#feel free to elaborate. brain distressed

[embracethemadmess]

Dreaming with the Witch- #2b - just Marc

Story summary:  Steven is refusing to sleep at night again, but this time he also doesn’t want to front during the day, so Marc has to cover for him at work, running on little to no sleep every day, straining his voice on -quite bad- British soft accent. If that wasn’t enough, there’s this third alter still actively moon knighting without the other two knowing. All this leaves the body completely exhausted and, well, on the edge of falling apart. One time the system meets a witch willing to help heal both the body and the disturbed minds in it.

Chapter summary: Steven disappears for a day.

word count: 4075

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Chapter notes: I can't write flirting scenes, sorry you have to witness that. I'm gonna do beta reading tomorrow after work, so I'm sorry in advance if there are any mistakes.

Enjoy and don't hesitate to share your thoughts :).

Disclaimers: I do not have D.I.D., therefore my story should not be treated as a trustful source of knowledge on the topic. I strongly encourage you all to learn about it from actual systems or other resources. Mirrors and all that reflections theme are used as a way to connect the story to the TV show. If you notice any mistakes on my side, please let me know so I can fix them.

* * ☾ * *

"Okay, okay, sorry!" A high-toned squeak is torn out from the woman held by him while the fingernails of her free hand dig desperately into his bare forearm's skin, leaving half-moon indents on it. 

Although Marc feels as if his brain is clouded, he disentangles her from the armlock instantly. Worrisomeness hides in crinkles between his brows as they furrow, and in the amber of his eyes now focused on her face after he put his hands on her shoulder and turned her around so she could face him, looking for any sign of distress in her facial expression. The tension in his body increases a notch when he realises the woman is, as a matter of fact, a girl. Young adult. Adolescent girl. Practically a child. He lets out an almost laboured grunt at that, a few of his own curses directed at him echoing in his mind. 

"Jesus, what was that?" The girl - Anna, he discovers after taking a quick glance at the name tag on her beige blouse - inquiries, a breathy cry in her voice loud and clear for his ears to hear being one part of the remnant of the abuse he's deployed on her, the other making itself present in massaging sore elbow and exercising a mild shoulder rotation.

"Please, accept my dearest apologies," Marc begins, his voice adopting Steven's tone and manner as if a default setting, his face not so cooperative, though, remaining more of his own than his alter's which he can tell even without seeing himself simply by not feeling the slightest tug of a single muscle. His wording choice, moreover, surprises both him and the girl in front of him, but it doesn't stop him from continuing, "I didn't mean to cause you any harm, it's just, I-" he stutters just a tad, hoping it would grant him some bonus points, and then focuses his stare at everything but her eyes, scratching his beard in a clear sign of discomfort. "I was in my head straight up fuming at this bloody stupid machine over here, and your touch caught me off guard."

As a response to his elaborated apology, Anna gives him as much as a simple shrug of her shoulders which almost earns her his scoff. Almost, because by the time he opens his mouth to express his discontent with her reaction, she muses:

"Should've guessed it myself." And as she gets no reply, with Marc just standing there, expression as blank as the circles dark around the redness of his waterlines, eyes now closer to the shade of onyx rather than amber, and plump lips closed in a straight line in between salt-and-pepper thick growth, she feels the urgent need to add: "I mean, with the way you always flinch when something unexpected or louder than you'd want happens around you, I figure I kind of deserved this whole American arrest hold."

After admitting that, her shoulders shrug again and then a devilish grin plays on her lips as she takes one step closer to him, barely leaving any space between the two of them. Marc's brows knit marginally at the movement, making the permanent crease in the skin between them even more prominent, but he doesn't back away from her as he examines her face in silence; freckle by freckle, acne scar by brownish patch, rosacea's redness blemishing her fair skin. So young, he makes a notice in the privacy of his thoughts when she cocks her head a little to be able to burn a hole in the lion's wrinkle of his with the sky blue of her gaze.

"Nevertheless, I think I also deserve a tight hug, eh?" Anna murmurs, later on drawing her lower lip between her teeth and keeping it there long enough for him to notice. "To ease the pain, you know, you're not exactly the weakest man alive" comes in addition, as if she tried to excuse her suggestion. 

With a faint, faked smile Marc nods in agreement.

"I guess s-" he trails off mid-sentence and instead nearly chokes on the air she seems to punch out of his lungs with the force she uses to pound into his embrace, enclasping his neck, giving him no other choice than to wrap his own arms around her waist.

Marc swallows the dryness in his throat at the sudden realisation that this, the hug, feels wrong. For many reasons, he tries to tell himself that the one being most crucial is the fact this girl is significantly younger than him and barely knows him, while he doesn't know her at all, even if she's not aware of it, therefore she shouldn't be this comfortable near him. 

However, the truth is, and the American resigned himself to the fact some time ago, it feels wrong because it's not Steven. For both of them, actually, it should be Steven but it isn't, and that aspect of the embrace lies heavy on Marc's heart, trying to sink it deep into the melancholy of memories of the one hug that's been engraved in his memory for months now and the one that came to his mind every time someone tried to give him something similar.

He would call himself a narcissist, yearning for the touch of his own body, if it wasn't for the fact Steven carried it differently to an extreme degree; to the point where it felt like a completely separate person. His touch was so tender whereas Marc's was firm, his was dripping hesitation when Marc's distinguish itself by confidence, and finally - Steven brought warmth, trust and love where Marc could only provide safety. 

Physically, they were also different. Marc was always straight as a ruler, unable to stoop, his posture always asserting dominance. Used to deploy an iron-clad grip, muscles constantly tense and on the verge of ache. Steven wasn't like that, no. There was a gentleness in the way he slouched a little, with his shoulders and bladder loose, prioritising everyone else's comfort above his own. Absurdly naive sometimes in his belief that everyone was good at heart, some people simply lacking something in their life if they showed other, cooler shades of their personalities. Letting them walk all over him due to refusing to accept the fact that some of them were just pricks and no amount of kindness would ever change that. It all showed up in the way Marc was constantly keeping his guards up while Steven walked around wearing his heart on his sleeve.

But when it came to holding his close ones in his arms, Steven changed diametrically; his grip strong and desperate, squeezing their body with his own, locking them in an unbreakable hold for what could last an eternity. Marc was his opposite; he would wrap his arms around another person with a sense of distance, not letting them cling to his body completely, so he could still have a good chance of blocking an attack or escaping. 

Of course, with Steven in his arms, he threw all his tactics away without batting an eyelid, letting his body join the battle over who consumed who in the tight embrace they shared twice. 

Marc still could recall his scent as he buried his nose in the British one's hair after quickly pressing his lips to his temple while Steven occupied himself with clenching his fists on the material of Marc's t-shirt, squidging the meat on his back and possibly bruising his shoulderblades in the process. The world around them seemed to stop spinning for a while, time frozen on a single second stretching to hours. Not an ounce of spare space between the two of them to fit the thinnest needle. Their knuckles white as snow on the tan skin of their hands, with veins more visible and bluer than usual. It felt like home when Steven was blowing hot air down the side of Marc's neck, his sharp jaw nudged into the American's collarbone. Desperate gaps that were making them both feel dizzy made the whole experience even more special, and Marc quickly decided at that moment that it was once in a lifetime experience no one ever would be able to replicate for him.

And yet, Steven did it again, holding him tight enough to steal his breath if he wanted to, not so long after the first time. His Steven. The incredibly stubborn, righteous Steven who refused to kill a hippopotamus and hijack an ancient boat to save his life.

Ever since then, no one could make Marc feel quite the same as he felt in his alter's arms. Not even his wife, and he loved and cared for her deeply. Nothing seemed to taste even remotely similar, at some point Marc resigned to this thought. 

Even so, he still can't help the immense tug of longing deep in his chest as he gives Steven's coworker a few friendly strokes on her lower back, earning a satisfied purr from her.

"Can't believe you finally let me do this, after so long?" she says with her fingers buried in his hair, playfully curling some locks at the back of his head around her finger. Marc stiffens at the sound of this statement, and as he slowly pulls away from her, he feels his heart sinking, joining the little tight knot already formed in his stomach.

"What'd you say?" He asks just for the sake of hearing it again, already knowing the answer and processing it in his mind.

"You never let anyone touch you, honestly I was starting to worry you'll never give up and let me hug you. I suppose you like using force beforehand, I don't know, some kind of hot and cold behaviour," the girl starts mumbling so fast the words blur together and it makes Marc's brain feel like it's about to explode trying to make sense of what is happening, "Hey, I don't judge, of course, I just didn't take you as an 'into bondage' kinda guy, know what I mean?"

"Anna" is all he's able to say as the begging of a headache builds up a familiar pressure behind his eyes. An ice-cold feeling shoots up his spine when the realization of the meaning behind her words strikes him with the force of a thunderbolt, and he lets go of her in a matter of seconds, glaring at her in unspoken reprimand that only he knows hides stupefaction behind its sharpness. She looks surprised, he can tell by the way her blue eyes widen and a faint blush makes its way to her cheeks and nose, but she's mainly confused, and to be honest, so is Marc. He only agreed to this hug because he thought it was a norm for her and Steven; a standard greeting they gave each other every day at work. He left the safety of his comfort zone because of this misunderstanding, letting unwanted memories get to him when he needed them the least. All because of a girl who decided to take advantage of his mistake.

He lets out an exasperated sign.

"Listen, I need you to understand that this was a one-time thing," he starts, his voice is soft but firm, letting her know he's not mad at her, but he's also not kidding with what he has to say, "I attacked you without reason, and you deserved some kind of a remedy, eh? But it doesn't change the fact that if I say I don't wish for you to touch me, I mean it. For as long as I don't voice out that I've changed my mind. You heard me?" as he asks that question, he points at her with an expectant look in his eyes, actually meeting hers for the first time in the entire duration of their conversation.

"Loud and clear, Steven." Anna nods while answering him, and at that, he shakes his head, more to himself than at her actions, and settles himself behind the still not fully operative cash register, muttering under his breath something alongside the words:

"Something to keep in mind for the future, yeah?"

* * ☾ * *

She lives up to that promise for approximately two hours. 

Two long hours, or not long enough, Marc can't really decide. The entire room seems to be spinning as he tries to mimic Anna's actions around the gift shop, discreetly peeking at what she inserts into the system while scanning merchandise, hesitantly serving some older clients (which he chooses on purpose, hoping their age would help them be more patient with his pace than younger people), and sneaking around the room, pretending to be tidying up the store just so he can avoid the stubborn cash register. As he's picking up different figurines, puzzles and books, he actually takes short moments to inspect them in his late attempt to get to know what kind of job Steven deals with on daily basis. Obviously, he's ignoring the fact that half of the letters on the books' covers are barely visible to him without his reading glasses - that goes without question. In his opinion he doesn't need them, glasses are for the other guy, and he does just fine without them. And if his eyes start hurting after the first hour of having to read small letters on everything, he tells himself there's surely another reason for it. Thus, he settles on rubbing his eyelids every five minutes as a solution to the problem.

When the clock on his watch hits 12:10 pm and he's standing next to the scanner with the fingers of one hand curled around a paper cup halfway filled with coffee and the other fidgeting with a stray wiry basket with some cheap bracelets in it, that's when Anna shoots her shot again.

With one smooth move, she places herself in the small space between him and the counter, and Marc's hand, forced to abandon the basket, is quickly shoved down his front pocket. He raises an eyebrow at her ministrations, not sure what the sinister sparkles in her eyes could mean. The silence around them feels thick on his lips, sounds loud in his ears, and it all makes him uncomfortable, so he tries to step backwards in a desire to regain the sense of personal space, however, he's stopped dead in his tracks by the slender hands on his sweater.

"I know I'm not allowed to touch you," she asks with a sweet, gentle voice, attention directed at one of his sleeves which she finds herself absentmindedly playing with. One of her fingertips accidentally brushes over soft skin there and she feels how the dark hairs on his forearm stand up as a direct result of goosebumps. A ghost of a smirk dances on the corners of her lips as she makes notice of his reaction to her touch, "but you didn't really tell me why. Don't you like me?"

"I-I don't know" comes as an answer, to which confusion settles in her furrowed brows.

"You don't know?" she repeats after him in a form of a question and he only nods in response.

It's true, he doesn't know. Not the slightest idea comes to his mind as to why Steven feels repulsed about his co-worker to a point where he visibly keeps off her touch and makes her aware of that, even. Out of the two of them, Marc is pretty sure he's the one who avoids socialising, with Steven being the one craving it so badly, he's willing to go to a steakhouse, despite being vegan, just to meet up with a girl he had a date scheduled. The American once again regrets not paying attention to his alter's behaviour at work and therefore being left in the dark as to why it seems like for once in his lifetime Steven is running away from human interaction instead of chasing it.

"Listen, Anna. Please, listen to me," he murmurs after putting the coffee cup away and he snaps his fingers to get her attention before putting his hand in the pocket of his pants. "I'm 38, come to that I could very easily be your father," he adds in the hope this excuse will be enough to take the girl's hands off him. Unfortunately, he quickly discovers how wrong he was for thinking it when Anna places her hand on his cheek and focuses on tracing the line of his growth.

"Wouldn't mind calling you daddy, you know." As Marc registers her purr, a cold shiver slides down his spine at her words and for a moment scotomas are taking over his vision. 

"Why would you- it wouldn't make sense, now, would it?" he asks, disorientation painting across his face, and it has Anna chuckling genuinely but Marc continues nevertheless as if she hasn't interrupted him with her reaction. "I meant that I could be your father, I'm old enough to be. I'm not, so there's no-"

"Steven." Her voice takes a demanding tone, yet her expression remains soft. She's looking him straight in the eyes and he's not looking at her at all, glancing at the scanner behind her instead. "See that's why I like you so much."

"You do?"

"I do," nodding, she swipes at his lower lip with her thumb, making him thread his brows in consternation. "You're so awkwardly funny, so adorably unaware, and so freakishly hot with your tan skin, forever exhausted look, and now this," she accentuates her last word, gesturing lazily at his entire frame prior to going back to her rambling, "fuck, you're looking good today. Can't take my eyes off you."

At that moment Marc is too close to passing out, to say the least.

"Sorry. But..." comes from his mouth, he sounds husky and it encourages him to clear his throat while he takes a quick look over the store to check whether there's someone in there save for them. Then his eyes lock with hers, "Are you flirting with me?"

"Been doing it since you first arrived here, thanks for finally noticing." Before, during and after making this statement, she's laughing gently, there's pure joy in her eyes, that he could be sure of. "Bit late to the party, aren't you?" she asks next but she doesn't sound rude. Something in Marc wishes she sounded rude, though, so he could end this conversation. 

"I don't actually do- speak... the language of love. Or whatever." It's obvious he's trying to act as nonchalantly as he possibly can, but nervousness pours out from the tone of his voice. Once again he makes an effort to step away from her.

"Oh, I'd gladly teach you if you let me." A suggestion dripping with something that tells Marc she wanted to sound coquettish, which only adds to his rapidity as he wraps his hands around her wrists and pulls away from her.

"No, thank you," he says, already on his way to the store's entrance, "Be right back, need to use the loo."

Needless to say, he doesn't return.

His head is throbbing agonisingly while he's making his way across the hallway in search of the toilets. Stroking through the mess of wild curls, he scratches at his scalp hoping to find relief in mild pain. Words can't seem to describe the utter confusion that ties a knot in his abdomen.

He looks over his shoulder when cautiously scanning the space around him, as if expecting Anna to follow him for some reason, and when he makes sure she isn't, that's when he bumps into something, or rather someone, and if it makes him jump a little, he will take this secret to the grave with him.

"Steven!"

"Mr- Security guard," Marc breathes indiscriminately, just to hawk as soon as the elder man knits his brows at him, and immediately corrects himself, "Mr Henry" comes from him right after glancing at the man's nametag. "Mr Henry."

"I'm old, Steven, not deaf" the guard snaps at him, Marc winces, even though he doesn't show that on his face, and the older one sighs without any particular reason. "Where you headed, eh?"

"The loo."

"It's the opposite way, kid."

"Oh. Right."

For a moment they resign to the dead silence of the awkward situation. Both of them cross their arms on their chests, Marc hawks two or three more times, and somewhere between the second and the third time he switches his pose to staying straight and rubbing the nape his nape. Meantime Henry absentmindedly taps the silver clasp of his belt with the fingertip of his index.

"So... How are you?" Marc begins, trying to sound as friendly as he can, but trails off as soon as he sees Henry's hand waving at him dismissively. 

"You know I'm not a fan of small talks, Steven," he admits, making Marc instantly like him, "Might wanna hurry if you really need the loo, they are closing the museum." 

After that, Henry is already continuing his walk across the hallway, leaving Marc even more confused than he already was. The younger looks at the dock of his watch and his eyebrows furrow for gods know which time this day. His stare chases the slowly pacing co-worker, and before he even acknowledges it, he shouts after him.

"Any particular reason for that?"

"I don't know, something in the air is killing people again and the authorities told people to sit their arses at home. It's like the damn pandemic all over again..."

The guard is still grumbling as he slowly disappears behind the corner, but Marc doesn't listen to him anymore. He lets out another exasperated sigh, trying to wrap his lost head around what's going on exactly.

"What pandemic - never mind, actually," he adds a blurred fuck this day in his mind, then gives up in favour of making his way out of the museum with the heels of his palms digging ruthlessly into his eye sockets.

The ex-mercenary doesn't go back home, though, instead, he drags his feet to another familiar place that is the storage locker. Again, on his way not even once does he look around, a part of him secretly wishing for a deep hood in which he could hide his face. Forever grateful that the word seemed to have spread about the lockdown, the streets and pavements are almost empty, with only a few lost souls here and there rushing homes and a distant siren of an ambulance reaching his ears. Marc detached himself from the external stimuli, with half-lidded eyes watching the route before him but not really seeing anything peculiar.

The warm light of a single bulb welcomes him in the well-known emptiness of military green boxes stocked neatly along the walls, right after he's greeted by the guy working at the reception and given the key to locker 43. With a prolonged glance around the room, he makes notice of the artefacts of his old life - some clothes, emergency supplies and a cot in the corner with a modest, flat pillow on it. 

Weirdly enough, tin walls blurrily reflecting his body, with the pervasive order of the room coming from every single thing stored in it, somehow manage to ease his every nerve, spreading a sense of peace through every limb.

With a quiet sigh, he makes his way across the room until he's standing at the side of the cot. He sits up on the edge, takes his sneakers off to set them aside, lined up with the box standing next near, and lays himself on the flat, a bit rough even, surface.

He stays in late, just lying there and staring at the ceiling.

If he takes the pillow from underneath him and puts it on his face for a brief moment somewhere along the way, there is no one with him to witness it.

If he lets himself scream once or twice in the same pillow, there is no one there to hear it as well.

If he passes away from enfeeblement, he also comes to on his own, still able to deny he's tired, in case someone asks him about it.

He doesn't feel Steven, which in this precise case is good, too. Other than that, he wants him back already. Still, he does nothing to trigger him back to the front.

Even as a single tear carves its way along the crow's feet, down the side of his cheek.

He's not tired.

[enneamage]

can you elaborate on wilbr trying to subtly punish people around him from ur last ask?? do u have examples? like i'm not doubting you lol i just don't really watch him because his personality drives me up the wall. (also thank you for making this blog your thoughts are super interesting & clearly explained)

Thank you! I'm glad people like my Words. When someone acts a certain way and you have an emotional response to it that’s one thing, but when someone is actively trying to make you feel an emotion it can be a little bit different; you can kind of feel from the inside that you’re being twisted. I’m generally pretty good at noticing when people want to throw me off balance, mostly because I’m good at not giving it to them :P.

Wilbur set off this trigger in my brain a lot. It actually helped me understand from an ~authorial perspective~ what he was going for during roleplay, but as we’ve established the SMP fiction/reality divide isn’t as clean as people think it is. This is why I’ll use a SMP thing as an example instead of the little micro-moments from his other streams, since SMP stuff kind of writes his personality in big easy to read comic sans.

Ghostbur was a big meta-example of what Wilbur is capable of. When Ghostbur was ‘on’, you were in for a passive-aggressive feels trip. The meta of Ghostbur is proof that he knows how to stick the knife in and pretend it’s an accident, but since it was for roleplay I was watching/letting it happen for artistic effect. Through Ghostbur, Wilbur (as a writer, admittedly) had free reign to press directly on people’s sore spots, and he did, often. It shows what he’s paying attention to, what his reflexes are, and what he’s capable of when the two mix.

Ghostbur was made as a utility (so he could be around his friends on the server) but he also had a gimmick to him, the amnesia that kept him ‘innocent.’ If it can be said that people were ‘supposed to’ do anything while they were watching, we were ‘meant to’ question his ongoing impulse to bury his head in the sand using his blue, or at least recognise it as dark. While I wasn’t looking for analysis at the time (I might not have even been around?) I didn’t see much to this effect, so people might have taken him more at face value. If I had to guess, I would say that he started getting frustrated at people for not understanding the points he was trying to make with Ghostbur, ironically for not seeing the dark parts that he put in him.  He may also have been angry at himself for trying to do something that didn’t work, he gets very sensitive about stuff like that.

In an attempted hardcore stream with Niki, Wilbur made an offhanded comment that kind of reframed Ghostbur for me, he sounded sad that people liked Ghostbur (implicitly better than they liked alivebur.) Now it’s not unusual for Wilbur to be dismissive about his own successes if he retroactively labels them as cheap (he was weird about his You Laugh You Loose for a bit) and I don’t get to know exactly what his relationship to Ghostbur was, but I have a feeling he was bitter. People like my dopey little ghost mask more than they like my explosive unhinged bitter self character. Ghostbur had to go, and he died as he lived: a bid to make people feel distress.

It is not a coincidence that revivedbur came back so perfectly insensitive to the people and things around him, especially Ghostbur.

I sent the Ghostbur Limbo reddit posts to my friend once and we were both cracking up at how blatantly he was stabbing the voodoo doll of Ghostbur to try and make people sad. He’s done this twice while he was sick, and I am sure that it was him trying to spread his misery around. (I’m also of the opinion that the train station is a metaphor for how he felt at the time when he was playing Ghostbur, if he himself was Revivedbur.) I’m getting the sense that he’ll do something with Ghostbur in the end, but he’ll never give up good leverage on anything but his own terms.

In real-life streams, it generally comes down to vibes. It just felt like he was asking for emotional results from a lot of his actions, even if they were just little split-second ones. The number of things that he seemed to do on purpose, or at least had a desired malicious effect attached to them, got weird. Streamer should not be this angry at me, I am but a little frog.

Most of the time he passes it off as being English, but I promise you it’s not that.

[leebird-simmer]

Psychopathology, Ch 1, pt. 1

[Disclaimer: These notes are derived from the 11th edition of Nevid, Rathus & Greene’s “Abnormal Psychology in a Changing World.” Terminology and attitudes will tend to reflect that of the authors, not my personal views or language choices. If/when I have an informed objection to their statements, I will insert a corrective note. If you have professional or personal knowledge that contradicts or elaborates upon the authors’ statements, please feel free to share in the comments.]

abnormal psychology: the branch of psychology that studies abnormal behavior and ways of helping people who are affected by psychological disorders.

psychological disorder (AKA "mental disorder"): a pattern of abnormal behavior associated with states of significant emotional distress, or with impaired behavior/ability to function.

medical model: perspective which views abnormal behaviors as symptoms of an underlying illness or brain disorder.

{Note: this class does not exclusively use the medical model, but takes a broader view which incorporates sociocultural perspectives as well.}

What criteria is used by professionals to determine whether behavior is abnormal?

Is it rare/unusual?

Is it socially deviant?

Does it involve faulty perceptions or interpretations of reality?

Does it cause significant personal distress?

Is it maladaptive or self-defeating?

Is it dangerous?

Depending on the person and their context, some criteria may be weighted more heavily than others, but typically multiple criteria need to be met for a behavior to be deemed "abnormal."

What is the current and lifetime prevalence of psychological disorders in the United States? Are there differences in prevalence as a function of gender and age?

- 46% of US adults are directly affected by a diagnosable mental disorder at some point in their lives.

- 18.9% of US adults are currently affected by a serious mental or psychological disorder.

- US women are more likely than men to suffer from psychological disorders, especially mood disorders.

- Compared to adults over the age of 50, twice as many young adults (18-25) are affected by serious psychological disorders.

- 15% of US adults receive some form of help for mental health problems each year, which means that many people who need help don’t receive it.

Other takeaways from the Surgeon General’s report on mental health (published by the US Dept of Health & Human Services):

- Mental health reflects the complex interaction of brain function and environmental influences.

- Effective treatments exist for most mental disorders, including psychological interventions such as psychotherapy and counseling, and psychopharmacological or drug therapies. Treatment is often more effective when psychological and psychopharmacological treatments are combined.

- Progress in developing effective prevention programs in the mental health field has been slow because we don’t know the causes of many mental disorders or ways of altering known influences such as genetic predispositions.

- Mental health problems are best understood when we take a broader view and consider the social and cultural contexts in which they occur.

- Mental health services need to be designed and delivered in a manner that takes into account the viewpoints and needs of racial and ethnic minorities.

What are the cultural bases of abnormal behavior?

- In Western [colonial] cultures, models based on medical disease and psychological factors feature prominently in explaining abnormal behavior. In traditional [Indigenous] cultures, models of abnormal behavior often invoke spiritual or supernatural causes.

- In the US, feelings of guilt and sadness are emphasized when discussing/diagnosing depression. In China, the physical/somatic symptoms of depression receive greater emphasis (headaches, fatigue, weakness, etc).

What is the demonological model of abnormal behavior?

- The notion of supernatural causes of abnormal behavior (AKA “demonology”) was prominent in Western cultures until the Age of Enlightenment.

What are the origins of the medical model of abnormal behavior?

- Hippocrates (ca. 460-377 BCE, Greece) challenged the prevailing beliefs of his time and culture by arguing that illnesses of the body and mind resulted from natural causes, not spirit possession. He believed that a person’s health depended on the balance of humors (vital fluids) in the body:

phlegm

blood

black bile

yellow bile

- Although science has moved beyond the need for Hippocrates’ theory of bodily humors, it foreshadowed the modern medical model by proposing that underlying biological processes cause abnormal behavior.

- He also originated an oath of medical ethics that is now called the Hippocratic oath.

What kind of treatment did mental patients receive during medieval times?

- Between 476 CE and 1450 CE, Europeans went back to the doctrine of possession, which held that abnormal behaviors were caused by evil spirits or by the Devil Himself. This was mostly the fault of the Roman Catholic Church.

- The Church’s prescription for possession was exorcism. An exorcist’s job was to persuade evil spirits that the body they “possessed” was no longer habitable. Methods included prayer, waving a cross at the victim, beatings and floggings, and starvation. if the victim continued to display inappropriate behavior, they could be subjected to “remedies” such as the rack or other torture devices.

- By the late 15th and early 16th centuries, asylums (AKA “madhouses”) began to appear throughout Europe. Asylums often gave refuge to beggars as well as the mentally ill, but conditions were pretty awful and patients were not treated with respect by staff or by the public.

Who were the leading reformers of mental health treatment? What changes occurred during the 19th and early 20th centuries?

- The modern era of mental health treatment began with the efforts of two Frenchmen: Jean-Baptiste Pussin & Philippe Pinel. They argued that people who behave abnormally are suffering from diseases and should be treated humanely. This was NOT a popular view at the time; mentally ill people were widely regarded as threats to society.

- From 1784 to 1802, Pussin (who had no professional qualifications at all) was placed in charge of a ward for the “incurably insane” at a large mental hospital in Paris. They were considered so dangerous and unpredictable that they were chained up at all times. Pussin unchained them and forbade the staff from treating the residents harshly, firing any employee who ignored his directives. As he predicted, most of these “incurable” patients were manageable and calm once they could walk around and get some fresh air.

- Pinel took over Pussin’s work and continued his humane treatment. He stopped practices such as bleeding and purging. He moved patients from dark dungeons to well-ventilated, sunny rooms. He also talked to them for hours, believing that showing concern and understanding would help restore them to normal function.

- The philosophy of treatment that emerged from Pussin & Pinel’s efforts was labeled moral therapy. It was based on the belief that restoring function to patients was most likely if they were provided humane treatment in a relaxed environment with decent living standards.

- In the United States, Benjamin Rush (1745-1813) published the first American textbook on psychiatry in 1812: Medical Inquiries and Observations Upon the Diseases of the Mind. He believed that madness was caused by engorgement of the brain’s blood vessels, and recommended relieving the pressure via bloodletting, purging, and ice-cold baths.

- Dr. Rush directed Philadelphia Hospital staff to treat patients with kindness, respect, and understanding. He also favored occupational therapy, music therapy, and travel therapy. His hospital became the first in the US to admit patients for psychological disorders, and he is considered the father of American psychiatry.

- Dr. Rush was also an early leader of the anti-slavery movement and a signatory to the Declaration of Independence.

- Dorothea Dix (1802-1887), a Boston schoolteacher, traveled around the country exposing the terrible conditions of mentally ill people in jails and almshouses. As a result of her efforts, 32 mental hospitals were established through the United States.

- In the latter half of the 19th century, moral therapy fell out of favor. Mental institutions in the US grew in size, but didn’t provide quality care. Straitjackets, handcuffs, cribs, straps, and other devices were used to restrain excitable or violent patients. Mental hospitals became frightening and filthy places.

- By the mid-1950s, the population in mental hospitals had risen to half a million. Some state hospitals provided decent and human care, but that was not the norm. Poorly trained and unsupervised staff abused the patients, who were basically left to die. These conditions led to widespread calls for reform, which resulted in...

de-institutionalization: a policy of shifting the burden of care from state hospitals to community-based treatment settings.

{Note: This is a really complicated topic. While conditions in most mental hospitals were absolutely unacceptable and something HAD to change, the motives for de-institutionalization were not totally pure and the results of these policies were not totally positive. Further reading:

https://ps.psychiatryonline.org/doi/10.1176/appi.ps.52.8.1039

https://mhanational.org/blog/legacy-deinstitutionalization

https://mentalillnesspolicy.org/imd/deinstitutionalization-flory.html

https://ncd.gov/publications/2012/Sept192012 }

What is the role of mental hospitals in today’s mental health system?

- Today’s state hospital is generally more treatment-oriented and focuses on preparing residents to return to their communities. When hospitalization has restored patients to a higher level of functioning, the patients are given follow-up care and (if needed) transitional residences while they reintegrate into their communities. If a community-based hospital is not available or if they require more extensive care, patients may be re-hospitalized as needed in a state hospital.

- For younger and less intensely ill people, state hospital stays are typically shorter than they were in the past. But for elderly and chronic patients, independent life may be too difficult, because they’ve spent so much of their adult lives in an institution.

What are the goals and outcomes of the community mental health movement?

- In 1963, Congress established a nationwide system of community mental health centers (CMHCs) intended to offer an alternative to long-term custodial care in institutional settings. Unfortunately, this didn’t work out too well, because (1) not enough of them were established to meet the needs of patients and (2) the CMHCs that did/do exist were/are underfunded.

- Up to 37% of jail and prison inmates suffer from serious mental illnesses, which raises troubling questions about whether prisons are the new asylums.

- An estimated 20 to 30% of unhoused people in the United States suffer from serious psychological disorders. Many also have severe medical problems and neuropsychological impairments that prevent them from finding or keeping a job.

- Up to 50% of unhoused people in the US also suffer from substance use problems, and they rarely receive treatment.

- On top of the lack of available housing {note: I would say “lack of access” to available housing, because vacant homes outnumber unhoused people in the US} and insufficient community care, there are also valid reasons for unhoused people to avoid psychiatric treatment. Many of these folks have been disrespected, mistreated, dehumanized, or straight-up ignored by mental health professionals who were supposed to help them.

- Basically, the CMHC movement needs a lot more money and widespread support if it’s going to fulfill the promises made during de-institutionalization.

[briamichellewrites]

28

Elliot was having trouble. She complained of hearing whispering in her head. Was it one voice or multiple voices? They were multiple voices. What were they saying? She couldn’t understand them because their voices overlapped with each other. Phoenix wrapped his arms around her because she was distressed and he didn’t know how else to help her. She had been complaining about the voices for a week and she wanted them to stop.

He went with her to her therapist appointment, where she mentioned the voices. That brought concern to her therapist. She asked her questions about what the voices were saying, how often she heard them, and her state of mind during the episodes. They happened four times during the week and they seemed to happen randomly during the day.

She was usually doing housework when they happened or tended to the animals. Phoenix elaborated that she appeared distressed during the episodes and it took her a while to calm down after. Her therapist observed her as she continued answering questions. She appeared to be calm and responsive. Unfortunately, she wasn’t displaying enough symptoms to confirm a diagnosis of schizophrenia. She might have been at the onset of the disorder but that couldn’t be confirmed.

They left feeling discouraged. He wanted to help her but he couldn’t. Brad had given her a package of cigarettes and a lighter the last time he visited, so she went outside to the backyard. He came out and followed her. After sitting down and lighting up, she inhaled. He didn’t want her to smoke and he hated that she was doing that to herself. It was unhealthy and caused cancer.

She rested her head on his shoulder. He kissed the side of her head, and she started crying quietly.

“Babe, what’s wrong?”

“I wish I could videotape my brain, so everyone could see the shit I have to go through. I fucking hate this and I wish I was normal.”

“I wish that too. You don’t deserve to hear voices and I am so sorry I can’t stop them.”

The next day, they visited Mike to talk about what was happening. Even though the band was on hiatus, he and Brad were still working together in the studio. Mike enjoyed working on music. It was his escape. He had completed therapy for his PTSD and he was symptom-free. After getting a puppy, he used his energy to focus on her. He and Chester had gone to a shelter and he fell in love with a French bulldog puppy named Misty. She was his daughter and she made him laugh every day.

She was the reason why he got up in the morning and why he got outside. Brad checked in on him to see how he was doing, even when he was on set for one of his movies. They talked about everything other than Anna and his new baby, Shiloh. She had been born healthy with light blonde hair and blue eyes.

He had to get used to changing diapers, giving bottles, and everything else that went into taking care of a baby. But he wouldn’t trade her or Elliot for anything in the world. Mike noticed her coming in with Phoenix. He could tell she had been crying, so he became concerned. Her eyes were red and her face was wet. What’s going on? She told him about the voices in her head and how her therapist hadn’t done anything.

When was this? Yesterday. Phoenix described the appointment. It was extremely frustrating because she felt she hadn’t listened to her and dismissed her. She also was frustrated because she wanted to get rid of the voices. Did she have a cigarette? Yeah. He could smell it on her clothes.

“What I’m worried about is your self-medicating or self-harming.”

“Phoenix is keeping me away from alcohol.”

“Good. Please don’t start drinking again. It won’t make the voices go away. It will only make it worse. I’m sorry that you’re going through this. You don’t deserve to have voices talking to you. Do you feel safe?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I’m not having delusions and I’m not seeing things.”

He wanted her to find something to do during the day. She had decided not to renew her modeling contract when it expired because she wanted to get into learning about movie production. Maybe being busy would help her. He went to the computer and up auditory hallucinations.

They followed and stood behind him. While going to google, they found a website that had information about hallucinations. It listed conditions where hallucinations would be present. PTSD was one of them. He looked up ‘hallucinations PTSD’. There. He found a medical website that listed hallucinations as one of the symptoms of PTSD.

“Rare cases of PTSD may involve auditory hallucinations and paranoid ideation. Individuals who experience auditory hallucinations may experience tinnitus, a constant ringing in one's ears, or they may hear a voice or set of voices that are not physically present.”

He turned around and looked at Elliot. She was sixteen years old. That meant she could go to a pediatric PTSD specialist. He turned around and looked up places she could go. There were residential treatment centers but she didn’t need that. After searching, they found a specialist in anxiety and PTSD. This is why they came over because they knew he could help them. They were welcome! She got out her phone and dialed the number.

After leaving the room for privacy, Phoenix thanked him. How was she doing? The past month had been rough. The voices came out of nowhere. At first, she was scared to tell him because she thought she sounded stupid. He admitted to feeling helpless over not being able to help her. Mike could understand that. Mental illness was never easy. It was complicated and they had to rely on experts.

But, even they didn’t always have all of the answers. He nodded in agreement.

Phoenix was getting used to what it meant to date the child of Brad Pitt. There was zero privacy and when they went out on dates, they were caught by the paparazzi. People were curious about him. When they found out he was ten years older and she was underage, his fans were shocked. They never engaged in public displays of affection, other than a hug. They could be mistaken for friends or a sibling relationship. No, the media had to make their relationship romantic.

He was a private person and he wasn’t used to the paparazzi or tabloids. Elliot apologized profusely to him. She had no idea that they would be taking pictures of them. He told her not to apologize. I love you. She loved him, too. Brad knew the pressure of having a lot of attention and he checked in with him by visiting him and Mike at the studio.

Anna had gone through the same thing when they first started dating openly. She also was photographed after they announced her pregnancy. That was just part of his life. Still, he wanted to protect the people he cared about from it. Phoenix admitted that he didn’t know how to feel about it. He and his band considered themselves famous but not celebrities. They slipped under the radar. He gave him advice of ignoring them. The more he retaliated, the more aggressive they became.

The tabloids were going to write whatever caught people’s attention. The important thing was that his friends and family knew who he was. Elliot knew who he was. That was what mattered the most. He genuinely liked him because he saw how happy Ellie was and it was because of him. Thank you. He appreciated getting his approval.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless

[myhockeyworld87]

What Happens In Vegas...Doesn’t Always Stay There - Jacob Markstrom - Part 2

Word Count: 4,845

POV: Reader

Warning: Language, NSFW, Smut

Notes: Well you guys have spoken and it looks like this the fic you wanted posted. Don’t worry, I’ll be posting the others soon. But in case you were wondering where we left. Our reader was in Vegas at a bachelorette party, when she had a few too many drinks and wound up married to one Jacob Markstrom. Let’s see what happens next. As always feedback is welcome. Happy Reading!

What Happens In Vegas...Doesn’t Always Stay There Masterlist

"Fuck," you yelled, once you realized that you were now Mrs. Markstrom. This couldn't be happening. Your brain couldn't be remembering things right.

"Vad? Vada r fel?" Jacob mumbled in a haze of sleep, lifting his head to check on you. You had no idea that he was asking you what was wrong, as he automatically defaulted to Swedish in his drowsy state. "Are you ok?"

"No, no I'm not." Your voice was panicked and you were starting to break out in a cold sweat. "We're married!"

 His head flopped back down on the pillow. "Oh, that."

 Wait he knew and wasn't saying anything. "That," you said with a note of distress in your voice. "What do you mean 'oh, that?'"

 He turned his head so that he faced you, as you straightened your body so you could rest against the headboard; fighting the urge to get up and pace the room. "It was a joke. We just took a couple pictures with some Elvis."

 A joke? Ok, that kind of seemed like drunk you, after all everyone said you were a fun drunk. You sagged back against the mattress, breathing a sigh of relief. "So that's all it was, a joke?"

 "Mmmhmm." Well, that made you feel a bit better. "From what I remember it was. Things are a bit hazy." Jacob saying that, did not. He got up then, rolling onto his side and propping his head up. "I vaguely recall saying we were just going to snap some pictures and show your friend how silly it was to rush into things. I'm sure that's all we did." He had to be right, that part of the night still eluded you, though you do remember wandering into the chapel. "Though we can still pretend we're on our honeymoon if you want."

 His free hand, the one his head wasn't propped up on, slid under the duvet and across your midsection. His fingers wandering down to your core. His eyebrows wiggled suggestively, a silent plea for you to let him keep going. Now that you were a bit more relieved at knowing your marriage to him was some elaborate rouse, you were a bit more inclined for that second round with him, so you smiled giving him the green light to continue.

 Jacob didn't need to be told twice, as you felt his fingers widening your legs to give him access to your pussy. His fingertips lightly brushed against you and you sucked in a breath. "Fan du ar vat." You had to admit that Swedish wasn't the most seductive language, but when it rolled off his tongue it turned you into jelly. He recognized that you didn't know what he was saying and translated for you. "Fuck, you're wet." You were, there was no denying that, as this man just did things to you by simply giving you a look.

 He wasted no time sliding a finger inside you while his thumb brushed against your clit. You couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips as he made your body tingle with delight. "So sensitive, prinsessa. I love that." His mouth kissed the outside of your thigh as he still laid on his side, his fingers torturing you. "I may not remember all of last night," Jacob admitted. "But I remember hearing you moan." As if on cue, you groaned out when his finger hit your most delicate spot. "So pretty." He removed his fingers and you whined at the loss of contact. "Ride me, prinsessa." He rolled onto his back, giving your thigh a squeeze.

 There was no denying your needs right then. You wanted him inside you, so you straddled him. Knees on either side of his hips, you positioned his cock right at your entrance. You savored the feel of him sliding inside you as you sunk down on him slowly, fully engulfing his dick inside you. Jacob's hands slid up and down your sides caressing your body. After your tumble with him last night, you knew your hair had to be a disaster, so you ran your fingers through your locks, hoping to at least make yourself a bit more presentable as you rode him.

 Unbeknownst to you, the picture you painted Jacob was nothing short of pornography; arms raised above your head, tits bouncing, as you slowly moved your hips against him. While his memory of last night was a bit hazy, being buried inside you wasn’t. He clearly recalled needing to get ahold of himself before he spent in you too soon. Now was no different, as he gripped your hips hard then wildly bucked up into you.

 His movements thrilled you and had you bracing yourself against the headboard as he fucked you. He had told you to ride him but wasn’t willing to give over the reigns completely, but that was ok with you. He slowed his thrusts, giving you back just a bit of control, yet his hands lingered at your waist ready to take it back at any minute. You ran your hands up your side, then cupped your breasts, gently pulling on the nipples. “My god, you’re beautiful,” Jacob panted out as you looked down at him through hooded lashes.

 The sound of your bodies slapping together filled the room. Jacob’s fingertips dug into your ass cheeks as you picked up your pace, riding him earnestly now. His hips met you every time you ground down on him. At one point Jacob couldn’t take it anymore and he moved his one hand so he could toy with your clit. “Oh fuck,” you breathed out when he rubbed the little nub. “Jacob…I’m gonna…” The rest was a garbled mess as you came hard grinding down on his rock-hard cock inside you.

 “Yes, prinsessa.” Jacob watched you fall apart loving every emotion that played across your face. It pushed him over the edge and with a few more thrusts he spilled his cum deep inside your cunt.

 Your body was spent as you sagged forward on top of Jacob. You were both breathing hard, chest heaving in an effort to draw in more air. After a few seconds, you felt his lips on you; kissing your forehead, your nose, and then finally your lips. The kiss was sweet and loving, perfect after the sweaty and exhausting sex that had just happened. “Min vackra prinsessa,” he whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear as it had cascaded around the two of you obscuring his view of your face. “Too bad our marriage is a joke, for I could get used to that.”

 “We don’t have to be married for you to enjoy that again.” You pecked his lips then lifted off of him and rolled onto your side of the bed. “Come see me in LA anytime.”

 “You realize I’ll be there at least four times with my schedule, and San Jose isn’t too far from you.” His body was turned towards you so that you could see the seriousness in his face.

 “Well, I expect to be seeing my fake husband when he’s in town.” You gave him a little wink before adding, “And I think the trip to San Jose would be totally worth it.” He got up then and walked to the bathroom. You heard the water running and it wasn’t more than a minute or two before he was back at the bed.

 “Here.” He brought you a glass of water and a couple aspirin. It was exactly what you needed.

 “Thank you.”

 “Sleep, it’s still early, then we’ll shower later.” He dropped a kiss to your lips while tucking the covers up around then crawling into bed with you. He tucked you into his side and you swiftly drifted back to sleep.

 It was a couple hours later that Jacob woke up before you. His mind troubled with thoughts. It wasn’t a bad dream so much as a nagging feeling eating away at him. He carefully removed himself from the bed careful not to disturb you as you continued to sleep on peacefully. Covering himself with a pair of boxer briefs, he grabbed a bottle of water then sat down on the sofa in the suite. On the table lay the pictures from your fake wedding. He picked them up, laughing to himself at the photo on top. It was a dramatic shot of him asking you to marry him, and you acting shocked. He vaguely remembered doing that but the rest was all a blur. He leafed through the other shots. One of a fake Elvis, which seemed to be typical Vegas style, another of you kissing him after the proposal, still more of you being married by Elvis. They would all make for a cute memory of his time with you. Hell, part of him wished that he was married to you. He wouldn’t mind being buried balls deep in you every night.

 Jacob finally got to the last photo, or what he thought was the last picture; only it was some sort of document. He flipped it so that he could read it better. “Fuck,” he whispered softly as he read the words so nicely scripted across the paper. It seemed to be a marriage license, signed not only by both of you but the Elvis impersonator as well, whose name wasn’t Elvis and seemed to be a legitimately licensed marriage officiant.

 He needed to find out if this was real, so grabbing the hotel phone off the end table, he called the chapel. “Hello Mr. Markstrom, how can I help you?” An overly cheerful woman answered the phone.

 “Um, yeah, so I was wondering…I was there last night with…” He had to look down at the license to remember your last night. “Ms. (Y/LN) and I have our license in my hand. I was just wondering how valid this is?”

 “Oh, I can assure you Mr. Markstrom that it is one hundred percent authentic and has been filed electronically with the courthouse. You and Ms. (Y/LN) are indeed married. We make sure to dot all the I’s and cross all the T’s before we let you leave.”

 Jacob covered the phone then muttered, “Fuck.”

 “Is there anything else you need?”

 “No, um…I’m good. Thank you.”

 “No problem and congratulations again to you and the new Mrs. Markstrom.”

 Jacob hung up the phone and swore furiously in Swedish. You stirred, hearing something but not really registering what was going on, as you blinked your eyes several times clearing the sleep from them. The bed was empty next to you, and you found yourself sitting up looking for Jacob. He wasn’t in the bathroom, so you got up and padded out to where the seating area was. Sure enough there he was sitting with his head in his hand. “Head hurt that bad?” He groaned in reply. “Come back to bed and I’ll make it feel better.”

 He lifted his head up and turned to you then, a serious look in his eyes. “You’re not going to like this, prinsessa.” Well, if he was calling you princess again, it couldn’t be all bad. You raised an eyebrow in query. “Apparently, we’re married.”

 “Right, you told me it was a joke.” You sat down on the couch beside him, noticing the scattered photos on the table. “See, like I would ever get married by some Elvis doppelganger.”

 “It wasn’t a joke.” He handed over what looked like a marriage license, a very authentic one at that. Leave it to Vegas to be thorough even in practical joking. “There’s a seal on it and everything.” He was right there, but that would mean that this was real.

 “Oh, no….no, no, no….no. This isn’t real. You said…”

 “I know what I thought, but I wasn’t one hundred percent sure. So I called.” There was a look of dread on his face. "The paperwork has already been filed at the courthouse. Yay for technology."

 You knew he was trying to find a bit of humor in this mess, but frankly, you didn't find it funny at all. "Now what?"

 "I was just trying to come up with that when you came in."

 It hit you then, the solution to your problem. Maybe if you hadn't drunk enough alcohol to float a small ship last night it would've come to you sooner. "We'll just get an annulment."

 "Is that possible, after last night and well this morning?"

 "Hmm, I hadn't thought about that. Well, divorce it is." It wasn't ideal and you can't imagine having to explain it down the line, years from now, when you finally found someone you wanted to be tied down to, but it was the answer to your problem.

 Jacob seemed to mull it over a bit, and it struck you that he might be religious and that this might not be an option after all. "I'll make a phone call," he finally told you and you breathed out a sigh of relief. It took the two of you several minutes to locate your phones but eventually, you found them. While Jacob called his lawyer, you checked your messages. There were several texts from the girls saying they were heading to breakfast, so you shot one off yourself. There was no way you were meeting them yet, so you cried off stating that you were still hungover from the day before. You were really going to need to patch things up with Kennedy after all this trip was about her. Hopefully, you could share a laugh with her about this whole mess.

 A curse word muttered, or at least you thought it was, one in Swedish, brought you back to the situation at hand, and you looked at Jacob expectantly. "Apparently, it's not as easy as we think." He blew out a very frustrated sigh. "It's still doable, but it's going to take a lot longer than I expected."

 "How long?"

 "A couple months after the papers are signed and filed, possibly more."

 "What!?! You've got to be kidding me." That didn't make any sense at all. Shouldn't you be able to get a quickie divorce in a week when both parties were in agreement?

 "Well, my citizenship is one factor, but apparently it just takes that kind of time."

 "We got married in like, what...seconds. I don't understand." You started scrolling through your contacts looking for Aaron's number, then hit it and started to walk away.

 "Who are you calling?"

 "A friend, who's also an attorney." Aaron worked for the same firm as you, only in the legal department. Surely he'd dealt with a celebrity or two that had this same problem.

 You gave Aaron the condensed version of what happened, hoping that he'd come through and be your savior. "I hate to say it (Y/N), this Jacob's attorney is right. It's going to take you that long, if not longer." A growl of frustration was all you gave as an answer. "Cheer up babe, it could be worse."

 "Really? How so?"

 "Well, you could've picked some homeless guy off the street. At least this one sounds decent, and it's not like you have to move to Canada or Sweden while you wait this out. Just go on about your business."

 "I know, you're right. Thanks for your help, Aaron. I'll see you in a day or two." With that, you hung up the phone and headed back to Jacob.

 "Looks like you didn't fare any better."

 You sat heavily down on the couch. "No, not at all. Looks like we better start filing so we can get this done sooner than later." The look in Jacob's eye had you questioning things. You had thought you both were on the same page. Sure last night and this morning were fun, but what did you really know about each other. He couldn't really be thinking about staying married. When you couldn't take it any longer, you blurted out, "what?"

 He shook his head. "Nothing." When you gave him that look that said you didn't believe him he finally fessed up. "You're wearing my shirt."

 "Oh, sorry. I realized when I was on the phone I didn't have anything on. Hope you don't mind."

 Jacob actually didn't mind at all, in fact, he kind of liked you in it, which was a new feeling. "No, not at all. Though I'll admit I like you without anything on as well."

 It was hard to stop your eyes from rolling at his words especially at a time like this, but somehow you managed to. "While I appreciate the compliment, we should probably figure out what we're going to do." It was then that you looked at him, in only his boxers. His washboard abs calling out to your fingertips to just run over them, not to mention the strain of his cock against those briefs. You bit your lip just thinking about the things that you wanted to do to him and have him do to you. "And once that's done, then we can celebrate our divorce."

 "I like the way you think." He scooted you closer on the couch so that your legs were draped over his. "I was thinking that while you were on the phone, that I can just have my lawyer handle things. He said he could have everything drawn up in a couple days since we don't have to split up a house or any belongs."

 "That's fine. You can email me them and I'll just sign and send them back."

 "He did mention one thing, though I'm loathed to bring it up." His hand was traveling up and down your shins making it hard to think, but you were intent upon getting this divorce started.

 "Just tell me, after all, we are married, and married people shouldn't have secrets right?" I mean it was a bad joke, you'll admit that, but then if you couldn't laugh about this shamble of a mess you may start to cry.

 "He wanted to make sure that you weren't after, well...you know."

 Your eyebrows drew together as you tried to figure out his meaning, and then it hit you. "Oh my god! No, I'm not after any money. I would never and it's not like I don't have my own. I mean it's probably not anything close to what you make, but I do bring in quite a bit. Oh my god, I'm rambling. But no, no, I don't want a cent from you."

 "I told him I thought that was the case, but he wanted me to be sure."

 "Ok as long as you didn't think that."

 Jacob was quick to tell you he didn't. "No, not at all. If I'm being honest, I think getting married was my idea, if I remember right."

 "I wish I could remember more, though these pictures do bring back a few memories. I can't remember how we got these rings though. What is this cubic zirconia?"

 "Umm, nope." His cheeks started to turn a delightful shade of red. "My credit card tells me it's a diamond."

 "Oh Jacob," you exclaimed, taking off the ring. "This has to be a fortune. It's at least three carats." Quickly, you put the ring in his hand as if it was going to burn you. This fake marriage had caused enough damage that he didn't need to be on the hook for a ring that you'd never wear again.

 "You know I can afford it right?"

 "Of course, I know that. You just shouldn't have to pay for my mistake."

 "It wasn't just your mistake." It was sweet of him to try and shoulder the blame, but if you wouldn't have had that tiff with Kennedy, then you wouldn't have gotten drunk ass stupid and married him. "We both did this, but there's no point in arguing about it. In a few short months, this marriage will be over."

 "True."

 "Let me give him a quick call and get things started." You went to move but Jacob stilled you with his arm. The conversation was brief, his hand was inching further up your thighs during the entire call, sending delightful tingles all over your body. As soon as he hung up, that same hand reached your core. "So now that that's settled. What about that celebration? You know while we're still married and all."

 You'd already said you weren't making it to brunch with everyone, so there was really no reason, not to indulge in what you wanted. Scooting up a little further onto his lap, you grabbed the back of his neck and drew his lips down to yours. One kiss melted into another and another until neither of you could take it any longer and Jacob took you there on the sofa. After that, it was round 4 in the shower.

 You and Jacob exchanged numbers so that you could keep in touch while the divorce papers were being worked on by his lawyer. Since both of you were still in Vegas another night, you agreed to meet up a little later. Jacob claiming that it was safer to be with his 'wife' than out looking for another one.

 It was an hour after leaving Jacob before you were knocking on Kennedy’s door, there to apologize for everything you said to her the day before. She opened the door, and without so much as a hello, grabbed your arm and hauled you inside. “You have to tell me everything that happened?” How the hell did she know what had happened with Jacob. She was your best friend and all, but the last time you checked she was not a psychic. “I called Ryan and he told me those guys were from the Canucks, which happen to be his favorite hockey team in the world.” Somehow you really weren’t shocked to find that out. Considering Ryan was from Seattle and an avid sports fan. “When Jade told me, you were hooking up with one of them, I died. I need to know everything.”

 Oh, you weren’t sure if she was ready to hear everything. “Can I first apologize for being an absolute asshole to you yesterday?”

 “You can, but there’s no need. I know your feelings about marriage and how you think we’re rushing into it. I get that you were just looking out for me and only want me to be happy, and you know I’ll be happy with Ryan. I wasn’t really mad at you, per se. It was more about smoothing things over with Gretchen. You know how she can be.” You did know how Gretchen was, which was why you felt even worse for saying what you did, when you did. “(Y/N), you’re the closest thing I’ll ever have to a sister, and nothing you say is ever going to change that.”

 You enveloped her in a massive hug. There were times that you felt as if you and Kennedy were twins separated at birth and it was nice to know she felt that way too. “I really am sorry.”

 “It’s already forgiven. Now, tell me everything that happened, or more importantly; can you get any of their autographs so I can take them back to Ryan?”

 “Oh, I’m pretty sure I can get us seats to any game if he wants to go?”

 Kennedy's face was filled with a mixture of shock and joy. “Really?”

 “Yeah, I’m pretty sure they have a family suite or something for wives to sit in.”

 This time you watched as that same shocked look turned into confusion. “I’m not following you?”

 “Well…I kind of sort of…” Kennedy might be your best friend, who knew you better than yourself, but you still didn’t know how to tell her this. It was always easiest to just rip the bandaid off, you supposed. “That is…I got married last night.”

 “YOU WHAT?”

 “Little louder, Kenny I don’t think they heard you at the Bellagio.”

 “I’m sorry but you cannot just drop that bomb on me and expect me not to shout at you like you lost your damn mind.” Ok, she had a point. You had in fact lost your mind and your memory. Damn alcohol. “You need to tell me everything right now.”

 It took you a half hour to tell Kennedy all the details of what had happened with Jacob. She was stunned, to say the least. In the end, the only thing she wanted to know was if you were now her matron of honor instead of maid. Leave it to Kennedy to make you laugh at a time like this. She agreed to keep your marriage a secret from the other girls and you hoped that she didn’t blurt it out like she did your little sexcapade with Superman, though she insisted that all of you meet up with Jacob and some of his teammates that night.

  Like you, Jacob had only told one other person about what happened that night, his friend and teammate Chris; to everyone else, it just seemed as though you two were very interested in one another. At the end of the night, you were fumbling back into his suite, divesting him of every garment he had on, while he did the same to you. The next morning, you said your goodbyes but decided to keep in touch. Jacob promised you there would be tickets with your name on them anytime you wanted them in Vancouver and that he’d definitely see you when he was in LA. It was something you were definitely looking forward to. Despite the whole marriage debacle, or maybe because of it, you had to say that your trip to Las Vegas was one you were definitely going to remember for a lifetime.

 Twenty-four hours later, when you were back in your own place, still trying to rehydrate from the past seventy-two hours, is when you received a phone call from Jacob. He called to make sure that you got back to Los Angeles and that everything was fine. It was actually kind of sweet. It was about sixteen hours after that, that you found yourself calling him after his first practice. One conversation rolled into the next and so on until you were talking at least twice a day. He talked about hockey and his life in Sweden as well as Vancouver, while you told him about LA and your job there. Family and friends were a topic that came up often, almost to a point that you felt as if his teammates were your friends as well. Sure, there were the occasional nights where phone sex ended up taking place, though you had to admit it was much better than some of the dates you’d gone on in the past. If one was on the outside looking in, they probably wouldn’t understand why you were actually going through with the divorce. That thought didn’t stop you from signing the documents and sending them back to Jacob though.

 As the season started, Jacob still made time to talk to you every day. He even started to wonder if the circumstances had been different and the two of you had met in Vancouver or LA, would you be an actual couple at this point. He had to admit that your conversations were the highlight of his day. You were smart and funny with a wit about you that he enjoyed, and well to say that you were attractive was a complete understatement in his book. If Jacob was being honest with himself, you were his ideal woman.

 Which is why when the divorce papers came in, almost a month after he met you, he simply threw them on his desk and vowed to take them to his attorney soon. Unfortunately, he forgot he had an extended road trip coming up, which made him forget about them completely. They only crossed his mind once while he was gone when you’d asked him if he got them. He tried to make a mental note to remember them when he got home, but not only did they slip his mind, but they also got buried in a mountain of mail on his desk.

 The following week when he got home was a bit crazy. He missed a night in calling you when a game went into overtime. When he tried to the next day you didn’t answer. Jacob tried not to give it too much thought or take it personally, though his mind told him differently. He knew that you had a big ad campaign coming up and that work had started to consume your life. He just hoped it wasn’t with some hot male stripper or movie star.

 When you didn’t answer the phone the following three days, Jacob started to believe that what the two of you had or were starting to have, never really existed. He had resigned himself that he’d probably never see or hear from you again. Oh, how he was wrong.  

.

[themangolorian]

Pairing: Mandalorian x Reader

Request for @the1maddest1hatter my absolute love who has been so completely and totally patient with me and understanding and i’m so glad i was able to finally finish this and post it for you finally, and i hope it’s everything you were hoping for and more. thank you so much for not giving up on me - this was so fun to write and i’m glad i finally got it to somewhere i’m happy w/ it. i love you! 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Warnings: some slight violence.

You weren’t often in the habit of getting yourself involved in the business of others. But when you’d seen imperial guards chasing the cloaked and armored figure across the square, you figured you had no choice.

The fleeing culprit looked more than capable of taking care of himself, but the enemy of your enemy was your friend. So, interrupting the elaborate dance you’d been performing in the middle of the market, you twirled and flipped expertly until you were between the guards and whoever it was they’d been chasing. The distraction was enough. Still dancing and trying to suppress a smile, you saw the end of the figure’s cape disappearing around a corner.

The guards cursed violently your way but shouldered their way roughly past you in pursuit of the disappearing figure. What was more, your ruse had drawn the attention of the crowd of shoppers in the square, most of whom assuredly also had no love for the Empire. Before long, the cylinder you’d put in the square was full of credits.

But then-

Someone gripped your elbow painfully from behind, someone else your shoulder. Striking out to escape, you accidentally turned over the cylinder, spilling credits everywhere.

Loud shouts, haranguing from the crowd, assaulted the imperial guards who had returned empty-handed, the figure no doubt having escaped.

“What kind of dancer do you think I am?” You lilted sarcastically with more confidence than you deserved considering you were being detained.

“Keep your conniving trap shut, scum.” The trooper at your back rammed his baton into your lower back and you could hardly suppress the yelp of pain as you crumpled.

The protests from the crowd were easily deterred when the guards drew their high powered blasters and before you knew what was happening, you were being dragged away in durasteel binders. You cursed under your breath at the imperial guard who scooped up your hard-earned, now easily lost credits.

That was when the Madalorian had swooped in and, helped by the element of surprise, along with what was clearly immense skill, had taken out the guards - freeing you.

“What are you, a trooper gone good?” You’d joked, gesturing at his armor, though you knew it bore little resemblance to a trooper’s. He’d only grunted, focusing instead on freeing you from the binders.

But inevitably the guards had been almost instantly replaced with another unit who’d wasted no time in opening fire. The Mandalorian had dragged you along by the binders you were still trapped in. He managed to dart out of the way of every blaster shot aimed your way, hauling you with him as he went.

By the time you found yourself ensconced in the safety of his ship and as he blasted away from the planet you’d briefly called your home, your heart was beating too fast and you were laughing too hard, out of both panic and glee at the escapade, to question the new reality you found yourself in: on the ship of a stranger whose face you’d yet to see.

But that had been long ago enough by now that it was but a distant if happy memory. The Mandalorian, a man you’d thought so strange at first, had offered to drop you off on any planet of your choosing. And you’d truly meant to leave, but event after event had transpired, all revolving around the Empire’s chase for the child in the Mandalorian’s care, someone you’d also found strange but had now come to care for excessively.

You’d kept putting off leaving and then one day it had just stopped coming up. Though neither of you spoke of it, it now seemed a given that you were a staple in their strange little family.

“This is a good place to set up camp for the night,” the Mandalorian was saying, pulling you out of your reverie as you stared at the suns setting distantly in the sky past the horizon of the sea spread out beneath the cliff just beyond where you stood.

You turned absently and smiled at his visor. You had yet to see his face, even now, but by now he knew just how much you loved the seas, as few of them as you’d gotten to see in your lifetime. The choice of campsite was intentional, providing you with a breathtaking view of this particular planet’s suns-set.

Your heart stiffened painfully as you smiled sweetly his way. The man you’d gotten to know had been nothing like you’d thought he would be when you first met him, as intimidating as he’d seemed. He was gentle and generous to a fault, kinder than most souls you’d ever known.

The Mandalorian cleared his throat, breaking you from your stupor once more, but when he spoke, he too sounded emotional. “I’ll build the tent. Do you want to see how many rations we have left?”

You’s meant to answer but several things happened in succession. Din flinched then unholstered his blaster faster than you could blink. For one staggering moment of horror, you thought he was aiming it at you. But then the cold bite of metal was sharp at your throat, a strong arm coming around your middle firmly before you could react to any of it. A strangled cry left Din’s helmet.

“Where’s the target?” A raspy voice hissed at your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You tried to struggle, despite the idiocy of that act. Your hands shot to the man’s wrist around your neck and you threw your body back in the hopes of escape. But he was like a brick wall and did not budge, did not even react to your attempt as if you were little more than a bug beneath his shoe. It took you a long moment to process the fact that you were in danger of losing your life.

“Let her go,” Din spoke in a cold, threatening voice, “and I’ll let you live.” The blaster in his grip did not waver.

Your blood ran cold when your captor only chuckled. “Give me the location of the child, and I promise her death will be painless.” He flicked the sharp blade at your throat and you gasped involuntarily at the pain, felt a warm trickle of blood running down your neck.

You saw Din’s grip tighten around his blaster, knew he was calculating the odds of shooting your captor without harming you. But you knew Din too well now, knew what conclusion he would reach. But if you were a lost cause, you were free to do whatever it took to ensure that Din was not. To ensure both his safety and the safety of the child.

Thoughts of the craggy, rocky surface at the bottom of the cliff just behind you nearly made you shudder; your fear of heights was almost blinding, but you fought through the distress that would have paralyzed your entire body with fear. Din and the child were, after all, more than worth it.

The standoff continued as if the world had come to a standstill though the breeze continued to blow past you, the chirping of animals continued in the jungle you’d emerged from and, distantly, the breaking of waves on the rocks below did not stop.

Just as you meant to make your move, your captor was yanking your arm back and up until- a sickly crunch sounded and you screamed in pain, trying to muffle your own hurt so Din would not be goaded, but you saw only black for several seconds and your knees almost crumpled beneath you. The slight sliver of brainpower you had left in the moment told you to propel yourself backwards. Your captor, off balance from the movement of breaking your arm, staggered back with you, now just at the edge of the cliff.

“No,” Din shouted, his voice strangled, his blaster faltering now. If he shot, he ran the risk of hitting you. And the knife was still clutched at your throat.

Your captor hissed and tightened his grip around your throat in retaliation, and you struggled to breathe for a few moments. “Move one more muscle and I’ll throw you over the ledge,” he barked at you before loosening his grip. The knife had cut into your neck again, drawing more blood.

Your eyes never left Din’s visor. You could not, of course, see his eyes behind it, but you could will your thoughts and feelings into your own gaze, directed as it was at him. In the brief second you had left, you tried to express with your eyes alone everything you’d never had the courage to tell him before.

Then- you pretended to crumple in your captor’s arms, ignoring the way the knife cut at you again in your new position. He cursed, trying to straighten you. You used the moment in which he was caught off guard to propel him backwards with all the strength you had left in your body. At the same moment, you heard the sound of a blaster.

There had been the smallest part of your brain that had been sure you might be able to catapult him off the edge without going with him. But that had been a fool’s dream.

You lost your breath as you tumbled backwards off the cliff’s edge, unable even to scream.

Your captor had already lost his grip and distantly you heard his scream behind you as he fell. Though you were falling fast to the rocky depths below, you felt suspended in the air, suspended in time, trying to cherish only the last sight you’d had of Din as he’d surged forward hoping to catch you before you fell. You closed your eyes before you hit the icy surface of the unforgiving waters below.

******

Din had seen your intent the moment it had entered your eyes and had immediately been filled with nothing but pure dread. He ran through the possibilities as quickly as he could, but it hadn’t been fast enough. He’d shot the blaster only a second too late. And though the shot had found its mark in the heart of your captor, you’d gone over the edge anyway.

Another strangled, inhuman cry left Din’s lips as he leapt forward towards the cliff’s edge. He reached the peak just as your body disappeared beneath the surface below. This time he took no time to think. He dropped his blaster and dived gracefully off the cliff’s edge, trying to use his momentum to fall into the same area of choppy water where you’d disappeared, blessedly far enough away from the rocks that would have killed you instantly.

The icy temperature of the water barely registered beyond Din’s suit as he flipped his helm’s light on. Din tried not to panic when he saw nothing but empty, rough waters. Cursing within his helmet, he propelled himself further downwards, searching desperately for the sight of you. He began to breathe unevenly as water filled his helmet and knew he would soon have to surface. He could not, he knew, surface without you and expect you to live.

That was when he saw a flash of the bright skirt you almost always wore. He could have laughed with relief that you dressed so flashily. Then he was propelling himself through the water. His heart began thundering again when he saw your face blank, your eyes closed, unconscious.

His arms came around your chest and then he was battling the rough water upwards, breaking the surface and pulling you along with him. The water immediately drained from his helmet, allowing him to breathe. The weight of his armor and the strain of holding you aloft made the journey back to the rocky surface difficult, but adrenaline at the thought of the mere possibility of losing you drove Din faster.

He pulled you along with him up onto a rock above the breaking waves. He ripped his gloves off, one hand fluttering down to check your pulse, the other at your nose to see if you were breathing. When he realized you were not, he did not hesitate-

Din wrenched off his helmet and dropped it carelessly on the rock beside him. He fought the feelings of panic wrenching through him as he leaned down, pinched your nose between his fingers and put his lips to yours. He’d dreamed so many times of your lips on his, but never like this. He cursed himself distantly for never acting on his desires before, for letting his fear dictate his feelings for you, which were clear here at the possible end of it all.

Then he was pumping his clenched hands down on the center of your chest before putting his lips back to yours, trying to breathe you back to life.

“Come on,” he was saying roughly, “come on.”

***

Suddenly, you began to cough and heave, water trickling out of your mouth; your eyes fluttered open briefly. They closed again but not before you’d seen the stranger bringing you back to life. A beautiful, chiseled face. A man with plush lips, dark stubble and a mustache. Deep soulful brown eyes.

You struggled to breathe in, struggled to hack the remaining water from your lungs as you half sat up. The stranger held his arm sturdily at your back.

“The Mandalorian,” you managed to speak through racking coughs, “is he alright? Where is he?” In your panic, you had not stopped to think who the stranger might be or how you’d arrived in his care.

The man did not respond, only clapped you on the back several times, trying to help you cough the water out.

When your eyes fluttered open again briefly, they landed on the soaking cape, hanging over the stranger’s shoulder, seemed to finally see the beskar shoulder piece. You gasped, choking briefly on the water still trapped in your throat.

“What-“ But then he was fitting the helmet swiftly back over his head. But not before you had seen the anguish in his gaze.

Immediately, you berated yourself inwardly. You should have kept your eyes closed. You should have- but you could not have known.

“Din,” you tried, but you silenced yourself, knowing he must be kicking himself.

Quiet and stoic as the day you’d met him, he lifted you into his arms, letting you hitch yours around his neck. Despite what had happened, you cherished being in his arms, curling into his chest, your head pounding from the fall, from your near death.

You were weaker than you’d realized and lost consciousness in Din’s arms again barely registering that he’d activated his jetpack.

When you awoke, you were cozy and warm and wrapped up in a swathe of blankets, your wet clothes gone. You blinked at the ship’s hull above you. You were back on the Razor Crest.

“Grogu,” you managed through your drowsiness.

“He’s alright,” Din’s voice came from the alcove just to the side of his bed, which you were now laying in.

You breathed a sigh of relief, but your breath hitched when you remembered what had occurred, what you’d seen, what Din had done.

“Din,” you breathed against your will. Likely he wanted nothing more than to be left alone, as remorseful as he no doubt was. His creed for your life? What a paltry exchange.

The thought brought tears to your eyes. As well as the thought that Din could only hate you now. How could he not?

But then he was at your side, his gloved hands hovering over you. “Are you alright?” Concern so deeply evident in his voice that it only made you want to cry harder.

“I-“ you managed, your voice choked. You grasped his hand since he held it there just at your eye level, and he sunk down to one knee, tightening his grip around your own. “Din, your creed.”

For just a single moment, he stiffened, but then took a shaking breath and relaxed. His other hand came up to stroke your forehead, then your cheek. “Don’t think about it. Just rest.” His voice was more gravelly than usual.

You swallowed through the dryness in your throat, distantly noting the bandages he must have applied to the wounds you’d sustained at the hands of your captor. Your eyes fluttered closed under his touch, worried if you kept them open, he’d leave your side. But his gloved hand continued its steady stroking of your cheek.

Tears threatened to spill from behind your closed eyes anyway. At the tenderness of it all. Of Din’s ability to forgive the unforgivable. Of what your presence in his life had caused him to forsake.

“You should have let me die,” you croaked before you could stop yourself. It was far from the right thing to say, but you meant it.

His breath hitched under his helm, and his fingers froze at your jaw, his other hand clenching yours tightly. “Don’t say that,” he muttered gruffly, his voice choked. 

Din was more emotional than you’d ever heard him, but you were sure it was because of the betrayal of his creed; you could not fathom that his grief might have anything to do with the fact that you’d almost died.

You spoke through the painful tightness in your throat. “I’m not worth it- You shouldn’t have- I’m sorry I caused this-“

You stopped talking when he released your hand to cup your whole face between both his hands. You opened your teary eyes in surprise but, of course, saw only your weepy reflection in his visor.

Din’s gloved thumb rubbed just beneath your lips. “I…I couldn’t- let you die.” The words seemed a struggle and he let them out haltingly - not as if he didn’t want to say them, but as if he didn’t know how. “I…” You heard him swallow beneath the helmet as your eyes darted all around his visor, wishing you could see his current expression, wishing you’d never seen his beautiful face at all. But then- “I care…about you…more than I can-“ He cut himself off, as if fearing he’d said too much.

You merely stared, hardly able to believe your ears. He couldn’t mean… Could he feel the same… The thought was too unbelievable to truly consider.

His grip on your face loosened. “I…” He sounded suddenly uncertain. “I understand you don’t- feel…the same. I just…”

But then you were gripping his wrist before he could withdraw his touch. You heard a sharp intake of breath beneath the helmet and realized your fingers had met the skin of his wrist. Your eyes fluttered sideways, drinking in the sight of his perfect skin, scars and all, just there beneath your fingers. When you brushed his wrist with your thumb, he let out a sigh and his hand tightened around your face. Your eyes darted to his helm then back and then you were leaning sideways and pressing your lips to his wrist.

You felt his pulse jump beneath your lips as you pressed another kiss to the inside of his wrist. When you looked back up at him, his helmet was tilted as he seemingly stared down at you.

“If-“ You licked your parched lips, swallowed with difficulty. “If I close my eyes, will you- Can I-…” You’d never found yourself, chatty as you tended to be, at such a loss for words. “Can I kiss you?” You managed. He froze and you opened your lips to take it back, terrified you’d said the worst thing you could have in the moment. But when he shifted to move, you lost your breath, wondering-

He went to take off his helmet without waiting for you to close your eyes.

“Wait,” you gasped, shutting your eyes tightly, just as you heard the whoosh of air that must have meant he’d acquiesced.

“You don’t have to-…”

And it was your turn to stiffen. The modulator had always been a given, and you’d never really thought twice about what his voice might have sounded like without the digital disruption.

It was husky and crackly, soothingly deep.

You found your breathing going shallow again when his hand, now ungloved, was back at your cheek.

“My creed,” he started, his voice rumbling somewhere deep within your chest, affecting you deeply. “My creed dictates that I- protect….my clan.”

Your breath hitched again, impossibly so.

“The promises I made when I received the helmet,” you heard a heavy thunk as he apparently put the item in question down. “There is more to my creed than just the helmet. A Mandalorian who cannot keep…his clan,” Those two words again; your stomach flipped of its own accord each time he said them, at the thought of what he might be implying. “A Mandalorian who cannot keep his clan safe…is not worthy of the helm he would wear.”

You startled when his bare finger ran across your lips soothingly.

“Grogu…” he began again, slowly, as if weighing the words. “Has seen my face. Do you know why?”

“He’s your son,” you breathed against his fingers, reveling in the way your lips brushed his fingers as you spoke.

“Yes,” his voice cracked on the syllable, but only just, and when he spoke again, he’d recovered. “My family. My clan.”

You swallowed hard again through the lump in your throat, pursing your lips to speak, to deny what you thought he might next say, not because you didn’t want it to be true, but rather because it was the only thing you wanted to be true and were too afraid that it was not to even entertain the thought. But his finger hovered just over your lips once more, silencing your attempted protest.

“You didn’t make me break my creed,” he promised. “I’ve been wanting to- I’ve wanted to see your face…for so long.”

You made a noise of protest now. “You see my face all the time.” Indignant when he got what you didn’t every single day.

“Without the helmet. Not through a visor.” His voice was heavy again, emotional.

It was not until then that you realized what he’d said. He’d wanted to see your face too. He-

“You-“

“You can open your eyes,” his voice was soothing, encouraging even.

“Are- are you sure?” You managed finally.

He let out a low chuckle that set your heart to racing faster than it did even when you were dancing nonstop in city squares. “I’m sure.” It was a promise.

You opened your eyes and your sigh was involuntary. You drank in the sight of every sharp angle and soft line of his face hungrily. His eyes were tender, but as he leaned down, there was a kind of hunger in them too.

This time, when your lips met, it was a different kind of life you felt him breathe into you. 

[shonaegi]

ooo if you dont mind can you elaborate why you hate drv3s plot??? your opinions are always right and id love to hear what u think!!! feel free to ignore this if you don't wanna tho

JOASFKLSDMG I'm glad you think my opinions r correct cuz its sooo true. <3 But uhhh my distaste is mostly due to personal preference I guess? And less me having objective criticism buutttt I also still have some criticism I could talk about so...

I actually don't remember having any issues with how it began, and I do adore so many of its characters (Maki, Gonta, Miu, and Tenko being some of my favorites). I also did like some moments in the latter half, but most of it was due more to characters rather than the plot itself.

I think my main issue is just, not being a fan of the plot twist of "Actually this is set in an alternate universe where the main events actually were all just a tv show!". Like, I think it might be easy to gather why that might be slightly distressing to me, but also at the time (before being certain it wasn't in the same timeline as the main canon) seeing all of it unfold just hurt my brain so much. I am not kidding when I say watching someone play the latter half of DRv3 ended up giving me the biggest headache and almost made me completely burnt out on the series. :(

Alsoooo this is 10000% just personal opinion but I will never be a fan of Maki and Kaito. Sorry to my Maki/Kaito bros out there it just didn't feel like they had actual chemistry. It's like watching your friend get into a relationship and thinking to yourself "that's only gonna last a week at best," not cuz its unhealthy they're just better suited as friends. Seeing them be one of the few characters to get actual romantic interactions made me ":|". Something something heteronormitivity (I jest I jest).

It's been over a year since I've gave the actual game a look, so please be aware that all of these thoughts are based off of what I remember feeling as I watched it, and that going off of memory isn't the most reliable but this isn't an essay or anything so <3. I may revisit this topic after I can play through DRv3 myself (I haven't yet since it's only recently that I'm actually warming up to it despite my criticisms). If I do uhhhh this blog isn't gonna know peace is it.

[coffeepoweredlesbian]

nate jacobs and agent smith are the same person and I WILL elaborate

okay so you know euphoria? yeah. I’m still a “Nate is into women but is some shade of trans himself and that’s why he’s obsessed with jules” truther. The matrix is also one of my absolute favorite movie series and I have devoted a significant part of my brain to thinking about agent smith ESPECIALLY after the cool new info that resurrections gave us. anyway it’s time to connect my brainworms together in an unholy fusion and subject my mutuals to it.

In both pieces of media, the gender nonconformity/transness of the antagonistic character (Agent smith or Nate) causes distress for them. Agent smith despises his body and wants to be free, but despises his route to freedom (sound familiar?) Nate despises…everything? mostly the way he can’t live up to the expectations of masculinity on him, since he will always be weaker than his father (re. s1ep8). But instead of recognizing that the real villain is the binary cisnormative world that makes them feel distress, the characters channel their fury at not being able to be free onto the visibly/defiantly transgender character. Which results in an obsession that forces the antagonistic character to try and stamp out the transness of their counterpart in the hopes that their own transness will also be stamped out.

Nate hates jules because she represents what he could be. She’s unabashedly, openly trans with a future, with friends who support her, with a father that supports her. I maintain that he doesn’t want her, not in that way (or if he does, it’s secondary to his desire to BE her). But if he allows himself to do that, he becomes Weak. He becomes someone who his father can victimize. Nate learned from a very young age that to be feminine was to be hurt. He saw his father hurt so many feminine people. And when Nate things of jules in s2ep7, he doesn’t see himself with jules, but AS jules. living her life. being abused like she was abused. and he hates her. hates that she’s able to live openly as a trans girl when he has to box himself into increasingly rigid gender roles.

Agent smith is..a bit more complicated since Matrix is already shrouded in layers of allegory. Smith is the representation of internalized transphobia. He hates the world he’s forced to inhabit, he hates his body, and even more than that he hats people that step out of line. He insists that there is no future for neo unless neo accepts himself as cis (as Thomas Anderson), that neo’s identity as being outside the matrix (literally represented as a system failure between M and F in the final credits of the first film) is aberrant. And when neo sets smith free of his body? Smith hates neo even more. Because neo has just given smith the ability to transition, to escape the form he hated for so long. But with that escape comes confusion and fear and smith defaults on his hatred of anomalies. Maybe if he eliminates every anomaly, the only one that will be left is him.

like could it be sexual attraction? yeah probably. it’s not hard to see the subtext between smith and neo’s interactions in Ressurections but it’s so much More than that. because when the antagonistic character feels the pressure of the outside world on them, forcing them to perform a role they hate (for Nate it’s the toxic masculinity associated with heterosexuality and for smith it’s working as an agent for the machines) they don’t blame the system, they blame the people that defy the system. because if those people didn’t exist then maybe the antagonistic character wouldn’t be able to have hope that maybe things could be different for them.

It’s all about hope, really. because if there’s no hope then they can continue hating their life. but if there IS a way out, then they hate themselves for not taking it. so they have to eliminate the anomaly and hope that maybe they will become normal again.

Reminds me of that one song by slipknot: if I can change I hope I never know

[owl-with-a-pen]

We didn’t get much insight on nias breakup with brainy, like how nia was feeling through the whole thing! It was pretty upsetting. So how about an almost rewrite of reality bytes where Yvette takes nia out to a party to loosen her up, she gets drunk, and brainy comes to the rescue? Like takes her home, stays with her when she gets sick and takes care of her kinda thing. Thanks!

- Okay the word count speaks for itself but this one really got away from me. But I had to throw in all the angst I possibly could. Thank you for the prompt! x

Working under the oppressive eye of Lex Luthor grew worse by the day.

Brainy had always been a master at multitasking, and so he had never assumed it would be exactly there that he would struggle the most.

And yet, here he was. Trying his hardest to focus on Lex’s latest tedious task to keep him in check. After all, Lex Luthor may have very well believed Brainy’s impassive charade, but that did not buy trust. Only time and a one hundred per cent success rate would accomplish that.

To achieve it, distractions had to be eradicated. He had already made his excuses time and time again for not attending one of Kara’s famed game nights, and despite Alex’s insistence, he had not given in to any other form of group activity, either – especially those involving Al’s Bar. He needed to maintain a clear head, to do as his doppelganger had instructed; to protect his friends and their future, he had to rid his mind of them. All of them. It was imperative to success.

And yet, the moment his phone buzzed with an incoming call, Brainy’s heart leapt into his throat.

It was Nia’s name that popped up on his screen. Nia’s face. So jovial, so care-free. In the photograph, her arm was wrapped around Brainy’s shoulders where she had pulled him in for a last-minute selfie. She’d kissed his cheek just seconds after it had been taken, insisting it’d be an awesome couple photo.

He had meant to change that. Why had he not…?

He swallowed hard, focusing instead on his computer screens, relaying information back and forth between them. It was without passion, meaningless data that could be shifted anywhere whilst maintaining the same result. But, it still served a purpose, keeping him from his intestinal inclination, that gut instinct to reach for his phone and answer without a moment’s hesitation.

When was the last time he had heard her voice?

He had been keeping his distance where he could, maintaining a professional formality with her whenever he caught her in the field as Dreamer. He knew it hurt her, every time it hurt her, but he could not avoid his duties in as much the same way she could not avoid hers.

They were in effect destined to bump into each other. The only way Brainy could lessen that hurt was by avoiding conversation as much as possible, throwing up every wall he could think of, even if he had to stumble over his words to do so.

When Nia’s face disappeared, Brainy released the breath he’d been holding, letting it dust across his screens.

Then, his phone buzzed twice more.

Voicemail.

Nia never left voicemails. Not since he had ended things with her so abruptly, walking out of her apartment, refusing to elaborate, to offer her any kind of closure.

It was a calculated hurt powerful enough for her to abstain from asking questions; a necessary evil, and one Brainy would never forgive himself for causing.

He shouldn’t be doing this, his mind warned, but his thoughts were racing, derailing from all twelve tracks at once.

His hand was already poised over his phone. Before he could think better of it, Brainy snatched it up, connecting to his most recent voice message. He pressed it to his ear, pursing his lips in anticipation.

“You suck, you know that?”

Brainy flinched, the phone nearly slipping right from his hand. Nia’s voice was harsh, anger tinged with upset, but it was her voice. It could have been filled with all the fury in the world and Brainy would have still listened just as eagerly, if only for the chance to hear her again.

As the voicemail continued to play, Brainy realised that Nia’s words were slightly obscured by the heavy beats of music playing in the background, not to mention the loud chatting and whooping of people he certainly did not recognise. Brainy frowned. She must have been at some kind of party. Although, none of the voices present sounded as though they were talking to her specifically.

A nightclub, perhaps?

Nia wasn’t usually one for clubbing. So, why would she-?

“And y’know what?” Nia’s voicemail continued out just as harshly, cutting off Brainy’s train of thought. “Yvette’s so right, I deserve better than some guy who’s gonna leave me hanging, who leaves with zero explanation, and I- oh crap, sorry-” There was a scuffle, one caused by Nia knocking into a fellow patron if her apology was anything to go by. The slur in her voice was very evident, which led Brainy to conclude that she had been drinking heavily that night, enough to pick up the courage to call him.

His stomach lurched when he heard another voice in the background.

“Girl, what are you doing?” It was Yvette. Of course Yvette would have been the mastermind behind this apparent night out, likely with the well-minded intent of assisting with Nia’s mood.

Yvette’s voice grew louder as she came closer. “What are you- wait, are you calling him? No, no, you get off the phone right now, that’s messy as hell!”

Brainy was inclined to agree. Nia, however, seemed to have other ideas.

“It’s fine,” she insisted. “I-”

Before Brainy could hear anything more, the message cut off.

Brainy squeezed his eyes shut, clenching and unclenching his jaw methodically.

He shouldn’t do it. He shouldn’t be giving into gut instinct, not now, not-not ever. Not with so much at stake. He was supposed to be monitoring Lex’s movements, doing everything he could to keep a step ahead of whatever he was planning. So far, he had failed at that. And, if he continued to lose sight of his objective, he would only slip further still.

But, if there was one thing he could count on now more than ever, it was the Big Brain. Perhaps it was not that his skill at multitasking had been limited as of late, but more-so that he was not utilising it to its fullest extent. He could easily keep a thought track open for any updates on Lex’s data entry, could even continue development on the bug he was planning to slip into Lex’s private servers. For the moment, they were obstructed by a firewall even he was having difficulty breaching. But, with time…

Brainy’s fingers curled together, winding tightly around his phone. He had the room to deviate from his plans for one night. Besides, it would take mere seconds to get a lock on Nia’s GPS…

He had been trying so hard to keep out of her private business these last few weeks. The little he did know were only of her recent exploits as Dreamer that had been plastered all over the news. But, even knowing what she’d accomplished in such a short time, how capable she had become as a hero, it could not stop the worry that clogged so suddenly inside his throat.

He just had to know where she was, he rationalised. He just had to know that she was safe.

The moment her co-ordinates flashed in his mind, Brainy’s chest caught, lips parting. She was close-by, an estimated three minutes by flight from his current location.

He shouldn’t be doing this.

Brainy’s eyes scanned empty air, but beyond that he saw everything. The security for the club was rudimentary at best, and far too easy to hack. Nia’s most recent location had pointed her somewhere near to the club doors, which was only confirmed when Brainy linked up to the cameras out front, pinpointing her almost immediately.

Yvette was with her, holding up her weight as Nia slumped precariously into her side, nearly tripping down the club’s steps in an effort to remain upright. If it hadn’t been for Yvette’s guiding hand, she likely would have.

Brainy gritted his teeth. Just how much had she had to drink? He had never known Nia to drink so excessively, especially with how rigorously she had been training as of late. This was new behaviour for her, but not unpredictable. Brainy was more than aware of the many coping mechanisms one might find themselves adopting in times of emotional distress.

He had caused this.

He could fix this…

But he couldn’t, couldn’t - no matter how much his heart insisted otherwise, he could not give in. Nia wanted nothing to do with him, that much was clear from her message. And… Yvette was with her. Yvette would get her home safely.

But Yvette had clearly been drinking, also. What if something were to occur between the club and their apartment? Nia was disorientated, vulnerable, and with alcohol marring her judgement, her reaction timing would never match that of a clear-minded foe.

Brainy stood from his desk all at once, nearly toppling his chair in his haste. Fortunately, he was in a private office. Another upgrade from Lex. He swallowed down the bitter taste in his mouth; at least he could use this particular gift to his advantage.

He needed to get to Nia undetected. Immediately.

Brainy’s calculations had been - as expected - totally correct. He reached the club in no less than three minutes, giving himself ample distance to land so that no drunk bystanders might notice his arrival. Not that their likelihood of remembering any of this come morning was very high, but it was best not to push those odds.

The moment he saw her, Brainy’s world stopped moving.

Nia and Yvette were sat together on the club’s steps. It appeared Yvette had not been successful getting Nia all the way down them. Now, she was stubbornly trying to encourage Nia to drink from a water bottle she’d had stashed in her bag. Nia only turned away from her with a grimace, pushing her face firmly into her hands. Her cheeks were rosy from alcohol consumption, her dark hair beginning to thicken and frizz from the humidity of the club. The dress she wore danced with row upon row of sequins, glinting in purple and pink tones beneath the streetlight.

She was so beautiful it nearly caused a physical ache inside of Brainy’s chest.

Never had he wanted to go to her so ardently, to scoop her into his arms, hold her close and never let go.

But, he couldn’t. He was bound by his decision and, what’s more, he was the very cause for this entire situation in the first place. Nia was only in this position because of what he had put her through, and he couldn’t take that back. So long as Leviathan was a threat, he could not give up this ruse, he could not tell her the truth.

Even if he did… the acidic tone in Nia’s voicemail told him all he needed to know. That he may have well lost her for good by doing this. And he could barely stand to think it.

Again, a distant part of his mind queried why he was even here? Was this not already traipsing on incredibly dangerous territory? If Lex found any reason to distrust him, this logical and distant image Brainy had been parading would’ve all been for naught, and his Earth would meet the same fate as his female doppelganger’s.

No, no. Regardless of his decisions, the side he had been forced to take, he was still himself. In which case, there was nothing wrong with helping those that required his assistance, even if they hadn’t exactly asked for it. In that way, he could at least be there for Nia. If she would even allow it at all.

He hadn’t expected a warm welcome, but when Yvette recognised him from halfway across the club grounds, the look she gave him was practically poisonous.

“You,” Yvette sneered, wrapping an arm protectively around Nia’s shoulders. Nia only groaned, digging her fingers against her face. Yvette’s eyes narrowed distrustfully. “Voicemail didn’t cut it, hm? You know you broke her heart, right?”

“I’m… aware,” Brainy said tightly, trying his hardest to maintain the same collected calm he’d been offering the rest of his friends. Any slip-ups now could be the end of this ruse once and for all.

Nia had yet to lift her head, and so Brainy took that as his opportunity to remove his phone from his pocket, very clearly displaying the Uber app on his screen, making his intentions clear. “I can help get her home.”

Yvette snorted derisively, tightening her hold around Nia. “Uh-uh, there is no way I’m leaving Nia alone with your cheating ass.”

Brainy’s face fell. Cheating? Was that what Nia had told her? Or… or had that been Yvette’s own assumption of events? “I didn’t cheat on her,” he said, a little defensively.

“Please,” Yvette scoffed. “No one’s feelings magically change overnight unless there’s another woman involved.” She gave him a snide once-over. “She can do better than you.”

Brainy’s stomach sank, his eyes flickering to Nia, capturing every inch of her. “I… I have no doubt.”

It took some back and forth, but eventually, Yvette agreed to his help on the condition she came back to the apartment with them. Brainy understood that she hadn’t wanted to cut her own night short, but Nia’s health came first. At least on that, they could both agree.

Regardless, it was a very awkward Uber journey back to the apartment.

Nia didn’t speak the whole car ride, and Brainy began to wonder if she was lucid enough to understand her surroundings at all. She didn’t look up from her hands, and more than once Brainy considered that she might be doing it purposely, far too aware of who she was currently sharing a car with.

Although, the steadily worsening pallor of her skin pointed towards another, far likelier, possibility.

Which was confirmed the second they got into the apartment’s elevator.

The juddering motions of the small space was all it took for Nia to break her silence, cupping a hand desperately over her mouth.

“I feel sick,” she murmured into her palm.

“Hold off,” Yvette said gently, rubbing Nia’s shoulders. “We’ll be home any second.”

Brainy wished it could be him to offer Nia comfort like that, but he’d practically backed himself into the furthest corner of the elevator, acting as nothing more than a passive shadow to the night’s unfolding events. He dug his hands into his pockets, clenching them tightly to keep from reaching out to her, watching with worried eyes as Nia grabbed suddenly for the elevator’s rail with her free hand, swallowing thickly.

The moment the doors opened, Nia stumbled out, nearly tripping in her haste to exit. Brainy maintained his distance while Yvette helped Nia down the hallway, waiting awkwardly with his arms folded as she fumbled with the keys to the door. He hovered hesitantly outside the doorway when Nia broke from Yvette, rushing into the bathroom, although he noticed that Yvette was wary to follow her in.

When he caught her eye, Yvette grimaced, shaking her head. “I- I can’t, I’m a sympathetic vomiter,” she explained weakly. “If she hurls, I hurl.”

Brainy nodded his understanding, reviewing the door’s entrance as though it might swallow him whole. After a long moment, he ducked his head, stepping inside. “I can stay with her, if you would like,” he offered, quirking a brow. “After all, you are in need of rest as well.”

Yvette pulled a face, staring at him suspiciously. “You really don’t quit, do you?”

Brainy only shrugged.

“I’m keeping my eye on you,” Yvette said, which at first Brainy didn’t understand as an invitation. That was, until, she stepped aside, waving her hand in the direction of the apartment’s bathroom.

Brainy didn’t waste any time. He barely managed a breathy thank you before he headed the way Nia had disappeared.

Nia was curled around the toilet when Brainy pushed the door open, her hands pressed firmly against the rim. She hadn't appeared to have thrown up yet, but she was pale and shivering, her jaw clenched tight with discomfort.

The moment he was close enough, Brainy dropped to his knees, reaching out a hand hesitantly towards her, gauging her reaction. When none came, Brainy carefully rested the flat of his palm across her back. She didn’t try to move away from his touch; instead, with a shaky sigh, she relaxed against him, eyes fluttering shut.

And so, Brainy continued, boldly enough to massage his fingers gently and precisely around her spine, quickly finding a pattern that she seemed to appreciate. He rubbed her back in large, repetitive circles, filling the silence with the quiet crunch of sequins as they rolled lethargically beneath his palm.

It wasn’t long before Nia’s shoulders tensed up. Her chest convulsed and she groaned out, throwing her head over the toilet just in time before she vomited into the bowl. As expected, the contents of her stomach appeared to mostly be liquid, which certainly explained the dangerous level of her intoxication. Brainy remained exactly where he was, holding her back steady with one hand whilst studiously bunching Nia’s hair behind her shoulders with the other, tugging away loose strands that had caught across her lips. No sooner had he done so, Nia gagged again, squeezing her eyes shut as round two commenced.

Brainy continued to rub her back, murmuring soft comforts at her side, slipping between both English and Coluan. Nia had certainly picked up some of his native language in the months they had been together, but not enough for her to realise in that moment the weight of what he was telling her. Or, rather, what he wished he could be telling her - in a language she might recognise.

When Nia was reduced to dry heaving over the bowl, Brainy realised that her mascara had begun to run, bleeding black streaks down her face. The strain of vomiting could certainly cause such a reaction, but something in his heart told him that this was more than that.

He wished he could brush those tears away as tenderly as he once had, that he could reassure her that everything would be okay.

But how could he when he knew the probability of their relationship rekindling once the dust had cleared? How could he when said relationship was already in shambles, pushing them apart even while they were sat so closely together on the bathroom tile?

“Here.”

Brainy blinked out of his thoughts, turning his head to find Yvette stood in the doorway, trying very hard to keep her eyes away from Nia’s current condition. She held a glass of water outstretched towards him.

Brainy took it gratefully, lowering his head into a sincere bow. “Thank you.”

“You’re still so weird,” Yvette said, although for just a moment, he thought he caught a fondness in her tone. Then, she cleared her throat. “This doesn’t mean I like you,” she said quickly, heading back out into the hall. “Remember, I am one room over. You try anything, and I’ll-”

Her words were cut off by the slam of her door, but Brainy understood well enough the threat she had posed. He nearly smiled. If anything, he was glad Nia had a friend and roommate as protective as Yvette. She had been there for Nia in a way that Brainy had not been able to for far too long, offering her a shoulder to cry on, and a party to draw her mind away from the pain, if only for an evening.

Perhaps it hadn’t worked as Yvette had wanted, but Brainy hoped that even for a little while, Nia might have experienced something other than heartache that night.

When there was nothing but bile left in Nia’s stomach, Brainy took her shoulder, offering the water glass out to her. “Nia,” he said gently. “You must try to drink this. It’ll help-”

Before he could finish, Nia shot to life, slapping away his hand so hard that the glass’s contents sloshed down Brainy’s arm, drenching his sleeve.

“No!” Nia cried out weakly. “No, get off me, you jerk!”

Brainy let go of her immediately, shuffling away from her forlornly. He watched instead as Nia folded her arms angrily across the toilet bowl, pressing her forehead against the rim.

For a while, only her harsh breathing echoed around the small space. Then, Nia stopped, arms clenching as she squeezed her hands into fists. “Why’re you even here?” she croaked.

“You… called.”

Nia snorted. “That’s never stopped you from ignoring me before.”

Brainy’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. “You were in need of assistance,” he said instead, trying his hardest to keep his voice from crackling.

“What is this, Brainy?” Nia asked exhaustedly. She lifted her head, dark hair curtaining her face, but Brainy could see that her eyes were trained downwards, seeing nothing. “Why’re you doing this to me?”

“Nia—”

“No, no, you go radio silent on me for weeks. You don’t give me any explanation, you don’t talk to me, you act like I don’t exist. And you think you can just turn up now and- what? What do you want?”

Brainy’s eyes were beginning to burn. He blinked quickly, doubling down on the same toneless voice he’d perfected over the last few weeks. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Nia laughed, although it sounded more like a sob. She spat into the toilet, lips twisting sourly. “Well,” she muttered darkly. “I’m not. You broke my heart. And you can’t fix that.”

Brainy’s own heart felt as though it might shatter in his chest. He opened his mouth, only to close it again when he realised there was nothing he could say that might absolve him. He didn’t want to be absolved. Nia was right. No matter what he said, even if he folded and told her everything right that second, wouldn’t fix what he had already broken.

He didn’t try to touch her again. Instead, he simply knelt there, watching as she picked up the water he’d left out for her, drinking the half that hadn’t spilt over his sleeve.

When Nia didn’t appear to be in danger of vomiting again, Brainy walked her to the bedroom. He stayed a respectable distance from her the whole while, enough that he could steady her should she decide to fall. At the last few steps before her door, she did stumble slightly, and Brainy held his arm out to her on reflex. Begrudgingly, Nia took it, staggering the final distance down the hall.

Nia let go of him the moment her bed was in sight, practically falling against the mattress, uncaring of the uncomfortable and clearly not bedroom-appropriate attire she was still wearing. Instead, she curled up quickly beneath the comforter, hugging her knees close to her stomach.

Silently, Brainy set about placing a fresh glass of water on her nightstand, as well as retrieving a trash can from the bathroom, tucking it within easy reaching distance of the bed. When he was done, he stood there a moment, watching the steady rise and fall of Nia’s back, wondering briefly if she may have fallen asleep.

“You know the way out.”

Her voice was devoid of any care, and yet it was still sharp enough to cut a hole through his heart. She sounded so empty and drained, exhausted by the night’s events.

But, worse yet, she had been exhausted by him.

Brainy closed his eyes, a million and one apologies budding on his tongue, desperate to leave him in a fierce burst, to explain everything, to beg for her forgiveness in every language he knew.

But as always, logic won out. No matter how much he wished he could tell her, he couldn’t. Not unless he wanted to put his family’s lives in mortal danger.

And so, it was upon Nia’s instruction that he left her without another word.

It wasn’t until he was out the front door, halfway back towards the elevator, that Brainy’s chest hitched, his breathing jerking harshly outside of his control. He stumbled into the wall, baring his teeth as the first of his tears began to flow.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured to nothing. To no one. After all, he knew in his heart that those words would never be enough; no words would ever be enough.

The longer he kept this up, the more he knew with one hundred per cent certainty that Nia would never forgive him.

And that hurt more profoundly than any words she left on his voicemail ever could.

[t-lostinworlds]

Hold On (Tom Holland)

a/n: hello, surprise? but yes, so, i was kind of in a funk for a bit and when that happens, i write angst. then i heard the song (i was listening to my sad playlist as u do aha) and here we are. i wrote this fairly quick so bear with it as it may seemed rushed (it is) so it may be bad heh. also, i suggest listening to the song while reading for full effect.

pairing: tom holland x female reader summary: You locked yourself in the bathroom when things got overwhelming. Tom felt worried when it went quiet inside for too long, heart stopping by what he saw when he broke through the door. based on song: Hold On - Chord Overstreet warnings: drug overdose (vaguely written & only on tom's pov), angst, brief panic attack, open(?) but happy ending. word count: 3.2k+

masterlist on bio & pinned post

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**US/UK HELPLINES & FREE 24/7 SUICIDE HOTLINES IN DIFFERENT COUNTRIES**

~~~

"I can't do better in helping if you don't tell me what's wrong Y/N," Tom said softly, concerned eyes staring right into your troubled ones.

He had his arms open wide as he slowly inched towards your trembling form, making sure to not get too close, too fast. He doesn't want to overwhelm you by being all over your personal space, he doesn't want to stress you out even more by crowding you. Tom knew he needed to be gentle, patient, giving you enough space to breath but also showing that you can jump into his arms whenever you need to, whenever you're ready to.

"That's the thing Tom, I don't know what's wrong," you started with a shaky intake of breath. "I just feel this pit in my stomach and sometimes it gets so overwhelming in my head about everything, about what I'm even doing with my life, if I'm doing enough, if I am enough. I'm overthinking about everything and I just feel so lost and angry for not knowing what's wrong with me. And I—I am so tired," you admitted, tears slipping down your cheeks as you ran your palm over your face in frustration.

To see your agitated state, to hear the hurt and frustration in your voice, added with your heavy words, it just broke Tom's heart to pieces. You didn't need to elaborate what you meant by 'being tired' because he understood, both physically, emotionally, but especially mentally. And Tom's frown could only deepen as you continued.

"And you can't do better Tom, you don't need to. You've already done so much for me. You've put up with my shit for so long. I've already put you through so much," you trailed off at the end of your sentence, bottom lip quivering as you stared at him with utter guilt.

The look of distress on his features was hurting you so much. You just want to see him happy, that's what he truly deserves. But now it seems like you're not giving him that anymore. Not giving him enough happiness, just nights of him being worried about you, stressed because of you.

"I feel like lately, all I've done is be a burden to my family, to everyone in my life, but even more to you."

Tom shook his head frantically as he took a few steps forward. "No, don't say that love," he whispered.

Once he reached a safe distance, he gently took your hand in his, touch soft, comforting. You let him hold you, eyes trained on the way your fingers intertwined but never looking up. You couldn't bear to hold his gaze, especially with the obvious sadness that swam in them.

"Darling, look at me," Tom coaxed, giving your hands a tender squeeze. With a deep intake of breath, you willed yourself to meet his eyes again. Those brown orbs bring you so much happiness, and to see them filled with everything but, to know that you're the sole reason why they're not coated with that lovely glow, it only makes you feel guiltier.

"You know that's not true Y/N," he said firmly, but you only shook your head at him with a soft whimper, his voice unable to break through the loud screams that filled your mind.

"Angel, you are not a burden to me. I'll always be here for you no matter what, remember? Didn't I promise you that, love?" Tom tried again, both hands going to cup your face as he gently wiped your tears away with his thumb. "When I said I wanted to be here for you, with all the joy and the chaos, all the demons we're made of, I meant that with every beat of my heart Y/N."

"But you deserve so much better Tom," you croaked, nimble fingers wrapping around his wrists, leaning into his warm touch with bottom lip jutted out as fresh tears dampened your cheeks once more.

"No, I don't," Tom objected. "You're all I want, all I ever need, please believe that, believe me Y/N," he whispered, forehead pressed up against yours as his eyes held nothing but truth.

Still, it wasn't enough to help subside the roaring demons in your mind. Not because Tom didn't hold any importance or his words any power, no, he's everything to you. But tonight they just happen to be a lot stronger, the loud and guttural voices. They were blocking anything that's trying to get through to you, blocking the only thing that always seemed to easily get through to you which was Tom.

"I just—I need to think. I-I need to be alone," you muttered under your breath. Although reluctant, Tom nodded, figured that if that was what you wanted, then he will give it to you.

"Okay," he sighed, placing a tender kiss on your forehead, the warmth of his lips on your skin making you close your eyes with a shaky breath. It was a sweet, rather mundane kiss, but it was one that lasted a few seconds longer than normal before he lets you go. Tom's grip around you slowly loosened, your heart growing heavier as you feel his touch gradually disappear.

You quickly turned on your heel with your head down, arms wrapped around your body to stop you from crumbling to the floor. Tom hesitantly stood still in his place, a certain feeling in his gut growing as he watched you walk towards the bathroom. As you were about to shut the door, his voice stopped you.

"Y/N?" he called out.

You turned around with a hum, meeting those brown orbs you've grown to adore with every inch of you. So many emotions were swimming in them, but only one struck you the most, even more so when he opened those lips to let it out into the air, loud, clear and sincere.

"I love you."

You gave him a small smile, trying your best to suppress your sobs as more tears ran down your cheek. And softly, you said,

"I love you too Tom, so much."

There was something about the way your voice trembled that made Tom feel even more uneasy, but he decided to let it go, thought that it was just him stressing over nothing at all.

The bathroom door slamming shut was what he heard next, a frustrated hand running through his hair as he stared at the white painted wood for a whole minute. With a sharp exhale of breath, Tom looked at it for a few seconds more.

Once he heard the running water on the sink, he made his way out of your shared bedroom, body slumped with deep frown still intact. His demeanor was quick to catch the attention of his brother who was sitting on the living room couch, the only other person in the house as of the moment.

"Is she okay?"

Tom could only flash Harry a sad, forced smile, not speaking any words as he went straight to the kitchen to get you some water and a bit of food. You haven't eaten anything yet and it was worrying him even more.

It wasn't long until Tom was back in the bedroom, setting the glass of water and the plate of your favorite sandwich on the nightstand.

The silence that filled the room was uncanny, nervousness coating the lad slowly as he stood completely still. Tom's eyes landed on the closed door of the bathroom, a lump forming in his throat as he found the negative thoughts that grew in his mind harder to ignore.

He took long strides towards the door, pressing an ear on the surface as he tried to listen to something, hoping to hear anything. Tom felt his heart quicken its pace as the silence screamed in his ear, brain quick to jump into horrible, dreadful conclusions.

"Darling? Are you okay in there?" he called, fingers twitching as his eyes landed on the metal knob.

No response...

"Darling?" Tom tried again, voice even louder, fear growing stronger as he grabbed the doorknob, chills running down his spine once the cold surface touched his skin.

Silence...

"Y/N, if you're not going to answer I'm kicking this fucking door down," Tom growled frantically, grip on the doorknob tightening as he tried to shake it open.

Nothing...

With an anxious breath, Tom walked away until he reached a safe distance, lifting a leg up and with all his might, kicked the door just by the keyhole, the wood snapping in its place as it swung open.

Tom ran inside but immediately froze, blood drained out of his whole body at the sight of you, heart coming to a halt for a full second as he shook his head in utter fear.

"No, no, no," he rushed, scrambling towards your limp, unconscious form on the white tiled floor, the bottle of painkillers right beside you, so close to empty. Tom was breathing rapidly as he pulled you onto his lap, vision turning blurry as he cleared the hair away from your face.

"Y/N! Wake up love, p-please wake up," Tom stammered, fingers shaking as he brought it up to your neck to the side of your windpipe, urgently feeling for your heartbeat. Cold sweats coated his entire body once he felt a faint one. It was there, but barely.

"No, don't—p-please don't leave me!" he cried out, head pounding as he shifted in his place, adrenaline at an all-time high as he hoisted you up in his arms. "Harry! Harry please!" Tom screamed after his brother as he rushed outside the bathroom and into the hallway, the lad in question rushing towards his brother's voice with sheer worry on his freckled face.

"What—"

"Start the car! Her breathing is getting slower," Tom choked on his words. The twin didn't waste any time as he bolted towards the kitchen island to grab the keys and went straight to the front door, held it open until Tom was out with you, alarmingly unmoving in his hold.

Once the car door was slammed shut with you and Tom in the backseat, Harry veered right out of the driveway and drove fast like your life depended on it, because it did.

Tom kept you close to his heaving chest, mumbling sweet but desperate nothings against your hair, silently praying as he tried his best to contain his shock.

The slower your heart beats, the faster Tom's heart raced, your body cold to the touch, his head spinning at the dreadful feeling. Tom felt so helpless just staring at your expressionless features, his clammy palms resting on your cheek as he kept talking to you.

"Hold on, I still want you angel, please hold on," he whispered over and over, hoping that you were able to hear him, hoping that the sound of his voice will stop you from fading into the light.

He was glad that the drive to the hospital was only five minutes away, but with you lying still, turning colder by the second in his arms, time seemed to go slower, agonizingly slower. There was no doubt that it was the longest, most painful five minutes Tom has ever endured in his life.

***

The bright hospital lights were blinding the moment Tom rushed inside with you in his arms, his voice hoarse as he screamed for help until the nurses came to your aid. They took you away on the table, your whole body lying motionless as they checked for your pulse. He didn't want to let you go, didn't want to let you out of his sight in fear that it would be the last time he'll see you with a bit of life left. But despite his protests, he was met by double doors slamming closed on his face.

Both of Tom's hands tugged at his hair in pure agitation, bottom lip caught between his teeth to try and suppress his sobs. He was pacing anxiously as his eyes kept steady on the door of the room where you disappeared into, lungs struggling to provide oxygen, unable to keep up with his raging heart.

He felt a hand grabbed at his shoulder, unable to see the person as they immediately pulled him in for a tight hug. But he didn't need to, he knew who it was, he knew what his brother's embrace felt like. Tom's whole body shook in Harry's hold as loud and broken sobs came out of him, arms wrapping around his brother for mere support, knowing that his legs are about to give out any second.

"I d-don't want to lose her, I can't lose her H-Harry, I—" Tom felt his throat start to close up, his grip around his younger brother turning vice-like as he gasped for air.

"Hey, hey Tom, breathe," Harry rushed, grabbing Tom's shoulders, pulling him away and holding him in arm's length. "You're alright, just breathe."

Tom shut his eyes tight and tried to regain his breathing, calming himself as best as he could. A whimper came out of him as he shook his head slowly, opening his eyes to meet Harry's with nothing but utmost fear and pain swimming in them.

"I c-can't imagine a world without her, I can't—"

"Then don't. You're not losing her Tom. She's going to be fine. She's a very strong girl. You, out of all people, know that," Harry reassured, giving his shoulder a squeeze for good measure.

"Fuck, this is all my fault. I shouldn't have left her alone. I knew something wasn't right before she even—I should've tried harder," Tom sobbed as he ran his shaking fingers through his hair, bottom lip quivering as he casted his eyes on the floor in shame.

"Tom you did the best that you could. No one could've seen this coming. Y/N wouldn't want you blaming yourself. You know it hurts her when you blame yourself," Harry said softly, rubbing his back comforting as he shot him a knowing look.

Tom rubbed the nape of his neck as he nodded with deep, strangled breaths. He pressed his lips into a tight line as he didn't say another word because Harry was right. You always get even more upset when you see him blame himself for something out of his control.

"You just sit here and wait alright? I'm going to get you some water."

He only shot Harry a small but thankful smile, the younger lad giving him one last hug before he disappeared down the opposite side of the hallway.

Tom cleared his mind and thought of nothing but you being safe. You are going to be safe, alive and well, because he wouldn't know what to do with himself if you weren't.

***

It was an hour and half later until the doctor came out. Tom scrambled on his feet as she asked about who was there for you. His nails were digging into his palms, creating crescent shapes on the skin as he held his breath, dreadfully waiting for her to speak.

"We've managed to pump all the drugs out of her system. She's stable now but still unconscious," the doctor said. Tom lets out a big puff of breath, his whole body relaxing as he felt the weight of the universe lift off his shoulders. Tom grabbed onto Harry for support once he almost lost his balance, just feeling relieved to hear that you were fine, still breathing.

"Is she going to be okay?" Harry asked when Tom can't seem to form any words, the older brother squeezing his shoulder as a way to silently say thank you.

The doctor nodded with a small smile. "We still need to keep a close eye on her until she makes a full recovery. There are still a few dangers that can occur given that she's consumed quite a handful."

Tom stood straighter as he cleared his throat, "Can I see her?"

"Right this way."

***

The sound of the soft beeps of the heart rate monitor oddly felt comforting to Tom as he entered the room. It was a mixture of relief but also hurt the moment his eyes landed on your sleeping form, hooked up to all these wires and tubes as you lay peacefully on the white bed.

He would've just stood still on his place, just staring with a deep from if Harry hadn't given him an encouraging tap on back. Tom flashed him a small smile before Harry closed the door, giving Tom some time alone with you for as long as he needed.

Slowly, he made his way over to your side, pulling up a chair beside the bed and letting out a shaky breath once he sat down. It was when he reached over to hold your hand did Tom start to bawl his eyes out, body shaking with full on sobs as he lifted your nimble fingers and pressed it on his damp, flushed cheek.

"You're okay. You're going to be okay love," he whimpered, not sure if he was saying those words to reassure you or himself. He turned his head to place a warm, tender kiss on your palm before he cupped your hand with both of his, his thumb sweetly stroking the back of it.

"It may sound selfish but you know I can't just let you go. I'm not that strong. Not as strong as you," Tom paused, giving your hand a squeeze, just waiting patiently for you to return it. "So, come on, darling, come back to me," Tom begged, a choked sob following after as his teardrops soaked the white sheets.

"I still need you. I will always need you," he continued, voice merely above a whisper as he tried his best to keep his breathing steady. "You're going to wake up and tell me to take you home, yeah?"

"We're going home," Tom breathed out with a small nod. "You're going to come back to me, and we're going home." Tom's voice broke at the end of his sentence, his head dropping low as he screwed his eyes shut, an overwhelming feeling rising in him that he couldn't stop the tears from falling continuously.

Tom just wants you to be back in his arms, wants you safe and warm in the comfort of your shared bed. He just wants to hear your hearty laugh echo in the kitchen as you make breakfast together. He wants to hear your scolding whenever he leaves dirty clothes on the floor, or the little arguments on whose turn it was to load the dishwasher.

Tom just wants to take you home.

Then once you do, once you come back home, he will take your hand and make things right, help make things better. And with all that he is, all that he has, with every beat of his heart, Tom will swear to love you all his life.

"Come home to me Y/N."

It was then Tom felt it, the light squeeze around his hand, his head shooting up as he looked at you expectantly. It was completely unmatched, the utter joy and relief that coated every inch of his bones. The sound was music to his ears, happiness filling him up to the brim once he heard your sweet, lovely voice.

"Tom?"

~~~

“Place your hand over your heart, can you feel it? That is called purpose. You’re alive for a reason so don’t ever give up.” – Unknown

-:-:-:-:-

like, reblog & leave a comment if you liked it and tell me your thoughts <3

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just let me know i u want to to be removed from the taglist love:)

[vampish-glamour]

I agree with most of your views (Including nb’s using labels like lesbian), expect for the views on nb existence. The reasons I see most is that it doesn’t make sense or that nb’s are using gendered terms so they must be gendered or that it’s just people uncomfortable with the gender roles so I‘m just offering another perspective. 🧷1/?

I’m nb because the idea of being male/female gives me dysphoria. It’s not about the gender roles or anything, it’s the idea of having male/female genitals or being perceived as male/female. I try to portray myself as androgynous as possible. I have shorter hair in a pixie cut of sorts, I bind, I avoid wearing things that may make me seem more feminine or masculine, I wear gender-neutral clothing, I don’t use gendered terms like lesbian or gay man. 🧷 2/3

I admit that it may be some internalized transphobia or something but it’s just better for me and my mental health to just use the preferred name/pronouns and try to look as androgynous as I can. As for it not making sense, the human brain is complicated and not everything that it feels or experiences is going to make sense scientifically. It doesn’t make it not real, though. 🧷3/3

I appreciate you sharing your perspective!

I do want to say that “it not making sense” or “enbies use gendered terms therefore they aren’t genderless”, while being common points, is a bit of an oversimplification of things.

A lot of us don’t believe in nonbinary for scientifically based reasons—an example being that the way brains in relation to sex are understood currently makes the concept of a genderless/sexless brain unlikely to exist. (Here’s a really good post about it. And another, because both of these put it scientifically much better than I could ever put it.)

“It’s just being uncomfortable with gender roles” is true for what a lot of us think, though. Because this can go from small things like not being comfortable with traditional clothing, to not liking the societal view of certain body parts.

My opinion on nonbinary “dysphoria” is that there’s likely better explanations for it than being gender dysphoria in the way trans people experience it. Like body dysmorphia, internalized sexism, internalized transphobia, or even just distress around not wanting to be seen the way society views your sex. I think this especially because the vast majority of nonbinary people, in my experience, are female. And there are a lot of societal perceptions of female anatomy that don’t exist for male anatomy.

Here’s my line of thinking;

Gender dysphoria for a trans man would be distress over not being male. From what I understand, his brain would know his body is supposed to be male, and be able to pinpoint things that make it not male. Breasts, genitalia, higher voice, different bone structure, all that sort of thing. The brain would not recognize this as the male body it’s expecting to see in the mirror.

The key point is that the brain is expecting male features instead of female ones.

With nonbinary dysphoria, how would this work? If we say that a hypothetical genderless brain exists, what would it be looking for? How would it determine what a nonbinary body would look like, if nonbinary is not a human sex like male or female are? And how would one achieve a nonbinary body? Take away the breasts and be smooth like a ken doll? Are curves able to be considered nonbinary? How about muscles? And what about skin texture, body/facial hair, smell?

Breasts, genitals, curves, muscles, skin texture, body/facial hair, smell, etc. Are all things trans people take into consideration when transitioning. They’re things that can make somebody appear more or less male or female. Again, since there is no nonbinary sex, this is impossible to pinpoint for the idea of nonbinary bodies.

So, this is where my idea that nonbinary dysphoria is actually something else comes from. Because nonbinary dysphoria works so differently from trans gender dysphoria that I find it hard to consider it the same thing.

I think it’s really important to take into consideration other possibilities. I mentioned social implications/views of certain body parts, and I want to elaborate a little on that.

I’ll use female parts as an example, since I did say they tend to get more of a hard time than male parts.

Female bodies tend to be hyper-sexualized, and put into a very specific box of “submissive sexual object”. Breasts aren’t seen as ways to feed a baby anymore, they’re seen as sex objects. Female genitalia is mostly just reduced to a hole for sexual purposes. Women are expected to be hairless, smooth skinned, curvy in the right places yet still skinny, etc. I truly believe that this impacts how women see themselves and their bodies, including feeling detached from or uncomfortable with them.

So a female nonbinary person might feel greatly uncomfortable with their female body because of subconscious discomfort with how society has taught them to view their body... but also feels uncomfortable with having a male body because they’re not trans. This puts them into a place in the middle—not feeling comfortable being either male or female—that might feel like nonbinary dysphoria, despite not actually being gender dysphoria.

I really do recommend checking out the posts I linked above though, because this is all just my thoughts. Both of the posts talk about the more scientific side of things instead of just opinion or my personal like or thinking.

“As for it not making sense, the human brain is complicated and not everything that it feels or experiences is going to make sense scientifically. It doesn’t make it not real, though”

I agree, but as mentioned before, as science understands the human brain right now—nonbinary brains are very unlikely. It’s not that scientists are marvelling at a miraculous unexplainable phenomenon, they’re saying “here’s how we believe the brain works”, and people can easily make the conclusion that the current understanding makes nonbinary brains unlikely. So it’s absolutely fair to make the claim or theory that nonbinary is not a real biological thing, based on current scientific understanding.

I approach nonbinary in the same way I approach the existence of a god. Meaning, my reasoning for not believing in a god is pretty similar to not believing in nonbinary.

I, and many other atheists, don’t believe in a god partly because of lack of evidence. We don’t want to accept something as reality when there’s hardly anything to prove it to be real. In this case, there are many scientific theories that either better explain, or completely disprove things said in religious texts. This doesn’t mean that if there were rock hard evidence we’d plug our ears and ignore it. But until then, saying “I don’t believe in a god” is a fair statement because there’s no evidence to say otherwise.

The same goes for myself and others who don’t believe that nonbinary is a real biological concept. We don’t want to accept something as reality without evidence. Especially not when there are scientific theories that provide better explanations for nonbinary dysphoria, or disprove the idea of being biologically nonbinary. This doesn’t mean that if there were solid evidence for nonbinary dysphoria and being biologically nonbinary, we’d ignore it. But until we get that solid evidence, saying “I don’t believe in nonbinary” is a fair statement.

Just because nonbinary is something that people hold dear to their hearts as an “identity”, does not mean it is free from skepticism. People are allowed to be sceptical of claims that don’t hold factual weight. Whether that be claims of the divine like god, claims of the occult like ghosts, claims of fantastical creatures like rainbow unicorns, or claims of humans being genderless.

The problem only arises when people start blatantly ignoring scientific evidence or claiming it’s false without providing reason for that claim.

As far as it being better for your mental health goes, I understand. But I do encourage you to look deeper into the issue, because ultimately it’s better to identify what could actually be going on instead of just going with the easiest answer.

And keep in mind that just because you do something for your mental health doesn’t mean others have to accept it as reality.

However, I appreciate that you don’t use gendered terms. Even though I don’t exactly believe in nonbinary as a real thing biologically speaking, I don’t have as much as an issue with people who actually are consistent with it and are respectful to gay people as I do with the people who aren’t. And I certainly hold more respect for nonbinary people who genuinely believe they are experiencing gender dysphoria and don’t disrespect gay people or enforce gender roles than I do for the “I’m nonbinary because I like dresses AND suits and I’m also super gay!!” Types.

My thoughts on this are a bit hard to explain, as I’ve said with a lot of things it’s very clear in my head but hard for me to put into writing. So I hope that at least some of this makes sense lol.

[frizzy-hoot]

Neuroessentialism and mental health

Hi!

Time for a little rant about neuroessentialism.

The aim of this post is to provide the opportunity to be conscious of the things that influence us when it comes the way we think about mental health and to challenge stigma around mental health.

First off, I’m not a doctor and the information here cannot serve as medical advice. Always consult your doctor before changing your medication or treatment approach.

Secondly, a lot of the information I present here is elaborated on and further discussed in an episode of the Psychiatry and psychotherapy podcast called “Free will in psychotherapy and psychiatry Part 3” and while I will link to as many things as I can, you can also find a lot of the source material on the website for the podcast. https://www.psychiatrypodcast.com/psychiatry-psychotherapy-podcast/2020/7/22/free-will-in-psychiatry-amp-psychotherapy-part-3

So, I see a lot of people talking about mental health on here through a neuroessentialist perspective in memes or text format and I don’t think they’re aware of it so. I’d like to talk a bit about it.

First, I’ll offer a definition of neuroessentialism:

" Neuroessentialism is the view that the definitive way to explain human psychological experience is by reference to the brain and its activity from chemical, biological and neuroscientific perspectives. For instance, if someone is experiencing depression a neuroessentialistic perspective would claim that he or she is experiencing depression because his or her brain is functioning in a certain way.” - Schultz, W. (2018)

I see people talk about, for example, depression in this way often: in memes when people say "I have a literal neurotransmitter deficiency, Karen." or " God forgot to add serotonin when he made me".

Now, why can this be problematic?

Before I get into the issues with this perspective, I will first acknowledge that one of the reasons this view has become so prominent lately is because it aims to reduce stigma around mental health issues.

In the podcast episode mentioned above they point out that “Efforts to reduce stigma should be praised, but they should also be critically analyzed to determine if they meet their goal.”

And that’s the thing neuroessentialism, while aiming to reduce stigma and shame it only does so short term and ends up contributing to stigmatizing attitudes about mental health.

I want to say that it's great to see people fight back when it comes to stigma around mental health. That's what I see people do in these memes. But the effects of neuroessentialist perspectives end up othering people; making them inherently “bad”, “defect” or “helpless”.

Here the deterministic aspect of neuroessentialism comes up - it tells us that there’s something wrong with our brain that we can’t change. It alienates people because it chips away at their and our belief in their ability to change. If you believe that someone's mental issues are rooted exclusively in brain biology, you're less likely to believe that they can control their behavior and so it is less worth the effort of getting them better. This brings about more stigma.

Another thing that’s important to talk about is how neuroessentialism is an extremely simplistic perspective on mental health. And that’s also one of the reasons it has become so big- because it offers a simple explanation to very complicated illnesses.

Here, I want to add a quote by Psychiatrist and psychotherapist Dr. David Puder:

“There are prominent theories out there that we know just aren’t true anymore and that get propagated because they are simplistic ways of explaining things; for example, depression is because you have low serotonin in your brain. That’s just not true. It’s a whole lot more complicated than that.

You could probably show 20 or 30 things that are going on in the brain during depression. Inflammation. Like initially I thought ‘oh depression is inflammation!’

Well, it turns out not all depression has inflammation. Maybe, only one third [of patients with depression] have inflammation markers in the brain.”

We have been looking to neuroscience for an explanation when it comes to mental health and been satisfied with the idea of a simple "chemical imbalance" but truth is that there are many more neurotransmitters which significantly affect our brains when we talk about depression – it’s so far from just serotonin.

Another example of how neuroessentialim can oversimplify mental health is with brain scans. So, in the podcast episode mentioned above, Dr. Puder talks about how he was really interested in emotions and especially studying anger and he was looking at all this research on the different areas in the brain involved in anger. After a while, he says, he began to understand that it’s really complex and you can’t just point at one area and say that’s the area that’s involved in the emotion anger. There are several areas involved in just that one emotion and different studies show different things.

The truth is that the manifestation of mental illness in the body is a very new area of research and we haven’t found physical manifestations for most mental illnesses and the important thing to note here is that despite this we still do have ways of treating all of them.

Alright, all this can seem quite removed from us so how does neuroessentialsim affect us?

In the episode the guest star, Mathew Hagele, further discusses the article which provided the definition on neuroessentialism above: “Shultz looked at studies investigating how patients viewed their own prognosis and later the same with professionals.

The study found that biochemical or genetic attribution scores were a significant predictor of longer expected symptoms duration and lower perceived odds of recovery.” (Lebowitz et al., 2013, p. 523).

Now, this means that the more a patient attributes symptoms of their psychopathology to genetic (inherited disorderes) or biochemical (serotonin deficiency for example) factors, the longer they expected to struggle with their disorder and the smaller the belief that they can recover.

If a person doesn’t believe they can be helped or get better they’re a lot less likely to try and a lot more likely to feel scared and hopeless.

The other side of this coin is the effect the neuroessentialist narrative has on clinicians which Matthew Haegel dives into in the next part of the quote:

“Another study shows that clinicians believe psychotherapy to be less effective when shown biological descriptions of mental health pathologies...

They took a couple different disorders that these clinicians were looking at and one group had a biological explanation and the other did not- had a different type of explanation. And [in] the results that were across disorders, the biological explanation yielded significantly less empathy than the psychosocial explanation. They also did some additional analysis and they found that biological explanations yielded less empathy than the psychosocial explanations among both MD’s and non-MD’s…..”( Lebowitz, M. S., & Ahn, W. K. (2014). )

So, in these studies we see that a neuroessentialist perspective lowers empathy for the patient in medical health professionals and people who weren’t medical health professionals.

Okay, so how does this perception of the patient’s illness affect the patient’s treatment?

I’ll start with a quote where Hagele elaborates further:

“…and finally, that clinicians perceive psychotherapy to be significantly less effective when symptoms were explained biologically than psychologically…[ Lebowitz, M. S., & Ahn, W. K. (2014). ]

basically, linking the idea that the diminished importance of psychotherapy among mental health professionals ascribing to the concept of neuroessentialism is doubly harmful when considering the multiple contexts in which psychotherapy matches or outperforms pharmaceutical interventions.”

What Hagele points out here is the way neuroessentialism can lead to a less effective and ethical treatment of mental illness. It makes us approach an issue in one manner only- fix the brain, fix the behavior. But sometimes what can treat he issue in the brain is, working on the behavior. This can be talked about in terms of meds vs. psychotherapy.

So, seeing mental health from a neuroessentialist perspective, completely excludes the effects of psychotherapy. A classic example is CBT (cognitive behavioral therapy) in which we have “Cognitive restructuring”: a psychotherapeutic process in which a person learns to recognize maladaptive or distressing thoughts and teaches their brain to consider other perspectives or different thought pattern. This is an example of “work on behaviour to better brain” rather than “working on brain will fix behavior”. According to strict neuroessentialism therapy shouldn’t work as well as it does but there is a really big body of science backing psychotherapeutic intervention and its efficacy compared to psychopharmacological intervention.

I feel I should address the discussion of Meds vs. therapy before I continue, (it is a whole topic worthy of a post on its own) but to be brief, they work best together and if you’re weighing one against the other psychotherapy has more long-term effects and barely any side effects compared to medication. There are other factor affecting what would be the most effective treatment approach that further nuances this discussion.

Now this is all a pretty big picture but how is this seen every day?

Well, its seen in the downplaying of the importance of therapy. Often, I see this as people normalize behavior where they kind of devalue the importance therapy or put off working on their issues in therapy with the excuse that it’s only for “crazy” people or not something worth the effort.

Therapy then increasingly is seen as this unimportant, extra thing rather than, in most cases, the most effective and safe treatment. And the less crucial therapy is considered, the less accessible it’s going to be – in the U.S. it can often be easier to get your insurance company to cover for a doctors visits where the treatment would be for your GP to prescribe you an antidepressant than an inpatient or outpatient treatment with a mental health professional.

Another point I wanna put out there is that that neuroessentialist narrative is incentivized by pharmaceutical companies. Dr. Puder talks about his own experience in the podcast episode and makes sure to stress that practitioners are humans too and will of course be biased towards something if that something writes them a check or pays some of their expenses. In the episode they discuss a way in which we have seen the neuroessentialist narrative progress:

“Second, there is evidence that the significant increase in direct-to consumer (DTC) advertising for antidepressants is related to rising prescription rates (Park & Grow, 2008). Such advertisements portray depression as a biological medical condition that can successfully be treated with medicine (Lacasse & Leo, 2005; Leo & Lacasse, 2008)” (613).

Now, medicine is an important tool in psychiatry and there is a lot of unnecessary stigma around medication for mental health conditions. I am under no circumstances arguing that medication is bad and therapy is the only right way to treat mental illness. That would be an extreme simplification and invalidation of human experiences. I also wanna acknowledge that being able to go to therapy in many places in the world is a matter of privilege. Therapy simply isn’t accessible for everyone and people can choose an “only medication approach” for many valid reasons. And if that’s the only treatment that was accessible to you I’m really proud of you for taking care of yourself and doing what you can.

If your doctor has prescribed you a medication please take it and know that the purpose is to help you and that you are worthy of help and good health care. The situation where I would suggest to be a tad critical is when people come in with disorders and issues that they have dealt with for years and most of their life and they are just prescribed an antidepressant and sent home. That simply isn’t effective and ethical care. In that case it is worth investigating getting access to a mental health practitioner as well as continuing with medicinal treatment.

I could talk about this for hours but the last thing I wanna get across is that this is a societal problem. I don’t suggest we turn away from pharmaceutical intervention which saves thousands of lives and helps people get better, rather that we work to make psychotherapy (which can be and is crucial for long term remission and recovery) more accessible for when it’s appropriate.

When your doctor tells you that this invisible illness is because of your biology most people feel validated and experience less shame. The fact that people feel like they need to have a tracible biological “anomaly” in their brains to be worthy of treatment and care speaks to an invalidation that many feel. But the issue here is that we're taught to invalidate invisible illness in society which in the end makes people delay critical treatment or blocks access to ethical and effective care.

We also have to acknowledge that with the technology we have now we are not able to know whether all mental illness manifests in the brain in a way we can see so hinging our worthiness of help and care on the definition is in the end harmful.

TL;DR

" Neuroessentialism is the view that the definitive way to explain human psychological experience is by reference to the brain and its activity from chemical, biological and neuroscientific perspectives. For instance, if someone is experiencing depression a neuroessentialistic perspective would claim that he or she is experiencing depression because his or her brain is functioning in a certain way.” - Schultz, W. (2018)

Neuroessentilism can validate a patient and bring relief of shame short term but ends up contributing to stigmatizing attitudes and thus doesn’t help reduce stigma overall.

The neuroessentialist narrative can downplay the efficacy and criticalness of psychotherapeutic intervention

Neuroessentialist perspectives foster lower empathy levels for patients in medical providers and non-providers alike.

Neuroessentialist perspectives of a patient significantly increases levels of prognostic pessimism which leads to worse treatment outcomes

Neuroessentialism arose because of a real invalidation people feel around their mental health and it is a societal issue we need to work on

We can combat neuroessentialism and stigma by working to make psychotherapy more accessible and talking about our experiences openly as well as giving each other kindness and empathy.

[innenofutari]

On Goro Akechi’s morals and forgiveness (character analysis, but also just a very rambly post)

Akechi is… a very interesting character, I have no doubt about this. Also my favorite of course, if you hadn’t figured that out yet by this giant text you’re about to read (sorry). I have a lot I want to talk about in regards to him since he is so intriguing and we actually don’t have that much info about how his thought process works so it leaves a lot of room for speculation.

In any case, in this meta in specific I’m going to be talking about Akechi’s...morality(?), forgiveness and his relationship with regret. I’m not sure if that’s the best word to define this but I’ll roll with it for now. I’ll try to be fair and talk about things as I personally see them, it’s totally fine if you don’t share my views! Now, onto the actual meta.

Starting off, as people are obviously aware, Akechi is a morally gray character, a darker shade of, but he’s a sympathetic and tragic character nonetheless. That much is undeniable, he was written to be sympathetic, even if I’d argue Atlus did a pretty poor job of it in Vanilla (he was still my favorite ever since then though lol) but he’s reached his true potential in Royal, which makes me immensely happy to see. I get so unbelievably happy whenever I see people saying Royal changed their perception of him and started to like him more! But even then, there are a lot of people who just can’t forgive him for what he did, and that’s only natural. I personally think that, if you don’t try to sympathize with Akechi and truly, truly try to understand his mind and history, you’re doing him a huge disservice. But, forgiveness is something that everyone is free to think and decide if he deserves it or not. In Akechi’s case, I feel like forgiveness is something much more personal to the player, and this shows between the Phantom Thieves too.

There is a visual novel I hold very close to my heart called Umineko no Naku Koro Ni (which I’ll be quoting relentlessly throughout this entire post) that illustrates what I think better than I could put into words, so I’ll be quoting that scene with a few tweaks for better context:

“You said you understood the culprit’s motive.”

“...Yes.”

“Is that motive… a satisfying explanation for why they’d [commit murder]?!”

“Who knows. That’s for you to decide. Even if I say it’s satisfying, that doesn’t mean it will satisfy you. …You have to decide that for yourself.”

I really like this. It reminds me a lot of Akechi’s situation. I firmly believe that this has no “objective”, “most correct” answer to, just your personal feelings, which are the most important. I, as a player, do forgive Akechi, I want him to have a happy ending, another chance at life, manage to live happily with Akira and have some fun for once. That’s what “forgiveness” means to me in this situation, but while some people may empathize with Akechi, they still can’t forgive him. They think he should stay forever in jail or die since he cannot be redeemed in any way in their eyes. Where do I wanna go with this endless blabbering you ask, and I respond, I just want to try and see Akechi’s actions through two different lenses.

Well, I personally don’t like downplaying the crimes he committed and dumbing it down to “he was being manipulated” because, even if this is not false, it is not entirely correct either. Akechi is so fun to speculate about because he’s a character who is always clashing against himself in various ways as if he was in a constant state of internal turmoil, and this is not very different.

Akechi himself made the choice to go to Shido. It is extremely unlikely that he didn’t know he was going to be using his new powers for murder. He may have been very young, but despite the fact that he was a child forced to mature prematurely, he knew exactly which type of person Shido was. When he walked into that deal he was aware of the consequences and had fully made peace with the fact that he’d be taking another person’s life. Now, I’m not saying that Shido never manipulated him because he did, but not with that particular choice. 

This alone tells plenty about Akechi’s morals. I believe that Akechi indeed has some level of empathy for other people, but I sincerely doubt he feels especially bad about the Okumura-like people he had to kill. He might feel bad for the family of the victims or just feel nauseated with himself, however, he doesn’t regret a thing. As if he had grown numb to it. ...Until a certain point, that is, but I’ll talk about that later.

I would also like to elaborate further on Akechi’s continuous conflict with himself, and this particular piece of Maruki’s confidant immediately reminded me of this:

He’s talking about Akira here, but isn’t it interesting to note that Akechi’s internalized and externalized realities are, in contrast to Akira’s, the farthest they could possibly be from each other? His sense of justice, childlike desire to be loved and seen as a hero, in contrast to the cold-blooded murderer he had become? It’s like there are two people fighting it out inside of Akechi’s brain (lol) which must cause him a lot of distress. I don’t believe that Robin Hood is a ruse or that his Detective Prince façade is entirely fake. The way I see it, they are his ideal, which he strayed so far away from he lost grasp of who he himself is.

In my opinion, Akechi has never cared about fame the slightest bit, he used all of that as an opportunity to act out the person he wished he was, just and virtuous, while still being the feral murderer and bloodstained person he is today. These are two integral parts of him that he has never known how to reconcile. It’s interesting to note that in the third semester he was the one who since the beginning advocated firmly to return to the harsh reality but he had spent the entire game living in the comforting “detective prince” dream he made for himself until the engine room scene happened. 

With the third semester context, the engine room becomes so interesting because that scene is akin to Sumire finding out she’s not Kasumi. It’s a cold bucket of water thrown straight to Akechi’s face and telling him to wake up from this lie he made to comfort himself and face reality: he is no hero. Despite the fact that he is, too, a victim, he is simultaneously a murderer who perpetuated with the cycle of his father’s aggressions and he cannot escape that fact. Worse, he was being manipulated all along and his revenge plan and arguably his only reason to live AND justification for his actions was completely crushed.

Once again, this Umineko scene illustrates what I think Akechi’s situation up until that point was like:

Akechi rationalized every awful, inexcusable thing he did as, “It’s for my revenge’s sake” and ran with it. He was incredibly blinded by his hate and ignored the weight of the consequences of his actions up until that point where everything came crashing down right in front of his eyes. There is no excuse and no justification for that.

However, Akechi was also abused himself. There is no excuse for what he did, but is getting back at the person who took everything from him so reprehensible a thought? Is wanting justice against someone who essentially ruined your life not understandable? Many people like to say “cool motive still murder” or things of the like, but I’m asking you again to put yourself in his shoes.

Yet AGAIN with a Umineko screencap:

I played this the other day and one of the first things I thought of was Akechi. A lot of people draw parallels between Akechi and Adachi, but that’s just so damn wrong and make me lose my hair so much and become completely bald because that couldn’t be farther from the truth and I’m gently asking you to reconsider. In the pic above, Adachi would fit the “homicidal maniac” mentioned to a T, and while Akechi is by absolutely no means free of guilt and much less a stellar person, his crimes were moved completely by his heart. 

For the people who use his choice to become Shido’s hitman to say Akechi does not deserve any kind of forgiveness and that he’s a murderous maniac, I ask you to at least think of what state of mind he was at that moment. Think very hard about it, imagine how completely bleak life must have looked like then, to the point that he risked everything on murder.

This is nothing more than my speculation, but I believe Akechi’s thought process at that moment was something along the lines of, “I have nothing to lose since my (current) life is completely meaningless". It was as if he had reached such a numb state he chose to forgo all his morals and humanity in pursuit of at least one thing that would give his life meaning, that being his hate for Shido, which I also think was the only emotion he ever truly understood well ever since his mom passed.

Since Akechi is all about conflicting emotions though, I would also like to remind you how vulnerable Akechi really is to any kind of affection. His “childlikeness” that Robin Hood represents was, by all accounts, still there. Akechi has a desperate need to be loved while simultaneously putting up walls and wearing masks, making it extremely difficult to have any kind of meaningful relationship. This is something that Shido thoroughly takes advantage of, too.

That’s also why one of his lines to Akira hit so much harder for me, following this reasoning. “If only we had met a few years earlier,” expresses many emotions at once. If Akechi had known something other than misery and hatred during that period of his life he would not have latched so thoroughly to that revenge plan. Akechi simply had nothing to lose, since he had nothing at all.

I mentioned earlier that Akechi doesn’t regret a thing, which I still think it’s true. Before he had met Akira, he truly did not regret a thing, but meeting Akira caused him a lot of strife because not only Akira is a person whose whole existence flaunts everything Akechi could have had if he hadn’t fallen into fate’s trap, but Akechi also experiences happiness through his connection with Akira. Hanging out and talking to him truly makes him happy, and it’s something more genuine than he’s ever known. Yet, it’s too late, because his choices were already set in stone and he had already pulled the trigger with no way to take any of the bullets back.

That’s why Akechi is so confusing, so controversial and sometimes uncomfortable to think about. There is no clear line between good or bad, he just is something in the middle. Akechi is both a person who ruined a lot of people’s lives with no regard whatsoever to the consequences but also a victim rebelling and retaliating against the person who took everything from him and made his life a living hell. That’s why it’s so hard for not only some players to form opinions about him but also downright uncomfortable for the Phantom Thieves to think about. There is no objectively best answer for what he deserves. It just doesn’t exist. Should he spend the rest of his life in jail, or dead, because his crimes were inexcusable? Or should he be given another chance at life to learn to be happy? It’s entirely subjective, and that’s why he’s so great to think or discuss about. 

Aaand that’s it, I’m grateful you read so far, hope I didn’t piss anyone off, also not gonna pretend this wasn’t very self indulgent because of the amount of times I quoted Umineko in it. Anyways, thank you!

SIDE NOTE: I didn’t write this recently, it had been sitting on my drafts for some months now and I found it again today and decided to just release it into the wild because why not? I think this was meant to be much longer than it is and to elaborate more eloquently on a lot of points I brought up (like the PT with Akechi) but alas, I lost the train of thought and so it Perished.

[myhockeyworld87]

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#5

What Happens In Vegas...Doesn’t Always Stay There - Jacob Markstrom - Part 2

Word Count: 4,845

POV: Reader

Warning: Language, NSFW, Smut

Notes: Well you guys have spoken and it looks like this the fic you wanted posted. Don’t worry, I’ll be posting the others soon. But in case you were wondering where we left. Our reader was in Vegas at a bachelorette party, when she had a few too many drinks and wound up married to one Jacob Markstrom. Let’s see what happens next. As always feedback is welcome. Happy Reading!

What Happens In Vegas...Doesn’t Always Stay There Masterlist

"Fuck," you yelled, once you realized that you were now Mrs. Markstrom. This couldn't be happening. Your brain couldn't be remembering things right.

"Vad? Vada r fel?" Jacob mumbled in a haze of sleep, lifting his head to check on you. You had no idea that he was asking you what was wrong, as he automatically defaulted to Swedish in his drowsy state. "Are you ok?"

"No, no I'm not." Your voice was panicked and you were starting to break out in a cold sweat. "We're married!"

 His head flopped back down on the pillow. "Oh, that."

 Wait he knew and wasn't saying anything. "That," you said with a note of distress in your voice. "What do you mean 'oh, that?'"

 He turned his head so that he faced you, as you straightened your body so you could rest against the headboard; fighting the urge to get up and pace the room. "It was a joke. We just took a couple pictures with some Elvis."

 A joke? Ok, that kind of seemed like drunk you, after all everyone said you were a fun drunk. You sagged back against the mattress, breathing a sigh of relief. "So that's all it was, a joke?"

 "Mmmhmm." Well, that made you feel a bit better. "From what I remember it was. Things are a bit hazy." Jacob saying that, did not. He got up then, rolling onto his side and propping his head up. "I vaguely recall saying we were just going to snap some pictures and show your friend how silly it was to rush into things. I'm sure that's all we did." He had to be right, that part of the night still eluded you, though you do remember wandering into the chapel. "Though we can still pretend we're on our honeymoon if you want."

 His free hand, the one his head wasn't propped up on, slid under the duvet and across your midsection. His fingers wandering down to your core. His eyebrows wiggled suggestively, a silent plea for you to let him keep going. Now that you were a bit more relieved at knowing your marriage to him was some elaborate rouse, you were a bit more inclined for that second round with him, so you smiled giving him the green light to continue.

 Jacob didn't need to be told twice, as you felt his fingers widening your legs to give him access to your pussy. His fingertips lightly brushed against you and you sucked in a breath. "Fan du ar vat." You had to admit that Swedish wasn't the most seductive language, but when it rolled off his tongue it turned you into jelly. He recognized that you didn't know what he was saying and translated for you. "Fuck, you're wet." You were, there was no denying that, as this man just did things to you by simply giving you a look.

 He wasted no time sliding a finger inside you while his thumb brushed against your clit. You couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips as he made your body tingle with delight. "So sensitive, prinsessa. I love that." His mouth kissed the outside of your thigh as he still laid on his side, his fingers torturing you. "I may not remember all of last night," Jacob admitted. "But I remember hearing you moan." As if on cue, you groaned out when his finger hit your most delicate spot. "So pretty." He removed his fingers and you whined at the loss of contact. "Ride me, prinsessa." He rolled onto his back, giving your thigh a squeeze.

 There was no denying your needs right then. You wanted him inside you, so you straddled him. Knees on either side of his hips, you positioned his cock right at your entrance. You savored the feel of him sliding inside you as you sunk down on him slowly, fully engulfing his dick inside you. Jacob's hands slid up and down your sides caressing your body. After your tumble with him last night, you knew your hair had to be a disaster, so you ran your fingers through your locks, hoping to at least make yourself a bit more presentable as you rode him.

 Unbeknownst to you, the picture you painted Jacob was nothing short of pornography; arms raised above your head, tits bouncing, as you slowly moved your hips against him. While his memory of last night was a bit hazy, being buried inside you wasn’t. He clearly recalled needing to get ahold of himself before he spent in you too soon. Now was no different, as he gripped your hips hard then wildly bucked up into you.

 His movements thrilled you and had you bracing yourself against the headboard as he fucked you. He had told you to ride him but wasn’t willing to give over the reigns completely, but that was ok with you. He slowed his thrusts, giving you back just a bit of control, yet his hands lingered at your waist ready to take it back at any minute. You ran your hands up your side, then cupped your breasts, gently pulling on the nipples. “My god, you’re beautiful,” Jacob panted out as you looked down at him through hooded lashes.

 The sound of your bodies slapping together filled the room. Jacob’s fingertips dug into your ass cheeks as you picked up your pace, riding him earnestly now. His hips met you every time you ground down on him. At one point Jacob couldn’t take it anymore and he moved his one hand so he could toy with your clit. “Oh fuck,” you breathed out when he rubbed the little nub. “Jacob…I’m gonna…” The rest was a garbled mess as you came hard grinding down on his rock-hard cock inside you.

 “Yes, prinsessa.” Jacob watched you fall apart loving every emotion that played across your face. It pushed him over the edge and with a few more thrusts he spilled his cum deep inside your cunt.

 Your body was spent as you sagged forward on top of Jacob. You were both breathing hard, chest heaving in an effort to draw in more air. After a few seconds, you felt his lips on you; kissing your forehead, your nose, and then finally your lips. The kiss was sweet and loving, perfect after the sweaty and exhausting sex that had just happened. “Min vackra prinsessa,” he whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear as it had cascaded around the two of you obscuring his view of your face. “Too bad our marriage is a joke, for I could get used to that.”

 “We don’t have to be married for you to enjoy that again.” You pecked his lips then lifted off of him and rolled onto your side of the bed. “Come see me in LA anytime.”

 “You realize I’ll be there at least four times with my schedule, and San Jose isn’t too far from you.” His body was turned towards you so that you could see the seriousness in his face.

 “Well, I expect to be seeing my fake husband when he’s in town.” You gave him a little wink before adding, “And I think the trip to San Jose would be totally worth it.” He got up then and walked to the bathroom. You heard the water running and it wasn’t more than a minute or two before he was back at the bed.

 “Here.” He brought you a glass of water and a couple aspirin. It was exactly what you needed.

 “Thank you.”

 “Sleep, it’s still early, then we’ll shower later.” He dropped a kiss to your lips while tucking the covers up around then crawling into bed with you. He tucked you into his side and you swiftly drifted back to sleep.

 It was a couple hours later that Jacob woke up before you. His mind troubled with thoughts. It wasn’t a bad dream so much as a nagging feeling eating away at him. He carefully removed himself from the bed careful not to disturb you as you continued to sleep on peacefully. Covering himself with a pair of boxer briefs, he grabbed a bottle of water then sat down on the sofa in the suite. On the table lay the pictures from your fake wedding. He picked them up, laughing to himself at the photo on top. It was a dramatic shot of him asking you to marry him, and you acting shocked. He vaguely remembered doing that but the rest was all a blur. He leafed through the other shots. One of a fake Elvis, which seemed to be typical Vegas style, another of you kissing him after the proposal, still more of you being married by Elvis. They would all make for a cute memory of his time with you. Hell, part of him wished that he was married to you. He wouldn’t mind being buried balls deep in you every night.

 Jacob finally got to the last photo, or what he thought was the last picture; only it was some sort of document. He flipped it so that he could read it better. “Fuck,” he whispered softly as he read the words so nicely scripted across the paper. It seemed to be a marriage license, signed not only by both of you but the Elvis impersonator as well, whose name wasn’t Elvis and seemed to be a legitimately licensed marriage officiant.

 He needed to find out if this was real, so grabbing the hotel phone off the end table, he called the chapel. “Hello Mr. Markstrom, how can I help you?” An overly cheerful woman answered the phone.

 “Um, yeah, so I was wondering…I was there last night with…” He had to look down at the license to remember your last night. “Ms. (Y/LN) and I have our license in my hand. I was just wondering how valid this is?”

 “Oh, I can assure you Mr. Markstrom that it is one hundred percent authentic and has been filed electronically with the courthouse. You and Ms. (Y/LN) are indeed married. We make sure to dot all the I’s and cross all the T’s before we let you leave.”

 Jacob covered the phone then muttered, “Fuck.”

 “Is there anything else you need?”

 “No, um…I’m good. Thank you.”

 “No problem and congratulations again to you and the new Mrs. Markstrom.”

 Jacob hung up the phone and swore furiously in Swedish. You stirred, hearing something but not really registering what was going on, as you blinked your eyes several times clearing the sleep from them. The bed was empty next to you, and you found yourself sitting up looking for Jacob. He wasn’t in the bathroom, so you got up and padded out to where the seating area was. Sure enough there he was sitting with his head in his hand. “Head hurt that bad?” He groaned in reply. “Come back to bed and I’ll make it feel better.”

 He lifted his head up and turned to you then, a serious look in his eyes. “You’re not going to like this, prinsessa.” Well, if he was calling you princess again, it couldn’t be all bad. You raised an eyebrow in query. “Apparently, we’re married.”

 “Right, you told me it was a joke.” You sat down on the couch beside him, noticing the scattered photos on the table. “See, like I would ever get married by some Elvis doppelganger.”

 “It wasn’t a joke.” He handed over what looked like a marriage license, a very authentic one at that. Leave it to Vegas to be thorough even in practical joking. “There’s a seal on it and everything.” He was right there, but that would mean that this was real.

 “Oh, no….no, no, no….no. This isn’t real. You said…”

 “I know what I thought, but I wasn’t one hundred percent sure. So I called.” There was a look of dread on his face. "The paperwork has already been filed at the courthouse. Yay for technology."

 You knew he was trying to find a bit of humor in this mess, but frankly, you didn't find it funny at all. "Now what?"

 "I was just trying to come up with that when you came in."

 It hit you then, the solution to your problem. Maybe if you hadn't drunk enough alcohol to float a small ship last night it would've come to you sooner. "We'll just get an annulment."

 "Is that possible, after last night and well this morning?"

 "Hmm, I hadn't thought about that. Well, divorce it is." It wasn't ideal and you can't imagine having to explain it down the line, years from now, when you finally found someone you wanted to be tied down to, but it was the answer to your problem.

 Jacob seemed to mull it over a bit, and it struck you that he might be religious and that this might not be an option after all. "I'll make a phone call," he finally told you and you breathed out a sigh of relief. It took the two of you several minutes to locate your phones but eventually, you found them. While Jacob called his lawyer, you checked your messages. There were several texts from the girls saying they were heading to breakfast, so you shot one off yourself. There was no way you were meeting them yet, so you cried off stating that you were still hungover from the day before. You were really going to need to patch things up with Kennedy after all this trip was about her. Hopefully, you could share a laugh with her about this whole mess.

 A curse word muttered, or at least you thought it was, one in Swedish, brought you back to the situation at hand, and you looked at Jacob expectantly. "Apparently, it's not as easy as we think." He blew out a very frustrated sigh. "It's still doable, but it's going to take a lot longer than I expected."

 "How long?"

 "A couple months after the papers are signed and filed, possibly more."

 "What!?! You've got to be kidding me." That didn't make any sense at all. Shouldn't you be able to get a quickie divorce in a week when both parties were in agreement?

 "Well, my citizenship is one factor, but apparently it just takes that kind of time."

 "We got married in like, what...seconds. I don't understand." You started scrolling through your contacts looking for Aaron's number, then hit it and started to walk away.

 "Who are you calling?"

 "A friend, who's also an attorney." Aaron worked for the same firm as you, only in the legal department. Surely he'd dealt with a celebrity or two that had this same problem.

 You gave Aaron the condensed version of what happened, hoping that he'd come through and be your savior. "I hate to say it (Y/N), this Jacob's attorney is right. It's going to take you that long, if not longer." A growl of frustration was all you gave as an answer. "Cheer up babe, it could be worse."

 "Really? How so?"

 "Well, you could've picked some homeless guy off the street. At least this one sounds decent, and it's not like you have to move to Canada or Sweden while you wait this out. Just go on about your business."

 "I know, you're right. Thanks for your help, Aaron. I'll see you in a day or two." With that, you hung up the phone and headed back to Jacob.

 "Looks like you didn't fare any better."

 You sat heavily down on the couch. "No, not at all. Looks like we better start filing so we can get this done sooner than later." The look in Jacob's eye had you questioning things. You had thought you both were on the same page. Sure last night and this morning were fun, but what did you really know about each other. He couldn't really be thinking about staying married. When you couldn't take it any longer, you blurted out, "what?"

 He shook his head. "Nothing." When you gave him that look that said you didn't believe him he finally fessed up. "You're wearing my shirt."

 "Oh, sorry. I realized when I was on the phone I didn't have anything on. Hope you don't mind."

 Jacob actually didn't mind at all, in fact, he kind of liked you in it, which was a new feeling. "No, not at all. Though I'll admit I like you without anything on as well."

 It was hard to stop your eyes from rolling at his words especially at a time like this, but somehow you managed to. "While I appreciate the compliment, we should probably figure out what we're going to do." It was then that you looked at him, in only his boxers. His washboard abs calling out to your fingertips to just run over them, not to mention the strain of his cock against those briefs. You bit your lip just thinking about the things that you wanted to do to him and have him do to you. "And once that's done, then we can celebrate our divorce."

 "I like the way you think." He scooted you closer on the couch so that your legs were draped over his. "I was thinking that while you were on the phone, that I can just have my lawyer handle things. He said he could have everything drawn up in a couple days since we don't have to split up a house or any belongs."

 "That's fine. You can email me them and I'll just sign and send them back."

 "He did mention one thing, though I'm loathed to bring it up." His hand was traveling up and down your shins making it hard to think, but you were intent upon getting this divorce started.

 "Just tell me, after all, we are married, and married people shouldn't have secrets right?" I mean it was a bad joke, you'll admit that, but then if you couldn't laugh about this shamble of a mess you may start to cry.

 "He wanted to make sure that you weren't after, well...you know."

 Your eyebrows drew together as you tried to figure out his meaning, and then it hit you. "Oh my god! No, I'm not after any money. I would never and it's not like I don't have my own. I mean it's probably not anything close to what you make, but I do bring in quite a bit. Oh my god, I'm rambling. But no, no, I don't want a cent from you."

 "I told him I thought that was the case, but he wanted me to be sure."

 "Ok as long as you didn't think that."

 Jacob was quick to tell you he didn't. "No, not at all. If I'm being honest, I think getting married was my idea, if I remember right."

 "I wish I could remember more, though these pictures do bring back a few memories. I can't remember how we got these rings though. What is this cubic zirconia?"

 "Umm, nope." His cheeks started to turn a delightful shade of red. "My credit card tells me it's a diamond."

 "Oh Jacob," you exclaimed, taking off the ring. "This has to be a fortune. It's at least three carats." Quickly, you put the ring in his hand as if it was going to burn you. This fake marriage had caused enough damage that he didn't need to be on the hook for a ring that you'd never wear again.

 "You know I can afford it right?"

 "Of course, I know that. You just shouldn't have to pay for my mistake."

 "It wasn't just your mistake." It was sweet of him to try and shoulder the blame, but if you wouldn't have had that tiff with Kennedy, then you wouldn't have gotten drunk ass stupid and married him. "We both did this, but there's no point in arguing about it. In a few short months, this marriage will be over."

 "True."

 "Let me give him a quick call and get things started." You went to move but Jacob stilled you with his arm. The conversation was brief, his hand was inching further up your thighs during the entire call, sending delightful tingles all over your body. As soon as he hung up, that same hand reached your core. "So now that that's settled. What about that celebration? You know while we're still married and all."

 You'd already said you weren't making it to brunch with everyone, so there was really no reason, not to indulge in what you wanted. Scooting up a little further onto his lap, you grabbed the back of his neck and drew his lips down to yours. One kiss melted into another and another until neither of you could take it any longer and Jacob took you there on the sofa. After that, it was round 4 in the shower.

 You and Jacob exchanged numbers so that you could keep in touch while the divorce papers were being worked on by his lawyer. Since both of you were still in Vegas another night, you agreed to meet up a little later. Jacob claiming that it was safer to be with his 'wife' than out looking for another one.

 It was an hour after leaving Jacob before you were knocking on Kennedy’s door, there to apologize for everything you said to her the day before. She opened the door, and without so much as a hello, grabbed your arm and hauled you inside. “You have to tell me everything that happened?” How the hell did she know what had happened with Jacob. She was your best friend and all, but the last time you checked she was not a psychic. “I called Ryan and he told me those guys were from the Canucks, which happen to be his favorite hockey team in the world.” Somehow you really weren’t shocked to find that out. Considering Ryan was from Seattle and an avid sports fan. “When Jade told me, you were hooking up with one of them, I died. I need to know everything.”

 Oh, you weren’t sure if she was ready to hear everything. “Can I first apologize for being an absolute asshole to you yesterday?”

 “You can, but there’s no need. I know your feelings about marriage and how you think we’re rushing into it. I get that you were just looking out for me and only want me to be happy, and you know I’ll be happy with Ryan. I wasn’t really mad at you, per se. It was more about smoothing things over with Gretchen. You know how she can be.” You did know how Gretchen was, which was why you felt even worse for saying what you did, when you did. “(Y/N), you’re the closest thing I’ll ever have to a sister, and nothing you say is ever going to change that.”

 You enveloped her in a massive hug. There were times that you felt as if you and Kennedy were twins separated at birth and it was nice to know she felt that way too. “I really am sorry.”

 “It’s already forgiven. Now, tell me everything that happened, or more importantly; can you get any of their autographs so I can take them back to Ryan?”

 “Oh, I’m pretty sure I can get us seats to any game if he wants to go?”

 Kennedy's face was filled with a mixture of shock and joy. “Really?”

 “Yeah, I’m pretty sure they have a family suite or something for wives to sit in.”

 This time you watched as that same shocked look turned into confusion. “I’m not following you?”

 “Well…I kind of sort of…” Kennedy might be your best friend, who knew you better than yourself, but you still didn’t know how to tell her this. It was always easiest to just rip the bandaid off, you supposed. “That is…I got married last night.”

 “YOU WHAT?”

 “Little louder, Kenny I don’t think they heard you at the Bellagio.”

 “I’m sorry but you cannot just drop that bomb on me and expect me not to shout at you like you lost your damn mind.” Ok, she had a point. You had in fact lost your mind and your memory. Damn alcohol. “You need to tell me everything right now.”

 It took you a half hour to tell Kennedy all the details of what had happened with Jacob. She was stunned, to say the least. In the end, the only thing she wanted to know was if you were now her matron of honor instead of maid. Leave it to Kennedy to make you laugh at a time like this. She agreed to keep your marriage a secret from the other girls and you hoped that she didn’t blurt it out like she did your little sexcapade with Superman, though she insisted that all of you meet up with Jacob and some of his teammates that night.

  Like you, Jacob had only told one other person about what happened that night, his friend and teammate Chris; to everyone else, it just seemed as though you two were very interested in one another. At the end of the night, you were fumbling back into his suite, divesting him of every garment he had on, while he did the same to you. The next morning, you said your goodbyes but decided to keep in touch. Jacob promised you there would be tickets with your name on them anytime you wanted them in Vancouver and that he’d definitely see you when he was in LA. It was something you were definitely looking forward to. Despite the whole marriage debacle, or maybe because of it, you had to say that your trip to Las Vegas was one you were definitely going to remember for a lifetime.

 Twenty-four hours later, when you were back in your own place, still trying to rehydrate from the past seventy-two hours, is when you received a phone call from Jacob. He called to make sure that you got back to Los Angeles and that everything was fine. It was actually kind of sweet. It was about sixteen hours after that, that you found yourself calling him after his first practice. One conversation rolled into the next and so on until you were talking at least twice a day. He talked about hockey and his life in Sweden as well as Vancouver, while you told him about LA and your job there. Family and friends were a topic that came up often, almost to a point that you felt as if his teammates were your friends as well. Sure, there were the occasional nights where phone sex ended up taking place, though you had to admit it was much better than some of the dates you’d gone on in the past. If one was on the outside looking in, they probably wouldn’t understand why you were actually going through with the divorce. That thought didn’t stop you from signing the documents and sending them back to Jacob though.

 As the season started, Jacob still made time to talk to you every day. He even started to wonder if the circumstances had been different and the two of you had met in Vancouver or LA, would you be an actual couple at this point. He had to admit that your conversations were the highlight of his day. You were smart and funny with a wit about you that he enjoyed, and well to say that you were attractive was a complete understatement in his book. If Jacob was being honest with himself, you were his ideal woman.

 Which is why when the divorce papers came in, almost a month after he met you, he simply threw them on his desk and vowed to take them to his attorney soon. Unfortunately, he forgot he had an extended road trip coming up, which made him forget about them completely. They only crossed his mind once while he was gone when you’d asked him if he got them. He tried to make a mental note to remember them when he got home, but not only did they slip his mind, but they also got buried in a mountain of mail on his desk.

 The following week when he got home was a bit crazy. He missed a night in calling you when a game went into overtime. When he tried to the next day you didn’t answer. Jacob tried not to give it too much thought or take it personally, though his mind told him differently. He knew that you had a big ad campaign coming up and that work had started to consume your life. He just hoped it wasn’t with some hot male stripper or movie star.

 When you didn’t answer the phone the following three days, Jacob started to believe that what the two of you had or were starting to have, never really existed. He had resigned himself that he’d probably never see or hear from you again. Oh, how he was wrong.  

.

227 notes • Posted 2021-04-19 01:48:07 GMT

#4

Frisky for a Fight - Jamie Benn

Word Count: 3,250

POV: Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Language, Smut

Notes: So watching Jamie Benn fight the other night was just a turn on for me and I ended up writing a little something for it. I decided to use the reader from Ruined, hope you guys don’t care. As always I love to hear your feedback. Happy Reading!!!

(Also not my pic)

You didn’t see the exchange between Zadorov and Dellandrea, only the commentary from the announcers that the young pup had made a hit on the Blackhawk, and then words were exchanged. The television was always on in the training room for you to watch the game if, you weren't on the ramp. You’d been marking down a few things in your charts after taking care of a couple of the guys during intermission, which is why you missed Jamie drop the gloves when play resumed. As soon as you heard them say that, you picked your head up to see the exchange.

You had a love-hate relationship with Jamie fighting, always had. On the one hand, you hated it, because there was always this risk of him getting hurt. While on the other, you found it incredibly sexy. There was just something about seeing him all angry and fired up, that just did things to you, and this fight was definitely doing it to you now. Which was wrong, so wrong. Your panties she should not be getting wet at this moment, but the minute he threw that left uppercut right into Zadorv’s face, you felt your pussy clench.

The fight only last seconds, as the refs came in and broke it up rather quickly after that. You watched Jamie, skate over to the penalty box taking off his helmet, pushing his hair back once he got in, giving you a chance to see what the damage was to his face. Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be any, but you wouldn’t be able to tell until the second intermission which was a while away. There was no point in making yourself suffer, so you headed up towards the bench to see if you could get a closer look without seeming to be hovering over him.

You stood there on the runway, leaning against the wall arms folded as you waited. Jamie saw you staring, could tell by your stance you weren’t pleased that he’d got into another fight, though it was the first of the shortened season. He knew he’d be in for an earful the second the period ended. You kept staring at him over there in that box, all the while Jamie was fretting. Not about dealing with Bones, he knew his coach wouldn’t give him too much hell, but you; you were a different story and the last person he wanted to displease.

When they finally released him and he skated over to the bench to the sound of sticks taping once again cheering him on, you were able to assess the damage. He looked good, nothing seemed to be bruising or swelling, though he should probably get some ice on those knuckles; just for preventative measures. Jamie's eyes darted around to all his teammates before they laid square on you. His signature puppy dog's eyes coming out to tell you he was sorry. You simply shook your head and made your way back to the training room.

Bones talked to guys briefly after the second period before you went in. “So how bad are you?” you asked, grabbing his hands to see the damage. There were a few scraps but nothing that was bleeding or needing attention.

“I’m fine.” He snipped back, earning a disapproving glare from you. He could fight all he wanted with them, but he would not be picking one with you.

“I can see that,” you retorted. “Put some ice on those before they swell.” The guys went about their usual intermission break, making changes here and there with plays, and pointing out weaknesses they could try and capitalize on. All while guzzling Gatorade and something to give them a bit more energy in the third. Everyone started to filter back to the bench as the reprieve was over while Jamie lingered behind.

“Sorry I was snippy before. I just thought you were going to yell at me for fighting.”

“As long as you’re not hurt. I have no need to yell.” You shrugged off the matter, not wanting to get into how the whole thing actually made you dripping wet. He turned to head back down the ramp and out to the bench, a sulking look on his face as if he didn't believe that you were mad at him. "Jame," you yelled out, making sure there weren't too many prying eyes around before you grabbed him and kissed him hard on the mouth. "I'm not encouraging you to fight again, but I was very turned on by that punch to Zadorov's face." You couldn't let him go back out on the ice in a brooding mood, or he'd definitely be dropping the gloves in the third.

"Really?" His eyes perked up, and there was a distinct sparkle to them. One that you'd seen many times as before right before he ripped your clothes off, though that wouldn't be happening here.

"Yes, but if you do it again; you won’t be finding out exactly how wet I am,” you whispered, before swatting at his padded ass. “Now get back out there, captain.” The smile on his face told you, that you didn’t need to worry about him fighting the rest of the game, as he made his way back onto the ice; a little more pep in his step than before.

For the rest of the game, Jamie seemed to behave himself. There might have been an unnecessary check here and quite possibly a shove that wasn’t needed there, but at least his fists weren’t flying into anyone’s face. The game didn’t end how they hoped, as the Stars fell to Chicago. After a few words from coach, some of the guys, including Jamie, headed over to do media. You saw him roll his eyes at having to sit through what he considered the worst form of torture. It was even more so that, now that he knew how turned on you were after his fight. He was definitely distracted as the reporters fired off a few questions, little did they know where his mind actually was.

You finished cleaning up the training room, letting the athletic trainers go early as you waited for Jamie to finish up. He was just finishing buttoning up his shirt when you walked into the locker room. He spied you and his hands immediately stopped, leaving a good four buttons hanging undone. “So you found that little fight sexy, eh?”

There was no one else in the locker room as everyone else had left. So, you were free to saunter up to him and slide your hands up his torso until you could feel his exposed chest. “I’ll admit it was kind of hot.”

“Just kind of?” He grabbed your waist, pressing your body intimately to his where you could feel his erection.

“Well, I guess there’s only one way to find out.” His eyebrows lifted at your suggestion, while his hands roamed down the cheeks of your ass, gathering the fabric of your skirt as he went. It was nothing new for the two of you to get a little frisky when no one else was around. Jamie admitting once that he always wanted to have sex on his locker stall, was all it took to make that fantasy a reality, and while it didn’t happen often, it had happened a couple of times.

His hands worked the globes of your ass, the cool air hitting them as he hiked your skirt up to your waist. Fingers shifting, you felt him move to your core, where you knew he’d find your panties moist. “Fuck baby, have you been this wet since the second?”

“Uh huh,” you moaned before kissing him hard. To your surprise, Jamie moved his hand away and started shimming your skirt back down your lips. “Aren't we…” He didn’t let you finish, just grabbed your hand and headed out of the locker room. You knew you weren’t headed to the car, as he left his jacket hanging. “Where are we going?”

“I’m feeling frisky tonight.”

“I gathered that when you dropped the gloves.” He rolled his eyes as he looked back at you.

When he headed up the ramp that led to the bench, you pulled back on his hand. “Everyone’s gone.” He told you, and while you knew that all of the players and coaches weren’t there, there were still people that worked in the arena milling about. “Come on babe, trust me. Unless you just want to wait until we’re home?” His free hand, snuck between your thighs, letting his fingers dance along your folds.

You moaned in frustration. There wasn’t really a choice here. “No, I don’t.” The minutes the words were out of your mouth, he had your feet moving again. The arena was dark, except for the emergency lighting that dimly lit up the place. Shockingly, he opened the door to the ice though and stepped out onto it.

He picked you up and carried you across to the penalty box before you could even ask where you were going. “I couldn’t stop thinking about taking you here all third period. I’d like to say overtime too, but I was trying to concentrate on the game then.” You laughed, the sound echoing through the building, which made you immediately quiet again. “Thought we could actually do some sinning in this bin.”

He set you down inside the box first before coming behind you and closing the door. The wicked gleam in his eye matched the smirk on your face and the next thing you knew he was shoving you up against the glass, his mouth hot and heavy on yours. Your hands scrambled to undo his shirttails, while he shoved your jacket off your shoulders. His mouth was everywhere, on your lips and on your neck as they made their way down to your breasts. Jamie sucked on a perk nipple through the fabric of your blouse; your back arching into him.

You were so lost in the sensation of his lips that you didn’t realize the loud moan that escaped you.  “Shh,” Jamie hushed before capturing your lips with his. Regaining some of your senses, you quickly undid his belt buckle, before sliding the zipper of his pants down. If you were going to do this you might as well, live out a little fantasy of your own. You pushed back on Jamie’s chest, causing him to pull back in question.

“Since we’re sinning. There’s a little something I’ve always wanted to do to you here.” Pushing both his pants and boxers down to his knees, you backed him up to the bench, where he sat only hours ago for fighting. As you stared over at him earlier your mind had wanted to do one thing and now you had the opportunity. He sat down hard with just a simple push of your hand. His legs spreading immediately, as you sunk down to your knees. You wasted no time, letting your hand drift up his thighs, before guiding his cock into your mouth.

Jamie hissed out his pleasure. His hand threading through your hair as you sunk down on him. “Fuck baby, that feels so good.” You heard his head hit the back of the glass, as he hit the back of your throat. You worked the length of him in and out of your mouth. Part of you wished that the camera that was there was on, recording this. You wanted to see Jamie caught up in ecstasy as you worked your magic on him, but that would have to be for another time. He gathered your locks into a loose ponytail so he could watch you bob up and down on his cock. “Jesus, you look so beautiful.” They were whispered words of praise that went straight to your core.

When you hollowed out your cheeks, his head fell back once again against the plexiglass. It was then that you picked up speed and added a little hum. The vibrations sending Jamie almost spiraling to the point of no return, but he held it together even though his hips lifted off the bench. He was close. You could feel it in the way that his balls tightened under your touch and the way he seemed to almost let go completely. He held on by a small single thread and you knew it was because he didn’t want to spend in your mouth. He wanted to be buried deep inside your pussy when he finally came.

There was both disappointment and relief in his eyes as you released him with a pop; saliva and precum dripping from your mouth. He lifted you off the ground, then brought your mouth to his in a soul-searing kiss. “Fuck baby, you’re so good to me.” His hands worked the fabric of your skirt again, the cold of the ice making you shiver. Jamie hooked his fingers in the strings of your panties and ripped them off your body. You wanted to chide him for being so careless with the lace garment but that sheer animal magnetism of the action drew you to him even more.

You straddled him. Legs on both sides of his hips, as you slowly guided his member to your pussy. The feel of him deep inside you was like no other. It was like coming home and yet something new every single time. You’d been wanting this for the last couple of hours and now here you both were, though you hadn’t imagined it quite like this. Slowly, you swiveled your hips, making both you and Jamie hiss out in pleasure. You began to ride building up a rhythm that you both loved.

Jamie took hold of your hips, helping to steady you as you moved. Vaguely, you realized you pressed a hand to the glass behind Jamie and wondered if the imprint would still be there the next game. Would anyone realized that it wasn’t just someone trying to bang on the glass, but instead it was you being carried away in pure bliss as you rode their captain. Jamie brought you back to reality as he slid the v-neck blouse you wore off one shoulder so he could play with your breast. “I just want to rip this off you.”

“Do it,” you hissed out, knowing that he’d buy you dozens more to replace it. It was harder to tear than the panties but then Jamie was a man on a mission, just like he was earlier. His hands tore at the fabric the same ones that had punched Zadorov only hours ago. Now they were gentler, as they cupped your breast, tweaking and playing with the nipple. You threw your head back, only to have his mouth replace his fingers. He sucked on the turret peak then gently bit down. Your hips shot up, as a rush of wetness flooded Jamie’s cock buried inside you.

Suddenly, Jamie’s hands were on your ass and in one fluid motion he lifted you both up. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist as your back was pressed against the plexiglass; your heels digging into his ass but he enjoyed the bite. You clung to Jamie as he began to pound his cock into you. Foreheads pressed together, all that could be heard in the arena was the two of you panting as you sought that high you both craved. “Come on baby…” Jamie breathed out. “Cum for me.”

He was holding out, waiting for you and with a shift of his hips, he hit that sweet spot and sent you over the plateau. A silent scream was all that you let out as pleasure coursed through your veins. Jamie tucked his head into your neck, as he thrust a few more times before finding his own release. He held you up against the glass for a minute as your breathing calmed. “Can you stand?”

“I think so.” You’d forgotten about your heels until he set you down on them, but Jamie’s hands lingered on your hips to steady you. Once you regained your balance, you shimmied your skirt back down, while Jamie righted himself as well. “Where are my panties?” you whispered, only the receive a smirk from Jamie. The dim lighting wasn’t really conducive to finding your clothing, which even if it was ripped you still wanted.

Jamie lightly chuckled before he said, “We could always leave them for someone to find.”

“Jamie!” It was a little louder than you intended but you’d be totally mortified if someone on the team found them laying there.

“Is someone out there?” a voice called out shocking you.

“It’s just me Bill,” Jamie yelled to one of the custodians. “I was looking for my mouthguard.” You looked at Jamie questioningly and he just shrugged, as if it was the best he could think of on short notice. When you looked down embarrassed that you’d been caught, you finally saw your torn panties under Jamie’s foot. You shot down and snatched the garment up and shoved it in Jamie’s pocket. “Found it,” he yelled out to Bill. “I’ll be out of here shortly.”

“No problem Cap.” You heard Bill start to leave only to stop short and turn back around. “Hell of fight tonight, Cap. Hope we get to see some more like that this season. It seems to gets everyone riled up.”

“It sure does,” Jamie yelled back at Bill while grabbing your ass at the same time. “It sure does,” he repeated only this time quieter so only you would hear.

“Don’t even think that this is going to be a little habit, Benn.”

“Aww, come on baby. You have to admit it was fun. I don’t think I’ll ever sit in this box again without having a little smile on my face.”

“Well don’t think that this is some kind of reward for fighting because let me tell you; the first time I’m stitching you up because someone planted a facer on you, I already have your punishment in mind and it won't be anything like this.” You opened the door to the penalty box and waited for Jamie to step out and carry you since you had heels on. Which he did of course.

“What kind of punishment.” He queried as you made your way across the ice.

"That’s for me to know and for you to hopefully not find out.”

“This isn’t going to be like when you tried to get me to stop chewing snuff is it?”

“It worked, didn’t it. You don’t chew that shit anymore.”

“No, because if I did you wouldn’t let me near you.” It was true, every time Jamie chewed snuff you made it a point that sex, including kissing and whatnot was off the table, at least until he brushed, flossed, and rinsed with mouthwash. You weren’t sure what Jamie’s punishment was going to be for fighting yet but it would definitely run along those lines. “What happens if they all end up like this?”

Hmm, well that might be an entirely different story, as you were still ready to continue what you started in the sin bin. “Hmmm, I guess we will have to see if it’s still a turn on when it happens again.”

Jamie came up and grabbed your waist hauling you against him. “I’m more interested if you’re still turned on now.”

“Take me home and let’s find out.”  

247 notes • Posted 2021-02-13 02:01:13 GMT

#3

What Happens in Vegas...Doesn’t Always Stay There - Jacob Markstrom - Part 1

Word Count: 4,885

POV: Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Language, Smut, Drinking (all the good stuff)

Notes: Well here it is the new fic that’s been in my head. I tossed around a couple different guys for this, but some of you suggested Marky and well looks like it stuck. Trying to do this a little different and keep this in an all read POV, so we shall see how that works. I don’t see this being super long maybe between 5 or 6 parts. Hope you guys enjoy. As always feedback is welcome. Happy Reading!

They say that New York is the city that never sleeps but whoever 'they' is, well, they got it wrong. It has to be Vegas. Lights are always flashing whether you were indoors or out, the jangly sound of slot machines can be heard at all hours and the seven deadly sins seem to be on full display twenty-four hours a day. It's no wonder their tagline for years was 'What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.' If only that were true.

You wish you could blame someone else but you can't. Vegas was all your idea. As maid of honor, it fell to you to plan your best friend's bachelorette party, and in your mind, there was only one spot, Vegas. Now, you were second-guessing your choice as your head was pounding like there were a thousand drummers who decided to perform at the Super Bowl halftime show, only in your brain. There was only one thought that made it through the marching band playing in your head. What the hell happened last night?

 Maybe you should start off small, like where were you first, considering that the little drummer boy was now doing backflips in your head. You were definitely in bed, which was evident as you could feel the mattress underneath you. You could also feel the duvet comforter covering your body, but there was something else. Something a bit heavier, almost as if a weighted blanket was covering your stomach and your breast, but it wasn't that. It was an arm slung across your midsection and a very large hand cupping your one boob. God, you hoped it was still attached to a body. You should really take a peek. It would be the only decent thing to do.

 As you gradually lifted one eyelid open, the first thing you noticed was that you were not in your hotel room, as the wall looked completely different. No reason to panic, you told yourself. Everything would come back to you as soon as this god blessed pounding ceased. Peering the other eye open, you got back to business at seeing if there was a body attached to the arm currently trapping you to the bed. Carefully, you turned your head to the side to see a very large and very naked man firmly attached to the aforementioned arm. He was gorgeous as he lay there sleeping ever so peacefully. You drank in his features, kind of like you downed drink after drink last night. His brown hair had this golden hue to it that made your fingers want to reach out and touch it, though you refrained. Then there was the beard covering his face, not too much and not too little, and now that you were thinking about it; you definitely felt some of that beard burn on your thighs. If you could only remember last night. The only logical thing to do was to go back to the start of this, back to a time when you were sober.

 It started months ago when your best friend Kennedy got engaged. You honestly didn't see it coming that fast. She'd only been dating Ryan for a little less than a year, but he asked and she said yes, and when she asked you to be her maid of honor you screamed and laughed and cried, and told her you couldn't wait to plan her bachelorette party. Everyone knew the bridal shower was only for boring stuffy old aunts so that they could buy her the latest air fryer or new dish pattern. The bachelorette party was where all the fun was, and what better place to have it than Las Vegas.

 Of course, everyone agreed with you. The only wrench in the plan was that Kennedy decided to up her wedding date and make it a nine-month engagement. That barely left time to find a dress let alone plan the most outrageous bachelorette party of the century. You would've said decade but twenty-twenty was fastly approaching. Thankfully, you had connections. Night one was more sedate since you all were just arriving at the MGM hotel at different times; eleven of you in total when Ryan's sister decided to join at the last minute. You booked a private room at Lago in the Bellagio for all of you to enjoy.

 It was the second night, that was the piece de resistance. A limo picked you all up and took you over to Excalibur to see the legendary Australian group, Thunder from Down Under. I mean what was Vegas without seeing a male stripper or two. The next day, a private bungalow was waiting for you at Wet Republic in the MGM Hotel. One would've thought the night watching men strip naked would've been your undoing but apparently, it all started poolside.

 "I seriously can't believe he pulled you up on stage and proceeded to dry hump you up there," Kelsey rehashed.

 "Really, Kels?" Kennedy said downing another mimosa. "How could you not see that happening? (Y/N) has known Nate for a couple years. I mean he did get us front row tickets." This was all true. Nate, the emcee for Thunder from Down Under and you were friends, had been since your firm had done their calendar shoot two years ago. He had generously given you prime seating to the show that night and also set you up with a few other perks for the trip. "The only thing I'm surprised at, is that this one," she bumped you with her hip, spilling both hers and your mimosas. "Didn't end up going home with him last night."

 "Oh my god, Kenny you did not just say that." She may be the bride and your best friend but really, she was pushing the line.

 "Come on, it's not like it hasn't happened before."

 At least four pairs of eyes turned towards you, Ryan's sister Gretchen being one of them. "Ok, admittedly, I slept with him, once." Both Kennedy and Kelsey gave you that look. "Ok, maybe it was twice, but he has a girlfriend now, and we are just friends."

 "I'll give you that," Jade spoke up in your defense and suddenly she was going to earn the title of new best friend, not that the lines weren't blurred in your little group as you were all sort of best friends. "But what about Edward, the one with the turtle tattoo on his hip."

 "You were so looking at more than his hip." Eva teased while Jade simply hid behind her champagne glass. "But yeah (Y/N), he was totally hitting on you."

 "He was not."

 "Oh, he was," Kennedy added her two cents. "And as the bride I take offense, they should've been hitting on me."

 "Wait, why would they hit on you?" Jade sputtered. "You're taken bitch." Of course, bitch was said in the most loving way.

 "I'm not dead."

 "No, but I'm sure my brother wouldn't appreciate it." Leave it to Gretchen to be the mood killer. "I think I'm going to go take a nap. I'll meet you at the pool later."

 She headed out the door, and honestly, you were ecstatic about it, for she was too judgmental for your liking.  "Wait, Gretch, that's not what I meant."

 "Leave her go, maybe a nap would do her good." They were Jade's words but your sentiments. "Now back to why (Y/N) did not take that beautiful man up on his offer last night."

 "There was no offer," you insisted.

 "Come on (Y/N), there was an offer. There's always an offer. Remember when you were doing promo for that Batman flick." You tried to shut Kennedy up with a death glare, but she continued to prattle on. "We all know you ended up doing the nasty with Superman."

 "WHAT?!?!" Yeah, that definitely came out of the other nine people's mouths in the room.

 "Thanks, Ken. No one knew that but you."

 "Oops, my bad." She had the grace to at least be embarrassed about the whole thing.

 "You mean you slept with that guy, the British one, tall, all muscular, extremely good looking. Damn it what's his name." You could see Eva wracking her brain for his name and you just didn't want to go there.

 "Hen…"

 "Yes, him," you admitted, stopping Jade before she could finish his name. "Can we please change the subject?"

 "Why, when we are all living vicariously through you," Kelsey added. "Especially poor Kennedy, who is now committed to spending the rest of her life with one man."

 "Geez, you make it sound like a death sentence. I love Ryan and I'm perfectly fine spending the rest of my days with him."

 You had to suppress an eye roll. Not because you didn't think that Ryan and Kennedy weren't in love. If you were being honest, you just thought they were rushing things a bit. The problem was telling your best friend that; you tried in the past and never succeeded. "We know you're in love Kenny." And then because you couldn't stop yourself, you added. "It's just are you sure you want to be tied down so young? We still have our whole life to live."

 "Jesus, (Y/N). We all know you're not ready for marriage and what comes with it, but we can't all be you with your fancy job in LA, meeting celebrities all the time. Some of us have real lives and want to settle down and have a family."

 "Kenny, that's not what I meant." The last thing you wanted to do was argue with her at her bachelorette party. "I only want you to be happy."

 "You have a funny way of showing it." The air in the room took on a chill and not from the air conditioning. If you didn't do something soon this party was going to go downhill.

 "Oh, would you look at the time," Jade chimed in. "We should probably be heading down to the pool." Everyone grabbed their stuff, Kennedy giving you the cold shoulder as you made your way out of the hotel suite. Jade came up and wrapped an arm around you. "She'll be fine. She's just on edge after the whole Gretchen thing. We'll give her a few shots and you two will be good as new."

 "I hope so." Unfortunately, things weren't fine. Kennedy seemed to avoid you and your attempt to make things right, even after a few shots. That didn't stop you from taking a few more. You had a strict one drink to one water rule, that you threw out the door today. Downing shots like it was your job. It was probably an hour later when you were in one of the private pools, with a few of the girls that a large group of very attractive men walked in. They were definitely different from Nate and the guys from Thunder, and at first, you thought it was some fraternity get together with how young some of them looked, but at second glance there were some gentlemen that were your age or older.

 "They've gotta be baseball players," Eva whispered over after they took up residence in the three bungalows next to you.

 "Nah, none of them have a dad bod." Jade was right, they were too fit to be in the MLB. You'd been around enough major leaguers to know while some were incredibly in shape, some were not. That didn't seem to be the case with this group.

 "I'm gonna rule out NFL as well," you told the girls. "None of these guys look like they're an offensive guard. Those guys are huge." You noticed a few of them staring at the six of you that were in the smaller pool reserved only for the bungalows. Grabbing another shot, this had to be your fourth in just sixty minutes, you downed the drink really starting to feel its effects.

 "Looks like we may just find out here," Jade said, nodding to let you know some of the guys were headed your way.

 "Ladies, care if we join you?" One of the men asked, you had to admit he was extremely handsome but also gave off an air that he had more than a few notches in his bedpost.

 A couple of the girls nodded, but when no one said anything, you found yourself saying, "Come on in."

 "So, what brings you to Vegas?" This from a different guy, who had quite a number of tattoos covering his arms, and you had to admit that the ink just made him more attractive, that and his height. He was well over six feet tall and you didn't mind looking up to see his face as he took the seat next to you.

 "Bachelorette party," Jade blurted out and you saw a few eyebrows raise.

 "Tell me you're not the bride?" His breath was warm or maybe it was the sun, either way, you definitely felt a warmth in your belly that wasn't there moments ago.

 "I am definitely not the bride." Shit that sounded desperate. "Though I am the maid of honor, at least I hope I still am." You looked inside the bungalow to see Kennedy in deep conversation with Gretchen.

 "Hmm, sounds like there's a story there. Care to tell me? I'm Jacob by the way, though the guys call me Marky."

 He held out his hand, the one that didn't have a beer in it, and you took it. "(Y/N), and I'll tell you though it's rather dull, on one condition." He quirked a brow at you. "You tell me what sport you play."

 He chuckled. "What makes you think I play a sport? Maybe I'm an investment banker."

 "Well, first there's your accent, though I suppose you could pull off investment banker with that. Second, you are all…how shall I say this…physically fit. A quality most athletes have and considering the number of you; I doubt this is some kind of investment banker convention."

 "Ok, I'll give you that, though we could be bodybuilders or…" the lights on the billboard on the strip changed to a Thunder From Down Under ad and you saw a light bulb in his head go off. "Or male strippers." Shit, you almost spit your drink out on that one. "What, too much a stretch? Maybe it's your lucky day." He started to sway his hips in the pool, one of his friends joining him while you and Jade tried to contain your laughter.

 "Nah, it's already been (Y/N)'s lucky day with them. She knows them all rather intimately."

 "Jade!" you yelled at your friend, or ex-friend, though you weren't in a position to be losing anymore at the moment.

 "Oops." She at least had the decency to look embarrassed. Alcohol made everyone do some crazy things and Jade was no exception to the rule.

 "Intimately huh?" Jacob asked as you splashed water on Jade causing her to shriek and hide behind Jacob's friend who you learned was someone named Erik. "Have I lost the competition before it even starts?"

 "There's no competition."

 "So, you're single then?"

 "Yes, though you still haven't answered my question." As soon as Jacob heard you say yes, he slid a little closer to you.

 "What was that question again?" He said with laughter in his eyes and before you could get annoyed with him, though you doubted that would happen, he added. "I remember, just giving you a hard time. Anyhow, we play hockey."

 "Oh, nice. Like professional level? Or are there minors in that sport?" You really weren't one hundred percent sure. You'd taken in a game here and there but not really paid any particular attention to it.

 "We're in the NHL, playing for Vancouver. Just came out to do a little team bonding before the season starts. So, are we going to talk about this intimate encounter or why you think your maid of honor duties are getting revoked?"

 "I think I need another drink to talk about either of them."

 Jacob flagged down one of the personal waitresses for the area, requesting a couple of shots and drinks for you both, and you had to admit you liked the way he worked. "Now that that's taken care of…"

 You blew out a frustrated breath, more with yourself than anything else. "I said something stupid right before we came down here." He kept silent, his eyes totally focused on you and what you were saying. A refreshing change from some of the men you spoke to. "I just think she's rushing into things. They've only known each other a year and we are too young to get married. She's only twenty-five, we have our whole lives ahead of us. You know?" He simply nodded his agreement before you continued. "I want to see the world, go places, and do things before I'm strapped down to one man forever. Not to mention being tied down with kids. How can Kenny not want that too?"

 "I totally agree. I've gotten to see a lot with hockey but there's no way I want to be tied down just yet."

 "Exactly, you totally get me." Your drinks arrived then and Jacob took one shot and handed it to you before taking the other.

 "Well, I say we toast to being young and free with no commitments."

 "I'll drink to that." He clinked his glass to yours and the two of you downed the drinks. It seemed like the DJ noticed the change in your mood, as the music got louder and the energy seemed to kick up a notch. You got up and started to dance in the pool; the other girls joining in. It wasn't long before you felt Jacob behind you. His hips grinding into your backside, as his large hands encircled your waist.

 Drinks flowed freely the entire day, and if you were being honest, you couldn't remember a time you'd been that drunk before the sun had even set. You were laughing and dancing, and quite literally having the time of your life; your maid of honor duties completely forgotten at this point. Gretchen came up to you at some point and told you that she, Kennedy, and Kelsey were heading up and would catch up with the rest of you later. Everyone else was having too much fun with the Canucks to want to leave.

 A few more drinks and an hour later, the party was winding down. Most of your friends had headed up to their room to pass out, only a few stayed behind. Jacob had somehow maneuvered you into one of the bungalows that was empty. You shared a few kisses here and there out in the pool area, but now that you were out of view of prying eyes things were getting a bit more heated. Jacob's hands were on your ass, as his tongue was down your throat; not that yours wasn't doing the same thing to him. He moaned into your mouth, the sound going straight to your core. Your bikini bottom was no longer wet from the water of the pool, but the press of Jacob's cock against it.

 You both stumbled back, landing down on the large daybed in the bungalow, though somehow Jacob's reflexes softened your fall. His hands went straight to your breasts, kneading the flesh there. He was just about to untie the string of your bikini top when someone walked in. "Jesus, Marky! Take it upstairs would you!" You squinted trying to make out who it was but at this point not remembering anyone's name besides the man that was on top of you.

 "Oh, shit…thought I was in my room." It was funny, you thought the same thing. "Sorry, Jay."

 "His name is Jay? Like the letter?" you mumbled as Jacob helped you off the couch. "What comes after J?" Fuck you were drunk and when you were drunk you tended to ramble. You once actually talked to a damn parking meter because you thought it was a person, and you were pretty sure you could talk to one now if there was one around.

 "Doesn't matter, babe," Jacob said kissing your lips. "Wanna head up to my room?"

 You had to go up on your tiptoes to loop your arms around his neck. "Yes, I do." He planted a kiss on your lips then cupped your ass cheeks causing you to jump a bit.

 "Let's go," he finally said breaking the kiss. You had enough sense to grab your things and tell your friends not to worry that you'd catch up with them tomorrow. They all winked and nodded or at least that's what it looked like in your head because that's when things started to get hazy. You had vague recollections of making your way through the casino, stopping here and there. Part of you thought that the two of you even stopped to play roulette only so you could have another drink.

 You did remember tumbling through the door of Jacob's suite. His lips were on yours and neither of you were paying attention as he unlocked it. Thankfully his quick reflexes caught you; apparently, even when drunk, goalies couldn't lose some of those natural instincts.

 His hands, you remember them being everywhere on your body, and how incredible they made you feel. His calloused touch lit a fire inside you, that had nothing to do with the alcohol. He rid you of your white swim cover-up easily, flinging the garment across the room, and then his lips were all over your body. It was easy to recall the way he made you feel, as he softly bit down on your nipple through the fabric of your bikini. You'd craved this all afternoon. It had been a couple months since you'd been with a man and Jacob was everything you'd been waiting for.

 You ripped off his shirt. Your hands immediately going to his chest and roaming down his tattooed arms. He was all muscle, hard and lean everywhere, but when you slid your hand down inside his swim trunks to his cock; oh, it was hard all right, but lean was not a word you'd used to describe it. You were barely able to wrap your fingers around his girth, and as you stroked him, you realized God had not only blessed him with height but length as well. The man was made to star in a porno, you thought as you shoved his trunks down.

 Somehow, during that time Jacob had managed to get your bikini top off, though you supposed with its simple string ties it wasn't a hard feat to manage. You dropped to your knees, licking your lips before taking your tongue and swirling it around the head of Jacob's cock. "Det kanns sa bra min vackra prinsessa (that feels so good my beautiful princess)." Jacob's mumblings had you pulling back and looking up at him. "Don't stop, baby." This time you knew what he said as you slowly sucked him into your mouth. There was no way that you could take him all in, so you pumped the rest of him with your fist. You hollowed out your cheeks as you sucked him inside, using every trick in the book you knew. Jacob muttered more in Swedish to you, things you had no clue as to what they meant, but judging by his reaction they were things he was enjoying very much. He threaded his hands through your hair, pulling it back so you could look up at him with big doe eyes. "Jesus," he swore, his hips bucking into your mouth at the sight of you with his cock in it, looking like that. After a few more thrusts, he pulled out shouting," Tillrackligt, enough. I think you're trying to kill me, princess."

 There was something about the way he called you princess. It wasn't anything you'd been called before and most times you'd preferred babe or baby, but the way the word rolled off his tongue did things to your insides.

 Jacob helped you off the ground, his lips ghosting over yours before picking you up and tossing you onto the bed. His large form handled you easily, arranging your body just the way he wanted to before slipping off your bikini bottoms. His large hands worked their way from your ankles to your calves, all the way up to your thighs; spreading your legs as he went. "So beautiful." He traced his fingers lightly over your pussy lips and you quivered in anticipation of what was to come. One long finger slid between your folds all the way up to your clit, once, then twice, and then once again. "So wet, prinsessa, and all because of me."

 "Mmm, yes, Jacob." He dipped that same finger inside you then. The digit slipping in easily and so he added another. Then his mouth was there. Tongue flicking over your clit in a way that made you squirm with pleasure. "Oh yes," you moaned, caught up in the pleasure that was coursing through your veins. "Just like that." Your hips lifted up on their own accord, seeking more of what this giant of a man was doing to you. Jacob never let up, making a come-hither motion with his fingers and you found yourself unraveling around him; legs shaking, breath panting as your orgasm overtook you.

 “So pretty when you cum, prinsessa.” He pulled his fingers from your pussy then brought them to your lips. You opened without any thought, licking your juices off of them. Before you could get them clean, Jacob’s mouth joined yours, kissing you while you sucked on his index and middle fingers. Your tongues mingled together, as Jacob positioned himself between your thighs. The head of his cock nudged between your folds and you sighed into his mouth at just that first touch. Slowly, he filled your pussy, until he bottomed out. Only then did he release your lips. “Fuck you feel so good.”

 Jacob loved the feel of you clenching around him. It felt like he was in heaven. Part of him didn’t even want to move that’s how good your body felt, but then you shifted your hips up just a hair bit and he had to suck in a breath at the pleasure that went straight to his groin for fear he would spend inside you right then and there. He willed his body under control and only then started to move.

 With every snap of Jacob’s hips, a wave of pleasure crashed over you. Your nails raked down his back, probably leaving marks, but it seemed to only spur him on. “Yes, Prinsessa,” he moaned out, as you bent your knees allowing him to go deeper. You moaned as he hit that treasured spot that had you seeing stars. “You like that?” Another moan was his answer, as he continued to fuck you.

 That peculiar feeling started to wash over you. Your pussy fluttering around Jacob’s cock as the orgasm finally broke. Back arching, legs trembling, you were moaning out his name as the climax seemed to continue, as Jacob drove wildly into you. As you came down off your high, Jacob found his. With a few erratic thrusts, he was spending deep inside you with a loud groan. He slumped forward, his sweety forehead resting on yours. “Det dar var otroligt.” You looked at him curiously, your brain not working at all but also knowing he was speaking something in Swedish to you. He smiled, a glorious one that you found yourself getting lost in and you found yourself returning it. “I said that was amazing.”

 “Yes, it was,” you breathed out. Jacob rolled you both onto your sides, tucking you into his. It wasn’t long before both of you were passing out.

 Now here you were, finally putting most of the pieces together from last night. You looked back over at the sleeping man, who had given you such pleasure even in your inebriated state. He really was gorgeous. You honestly wouldn’t mind going for round two, after a couple of Tylenol, of course. Speaking of which you needed to get up and see if you had any in your bag. If only you could move him without waking him. You carefully took your right arm and went to move his left which was slung across you, but then something caught your eye. There on his ring finger was a ring. Oh, it wasn’t just any ring, it was a wedding ring! You knew he didn’t have it on when you were in the pool. You were not the type of woman to go hitting on a married man, let alone sleep with him.

 You pulled your other arm out from underneath him, fully intending to grab your stuff and get the hell out of there when you noticed a bright and shiny diamond on your ring finger. There was also a matching wedding band. Then like a tsunami hitting the beach of a small island a memory came flooding back to you of the two of you entering the hotel chapel. This man wasn’t married to just anyone, he was married to you!  

.

255 notes • Posted 2021-04-13 21:28:10 GMT

#2

Milestone Maker - Sidney Crosby

Word Count: 1,992

POV: Reader

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, Language

Notes: So you guys made me realize I could not let this milestone of my OG hockey hubby go by without writing a little something. I hope you all enjoy this. Happy Reading to all of you! Congratulation Sidney on 1000th games! Can’t wait to watch him in the next 1000. 

“Good morning, my love,” you greeted your husband, setting the breakfast tray down at the foot of the bed so that you could kiss him properly. “Happy one-thousandth game day.” Sid smiled sweetly at you, before drawing you back down for another kiss. You’d been married for almost nineteen months now and you still couldn’t get enough of each other.

Your foot bumped the tray, as the kiss turned heated, reminding you that you’d brought him breakfast on his special day. “What’s this?” He asked after hearing the clink of the silverware.

“I made you all your favorites.”

“You’re telling me there are waffles in there?”

“Of course, with strawberries, just the way you like them.” You set the tray on his lap, removing the cover that you’d placed on it so keep everything warm.

“You know the other way I like this?” He scooped up a dollop of whipped cream and smeared it on your lips before licking it away.

“Eat this first,” you ordered, lifting up a forkful of eggs to feed him. “Then we’ll move on to other things.” He took the proffered bite, seductively closing his lips around the utensil and you were suddenly second-guessing your decision to bring him breakfast in bed. “You know I’m supposed to be the one inciting you like that.”

“Babe, you literally walk in the room and I want you. So consider this a taste of your own medicine.” Sid decided to grab a piece of turkey bacon next, moaning dramatically as he ate. It was all over after that. You grabbed the tray and set it on the bench at the foot of the bed. “Hey,” Sid whined. “That’s my breakfast.”

“Mmmhmm, I’m aware.” You crawled back up the length of the bed so that you were situated beside the length of him

“Then you’re aware it’s getting cold.” That damn smirk was on his face, the one that never failed to turn your insides to goo.

“I’ll remake everything, but this can’t wait.” You shimmied the comforter and sheets that were pooled around his waist down, exposing his body to you. Hands raking down his chest, you felt his sharp intake of breath before you heard it. Sid took the satin ties of your robe and toyed with them between his fingers, itching to touch your body, but this was about him today. You swatted him away before bending down to kiss the little trail of hair that led to the place you knew would drive him wild.

Taking his cock, you let your tongue sneak out and lick the head, tasting his dewy precum. It was your turn to moan, and you felt Sid harden even further with just that small simple touch. When you wrapped your lips around his shaft, Sid’s head fell back against the bed, lost in the power of your mouth. His hand instinctively threaded through your hair, pulling it back so he could enjoy the view. You worked him in and out of your mouth; your hand pumping what couldn’t fit in. “You’re so fucking good to me, (Y/N).” Swirling your tongue around the head, Sid groaned out his pleasure. You had a knack of driving him to the brink in no time and today was no different.

You popped him out of your mouth, then trailed your tongue down to his balls, sucking and licking him the way you knew he liked. His shaft, you worked with your right hand, jerking it up and down in a motion that drove him mad. It was torturous, but torture that he loved and you loved taking him there. His hips bucked up in your hand and you knew he was close, so you took him back into your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks so you could suck him off.

“Fuck baby.” The words were no sooner out of his mouth than he was pushing you off of him and rolling you onto your back. Somehow the ties of your robe had come undone, and Sid pushed it open the rest of the way to reveal your naked form. “God, you’re beautiful.” His fingers slipped between your folds, to make sure that you were wet for him. There was no need for you’d been dripping since the moment he took that bite of egg, but Sid, being the gentlemen that he was, always needed to make sure.

“Please, Sid,” you begged, wanting his cock inside you. “I need you.”

Again, that cocky little smirk, the one that you’d fallen in love with, came out, before he thrust deep inside you. “You feel so fucking good.” He pushed your knees back, before leveraging himself over you, then began pumping in and out of your pussy. His lips found yours, devouring you as he stroked his cock in and out of you. For as long as you’d known him, and it had been a few hundred of those thousand games, this would never get old. You’d always love the feel of him thrusting deep inside you.

Sid pinned your hands on either side of your head and laced his fingers with yours. His mouth was still firmly attached to yours, as he pistoned in and out of you. You were on the edge, ready to fall over at any moment, when he finally broke the kiss, both of you panting. “I love you,” He said looking deep in your eyes, right as you fell apart. The sight and feel causing Sid to spiral down that path with you. He collapsed on top of you, after cumming deep inside you.

“I love you too,” you whispered stroking the nape of his neck, then running your fingers through his soft curls. He moved to his side taking you with him and the two of you laid there for several minutes just catching your breath. Finally, Sid got up and went to the foot of the bed. “What are you doing?”

“Eating my breakfast,” he laughed, bringing the tray back up. “I worked up an appetite.”

You grabbed the tray out of his hand as he snatched up another piece of bacon. “This is cold. I’ll go make you fresh while you shower. You’ve got practice soon.”

There was a pout on his face, one that usually appeared when there was a bad call on the ice. “You’re ruining my day with talk of that.”

“Well, how else are you going to get another thousand if you don’t get out of this bed.”

“Fine, I’m going.”

The two of you went about your day, as you would any normal game day, for although it was his thousandth game, some things you couldn’t change. “I’ll see you at the arena.” He said before kissing you goodbye. “You’ll be on time, right?”

“Of course, I will.” You’d never been late to anything of his or yours for that matter, but you knew he was fretting because there would be a special little ceremony before the game.

“I know. I’m just being paranoid, but you’re all that's here for this.” It was killing Sid that his parents couldn’t be here with Covid restrictions.

“I know, baby. I’ll be there extra early.”

“Thanks, babe. I love you.”

“Love you too.” He was out the door then and as soon as he was, you were putting your surprise for him into action. Of course, the Penguins had things planned out for him, but you’d wanted to do something special for him as well.

You got ready and headed to the arena, making sure you were there thirty minutes before the time Sid had asked you to be, along with your surprise. While this wasn’t the way you wanted to commemorate your husband’s milestone, both you and he would’ve preferred to do it in front of the home crowd in Pittsburgh, you were still happy that the team and NHL were recognizing his accomplishment.

Right before the National anthem, they brought out the carpet where you would meet Sid. You stood there, waiting as you heard the announcer start the speech. Sid looked over making sure you were there and you blew him a kiss, while he gave you a little smirk and wink back. He then turned his attention to the scoreboard to watch the montage and well wishes from everyone. You had tears in your eyes as you watched all his accomplishments. The video came to an end to the sound of piped-in applause and stick taps from both teams.

“Please welcome Sidney’s family,” you heard the announcer say before the door opened. Sid looked over as you walked out, his parents and sister trailing behind you. He was stunned that they were there. Why you weren’t sure, because they would never miss something this special in his life, but you’d definitely been able to pull off this little surprise. He pinched the bridge of his nose to stop the tears that threatened to fall, while yours were already tumbling down.

He stopped at your first, kissing you through your mask. “How did you?”

“I’ll tell you later. I love you, baby. Congratulations.” He moved on hugging and kissing the cheeks of all his family members, while a couple of the guys brought out flowers for you, Trina and Taylor. Geno and Tanger brought out his sliver stick, while Rusty handed out the special plaque that was made. It was over within minutes but the reaction from Sid would last a lifetime in your mind.

At the end of the night, everyone celebrated his accomplishment with champagne at the arena. His parents told him that it had been all your doing to get them here, making sure that they had covid tests and getting them a hotel to stay at for the surprise. They would be staying on a few days longer, but at your home with the two of you.

“I don’t know how to thank you, babe. This means so much.”

“I still have a couple surprises left.” You pulled out one of the boxes you had hidden for him.

He opened the gift, a specially made Rolex watch commemorating his accomplishment. “Wow, this is incredible.”

“Just like you,” you told him before handing him the other.

“Sweetie this is way too much. You didn’t need to do all this.”

“Shush,” you told. “You deserve it, though this one has a no return policy on it so I hope you like it.”

His curiosity was piqued at that and he tore away the paper quickly. Lifting the lid, he gasped, smiling brightly at what he saw inside. “Really?” You simply smiled and nodded back.

“What is it, son?” Troy asked though everyone in the room's attention was now on Sidney.

“We’re having a baby,” Sid announced, before closing the lid and lifting you off the ground. He kissed you as champagne and cheers went up all around you. Sid set you down on your feet, after a few minutes, a worried look crossing his face. “Was that ok? Maybe I shouldn’t have told everyone.”

“It’s perfectly fine. I hope you don’t mind me telling you this way.”

“Mind? Babe this is perfect. You made this day one I’ll never forget.” His hands were roaming over your belly, where the baby grew even though you hadn’t started to show at all.

“I think you did that all on your own.”

“Nah, it’s taken everyone here to get me this far in my career, and it’s taken you to get me something I’ve always dreamed of.” Pregnancy hormones were getting the best of you as happy tears started to pool in your eyes. “Just think, if I make it to fifteen-hundred games, our little one will be out there with you.”

“You’ll make it to that and I have a feeling it’ll be more than one little one out there, Mr. Crosby.”

“God, I hope so. I love you, Mrs. Crosby.”

“Love you too, Sid.”

258 notes • Posted 2021-02-20 17:07:15 GMT

#1

Under My Skin - Matthew Tkachuk

Word Count: 3,644

POV: Reader

Warnings: Language, Smut, NSFW

Summary: Matthew can be a pest but what happens when your ex, Auston Matthews get under his skin.

Notes: So I’m having a sad bitch moment and thought, why not post this. I finally broke down and wrote for this boy. Who knows if it’ll happen again...haha! At any rate hope you guys enjoy. Happy Reading!

Matthew first met you over a year ago when you’d moved to Calgary for work. You had just finished your degree and a job opportunity had landed you in the same city where he was playing. You’d been out at the bar with some co-workers and had caught his eye immediately. You were everything that Matthew was looking for in a woman, smart, funny, incredibly gorgeous, with a charm that seemed to draw everyone around you in. You were like a magnet and Matthew couldn’t resist your pull.

 That first night he’d barely been able to talk to you. You’d been besotted with people left and right, and it seemed as though every time Matthew worked up the courage to speak with you, you would get pulled away. Matthew finally ran into you on the way to the restroom. Like, literally ran into you. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Matthew apologized steadying you with a hand on your waist. His hand lingered a little longer than necessary but you weren’t complaining.

 “It’s ok I wasn’t paying attention.” You held up your phone in defense. You’d been so distracted by a text, that you really weren’t watching where you were going. “Did you ever have someone text you that you hoped you’d never hear from again?”

 It was an interesting introduction to a conversation but then Matthew would take any opportunity he could get to speak to you. “Actually, yes.”

 “It’s so annoying, right?”

 “Well, there is a way to solve that problem.”

 Your eyes held his with rapt attention, and Matthew could tell you were clinging to his every word. It was then that it struck him that he never wanted that look to fade from your face. “How?”

 “Come have a drink with me and forgot about whoever it is on that phone.” You smiled. It was a bright, brilliant thing of beauty that Matthew swore could light up the night sky on its darkest days. He was sold right then and there, and with just that simple gesture you had no idea that you’d swooped in and stolen his heart that night.

 You forgot about that text message fairly quickly and just settled into an easy conversation with Matthew. The night flew by and before you knew it, your co-workers were calling it a night and you were all heading home. Matthew asked for your number which you gave in hopes that he would call you soon. Little did you know that after you left, Matthew debated with himself on how long to wait to text you. Every unsaid rule in the code of dating said to wait for at least forty-eight to seventy-two hours before making a move, but Matthew was never one to follow convention. As he lay in bed, he decided to send you a quick message.

 Had a great time tonight.

 It was short and to the point, and Matthew figured if you answered then he would ask you out again. Unfortunately, for Matthew, he wasn’t the only one texting you as you crawled into bed after taking off all your makeup. You were just getting ready to reply to Matthew when another text came in. It was the fourth of the night from the same person that had messaged you before, Auston Matthews.

 You hadn’t spoken to him in months, back when you were in Toronto, and you didn’t plan on speaking to him now, though he seemed to be trying his hardest to get your attention, just as he had been for the last couple of months. Your relationship with Auston had been nothing short of toxic. Oh sure, at first it was all hearts and roses in the beginning. Auston swept you off your feet with that charming smile of his, but then you were young and the flashy NHLer said all the right things, at first.

 You weren’t normally one to tumble into bed right after the first date, though that’s what happened with Auston. He made it seem like you were the only one, but after dating him for only four months you’d found out that wasn’t true. Oh, he tried to brush it off, make it seem like he wasn’t cheating. That the panties you’d found lying tucked between the nightstand and the bed were some old fling and not some random hookup he’d brought home. You wanted to believe him and so you let your heart overpower your head and stayed with him until you’d literally walked in on him in bed with another woman. There was no talking his way out of that one.

 It was an easy decision to break things off with him, though he kept trying to win you back. You were good for his image and he thought that he could keep you happy while he had some fun on the side. The only thing was you didn’t want him back, even though his friends tried to helped his cause. That’s when you decided to take the job in Calgary. It was an easy decision six months ago. Which is part of the reason it surprised you when he texted tonight. He was in Calgary for a game and wanted to talk. You’d honestly were debating seeing him when you’d run into Matthew.

 Matthew, you sighed. His curly hair and shaved sides gave off this bad boy vibe, but as you sat there and talked to him, you’d realized he had to be one of the sweetest men out there. You hadn’t realized at first who he actually was. Auston had turned you off to the NHL scene altogether, so you no longer paid attention to the games, even if hockey was Canada’s major sport. Honestly, you wish you didn’t know he was in the NHL. It was part of the reason you were debating about answering him. Maybe you would just sleep on it and decide in the morning.

 Meanwhile, Matthew was having a mild panic attack. He told himself that maybe you lived close to the bar and had already fallen asleep before you got his text, or that you’d turned off your phone the minute you got home. He constantly kept checking his, looking for those three little dots letting him know that you were sending something back. It was torturous.

 You laid there all of twenty minutes before you decided that you couldn’t resist the curly-haired man that had captured your attention tonight. Grabbing your phone, you shot off a quick, I did too. You typed and erased it three times, wondering if you should add more before finally pressing the send button. There it was done, if he said something back, you’d go from there. Fifteen seconds later, you knew you were in trouble.

 Maybe we could do it again sometime?

 Matthew was sweating as he hit send. He’d never been this nervous before about a woman. They either liked him or didn’t, but you, you were different. He knew that from the moment he saw you. It was even more prevalent now after he’d spent most of the night with you.

 I’d like that.

 Was your simple reply back. One that had Matthew ready to jump up and out of bed with excitement. And so the texting went on for the next ten minutes until he finally ended up calling you. The two of you talked for over an hour, almost as if you’d known each other all your lives, and you completely forgot about the texts from Auston.

 Matthew took you out three days later to an exclusive restaurant in the city. This time you told yourself you’d not make the same mistake you’d made with Auston. So, when the night drew to a close, Matthew drove you to your apartment then very properly walked you to the door and only kissed you on the cheek. It wasn’t what you expected. You’d thought he’d go for more, but Matthew wanted to do things right. He knew you were special and he wasn’t going to mess things up by sleeping with you on night one. He was in this for the long run.

 That was over a year ago. Sure, it had been difficult at first to give him your complete trust, but Matthew had earned it and over time you knew that although he may be a pest on the ice, he was anything but that in your personal life. Now the two of you shared a home and were on your way to making a life together.

 You’d kept your relationship on the down-low, staying off of all forms of social media to keep the wolves at bay. Which meant that no one, including Auston, knew that you and Matthew were dating. That was until he and everyone else saw you in the background of Taryn’s video for Brady’s twenty-first birthday. The picture highlighted Brady but behind him, there was Matthew nibbling on your neck and ear. Fans picked up on it right away, wondering who you were and Matthew decided he was tired of hiding the two of you. A week later he was posting a picture of the two of you holding hands on your way back to Calgary.

 That was dozens of posts and months ago. Your life with Matthew was nothing short of amazing, until the Flames played the Leafs. Matthew was in Toronto while you stayed back in Calgary for work. It was an early game and you joined the other wives and significant others in a small little watch party. Drinks were flowing freely, so you really didn’t catch the exchange between Matthew and Auston in warmups.

 Matthew was minding his own business as he stretched near the centerline. That’s when Auston started with the little jabs. “Nice little piece of ass you picked up Tkachuk.” Matthew was used to guys talking shit about all kinds of things on the ice, though normally it was about him being a dirty player or how Brady was the better Tkachuk on the ice; all that shit he could handle. He wasn’t used to someone taking stabs at you.

 “Shut the fuck up Matthews,” he replied then skated away. If Auston was looking for a fight, he’d get one if he kept up this banter, but not until the game started.

 It wasn’t until the end of the first that Auston got a chance to chirp Matthew again. “Tell me, Tkachuk, does (Y/N) still make the same pretty moans…”

 “Finish that and you’ll regret it,” Matthew told him. It was the only warning Matthew was going to give. Of course, Matthew knew that you’d dated someone in the hockey world and that he’d been a verifiable asshole. He’d never pressed the issue too much as he was trying to turn that stigma about hockey players around. He never liked Auston, he was always cordial to him in non-ice settings but now that he knew he was the cheating bastard who basically used you; he liked him less.

 Play resumed before anything else could happen and Matthew was sure to get in a few good checks in before heading back for the first intermission. When he was back on the ice for the second Auston picked up right where they had left off. “So, you like my sloppy seconds, Tkachuk?” Matthew saw red at the insult, and before he knew what he was doing he dropped his gloves and hit Auston. Inwardly, you cringed at the fight, not wanting to let on to the other girls that you had an idea what the exchange was about. Auston went down easy, with Matthew barely touching him, and so off the penalty box he went, while the Leafs went on the power play. You could see him just sitting there stewing, though you weren’t sure if he was mad at himself for letting Auston get to him or mad at you.

 The game ended up tied in the third, and little did you know that Auston took the opportunity to get a few more digs into Matthew. “Does she get as wet for as she did for me, or do you have to work for it?” Johnny had to hold him back from leveling him after that, but Auston didn’t let up. “She was such a fucking slut for me in bed. You know I fucked every hole…” That’s all he got out before going down hard as Matthew planted a right hook to his jaw. But Matthew wasn’t done and went after Auston as he lay on the ice. Matthew was ejected from the game and the Leafs scored on the power play.

 There was no interview after the game with Matthew, so you had no idea what he was feeling or how pissed he was. As soon as you got home, you tried to call him but it went straight to voicemail. You tried to tell yourself it didn’t mean anything that maybe he never turned his phone back on after the game or maybe they were already on the flight back to Calgary, as the team played at home the following day, but you just weren’t sure. So, you laid in the king-size bed you shared with Matthew, wrapped up in your favorite old t-shirt of his, simply staring up at the ceiling.

 At some point, you must have fallen asleep, for you didn’t hear the door open or Matthew dropping his bag like you usually did. It wasn’t until he crept into bed that you finally knew he was home. He was laying on his back, hands behind his head when you finally rolled over letting him know you were awake. You’d thought about what to say to him before falling asleep but waited for him to say something to you. When he didn’t you simply whispered, “If you want me to go I will.”

 “Go?” Matthew questioned now rolling on to his side so he could see you. “Why would I want you to leave?”

 “I never wanted to be a problem for you, Matthew, especially not with other players.” It was part of the reason you’d never told him that you’d dated Auston, though you should’ve known that Auston couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

 You went to say more, but Matthew stopped you. “You’re not the problem (Y/N). You could never be one.” His fingers ran up and down your arms lightly, just caressing your skin. “I love you, baby.”

 “I love you too.” His lips found yours then, and you melted into the feel of him, savoring how his body started to relax against you.

 “Auston’s an asshole.” Matthew finally said, when the two of you broke apart.

 “Do I even want to know what he said?”

 “Just shit to get me riled up, and it worked.” Your one hand went to the back of his neck, massaging the knotted muscles there. “I’m not stupid. I realize what probably happened between the two of you. I just don’t like hearing it.”

 “We both have pasts, Matthew. We can’t change that, but you’re my future.”

 He gave you a real quick peck to your lips. “And you’re mine. At least I don’t have to deal with him for a couple weeks.”

 You pushed him onto his back before straddling his hips. “Don’t let him get under your skin, babe. When he starts to say something…” you looked him right in the eyes. “And you know he will. Just remind him how you’re the only one I want with me.” You flexed your hips before running your hands up his bare chest. “And in me.” Matthew’s hands went to your waist, where he played with the band of lace on your panties. “You’re more to me than he’ll ever be. Both here,” you taped your heart and then his. “And here.” Lifting your hips, you took your hand and cupped the length of him. His cock instantly hardened under your touch.

 Your words spurred Matthew into action, for the next thing you knew he was ripping your panties, before shimming out of his boxers. His fingers went to your folds, where he found you ready for him. “Fuck you’re so wet.”

 “Only for you Matthew. Only for you.” It was extra reassurance that you knew Matthew needed and tonight you’d give him as many as he needed. He guided your hips down onto his cock and you sighed out with pleasure as he filled you like no one else ever had.

 As you grabbed the hem of your t-shirt Matthew whispered harshly, “Leave it on.” It was one of his Flames shirts; one that had both his name and number on the back. Leaning down you kissed him long and hard, before starting to ride him. It was slow at first, a pace meant to build you both up but not push you over the edge. His hands were everywhere, under your shirt caressing your breasts, wandering down your back to cup your ass, and moving up and down your thighs to quicken your speed.

 Finally, he couldn’t take it any longer and he flipped your bodies so that he loomed over top of you. His thrusts were deep and hard, almost punishing if your body hadn’t wanted him so bad. “You belong to me.” He said as he flexed into you, pushing you up against the headboard.

 “Yes, baby. Only you.”

 “Who?” He asked again and you realized that he was not in the mood to hear any pet names.

 “You, Matthew, you,” you answered knowing that he owned you both body and soul, just as you owned him.

 “That’s right, baby.” Matthew's thrusts were deep and sure, as he knew what would bring you pleasure, and with a few more flexes of his hips, he sent you spiraling out of control, screaming his name.

 “MMMAAATTTTTTTTTTHHHHEEEEEWWW.”

 That was all he needed to catch his high and follow you down, your name on his lips. He rolled onto his side taking you with him; your breaths mingling together as you both calmed. Your nails skimmed down his spine aimless, something you tended to do after sex. Matthew always said he loved the continued intimacy it brought, and tonight it felt like you both needed that. His lips found yours, the kiss loving and tender. “I love you, (Y/N),” Matthew whispered while brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “And I promise, I won’t let Auston get to me next time.”

 “Good, because you’re the only man I love Matthew, and the team doesn’t need you getting ejected from games because of me.”

 “It won’t happen again.” You truly hoped that it wouldn’t but with Matthew’s temper you never knew.

 It was a little over two weeks later that the Flames were taking on the Leafs, this time at the Saddledome, where you were in attendance. Admittedly, you were a bit nervous on the inside as to what would happen between the love of your life and the once lowlife that you'd briefly called boyfriend. You tried to shake off your nerves with idle chatter with some of the girls, but your eyes always seemed to drift back to where Matthew and Auston were on the ice.

 Matthew for his part stayed away from center ice for warmups, just like he told you he would. It wasn’t until the second period after a blown whistle that Auston finally decided to poke at him. “How’s that girlfriend Tkachuk? You know if I told her I wanted her back she’d leave you in a second.”

 “I doubt that Matthews. She told me you couldn't satisfy her in the bedroom. Something about cumming too soon.” Anger started to radiate across Auston’s face. “You should see a doctor about that.” Matthew skated away, completely ignoring anything Auston would be able to say back.

 The game was tied late in the third once again when Auston tried to rile Matthew up again. Considering he had two assists you understood why they wanted your boyfriend out of the game. “It wasn’t me who had the problem Tkachuk, (Y/N)’s pussy was wider than the Grand Canyon.”

 “Hmm,” Matthew taunted back. “Must be your small pencil dick, because she’s so tight it’s like a vice-grip around me.” Auston took offense and cross-checked Matthew into the boards right as the play began, earning him two minutes in the penalty box. Matthew laughed at him as the ref took him over. Auston wasn’t there for long, as Matthew scored the game-winning goal forty-some seconds into the penalty. You jumped up out of your seat with the rest of the girls cheering and screaming.

 Even though they pulled the goalie, the Leafs couldn’t seem to find the back of the net before the buzzer sounded ending the game. You made your way down to wait outside the tunnel with the rest of the significant others. Most everyone was gone before Matthew finally came out, scooping you up in his arms. “Did you see that baby?”

 “I saw Matty,” you told him, kissing him on the lips. “That goal was impressive.”

 He finally set you back down on your feet. “No babe, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t let him get to me.”

 “Yeah, I saw that too. I’m so proud of you.”

 “Well, he can’t get under my skin about you, when I get to be all over yours.” His hands slid under your sweater and inside your jeans to cup your ass. “Speaking of your skin…let’s go home so I can get you out of all these clothes and see you.”

 You kissed him, long and languidly, before pulling back. “I like that idea. I like it a lot.” The two of you left the arena hands interlaced just as your bodies would be as soon as you got home.  

.

516 notes • Posted 2021-03-02 03:18:11 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[innocent-dumpling]

I’m Not Done

Some of you have probably read this story I created for @shikatemaweek already due to my first post. I just wanted to try and get into the habit of also uploading my one-shot stories here too in order to be more Tumblr Friendly so I’m sharing it again. Rating: K+ / General Audiences Fandom: Naruto Relationship: ShikaTema If you enjoy this story please consider leaving a comment on this post or on AO3 or even reblogging. I appreciate feedback so much!

CLICK BELOW TO READ THE STORY ON AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/24992056

READ THE STORY ON TUMBLR BELOW.

She knew going into the relationship that nothing would be easy. Distance, work and family expectations all weighed down on the pair of them. But what Temari had not anticipated was the pressure that would befall her once they got married. To put it simply, children. The topic came up countless times over the course of their courtship by the meddling exterior forces, always seeking to gain control of their very existence. But until recently the topic has not been touched by herself or Shikamaru, for which she had been thankful. The concept of giving the man she loves a child was not a horrifying one. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Merely thinking about carrying their child filled her with so much warmth and happiness that she felt as if her heart might burst. Bringing a pure little soul into the world would be perhaps the highlight of her life to date. But it was the things that followed that caused her insurmountable levels of distress; giving birth and motherhood. Both fears stemming from deep-rooted trauma from her upbringing, or lack thereof.

Shikamaru raised the topic for the first time the day prior and Temari skilfully evaded it; but today he was intent on procuring an answer to his seemingly harmless question. “So how many kids should we have?” His question was kind, full of love and very smooth as he always was when tackling topics of a romantic nature. It hurt to answer him knowing what it was she had to say. Every fibre of her being screamed out in the hope that she would reconsider before shattering his dream. “I don’t want to be a mother,” Temari responds at last, causing her husband’s mischievous smile to disappear from his lips as the last syllable trailed from her own. For the hours that followed they bickered back and forth, never getting to the root of the issue, just going around and around in circles. He simply couldn’t understand, and she stubbornly refused to elaborate further. Their emotions were almost as high as the impenetrable wall she had built around her the instant his smile vanished. It was difficult to recall the last time she felt so distraught. It was clear what he needed in order to process her answer. The full truth. But it was the one thing she wanted to avoid discussing at all costs. Not due to any suspicious reason, although she assumed that he might be exploring that hideous avenue of thought. No, it was simply out of self-preservation from an emotional standpoint. The wounds of her childhood ran deep, as did the associated anxiety. Her parents were a topic she avoided with the greatest precision over the years they had been together. It was almost second nature at this point. That chapter of her life was over, and if she could keep that rattling door sealed shut, she would do so at all costs. It was not a path she sought to gain a deeper understanding of like Gaara. It hurt far too much and reaped far too little of a reward. Fists clench at Temari’s sides as she takes a deep breath. Her heart once filled with love was bursting with nothing but anxiety as she gazes up at her husband. As always, his annoyingly handsome face stared down at her from above, frustration marking his features as his brows pinched together. “For fuck’s sake, what aren’t you telling me?” Shikamaru whispers hoarsely, hands gripping her arms as he peered down at her. His dark eyes quivering as he stared down at his wife, her gaze averting. It hurt. What should’ve been such a simple conversation between them was now the source of what was without a doubt, the most painful argument that their relationship had endured thus far. Swallowing hard, Shikamaru loosens his grip on her arms, a sigh slipping from his lips as his brain goes into overdrive. Nothing about it made sense. “I don’t get it, why are you only telling me that you don’t want children now? You didn’t think this was worth telling me before we got married months ago?” he asks bluntly, voice straining as the words rolled off the tip of his tongue. I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation. She never mentioned this before. Not once! His mind cries out in frustration, heart palpitating so hard he could feel the pulse dance up in his throat as he looked upon Temari’s downcast visage. Her lips tremble and part for a moment, silence befalling the pair as she presses her cushioned tiers together once more. She didn’t owe him an explanation. Her decision was final. Why couldn’t he respect that and leave well enough alone? She exhales, eyes drifting up to his face once more, hot tears spilling down her cheeks as she took in his heartbroken expression. Only a few years back she’d made a silent vow to never cause him to make such an expression. In hindsight perhaps it was foolish to believe such a feat was possible given the turbulent nature of life. I’m sorry. I thought that maybe I could do this, she muses silently as she shook free from his touch; slowly walking away. “I’m done,” Temari whispers, her voice breaking as she stood silently a few steps from him. I don’t want this to end, her mind screams out, a hot sensation tugging at her heart as her eyes fluttered closed. He deserves better. He deserves everything. I can’t offer him that. That was it. He was pissed. “I’m not done! You don’t get to decide this on your own, Princess Temari!” He calls out in a patronising manner, pain dripping from his voice as dark eyes narrowed. His dominant hand reaches forward instinctively, only to pull back as he witnessed her flinch at the sound of his voice. What happened? Did something change? Did I do something? The thoughts rang through his mind chaotically as he stared longingly at the back of the woman he loved with all his heart. He was confident it was through no fault of his own, their current discourse aside. So why was the love of his life peeling open his chest and ripping out his heart? I want answers! Fuck it, I deserve answers! He’d gone there. Using the title that she loathed with everything she was; Princess. She was royalty in name alone, her upbringing was anything but reflective of the privilege it implied. Was he trying to lure her into an argument of a different nature through one of his well-thought-out countermeasures? A trap if you will, to coerce the deeper reason out of her? On any other day, her answer would be yes, without a doubt. But given his current tone, it seemed more likely that it was simply said with little to no thought on the matter. It simply came from a place of suffering and confusion. She couldn’t blame him. “I can though,” Temari replies simply, swallowing hard as she fought to keep her emotions in check; “If you keep wanting to discuss children like the elders of both our families, then it’s over. You can’t pressure me into anything let alone this. I won’t stand for it.” It hurt to even state such a thing, to cast her dreams aside out of fear of the final result of such an endeavour. Who am I to raise a child? I was raised with not an ounce of love for a majority of my life, her mind cries out, a hand reaching up to her head, rubbing her right temple gently as she attempted to subside her throbbing headache. Everything about the conversation was heart-wrenching, from the topic through to the ease of which she had said she was willing to leave him. “Calm down,” Shikamaru whispers as approaches her, arms wrapping around her torso from behind as his forehead presses up against the nape of her neck. It was plain as day that there was more to this, and the fact that she was unwilling to disclose it but would rather state such harsh things in its place was alarming. This isn’t you, he notes silently, gaze drifting to the floor as his shoulders relaxed; If you meant it, you would be trying to break away from me right now. Exhaling heavily, the strategist’s arms tighten under her bosom as he contemplated how to best proceed. He needed to reach her. “I’m not trying to pressure you. I don’t care if you want to have ten kids or no kids,” he explains, voice firm and unwavering despite the ache in his chest; “I just want you, and all the witty insults that come with loving you.” At this point, his love and heartfelt thoughts were all he could offer. This is playing dirty. Hearing that makes me want to break down, Temari’s mind cries out, cheeks flushing as she gazed down at his arms encircling her chest; I don’t deserve you. You are too understanding. Taking a deep breath, she slides her hands up and over his arms, heart-throbbing as she smiled tearfully. “No one in their right mind would have ten children,” she retorts as she attempts to calm the ache in her chest, relief washing over her. He was wearing down her defences slowly but surely; his weapon of choice, his love. “But tell me. Why don’t you want kids?” Shikamaru asks once more, eyes fluttering shut as he breathed a sigh of relief. Her playful counter to his statement, although unrelated to the comment he made overall, served to put him at ease when her gentle actions were also factored into the equation. While he knew that she loved him and had no intention of ending their relationship, it was a comfort for which he was grateful. “Because I don’t,” she fights back stubbornly, her teeth gritting as she fought to carefully select her words as she turned to face him. Determination printed across her tearstained cheeks like invisible warpaint. She could not let him crack her. Her pride was everything. His hands recoil as his lover turns to face him, her stormy eyes locking with his own fearlessly. “That’s not an explanation,” he states with a sigh as a hand brushes behind his neck, rubbing it absentmindedly. She was frustrating by default. “I don’t owe you one,” she replies stubbornly, lifting her chin a fraction as her chest tightened. He was determined to get an answer from her. She couldn’t blame him despite how irritating she found his persistence, after all, if the situation was reversed, she would likely do the same. Shikamaru frowns, his forehead creasing as he gazed back at her unsurely; “You know that you do. Don’t lie,” he retorts boldly, “I know you better than that.” Did he need to spell it out to her? It seemed so obvious where he was coming from, but perhaps that was all a matter of perspective. “I always pictured us having a family. Not because of those decrepit elders in Suna who nag us. Not because of the elders in my family who do the same. Just because I love you,” he explains, voice filled with exasperation. “I deserve to know the reason, because I’m prepared to forgo that future without hesitation,” he clarifies as he reaches forward, cupping both her face in the palms of both his hands. His words hit hard. The love he held for her was something she had always hoped she would receive. It was unlikely that anything she said would truly phase how he felt. It was that once in a lifetime love; pure and beyond all logic. “I know. I love you too. You know I do,” she responds gently, her wall crumbling down around her as she stood there silently; “I know I’m being selfish.” “Tem, I can tell you’re scared. Just talk to me,” he presses, hands slipping down the sides of her neck and across her shoulders, massaging them gently. How can I help you if you don’t let me in? Taking a deep breath, she relaxes her shoulders, I can’t refute anything he’s said. I owe it to him. Her tongue traces across her dry lips as her gaze softens. “I always wanted a family with you,” she admits, arms plaiting under her bosom as she swallowed hard; anxiety coursing through her every movement. “I’m just terrified, okay? I’m not as strong as you make me out to be,” she half yells out, her defensive nature taking the reins, her beautiful face quivering with pent up emotions that ached to be unleashed. “The idea of not surviving birth like my mother is crippling. That combined with my fear of being a traumatising parent like my father is just too much!” Temari admits at long last, heart pounding as she desperately tried to repress the wave of emotions that hit her all at once. Painful memories of a not so distant past that she would’ve preferred to not relive and anger, so much unresolved anger. “I’d never wish it on anyone let alone my own baby. They should only know what a home filled with love and safety feels like. Not what I experienced, that breaks you,” she cries out, her voice cracking as she spoke; I doubt he will understand. I’ll just come across as weak and idiotic. The handle had been turned, and the one part of her that she vowed to always keep out of his reach had been released. He had flung that door wide open, there was no going back. Shikamaru knew her well enough to know his wife didn’t want his sympathy; she wanted his honesty. That blunt honesty she had come to expect from him as her partner in life. “Look I get it, but you’re not your mother or your father,” he explains, hands rolling down to the sides of her arms and rubbing them thoughtfully in an attempt to calm her a little. A soft sympathetic smile slips across his lips as he tilts his head, “If you want my opinion, the fact that you worry so much about all these things for a baby that doesn’t even exist proves that you have the heart of an amazing mother.” “That’s the other thing. Our baby does exist,” she croaks, eyes welling with tears once more as calloused fingertips trace across her lower abdomen. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t remember how it feels like to even have a mother let alone know how to be one,” she whispers, lips trembling as warmth trickles down the curves of her cheeks; her free hand stubbornly wiping away the tears as she tried to hold herself together. Would he regret knowing how she felt? Would he love her less? She wouldn’t blame him if he did. After all, who would want a woman with no sense of what it is to be a mother? I didn’t want to open that door, damn it! Her mind cries out as she falls to her knees, hands pressing down on the cold floorboards as she squeezes her eyes shut; I didn’t want you to ever see this side of me. This weak, pathetic shell of a woman who longs for her mother. I don’t want you to know me as a victim. Strong arms wrap around her shoulders, tugging her up to his chest. His body heat hits her like a tidal wave, engulfing her instantly as his head burrows into the nook of her neck. “Don’t say you’re done ever again. Not unless you mean it and even then, I refuse to accept it you troublesome woman,” he mutters, lips brushing against her skin as he struggles to calm his frazzled heart; I don’t think I could handle losing you, my painfully domineering wife. Cold hands trace across her hand hovering over her lower abdomen as he presses his forehead up against his wife’s; simply grateful. “We will work it out together, I promise,” Shikamaru mutters softly, lashes fluttering upwards as he drew his face back from Temari’s, her flushed and emotionally distressed expression softening as he smiled at her. A hand slips up to her face, cupping her cheek. His thumb tracing across the apple of her cheek, drifting through damp tear trails as he leant forward, pressing his lips up against hers tenderly. Shoulders relaxing, Temari sinks into his kiss. The depth of his love was endless. She instantly couldn’t help but feel like a complete and utter fool for even questioning his ability to handle that one part of her she ached to keep from him. But perhaps it was best for the events to unfold as they had. If not for any other reason, than to have experienced this moment of complete and utter bliss alone. “I love you, crybaby,” she teases as his lips draw back from her own, a single finger poking into his cheek playfully as she smiled earnestly for the first time that day. Neither of them were perfect. But one thing was for certain, the tiny baby growing within her was going to be as close to perfect as people come.

[welcome-to-the-petting-zoo]

Hey guys! I was wondering if any of you could offer me some tips on calming yourself down or lessening stress? Because of my contamination fears and the fact that I live in the U.S. everything has been piling up. My family doesn’t rlly take me or anything seriously either. So I’ve been falling into fits of “I’m not going to be able to leave the house in years, what’s the point in being here” and general other bad thoughts so I wonder if anything you known could help calm me down? Thanks!

Hey there Anon,

TP here. I'm so sorry you're struggling like this, and especially that your family can't/won't provide you with the support you need.

I'm going to try to collect some general advice and some healthy coping techniques, maybe you can find something here that can relieve your stress. I don't know enough about your lifestyle, specific issues and circumstances to tailor the list to your needs too much, but I'll try to bring up some varied points so maybe there is something you'll find useful.

There are things you can do in the moment to relieve stress and then there are things that are more preventive or work over a longer period, I'll try to cover both categories.

Let's start with in the moment relief:

Grounding. The same way grounding techniques can help with dissociative symptoms, they are also a great tool for stress relief. If you can take a moment to collect yourself, it can help you avoid blowing up or imploding into a depressive mess. There are great breathing exercises geared towards stress relief, but you can also do some physical practices, like putting your hands together in front of you like you were praying, and pressing your palms together as hard as you can, for as long as you can. This will release the physical tension in your body and with that, some of the emotional charge will dissipate too.

Depending on whether your stress manifests as anger, you can also do anger relief exercises, such as trying to rip a piece of cardboard in as many pieces as you can, or, my personal favourite, taking an old pair of sneakers and throwing them against the ground or an outdoor wall, because that won't harm either the wall or the shoes, and it's loads better than turning that anger on yourself or another person. Of course if you can manage your anger without having to act on it, all the better, but if you feel like you're about to explode, blowing off the steam in a non-dangerous way that still allows you to express your destructive urges can work.

This is extreme, but if you have the environment (e.g. you can go to a place away from humanity), you can even try to just scream as loudly as you can. I've never tried this method, but some people swear by it.

Remove yourself from the situation/environment. I know it can be super hard during the pandemic, but if you have the chance, just taking a walk, especially if you can go somewhere devoid of people in nature, is one of the best ways to clear your head and give yourself the space you need to calm down. What I often do is, I get on my bike and take a long ride on some abandoned back roads, which of course is a very special privilege most people don't have, but if you can carve out a little space for yourself somewhere, that can do wonders.

If you can't leave the house because of your fear of contamination or any other reason, I would advise you put on a pair of headphones, if you have noise cancelling ones, those are the best, but basically any pair will do, lie down on your bed and listen to music or nature sounds for a while. I live listening to the sea, or forest noises. There are several free apps you can download that let you create your own sound scapes from different sound elements, so you can tailor your experience to your specific tastes. If lying still is too hard or distracting, you can also try pacing while listening, just make sure you keep to a slow and steady stroll so you won't end up accidentally winding yourself up even more.

You can try doing some yoga, workout or sport. There are a lot of exercises you can also do indoors and generally, moving your body is a wonderful thing, it relieves stress, releases some happy chemicals and tires you out so you won't feel anxious anymore. Basically how this works is, emotions have physical "symptoms" and they work both ways. If you're experiencing the bodily sensation, you'll get the emotion as well, which also means, if you can stop the physical symptom, the emotion will go away too. For example, if you make yourself smile even though you're in a bad mood, you'll soon start feeling better, or the thing when people get anxious or angry because they are hungry and they can feel a knot in their stomach... It works just like that with anxiety/stress as well, if you can relieve the tension from your body, you'll also feel less stressed.

You can try stim toys or other equipment that's geared towards people with sensory integration issues. These tools were developed for people who get easily overwhelmed, so they are extremely efficient for relieving stress. There are tons of different kinds, so you can experiment with what feels right for you. Maybe it's a squishy toy, maybe a weighted blanket, or something you can bite into or a logic puzzle to stimulate your brain. As I said, there are loads of resources out there, and I'm positive there is something you could benefit from, and well, these tools are there for anybody who needs them, so feel free to experiment with them!

Okay, so let's take a look at the longer term things.

Meditation is one of the most awesome things ever. If you're not into spirituality, or if you think it's bullshit, rest assured, that's where I came from too... Until I've tried it. It helped me so much with my insomnia and other stress related issues, and well, it's not like I'm suddenly a hardcore Buddhist or something (not that there is anything wrong with that either, meditation and spirituality/any religion can absolutely go hand in hand), because in the end I like being my weird pragmatic self, but even so, meditation is something I love doing, it gives me peace and teaches me how to relax and come closer to understanding what my body needs and how to pay attention to it. There are also very cool resources for that, both apps and podcasts/YouTube channels that have guided meditation materials or that teach you different techniques.

If you have the spoons, please, do exercise! It is so damn helpful and important, but I also know it's something that can be super hard and I also struggle with it a lot, but whenever I actually manage to move around just for a few minutes, I feel so accomplished and so well physically and mentally.

Try to express your emotions in different ways. Create awesome vent art (your skill level doesn't matter, you can literally be scribbling on a piece of paper, or squishing a block of clay into a shapeless lump, it's not about artistic quality)! Experiment with different media and techniques, write, draw, sculpt, make collages out of magazine cuttings, press flowers, knit emotional sweaters, whatever your preferred method is, creating is a truly healing experience. It allows you to collect your thoughts and emotions and express them in a way that engages your brain in a different way than just thinking about it does, and it turns the negative emotions into positive experiences of creation and relaxation.

Ask someone to give you a massage. Again, back to the whole body and mind influence each other thing, not to mention that massages feel awesome and if it's a friend or loved one giving it, it also creates intimacy and a shared good moment which in and of itself can help a lot.

Talk about it! Seriously, fuck those people who tell you it's somehow wrong to talk about your issues or that you're being a burden. YOU'RE NOT! If you're in distress or you just feel like you need a talk, just do it! If you have noone to talk to, just get back to me, I'll be happy to listen if that means you're feeling better. There will ALWAYS be people who would happily listen to your venting if that would make you feel relief.

Finally, if this is something that's an option for you, consider talking to a therapist or your healthcare provider. They might be able to point you in the direction of some resources or talk about the possibility of temporary medicinal treatment until the pandemic blows over.

I hope this helps a little bit, and of course, if you have any follow-up questions, I'll be happy to elaborate on any of the points. I'm sorry for not including specific links or resources, but I'm a disabled weirdo and right now typing this out is all I have in me. But if you can't find something, or would like specific recommendations, get back to me and I'll look into the specifics for you.

Best of luck,

TP