finally got down to business.

“You talk to Voight?” Benson asked.

“I called him last night. I thought maybe he would know what you wanted.”

“What did he tell you?”

“He said that you wanted to offer me a job.”

Benson’s laugh wasn’t pleasant. “I wouldn’t exactly put it that way. He called in a favor.”

“So you don’t want to offer me a job.”

“I wouldn’t put it that way, either.”

Laura set her cup down on the table. “Lieutenant? This is pretty high stakes for me. With respect, could you just tell me what this is about?”

Benson raised an eyebrow. “Says what she’s thinking. Little bit of a double-edged sword there, but in this situation it’s a good thing. I need my detectives to be straight with me.”

Laura distinctly heard the word “detectives”, but she couldn’t ask about it and hold her breath at the same time.

“SVU needs another detective. Numbers-wise, it should be a woman. Voight heard and called me. He says, and I’m quoting here, ‘You don’t hire Parker, you’re a fucking idiot.’”

Laura was too anxious to smile.

“You should know that I wouldn’t hire someone on Hank Voight’s word alone. I saw what you did on that case we worked in Chicago. I think you have potential. But there’s something else you should know. I’m not Hank Voight. In my unit, we don’t do things the way he does. You work for me, you play by the rules. If that’s a problem for you, this conversation is over.”

“That wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Good. I could give you a month to get out here, but not longer. Let me know.”

Benson held out her hand, and Laura shook it, actually trembling. Holy shit. She was being offered a job working sex crimes in New York. And a promotion to detective. How the hell had that happened?

Peter felt as untethered as he ever had in his life. At his age, he shouldn’t be feeling like an orphan, especially when his old man had never been much of a father. But here he was. He lay on the bed in his hotel room, thinking, while Laura lay on the other side with her head at the foot of the bed, just letting him be.

Jack McCoy had offered Peter a job.

At least half an hour had to have passed since either Peter or Laura had said anything. Out of nowhere, Peter sat up and announced he was hungry.

“In or out?” Laura asked.

“Out. Definitely out.”

They ended up at a steakhouse a few blocks away, for a while just chatting rather than trying to tackle the major decisions they had to make. But it was impossible to avoid the topic for long.

“Adulting blows,” Laura observed.

Peter came as close to smiling as he had in days. “Maybe. But you know what, Sunshine? I’m starting to think I know what to do.”

She waited for him to continue.

“Pam’s here. With Pop gone, I’m all she has. And this job offer, it’s a good one. Maybe this is a sign I’m supposed to come home.”

“Huh. Maybe it is.”

“And maybe it’s a sign you’re supposed to leave home. They’re making you a detective, Sunny. Anyway, you really think Voight’s gonna take ‘no’ for an answer?”

“It didn’t sound like it,” she admitted. “Benson, either.”

He looked her in the eyes. “Let’s move to New York.”

“I’m in,” she said, her voice shaking.

#law & order svu #law & order: special victims unit #chicago pd #chicago fire #chicago med #chicago justice #rafael barba #raul esparza #philip winchester #peter stone

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randombtsprincessa · 5 years

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Aberrations || 3

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Yoongi x Reader

Chapter: 01 02

“Can’t you just go and check? I haven’t even had my coffee yet!” Taehyung said as I held on tightly to his forearm, unwilling to let him slip away from me when my sweet, amazing partner had already been snatched from me by the cruel Mr. Kim. Genius or not, the chance I was willing to give Min Yoongi was already gnawing in my mind. Maybe I should’ve told Namjoon that Yoongi had implied I try to seduce him. Maybe that would change his mind but I doubted it.

“Why do you need coffee to check a studio listing?” I mumbled. “I don’t want to see Suran so early in the morning. She asked me for my number yesterday. I mean, what for? We’ll see each other every day anyway.” He said. I blinked in surprise.

Tae was right. Why would Suran need his number? The project was dead lined to an entire month and Tae had never ever missed a class. Yoongi hadn’t asked and I hadn’t even thought about anything other than getting rid of him. Again, the words ‘truce for now’ cause a pang in my chest.

“I’m too scared.” Tae whispered.

“Relax, Tae bear you’ll be fine.” I said.

“Easy for you to say; you’re working with Min Yoongi.” He mumbled.

I stopped in my tracks. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded.

Was there something that Taehyung knew about Yoongi? Why would Taehyung - sweet, awkward, smart and hard working Taehyung - know anything about rude, abrasive, harsh and mean Min Yoongi? I didn’t even know he was in our class. Yet, Mr. Kim had called him a genius and Taehyung knew about him? What had I missed?

Taehyung frowned at me through his glasses. “Well, you know; he is Min Yoongi; he’s had all of his mixes labeled at number one by Kim. He always beats us by some tone or nuance that Kim likes more. He doesn’t even have a partner. The guy he was working with changed majors to dance and Yoongi said he was ok alone. He must really be good.” Taehyung actually sounded gruff for the first time ever. “Some of his work plays in Dark Wild. Haven’t you heard any of the playlists Namjoon posts on the college website?” he looked at me like I had one eye.

“No…” I trailed off.

I suddenly felt like an idiot. Min Yoongi had his songs played in Dark Wild and I didn’t even know it. Was that why he was so arrogant? He felt like he had made it big already so he looked down on others? I never knew Mr. Kim ranked our mixes instead of just grading them. I felt uninformed.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” I hissed.

“Hey, ow, I thought you already knew!” Taehyung winced when my fingers dug in harshly into his arm. “I just thought you didn’t care about the first place.” he said.

I frowned at him.

“Tae, but you care, you should’ve told me, we could’ve done something to get first rank.” I said.

“That’s never going to happen with Min here, which is basically ever. Its second place for us, Y/N.” he said. I pouted as we resumed our walk towards the bulletin boards. “We’ll work harder.” I promised.

“Don’t worry about it. At least, you’ll have your name up on the first rank.” He said wistfully. “Or…I will sabotage him so you get your spot. I only care about the first rank if you get it, Tae.” I said.

He shushed me, looking around. “You can’t say that stuff around. If something happens, it will come on you.” He said, his eyes wide, making me laugh at his innocence. “Ok, I won’t, you dork.” I nudged him to keep moving and finally we made it to the boards where we pushed past – Taehyung got dragged – students to the front.

“Oh god, where are we?” Taehyung asked.

“I got Studio Genius. You got Hope World.” I paused and looked at him with a grin. He mouthed at the list before giving me his boxed grin too. “We’re next to each other!” he cheered before looking about with a hint of blush on his cheeks. I laughed, pulling him away from the crowd.

“This is amazing. We can visit each other when we want to.” I said.

“What if Yoongi doesn’t like it?” he asked.

“Then Yoongi can suck your cock,” I said.

“Y/N, I’m older than you! God, have some respect. If not for him then me, besides I’m not gay.” He swatted at me and I rolled my eyes before checking the time.

“Ok, time for class.” I sighed. “Thank god, I’ll go get my coffee.”

“Careful not to melt in front of the barista,” I teased. “Brat,” he grumbled but I caught his grin as we parted ways.

“Where were you? I’ve been waiting for 15 minutes for you!” Yerin said when I arrived, panting in front of our desk. “Sorry, had to check a listing with Tae,” I told her, sliding into my place next to her.

“Un huh….Well, make sure to tell him that we all are going to a party today.” She said, picking her pen up.

I groaned.

“Yerin, we went to a party just the day before yesterday! I can’t physically party today.” I moaned. “I’m not taking no for an answer, Y/N. I will hogtie you if I have to.” She said. “Well, you’re going to have to because I can’t. I…want to spend some time with Sehun. He’s being extra sweet these days. I want to get what I can out of that as long as it lasts.” I said. She slowly turned to me and raised my eyebrows, making me groan again.

“You’re so disgusting. I didn’t mean it like that.” I said.

She chuckled. “It wouldn’t be so bad if you did though, I have stayed over at your place when he came over. I think I know how sweet he really is or rather, how sweet you are.” She smirked, looking down into her notebook and I let out a wail of anguish. “Please tell me you didn’t!” I said. “Oh honey, Ara and Doona might be too nice to tell you to shut it but if I was your roommate I would’ve punched a hole through your walls. Or at least left you guys to finish it, as one of your best friends, it would be unethical of me to cock block you.” She said.

I put my head down on my arms, feeling boiling blood rear up like stallions in my face, unable to look up into her face again. Sehun and I weren’t that loud, were we? We always tried to be considerate of the others, which is why he rarely came over unless it was just to sleep. I would go over to his apartment more.

I felt her nudge my arm again.

“You can hide all you want right now. I want you hot and dolled up for the party, I am going to come over to make sure you look sexy.” She hissed into my exposed ear.

“Please Yerin, you’re torturing me,” I whined.

“That’s in the job description, babe. Plus, all you have to do is sit still and let me wield a brush on your face.” She said. “Too bad, we can’t all look naturally hot like you.” I hissed back, looking up slightly to glare at her.

She shrugged in a ‘what can you do?’ manner and I put my head back again.

“I am not coming.” I said decisively.

There was a pause.

“We’ll see about that.” She said back sounding equally as decisive.

I rushed out of the class, trying to vanish before Yerin could catch me. My hasty retreat was spoiled, however, when I saw Sehun leaning in front of the hall, making me feet naturally gravitate towards him in confusion.

“Hey,” he said, looking up from his phone, the frown marring his face lightening slightly but not turning into a smile. My eyes darted from his face to the phone. “Sehun, is everything ok?” I asked.

He shrugged, finally giving me a small smile. “Sure, everything’s fine. It’s just that gig I told you about. Yeah, I have to put in extra hours for practice.” He waved the phone nonchalantly in the air before shoving it in his pocket. “How was class?” he asked, holding out his hand to me. “It was fine. I have to actually,” began when I heard the dreaded call.

“Sehun; are you up for a party tonight?”

I groaned, burying my face in his jacket. “Please say no,” I begged.

“Why, what’s wrong with going out tonight?” he asked quietly as he watched Yerin’s approach.

“I…” I trailed off as she finally reached us.

“Well,” Yerin stared at him expectantly.

“Sure, I’m fine. God knows I need to get out more.” He shrugged, looking down to see my expression.

“Perfect, we have that sorted then. Y/N, I’ll be at your at 6 sharp. We’ll all meet there at 8? I mean, it’s Friday. We can afford to stay out late.” She pointedly pouted at me.

“Don’t ‘puppy eye’ me, Yerin.” I warned. She stuck out her tongue at me before throwing Sehun a grateful grin. “Thanks for dragging this lump.” She said before turning on her heel and walking away.

“She’s something else, I swear. Come on, its Kim’s class.” I said, pulling Sehun along. “I told you to say no.” I said.

“I think it’s a good idea, Y/N. I haven’t gotten out in ages. I haven’t taken you out in ages. We could make this a date. Besides, I can ask around if the guys from my dance class want to come. You should meet them.” He said.

“You…want to take me on a date?” I teased, slowly running my fingers up his arm.

He paused, clearing his throat before grabbing my hand from his arm. “Is that wrong?” he asked, his voice a little stiff. “No, I like it, Sehun.” I eyed the way he removed my hand from his skin but didn’t say anything as we reached the class doors.

“A date would pick me up.” I said.

“A date would but we’re going with friends. The date will start once you show up at the club. Maybe then your date will save you a dance and a drink.” He grinned and I blinked; my cheeks heating, at the prospect of having him buy me drinks, where I’d been prowling about for a guy to get me drinks not two days ago.

I was right. Sobriety was going to make me feel guilty some way or another.

“Hey, you ok?” he asked.

“Sure, I just…I just missed you, you know.” I whispered.

There was a pause in which I felt his eyes boring into mine.

I looked up to see his face too close to mine, a frown on it again, like he just couldn’t feel relaxed today. “I miss you too. I hope you know that. I’m trying, ok?” he whispered.

He was positioned near the door and over his shoulder; I could see the students, busy chatting while waiting for the class to actually start. I could see Tae sitting huddled in his seat as Suran busily wrote things beside him in a notebook, lyrics mostly. Two seats down, my eyes froze. Min Yoongi was already in the bench and he had left the seat I had said I was going to sit in.

Also, his eyes were fixed on me.

My mouth ran dry and my breath caught momentarily at the sudden eye contact. Why was he staring at me? I thought that he might find his phone more interesting than student watching. His eyes, dark even from a distance bored into me before, very subtly, he raised an eyebrow, his eyes darting to Sehun’s back for a split second.

I felt scared all of a sudden. He didn’t know Sehun, did he? He wouldn’t say a word to him. We had a truce on. He couldn’t even see Sehun’s face right now.

“Y/N, tell me what’s wrong?” Sehun asked suddenly, his hands coming up to cradle my face.

I looked at him in a panic. “Nothing, absolutely nothing, I’ll see you at Dark Wild.” I said, reaching up to press my lips to his in a desperate kiss which made him stumble back before I practically shoved him away from the class doors and hurried inside.

By the time I was sitting next to him, Yoongi was already deep in his phone, not even bothering with a ‘hi’. I could live with that. I could completely abide by his indifference as long he stayed far away from me. Truce or not, I just wasn’t willing to put my guard down around him.

I turned my seat to look at Tae but he didn’t look at me. His hood was up, his glasses high on his nose, his lips pulled into a pout, and he mostly likely had his earphones in so he wouldn’t be able to listen to anything Suran said.

Out of the corner of my eye, I turned to glance at Yoongi to see him biting his lip, his fingernails busy tapping on the phone screen, steadily. I looked at the phone to see and snorted, “Piano Tiles,” I said in surprised amusement.

Yoongi’s fingers paused and he turned to look at me, his blond hair shiny in the fluorescent lights. “Got a problem, sweetheart?” he asked coldly. I shrugged, looking away as Kim finally marched in, adjusting his tie and casting a look around the class. “Mingling with the new partners, I see. Good, good,” he said.

There was some uncomfortable shuffling around but no one really argued.

Of course, I couldn’t help myself from looking at him and I saw he was already giving me a cold smirk, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. His fingers were tapping out piano tiles again, too fast for me comprehend. I looked away again.

“Right, so now that we’re all here. Let’s get to it shall we? I want you all to know that the studios aren’t being given out to you like Halloween candy. They are still meant only for juniors and seniors but time has been allotted for sophomores this year so use it well. You will only be able to work in the studios while your class time is in session, if you have special permission or a junior or senior is willing to let you in. Which means that any other time, you feel like meandering in the studio and rebel around, it will not be tolerated.” He looked around the class sternly.

“The equipment in the studio is expensive. If you don’t know what you are doing, call for someone. I don’t want any student to be liable to pay for some fancy mechanical object you can’t even pronounce.” Again, a look was casted around to see he was understood.

“Also, I do not care if you have not been around for some time. The studio is not for your personal activities. I think we’re all adult enough to know that fiction cannot be actually lived out in real life.” He looked away a little and adjusted his tie again.

Was he getting red around the neck?

I heard a chuckle next to me and looked at Yoongi who was slumping again, his knee resting on the front bench, his eyes, derisive on Namjoon. He caught my look and his smirk intensified, “He’s speaking from personal experience.” He muttered.

I made a disgusted face but bit my lip, unable to help the grin. He had to be right. Namjoon was embarrassed as he finally looked up at the class.

“If you all understand what I’m trying to say, I hope you have checked which studio you got allotted. You know where they are. Go and start checking them out. I don’t want any of you wandering. Remember, this project counts for your final grade.” He warned.

I grabbed my bag first, narrowing my eyes at my partner who sighed, looking reluctant to stop his stupid game. He glanced at me for a second before standing up, his bag clutched in his hand and he followed me slowly.

I moved quicker to catch up with Tae and I was right. A wire ran down from his neck into his pocket and I tugged it out of his ear making him look at me.

“Sorry, didn’t you see me?” I asked, linking in our arms.

“Yeah, sorry, I haven’t put my head up for half an hour now. Where’s your esteemed partner?” he asked. I turned around to look to see if Yoongi was still behind but he had vanished. I sighed. I knew it. The delinquent had to vanish and leave me hanging.

“He left.” I said.

Tae frowned. “He can’t do that. Namjoon or someone might catch him and report him. Your project won’t even get to start.” He said. I shook my head. “Maybe then you’ll get your first place.” I said. He rolled his eyes as we reached Hope World studio. “This is me. I’ll try to visit, ok?” he asked. I nodded, moving next door, studying the plaque of Genius Lab inscribed on the fogged glass.

I punched in the code and pushed it open, looking around.

It wasn’t small, but it wasn’t all that big either. A small couch lay on one side of the door, keyboards, drum sets, a sound board lining the desk. Music sheets lay in a pile on the desk and it looked like it had been freshly cleaned. I brushed my hand on the mike set and guitars when I heard a thud in the quiet space, making me squeal in fright.

“Relax, it’s just me.”

Yoongi looked too big in the studio but he looked at home, as if he’d been here countless time. He moved the pile of music sheets away and studied them critically before putting them in a drawer and clearing out a table as he pulled a sound board on top of it. “You know how to operate anything here?” he shot at me.

“Yes, of course,” I said, miffed.

“Not the instruments, sweetheart, that’s semantics. I mean the real deal, the kits, the boards, the computer programs.” He leaned back on the desk, arms folded, head tilted back slightly as he stared at me, “Let me guess, no, you don’t.”

I didn’t say anything.

Truth was I never needed to do that. Taehyung had an entire space set up for music which he called V space. I didn’t even know why he called it that. He made everything we decided on there while I sorted out the files.

“Right, well, today’s going to be shot with you in here and I don’t have the time or inclination to teach you anything today. I’m going to need my energy tonight and making sure you follow is going to be enough of a drain. You can head off to visit Taehyung if you want. Or you can tag along with me and see if we can come up with some lyrics during lunch,” he picked up his bag again and walked out the door, leaving me to gape after him.

Did he just ask me eat lunch with him? Did I want to eat lunch with him? Of course, now that I knew he was a veritable genius I knew he could make the entire project by himself and then erase me out of it completely. I couldn’t let him do that.

Picking up my bag, I rushed after him after making sure the door locked.

I stared at him as he hunched over the table, his arms surrounding the paper on which he was scribbling as if it was his first born child.

Yoongi had led me straight to one of the more backward cafes, some place I had never been. He had placed his order and quickly grabbed a seat while I was left to order something and slowly deposit myself in front of him. It didn’t seem like he even noticed, he was already writing down on a pad, lyrics most likely. I had shifted, coughed, to get his attention but he was completely engrossed. After a few minutes I gave up, choosing to stare at this ‘genius’ in front of me.

People said that genius had to be borne of pain. Well, Min Yoongi didn’t seem much borne of pain. His clothes looked eccentric yes like he’d just thrown whatever suited his bad boy image but now when I was studying him it struck me his clothes were definitely high end and very obviously designer.

He was dressed in all black today, the black t-shirt stretching across his chest. With the padded jacket he’d left open and a black cap now nestled backwards on his still blond hair. They were all labeled Puma.

Our order came and the waiter left but he didn’t move, his fingers still scribbling against the paper. I coughed again and he looked up finally, throwing an annoyed look at me. “Will you stop sniffling? Go get yourself a cough drop.” He snapped before his head dropped back down.

“Yoongi, if you’re making lyrics I should be in on it,” I said.

“You will be; these are just ideas.” He muttered. “Well, show me,” I demanded. He gave me a look. “Show me yours.” He said. My mouth dropped and he rolled his eyes. “Ideas; show me your ideas, trust me sweetheart, I can do better than you.” He waited as I retracted my arm. “Don’t have any ideas, do you? Maybe, if you think more and stare less at me,” he trailed off, his attention back on his writings and I clenched my jaw.

I was being stupid. This wasn’t Taehyung, I couldn’t wait for him to come to me and I was definitely not going to go to him. I picked up my bag and took my drink. “Well, I will show you my ideas tomorrow and I am not staring at you.” I was out of my seat, on the way out when I heard him pipe up, “Whatever you say sweetheart.”

Lights flashed around me as I clutched on to my glass, my lips quirked up as I stared at Ara and Doona dance to touch my body, doing the silly cover move and giggling. Beside me Yerin was deep in conversation with Taehyung, who looked mildly alarmed as Yerin was animatedly moving her hands. He kept dodging out of the way to avoid getting hit by them. On my other side, Sehun had an arm slung over my shoulder, a beer bottle in his hand.

His face was red from dancing earlier and while I still had some form of energy left, his was gone as he said, he needed to drink to recharge. Now, he was chatting with Baekhyun and Sebastian, two guys who had tagged along with Tae. “I know, acting can take quite a toll.” Baekhyun was saying when I tuned into their conversation.

Like me, it seemed like Sebastian had been relegated to the background. He didn’t speak much but he did keep an eye on Tae, maybe because Baek had told him to.

I turned to Yerin when she sighed, putting her head down on my shoulder. “Go dance with the others.” I said.

“I can’t, I’m waiting for Jungkook to show up so I can introduce him. If he’s not here in 15 seconds…”

“What will you do?”

We both turned around to look at the person who spoke and Yerin’s face split into a mischievous grin. “Maybe you’ll find out when you are actually late.” She giggled. The boy grinned back, wrapping a muscular arm around my best friend and pulling her in for a chaste kiss. “Maybe later then,” he mumbled. I glanced over to the girls and beckoned them over as Yerin and Jungkook pulled apart.

“Right, are we all here?” Yerin asked.

“There are still the guys from my dance class.” Sehun muttered. “Oh, well, we’ll get to them later. Jungkook, this is Ara, Doona, Taehyung and Y/N, my best friends. This is Sehun, Y/N’s boyfriend. That’s Baekhyun and Sebastian, Tae’s friends. Guys, this is Jeon Jungkook, the guy for however long he can put up with me.” Yerin said.

“Wow, I love your self esteem.” Jungkook muttered before nodding at us. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Word of advice; you better put up with Yerin. She acts like a badass but if you hurt her we will cut you.” Ara said as Doona and I nodded. “Ara, babe, I can do the threatening myself. You sound like my dad.” Yerin said glumly but Jungkook grinned, toasting Ara, “Noted, don’t worry,” he said.

“Anyways, I am recharged enough.” I said, pulling away from Sehun and grinning at the girls. “How about the four of us leave the guys to gawk at us?” I muttered slyly and with cheerful shouts, we all turned to the dance floor while pulling Tae along with us.

“This is one of Yoongi’s pieces.” Tae shouted in my ear suddenly as I made him twirl by crouching under my arm. I froze at his name. “It is?” I asked and Tae nodded as Yerin gripped his other arm and pulled him away from me.

I stayed where I was, my steps decidedly slowed as I focused on the music, trying to work out the beats from the fast almost harsh sounding tune. It was just music with no words but I could almost see him in the deep basses. It reminded me of his gruff voice.

“Y/N, come on, I need another drink!” Doona said and we returned to our seats in the bar when Sehun came up to me. “Babe, Doona, these are the guys from my dance class.” He said. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder and pulled us to the counter where three guys were standing.

“Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Hoseok, our class leader and Jimin, the assistant choreographer. Oh and this is Yoongi, I think you know him, he’s in your music class.” Sehun said.

My steps had already faltered the second I recognized him, even if his back to me. I would recognize that particular shade of Blond anywhere. He turned slowly, his eyes piercing into me once before quickly darting to Sehun and his arm around me, his lips quirking ever so slightly.

“Hi,” my eyes moved to Hoseok who smiled widely at me, his hand stretching towards me. “I’m Hobi,” he said. “Hi Hobi,” I said smiling as Jimin stuck his hand too, a small cute smile on his face, his swollen eyes shutting into beautiful crescents. He was the type that just asked for his cheeks to be squished. I had an irrational urge to run my finger into his frumpy hair. “I’m Jimin. The cutest Mochi about,” he said and I giggled, shaking his hand too. “Hey, Park, keep the flirting to a minimum.” Sehun warned and laughter echoed in our small group. Hobi and Jimin shook hands with Doona before she slipped away to get a drink.

“Hi Yoongi,” I said finally, cautiously, when he made no move to say anything. His eyes were still on Sehun before he glanced at me, tilting his head in acknowledgement.

I looked up at Sehun to see him eyeing Yoongi almost uncomfortably.

“So, what are you guys working on now?” I asked quickly. “We could show you!” Jimin said quickly, looking at Hobi. “Hyung, the beat is perfect, Suga made this for our practice, remember? We could show her.” He said. Sehun rolled his eyes once as Hobi nodded, putting down his drink and nodding to me. “Tell me if you like it, it’s still a fledgling,” he said and Sehun dropped a kiss on my head before leaving with the two, staying on the fringe of the crowd so I could watch…and leaving me alone with Min Yoongi.

Doona must have called the others over because as soon as Hoseok, Jimin and Sehun’s overly complicated dance finished, there was another round of introduction.

Our separate group soon mingled into one as it turned around Jungkook and Sebastian were interested in dancing too and Baekhyun and Sehun started talking about their acting stuff which I just did not even try to follow. I spied Taehyung and Yoongi talking in one corner and quickly looked away.

“Is it me, or did the guys just ditch us?” Ara asked as Yerin downed her shot. “We’ll make them pay later,” She said. “Oh please, we all know you’re going to leave with Jungkook.” I said. “What’s got you in a twist? You’re leaving with your own hot man.” Yerin said. “To be honest, you all are lucky; Jungkook and Sehun have got to be the hottest guy in this damn club.”

“Hmm, I wouldn’t say that. Have you guys seen the boys from the dance class? Even the guy from Taehyung and Y/N’s class, he’s got to be the sexiest man I’ve seen tonight.” There was a pause in which Doona sighed. “If you’re taking Jimin home tonight, I’m going to have to ask to play music.” She said.

Ara raised her glass to Doona before smirking. “I thought you were going home with Taehyung and Baekhyun anyways,” she said slyly. Doona gasped, her cheeks reddening. “Ara, Tae’s our best friend!” she stuttered.

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” she giggled and put her glass down, walking off with Doona following as they both kept their bickering on.

I laughed, turning to Yerin. “I need some fresh hair, want to come with?” I asked. “I don’t think I can move from this oh do comfortable stool with the perfect view of my boyfriend’s hot back. Inhale some extra fresh hair for me.” she said, her eyes fixed over my shoulder. I rolled my eyes, picking up my purse and walking out to the small back balcony and shut the door, taking in a long deep pull of cold night air and giggling into the silence.

“I would ask what’s funny but knowing you, it would be something stupid and I don’t want my brain cells to die.”

My giggle died down into a choke and I whirled about to see Yoongi leaning back against the wall beside the door. His booted foot was up on the wall; his head tilted back, eyes not even looking at me. I had walked straight past him. It took me a minute to regain my composure when I registered what he had said.

“You don’t know anything about me, Yoongi.” I said, crossing my arms.

“You’d think so but you’re pretty much easy to read.” He said.

“Oh, and you are such a mystery, aren’t you, Suga?” I asked.

That got his attention. His eyes settled on me and they weren’t friendly. I sighed, dropping my arms. “Look, we have a truce, remember? I also…heard one of your pieces, it was nice.” I said. His eyebrow rose. “Thanks,” he said coldly before frowning at me.

“Why did you come to me for a drink when your boyfriend’s so nice?” he asked suddenly.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“That guy; the one whose arm you are walking on so proudly. I know him. He’s one of the promised stars from our college. If you’re dating him, why’d you want to get with another guy?” he asked. “I know for a fact that even if you are just using him, you aren’t dumb enough to jeopardize that.”

He probably didn’t want to sound harsh but he did. He sounded curious yes, but all I could see was the ass who had indirectly called me a slut.

“Look, like I said, you don’t know anything about me or about Sehun. I suggest you forget that night as a drunken mistake on my part. Of course, because complimenting someone’s hair is trying to get them to buy you a drink in your life, I am hoping you will just dismiss it as a useless waste of ten minutes of your oh so precious life and stop making me feel bad.” I said in one breath and he stared at me.

Without another word, I reached past him for the door handle and pulled the door open, walking back into the warmth of the club, slamming the door shut and stopped when I saw the person in front of me.

Yerin was staring at me coldly, her lips curled into a scowl, her arms folded. I knew this pose. She meant business. Behind her I could see Ara and Doona, watching me with surprise as I stared back at them like a deer in headlights.

“You,” Yerin said, her voice cool and controlled, “are coming with me.” She said, nodding at Ara and Doona.

“Yerin, I don’t know what you heard,” I began but she chuckled, pulling out her phone and typing out a text. “Oh, I heard enough. I think Jungkook and the guys can wait tonight, can’t they girls?” She asked and Ara and Doona nodded. Of course, they would.

“Spill,” She said.

“It was nothing! Min Yoongi is an ass who doesn’t deserve a single second of thought. Why would you be so on top of that?” I asked.

“Because you went to him to bait him and he’s being a mean bastard to you ever since, hasn’t he? I heard enough and I am not an idiot. I know two plus two is four, Y/N.” Yerin hissed.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ara asked.

“It wasn’t important.” I said.

“Meeting the guy who you baited then got burned by isn’t important?” Doona asked.

“Girls please,” I began to be cut off again by Yerin.

“This is my fault.” She said. “I was the one who pushed that idea onto you.”

“What, no it’s not! Yerin, I didn’t try and bait him. I thought his hair looked cool and went to tell him because I was drunk. He made this whole scenario up and he’s been hanging that over my head ever since.” I finally said.

“He’s blackmailing you? Oh he’s dead.” Yerin growled.

“Yerin, relax. We…have been partnered for a project. We called a truce. Hopefully after the project’s done, we’ll never see each other again.” I said.

“But,”

“Are you sure?” Ara asked, putting a hand on Yerin’s shoulder.

I nodded, still feeling a little unsure. Yoongi hadn’t agreed to the truce verbally. I had no idea if he had even taken the truce up for consideration, much less hold up his part of it but I couldn’t let the girls be upset because of my own stupidity.

“Ok, let’s just go home, Yerin you too. It’s ice cream and chick-flick night.” Doona said.

#yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #bts #yoongi #min yoongi #aberrations

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