#now ik why they wept | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

erenoir · 3 years

Text

for you, my love

↳ genre: fight club!eren, angst, sad, nsfw, MDNI

↳ warnings: 18+ content, unprotected sex, mutual masturbation, self-destructive!eren, mean!eren, emotionally toxic relationship, bathtub sex, hate sex, choking, a lot of crying, strong use of blood + verbal fighting, physical fighting, mentions of drugs + alcohol, intoxication, very descriptive injuries, cursing, mild mentions of guns, broken glass, + anxiety

↳ featuring: s4!eren jaeger x f!reader

↳ word count: 9k

whenever he calls, despite the hour of the night, despite whatever fucked up high he’s riding, despite how many times he’s thrown you to the curb… you follow him. all he has to do is say those three little words, and he knows you’ll come running, you always do.

a/n: i'm so proud of this story! ik she's a bit long but if you give her a chance pls tell me your thoughts! also do you know the movie fight club? yeah. enjoy <3

*bang! bang! bang!*

“y/n open up! please!”

no, i can’t do this anymore. i can’t fucking do this.

your eyes felt heavy, tears bearing the weight of the world as they fell down your face. you shouldn’t have to deal with shit like this. you’re not a fucking surgeon, you shouldn’t have to stitch people up, stitch him up, put him back together, at his beck and call. it’s not your fucking job. the thick covers of your bed encapsulate your frail body, weakened from all that he’s put you through. your tears and mucus soaked into the sheets that smelled just like him. you wept silently, trying to stay as quiet as possible as he screamed at the door of your apartment.

“Y/N! p-lease! just one more fu-cking time! that’s all i need from you! i’ll never fucking bother y-you again i swear…”

he was drunk.

his words cracked and hiccuped through your door, you could hear the hysteria in his voice. it was raspy, like he’d just consumed a pound of gravel, sharp rocks scraping at his throat.

“please, leave,” you whispered into your pillow.

please… leave. i wish you could hear my thoughts right now my love. please, just fucking leave. my heart can’t stand your cries for much longer, you know that. that’s why you’re still at my door. because i’ll break soon.

“Y/N FUCKING PLEASE! open the door! p-please l-et me in! i need you.”

bang.

he finally pulled the trigger and you were on the other side of the gun.

your heart stopped at those three stupid fucking words. you stumbled out of your bed, blanket still wrapped around you, as if that would offer any form of protection from the storm waiting outside. you wept silently into your sweater, tears blurring your vision as you tripped your way through your dark apartment to the front door. you stopped inches away from it, your breathing growing increasingly ragged. there was a boulder sitting on top of your lungs, he was the one that put it there. you couldn’t sense anything around you, your body had gone numb to your surroundings, the only thing you could see was the door in front of you. please, i can’t do this anymore.

“please baby! god! fucking please! i can’t do this… i can’t live without you right now! i’m hurting!”

he’s hurting?

his hands continued to slam into the door.

*bang! bang! bang!*

you flinched at every impact. you laid your head against your side of the door as he laid his head against the other. your sobs had become vocal, he could hear you. you couldn’t even feel your lips move as you growled your next words. you wanted to fucking stab him with them.

“you’re hurting? you have the fucking nerve to tell me that you’re hurting?! EREN! are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Y/N—”

“NO! no. shut the fuck up. let me fucking speak.”

“you couldn’t possibly understand the utter hell you put me through eren! you could not possibly understand the complete fucking hell i live through every day because of you.. you-you fucking, monster.”

your venomous words were meant to immobilize him, eren went radio silent on the other side of the door. you placed your shaky hands on either side of the keyhole, as you looked through it uneasily, dreading what you would see through the tiny window.

he wasn’t there.

he left.

your sobs turned into sobs of relief as you maniacally laughed through your tears. you didn’t know what you were doing, you had no control over your body, you didn’t understand your actions. why the fuck am i laughing. this is insane.

“oh god! look at what the fuck he’s done to me!” you screamed. you raised your hands to smack the wall, but they slowed down just before impact, they balled up into fists and rested against it in defeat.

you backed away from your door and down your tiny hallway, past the coatrack, past the mirror, into your small kitchen as you fell to the black and white tile floor. you sobbed on your knees as your hands fell in front of you to regain your balance.

“look at what he’s fucking done to me..” you whispered through your cries. you watched as your tears slowly filled in the little cracks between the tiles as you wept harder and harder. why can’t we be happy?

*CRACK!*

your head whipped up to look back at the door, the dark hallway in front of you suddenly looked miles longer than it actually was.

*CRACK!*

what the—

he was kicking down your door.

“oh my god! leave m-me the fuck alone!” you stammered. god, please help me. “where are your miracles now, god?” you gritted through your teeth. you stood up on your wobbly knees and began to stumble your way back to the door, tripping over your blanket as you did so.

*CRACK!*

“EREN! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDIN—”

the brazen man tripped his way to you as you backed your way into the kitchen. your cries were pouring out of you, your face beet red, your cheeks and eyes swollen. you wrapped yourself in your blanket tighter as you looked at the tattered man in horror.

i can’t do this anymore.

eren looked like he’d went to visit satan himself. his shirt was soaked through with blood. his knuckles were bloodied and bruised. the patchwork of tattoos scattered all over his body were ripped through with cuts and scars. but his face… my love what happened to you.

his left eye was swollen shut, the right eye was a deep red as blood soaked through to the white of it. he had a gash on his left cheek and his lips were purple, the bottom one busted open. he held himself up on your kitchen counter, smearing blood onto the formaldehyde as he inched towards you.

“eren… please… i'm so tired of this.”

eren stumbled into you and wrapped you in his arms. he didn’t care if you fucking hated him he just wanted to feel you. he just wanted to be close to you... to his anchor. he nuzzled his head into your neck, staining your cheek with blood. he wept into your shoulder, his body reeking of vodka and sweat. you winced as he held you tighter. his hands were shaky as he wrapped one of them in your hair, painting your locks in red. you were motionless, frozen at his touch, the ominous blue light of the time shone on your microwave illuminated your figures. your arms stayed by your sides as you let him take what he needed from you.

“baby… baby, i’m sorry. i’m so so sorry. i hate myself. i fucking hate myself. i’m a d-disgusting human being.” your eyes flinched at his words, eyebrows furrowing together.

“i don’t deserve you, i don’t deserve anything.”

no my love, don’t say that.

“eren please…” you hesitated to place a hand on the back of his head, but nonetheless you caved, like you always did. your right hand tangled itself in his long hair, you gasped as you felt a cold liquid kiss your fingertips. your eyes looked on in terror as you pulled your hand away, hand smothered in thick blood.

“e-eren… who did you fight this time?”

there was no response, only the sound of cars driving on the main street a few blocks down. he didn’t move his head from your shoulder, he clung onto you like his life depended on it. it did.

“eren,” you repeatedly sternly, attempting to regain some of your composure. you pulled his head away from your shoulder, a string of saliva connecting his beaten lips to your skin. he looked at you but there was nothing going on in his eyes, they were black. he was too far gone.

you felt your tears coming back to you as your voice grew weak, “e-eren, what did you take? did-did you take something?” you held his head in your hands, placing your forehead on his. a line of spit slipped out of his mouth. you hated seeing him like this. this wasn’t the man you met two years ago, this was an empty shell. eren wasn’t there anymore, he hasn’t been for a long time.

you cried in his arms as yours reached up around his neck, you tucked your head into his chest to listen to his heartbeat. you wanted to know he was still there.

“i l-love you ba-by,” eren slurred. he sloppily kissed the top of your head.

you stick your fist in your mouth as you wept silently beneath him, tears mixing with the blood on his shirt.

you couldn’t say the words back to him.

“i know my love, i know you do.”

your dragged eren’s heavy body to your bathroom. his arm was slung around your shoulder as the other gripped at his side. your steps were slow so he could keep up. you pushed the door open and he immediately fell to the floor, crawling over to the toilet as he gripped the seat with his hands. he started dry heaving into the toilet bowl, leading his grip to become shaky. beads of sweat formed on his forehead and his long hair fell forward, the ends dipping into the water. you sighed as you crouched down next to him and grabbed a fistful of his hair. eren continued to cough up blood, spit, and alcohol as you gently raked his hair back with your fingers, putting his hair into a bun with the hair tie on your wrist. you felt tears piling up in your eyes as you blinked them away, sniffling and wiping your nose with the back of your hand. you wiped the sweat away from his forehead with the sleeve of your sweater and began to run a warm bath for him. you hated yourself for doing this.

eren looked up at you from the toilet bowl, eyes hazy, tears littering his eyelashes. he wiped the puke from his mouth and let his head fall onto the toilet seat.

“fuck,” he muttered.

you pulled his near lifeless body up to sit on the toilet.

“eren… take off your clothes.”

he smirked, blood staining his teeth and the cracks of his lips. “even w-when i look like th-is you still wanna f-fuck me huh?” he hiccuped.

you landed a hard smack to his cheek.

“shit y/n!”

“don’t fucking talk to me like that. do you even see what i’m doing for you? you’re a pig eren.”

his swollen hand was massaging the sharp pain away from his cheek. “well ex-c-cuse me bitch, guess i can’t make a j-joke around here,” he drunkenly snickered.

“no, i don’t think there’s anything to joke about right now eren. not when you show up to my home at a random hour of the night, and especially not when you show up half-dead! excuse me, for not being in the mood to joke around with my battered boyfriend. sorry that i can’t think of anything other than keeping you alive for another night right now, asshole.”

your words cut him like knives, he winced at your aggression. you grew frustrated and began to peel his shirt off yourself. you bit back tears when you saw the bloodied mess that had been made of his stomach. your breaths grew erratic as you traced your fingers around the wound, letting your tears fall. eren grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips as he cried, “i’m so s-sorry m-m-my love.” he linked your fingers together and kissed each of your fingertips. he toyed with the ring you wore on the ring finger of your right hand. it was the promise ring he’d given you only three months after you started seeing each other. as much as you knew you two surely weren’t meant to last, you didn’t have it in your heart to take it off.

“you still wear it?”

you looked up at the broken man sitting above you, you were knelt down in front of him, hands resting on his knees. tears stained his cheeks as he took staggered breaths, gasping for air every few seconds.

“yes,” you whispered. you searched his eyes for something, any kind of response, a moment of realization. realization that you still had money on you guys working out, at the end of the day you didn’t think you’d be able to love someone as unconditionally as you loved eren. you watched as he bit his lip and turned his face away from you.

“god, i’m so fucking stupid.”

“don’t say that. i kn-know you can be better. you will get better eren.” you turned his face to look at you. “you will get better. you have to, for us,” your voice croaked. he twisted the promise ring on your finger one more time before smiling weakly at it.

eren stood up slowly from his position on the toilet and began to unbuckle the belt to his jeans. you helped him shimmy out of them. breath hitching even further into your chest as you make out the bruises to his lower abdomen. you add some bath salts to the water and mix them up with your hand, allowing the water to suds up. you get up from your position on the floor to see eren completely stripped down to nothing, your face instinctively blushes at the sight of his naked body in front of you, as if you’ve never seen it before. you outstretched a hand to him as you guided him down into the bathtub. eren hissed at the warm water and soap hitting his wounds, but he desperately needed to be washed. you watched as his blood stained the water a light red, his long body was almost too big for your tiny claw foot bathtub. you lived in a tiny apartment building in brooklyn that was built in the 70s. sure the place had been renovated here and there, but the landlords rarely touched the bathrooms and it showed. the bathroom was tiny with dark, overly-orange lighting. the only window was a tiny one that faced the apartments across the street.

eren’s knees poked out of the water as he brought his legs to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. he tucked his face between his knees, exposing his back to you. you dipped a clean towel into the water as you squeezed it out over his back, watching the water roll down his muscles. you gently scrubbed the dried blood off of him, moving in soft circles. you remained silent as eren’s body shook violently with sobs, he let you clean him as he tried to stifle his cries as best as he could.

it took three rounds of draining and refilling the bathtub before the water was finally clean. eren remained in the same docile position, not wanting to look you in the face as you cared for him in his most vulnerable state.

“eren… look at me,” you whispered, “please.”

you took eren’s chin between your pointer finger and thumb as you coaxed him to look at you. you needed to get a better look at the wounds on his face. you don’t know what came over you, maybe it was the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world. maybe it was the way his long hair framed his face beautifully. maybe it was the way your heart was still beating just as fast as when you first met him, even in the position that you were in now. you just knew that you wanted to do this, so you leaned over the bathtub to place a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“i-i’m gonna take care of you okay?”

for the first time this whole night you saw a flicker of emotion in eren’s eyes. he took his hands out of the water and placed them on either side of your face as he connected his lips to yours. all of the tension, all of the anger, all of the hatred that had lingered in the air over the last few hours, had vanished as you two melted into each other’s mouths. eren’s callused thumbs ran over your cheekbones as his lips moved together with yours. you hated him. you hated him for being able to bring you back to him in such a trivial way. but the truth was your body craved him, and it had grown to have a dependence on eren, on his touch, on his lips, on his attention. you needed every ounce of him just as much as he needed you.

the tears falling down both of your faces mixed together as you drew each other closer.

“c’mere,” eren whispered into your lips.

“i am here eren,” your body was just outside the bathtub.

“no… i w-want you closer,” he cries into your mouth as he pulls you into the bathtub fully clothed. your mind couldn’t even process what was happening before you were in the bath with him, sat across from him as the bottom of your sweater floated to the top of the water. you didn’t even care, you two needed each other too much to care. you settled yourself between his thighs as you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him in closer to you. your lips reattached to his as your tongues lapped at each other’s mouths, desperate for each other’s taste. your saliva mixed with the metallic taste of eren’s blood as your lips and cheeks were painted red. eren was crying sweet apologies into your lips. your heart ached at the sound of his strained voice.

“i’m so sorry baby.”

“i know, my love.”

“i’m sorry for hurting you.”

“i know, my love.”

“i can’t stop hurting you.”

“i know…”

“you deserve better than me.”

i know.

eren reached for the bottom of your sweater as he pulled the wet fabric over your head, exposing your breasts to him. your legs straddled his lap as you tilted his face to the light to examine his cuts better. he placed his hands on your hips and traced circles on your sides. you looked down on him with wet hair, your chest panting up and down. whoever did this to him was strong, and that’s saying a lot, because your baby was so strong. you hated him for the shit he got himself into but… my god was he good at it.

you remembered the first time eren came to your apartment like this, it was the second time you’d ever gotten a noise complaint. the first was from when you two had a lovely night of um… exploring each other’s bodies. you had just moved in so your mattress was sat on the floor and the neighbors beneath you could hear… well, everything. the second time you got a noise complaint was the first time eren had ever indulged in the vicious bouts of anger he had. you and eren both knew he had some issues he needed to sort through, you had your fair share of them too. but you promised each other that you wouldn’t drop your shit on one another. you guys treated your relationship as a paradise away from all the shit you two were going through. you were each other’s vices, each other’s distractions. the further you fell for each other, the farther away you’d be from your problems.

that was your first mistake.

you had only been seeing each for three months and you could barely keep count of the times eren had shown up to your doorstep like this. in a fit of anger, lips crashing into yours as he pushed you back into your room to fuck all of his anger into you. you two having sex almost always ended with one of you crying into the others arms. you never told one another what the problem was, you just let the other cry, let them take what they needed most from that moment. the image of mascara running down your cheeks, nose sniffling, face wet with tears as you rode out your sadness on eren’s cock was etched into his brain. the image of eren’s hands wrapped around your neck, pushing you down into the bed, his face red, eyebrows furrowed as he cursed out the world, thrusting down into you mercilessly, was etched into yours. the fucked up thing about it all was that you adored each other like that. you loved being each other’s drug, each other’s escape from the cruel world you guys lived in outside of that bed. you loved each other when you treated each other like shit.

that was your second mistake.

that night eren had ripped you away from the show you were watching by pounding on your door. you were sat on a blanket in front of your television, your couch hadn’t come in yet, eating lo mein from the chinese restaurant down the street.

“baby it’s me! open up!”

your ears perked at the sound of your lover’s voice as you skipped over to open the door. nothing could’ve prepared you for what was waiting on the other side. you staggered backwards in panic, reaching out for something, anything to grab onto. you held a hand to your chest as fear washed over your body. eren reached a hand out to your forearm to catch you.

“hey, hey, hey, hey. baby it’s okay. it’s okay. i’m fine i just need you to patch me up. i didn’t know who else to go to, i wasn’t… afraid to let you see me like this.”

his voice turned into a whisper. was he—smiling?

“eren… what the fuck happened to you?”

he looked at you eagerly as he licked some blood off of his lips. he had the shit kicked out of him. he looked terrible. he closed the door behind him quietly as he led you two to your bedroom.

“no. no! don’t sit on my fucking bed like this i just washed my sheets.”

you yanked him to the floor in front of your bed, running to the bathroom to get something to clean him up. you didn’t have jack shit to clean him up.

you sat yourself back down on the floor in front of him and spread out your array of half-assed first aid supplies. an old kitchen rag, you weren’t going to use a new one for this. a pair of tweezers. a bowl of water. a bottle of rubbing alcohol. a box of assorted band-aid sizes. and an old white t-shirt. eren let out a breathy giggle as he watched your hands shake over your makeshift doctor’s kit.

“what the fuck are you laughing at?” you spit at him.

“n-nothing, it’s just… you’re so nervous babe.” he held his stomach tightly, the pain hurting more now that he was laughing.

“well let’s think about the situation you’ve presented me with eren. you’ve shown up to my apartment at…”

you checked your phone.

“…11:30 at night. not only that, but you look like rocky balboa just taught you a lesson on how to be the ugliest motherfucker in brooklyn. you look a fucking mess jaeger.”

“and… you haven’t even explained yourself. but here i am honey! here i am cleaning you up like i’m nurse hatchet or some shit,” you spat at the brunette boy.

“it’s nurse ratched…”

“huh?!” you jumped at him in frustration.

“the character you just said… it’s nurse ratched not hatchet,” eren smirks at you, green eyes burning bright as ever.

“eren?! do i look like i give a fuck about what the nurse’s name is right now?! that’s a non-issue here babe. now tell me what the fuck happened before i do so much as wipe all that shit off your face.”

eren looked at you in the state you were in. you had a dish rag in one hand and a pair of eyebrow tweezers in the other. you wiped sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand as your hands shakily stabilized their grasp on the tweezers, getting ready to pluck shards of glass out of his wounds. eren didn’t even tell you what happened. he took the subway twelve stops to your apartment, not even knowing if you were here or not, begging for your help at nearly midnight. he showed up like this, and you dropped everything to help him. my god, he was fucking in love with you. a mad, crazy type of love.

he crawled over to you so he could be sat right in front of you. he placed one hand on your cheek as he pulled you in for a soft and tender kiss. he smiled as he pulled away, getting a good look at the woman he had fallen hard for, enjoying his last few moments of peace before he dropped a bomb on you.

“…i joined a fight club babe.”

eren swore he saw the fire of a thousand suns light up in your eyes in that moment.

“you WHAT?! eren… oh my god eren?! you’re fucking joking right?”

you stood up and looked down at the battered boy below you as he remained quiet. he wasn’t fucking joking.

“oh my god eren! you—YOU JOINED A FUCKING… fight club?!” you whispered the last part of your sentence, you were pretty sure that shit was illegal, right?

“babe i—”

“no. no. no. don’t fucking babe me. don’t you dare fucking babe me, babe. can i ask you a question eren? please, answer me honestly.”

“of course ba—y/n,” he looked up at you innocently, eyes ogling up at yours.

“are you… fucking stupid?”

eren didn’t know how you wanted him to answer that. was he?

“am i?”

“ARE YOU?! yes or no eren. are. you. fucking. stupid?”

“…yes…”

“yeah you are! what made you join a fucking fight club, i’m begging you to tell me what the hell made you do that.” you were now on your knees in front of him, one hand placed on his thigh, eyes filled with desperation.

eren had thought about it long and hard. he was just angry. both of you knew that. anyone that knew him knew that he had anger issues. one of eren’s coworkers at the time had told him about this underground fight club ran by the higher ups at the business firm he worked at. the guy would show up with a new cut patched up every week, eren never questioned it. when he told eren about what a bunch of 9 to 5s were doing on their friday nights away from their wives, eren jumped at the idea, honestly. you and eren didn’t talk about your issues, you weren’t each other’s therapists. plus, he didn’t trust anyone enough apart from you to indulge in his trauma with. so this friday night he said… what the fuck? and went for it. my god, did it feel amazing. what eren felt as he beat his opponents to a pulp was pure euphoria. this was it. this is the high he had been chasing. he couldn’t feel anything, his body was always numb with anger. well he sure as hell felt something when someone was blackening his eye, twisting his joints, blood spewing out of every hole in his body. he was fucking obsessed with the feeling.

“i—eren… really? there are other ways to manage your anger. this is illegal you know! you could get into some deep shit babe. you could lose your job! please think about this…”

“it’s fine y/n. i’m fine, see?” he smiled widely at you, a tooth missing from his usual line of pearly whites.

a tooth was missing.

A TOOTH WAS MISSING.

you grabbed eren’s mouth and pried it open, holding his lower jaw in your hand.

“eren, a fucking tooth is gone.”

“what… what?!” he ran to your mirror and prodded at his face until he found the missing tooth.

“oh it’s just in the back on the bottom, it’s fine.”

“oh… oh okay. yeah, just a tooth. just a fucking tooth is gone from your mouth eren. what happens when it’s a finger?! an eye?! don’t you see how dangerous this is? do you have no regard for the people that care about you?”

“i don’t have people that care about me babe,” you listen as his voice cracks.

you looked him dead in the eyes, “what am i to you?”

you felt tears welling, threatening to fall down your cheeks, face turning red in embarrassment. eren gazes down on you with guilt.

“eren… i— i care about you. i care about you so fucking much.”

you stand up to place a hand in his hair, the other one lacing around his neck as you bring your foreheads together. you wept in his embrace.

“i’d throw a body into the ocean for you. i’d hide evidence right under my nose if it meant that you’d be safe. i don’t want to see you get hurt, because that hurts me.” his lips attached to yours as he carried your weeping body to the bed. he placed you down into the covers gently as you tugged at the end of his shirt, begging him to lay with you.

“i thought you didn’t want me to get the bed dirty,” he mumbled into your neck.

“i don’t care, i just want to hold you as you are right now,” you whispered.

you felt the other side of your bed dip in as eren laid next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“i want to marry you one day.”

your heart stops in your chest, you feel his grip on you tighten.

“eren i—”

“look at me, please.”

you turn your body to face his, faces so close you could feel each other’s breath. his green eyes have gone dark as they gazed into yours. he takes a hand and brushes the hair out of your face and behind your cheek. you take it and kiss his bruised fingers gently, one by one, the haze of the moonlight lulling you two into a comfortable silence.

“i want to marry you one day,” eren repeats himself, as a tear falls down his face. you take your thumb and wipe it from his cheek, licking the salty liquid off your finger.

“i love you so much y/n,” his voice was barely above a whisper.

“why eren?”

his eyebrows furrow together in confusion, asking you to continue.

“why don’t we talk? you say you want to marry me but… i’m not even the person you tell your problems to. h-how could i ever be your wife if i were to keep letting you hurt yourself like this?”

eren places a long kiss to your forehead and pulls the neck of your sweater down to graze his fingers along your shoulder.

“i love you… can’t that be enough? i thought we said we didn’t want to weigh each other down with our problems,” he was avoiding the topic.

“that was before you told me you wanted to fucking marry me eren. if you fucking marry me your problems become my problems and mine yours.”

“…that’s just how it is when you love someone,” you whisper into his chest.

you feel his chest vibrate against your ear as he begins speaking.

“i’m so fucking sad y/n,” you hear him crying above you, you let your own tears fall in that moment too. you look up at him as he covers his eyes with his hand, mouth quivering trying to hold back his cries.

“but eren why?” your voice is shaking, “please, you can tell me… don’t hurt yourself because of this. you can tell me these things…”

eren wipes his hand down his face as he looks down at your crying figure. he places a kiss on your forehead, then on your neck, then behind your ear, spending a little time on that spot he knows so well. eren earns a moan out of you as you lean into his mouth.

“eren… why are you avoiding this?” he comes back up to your lips and kisses them gently. you sigh into his mouth, “eren, answer me.”

“i’m not avoiding anything. i just, i need you. right now i just need you. please,” he begs.

you two look at each other with tears in your eyes, before you finally break, the way you always have. you wrap your arms around his neck as he puts his under your back and lifts you up into him, your kisses becoming increasingly needy by the second. you wrap your fingers in his hair while you pull his chocolate locks out of the hair tie that held them into a bun, letting the hair tie slide onto your wrist. you bite his lip and he slips his tongue inside of your mouth, you feel his tears falling onto your cheeks. eren mumbles a mess of, i love you’s into your mouth as you pull him in closer, wrapping your legs around his tattered torso.

you fumble with the buttons on his shirt, tears blurring your vision. eren places his hands over yours and helps you with the remaining three as you slide off his shirt together. your hands come back to cup his face as you pull him in for another kiss. he slips his hands under your sweater and cups your breasts, squeezing at them softly as he pulls the fabric up over your shoulders, leaving you in nothing but your underwear before him. his breath hitches in his chest as he looks down at you, tears falling down your cheeks as your hands paw up at his body, desperate to close the gap between you two. he leans down and places his mouth on one of your nipples, rolling it between his teeth gently as one of his hands comes up to your mouth and sticks two fingers in. you take his pointer and his middle finger on your tongue, covering them with your saliva. you utter a moan as eren removes his lips from your breast and continues dragging his tongue down your stomach, stopping right above where you needed him most. he pushes your panties to the side and takes his fingers out of your mouth as he uses them to draw circles on your clit. your body jolts at the contact.

“my pretty girl…” eren whispers into your cunt, one hand coming up to cup your breast again. he plunges the two fingers into your slick as your thighs close around his face. his broken lips come down to kiss your cunt, licking tiny stripes up your clit over and over again. you hand comes down to wrap itself it eren’s hair, stomach convulsing at the way he was eating you out. “baby…” you moan out in a whisper.

“what is it my girl?” eren asks you as his fingers slowly move in and out of your cunt.

“please… kiss me,” you beg him.

he comes up from his place on your clit and places a chaste kiss on your lips, connecting your foreheads while his fingers continue to work at your vagina. he watches your face intently as you desperately try to maintain eye contact with him, you always liked to feel close whenever you guys fucked, he loved that about you. his left hand comes up to place itself on your head as his elbow holds his body above you. his thumb rubs softly across your forehead, tucking away the messy baby hairs that were glued to your head with sweat. he closes the space between your faces as he comes down to kiss you again.

“you take me so well baby, you always do,” eren praises you as he curls his fingers up into your g-spot. you look him in the eyes as you moan his name softly, over and over again. your hand reaches down to his pants as you pull his cock out, eren’s eyes squeeze shut and his mouth falls into an o shape at the sensation. “fuck, y/n, fuck yeah, that’s my girl, touch my cock.”

you look down at where your hand is wrapped around his cock as you begin to pump him up and down. you bring your hand back up to spit on it, then continued to jack him off. eren and you tried to keep it together as your foreheads laid against one another, desperately trying to hold eye contact as you brought each other to your highs. eren kisses you hard as he falls to your right side, fingers not leaving your needy cunt as he continued to pump in and out of you. you laid on your back next to him, rubbing his cock up and down with your right hand, occasionally bringing it back up to coat it in spit. neither of you were rushing to make the other cum, nor were you moving ferociously fast. you were both just enjoying each other’s presence, hands moving slowly on each other’s most vulnerable parts, gazing lovingly into each other’s tear-stained eyes.

“i love you,” eren whispers into your lips, “i want to marry you one day,” he repeats himself.

“i know, my love.”

you feel a tear roll down your face as you look into your lover’s eyes, knowing you’re approaching your high. “eren, i—”

“i know baby, let go for me.”

your eyebrows scrunch together as you look eren in the eyes, tongue licking at his lips, asking him to kiss you. “kiss me while i cum eren, please.”

eren connects his lips to yours, kissing you hard as he feels you tighten around his fingers. you speed up your pace on his cock, making eren moan into your kiss.

“fuck,” he hisses, his eyes never leaving your face.

“cum for me my love, go ahead.”

yours and eren’s hands are moving fast at each other’s heat, leading you two into your mutual high. your free hand grabs eren’s face and holds it to yours as you kiss him, breathing heavy onto his face. your bodies convulse under each other’s hands, you whisper soft praises into each other’s mouths.

“fuck baby, you’re so good.”

“shit! eren god you’re fucking amazing.”

your bodies lay limp next to one another. eren’s fingers pump slowly in and out of your cunt while your hand does the same to his cock, both of you riding out your highs. you two lay there like that for what feels like hours, hands slowly playing with each other, breathing steady in time.

“marry me, i don’t care when, i don’t care how, i don’t give a fuck what we wear or how we do it. just marry me.” eren rushes to take off the necklace he always wears, the one that holds the gold ring you never had the courage to ask him about. he takes your right hand and places it on your ring finger before kissing it softly.

“i promise i’ll never fight again.”

“okay,” you believed him.

that was your third and final mistake.

that was over a year and a half ago, eren didn’t stop fighting. in fact, he fought at least once a week since the day he promised you he would stop. he went to three different fight clubs, they all knew him really well, he told you. the guys at these clubs weren’t anyone special, they weren’t trained fighters, they were just people with an addiction to inflicting and receiving pain.

at first, eren would come back from a night of fighting, riding a high like you’ve never seen before. you had never seen him so passionate about something. most friday nights he would be at your doorstep at god knows what hour, asking you to patch him up.

“hey babe! sorry for waking you. could you just patch me up real quick?” real quick normally meant an hour or so, then another hour of you two fucking each other’s brains out after. on saturday mornings you would wake up to an empty bed and a note from eren saying,

love you baby. i’ll see you soon. love e. xx

soon almost always meant next friday.

you grew to dread friday nights, they were traumatizing for you. you loved eren so fucking much, and you hated playing the guessing game where you predicted what injuries you would have to fix on his body. you laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering when he was going to show up, how he was going to show up, and if he was going to show up at all.

what if he fucking died one night?

what if last friday was the last time you’d ever see him?

your weeks were spent drowning in anxiety. eren was a fucking enigma to you. every friday night he saw you he’d tell you how much he loved you, you would crack his bones back into place, stitch up his wounds, wash his bloody clothes, and fuck his pain away. he whispered the sweet nothings that he saved for the moments where you two made love. his love was for you and you only, he made sure you knew that. then he would disappear for a week, go to work at his normal 9 to 5, and would fuck back into you on friday night. then disappear again. it was a sick, addictive cycle that you two had.

i love you baby, i want to marry you. please, please don’t forget that.

he kissed the ring on your finger, twirling it around as he held an ice pack to his abdomen. you were knelt on the floor of your bathroom as you smeared neosporin on the gash across his left thigh, some guy had pulled a glass bottle on him that night. there were no weight limits, no restrictions to these fights. eren insisted that he had to keep going even though the guy had struck him with broken glass. you remembered that friday night clearly. people put money on me babe, he would tell you as he wiped the tears from your eyes. you wrapped his thigh in gauze as you wiped your tears with the back of your hand, eren ran his hand through your hair from his usual spot on the toilet.

“if you love me then why do you hurt me the way you do?”

“what kind of husband would hurt their wife like this?”

“eren... you said you would stop...”

you kept asking him those same questions, every. single. friday. night. you were growing tired, weak, your emotions weren’t stable enough to endure all that he put you through. but you stayed with him, and he stayed with you. you were each others vices, and you two needed one another too much now to leave.

this is my last week fighting my love, i promise.

he whispered those words to you more times than you could count. but he kept climbing higher and higher. although black and blue, his eyes sparkled when he told you that the fight organizers were moving him up the ranks as one of brooklyn’s top fighters. when you asked what it meant for him, he just told you that he’d be able to take on more challenging opponents. you didn’t think it’d break you two completely.

people placed bets on eren, they paid top dollar to the club organizers on the nights that eren was on the roster to fight. the more money eren made, the worse his injuries were. you grew numb to seeing him with black eyes and busted lips, and now had to get used to seeing him with a dark purple ribcage and twisted fingers. your white bathroom tiles were permanently stained a light pink from the amount that eren had bled out on to the floor. eren didn't even flinch when you cried anymore, the light in his eyes disappeared from when he first started fighting. he now often showed up at your doorstep in a frenzy, like he was running from something, like his life was in danger.

screaming. banging. screaming. banging. it was all you ever heard.

and you were so fucking tired.

eren lost his job. his injuries became so apparent that they told him they couldn't have him walking around the workplace looking like that. so he solely depended on fighting to make his income. you begged him to find something, anything that would pay at least a minimum wage. you didn't care if he had to live with you while you paid rent. you just wanted eren back, safe in your arms. baby we said we wouldn't dump our problems on each other, he would tell you. he insisted that he didn't want to be a burden. you insisted that he wasn’t.

eren didn’t truly enjoy fighting anymore, but he became a robot, a machine that trained himself to take and give pain. he became a lifeless, shell of a man and you missed him. you were at your breaking point. you both knew that. and eren was struggling to keep you with him. you spent your nights crying yourself to sleep over a man that loved to hurt you, you deserved so much better. every time you felt yourself slipping a little, eren knew to say those three little words and he’d be yours again. the fact that you still wore the ring he gave you as you slapped him across the face saying you hated him spoke volumes to him.

y/n, i need you.

that was your trigger.

now you were straddling eren in the bathtub thats seen this exact situation one too many times. you dabbed at his oozing, swollen eye with cotton pads soaked in rubbing alcohol. you had to hand it to yourself, your first aid kit had come along way since back then. you were fully equipped like any true nurse would be. you spent hours watching videos on how to give someone stitches, the first time you gave them to eren you both thought you were in more pain than he was. eren’s hands continued to draw circles on your waist as you began to thread the needle with steady hands, you had grown numb to the process of stitching eren up. you put the end of the thread in your mouth, coating it with your saliva as you poked it through the hole of the needle.

“this’ll pinch just a bit ‘ren,” you mumbled as you took a hold of the left side of his face, where the pretty little gash was resting on his cheek.

“i know,” he whispered.

“you can hold onto me if you want,” eren always used to hold onto you when you two had first gotten into the routine of you patching up the broken boy. you felt eren’s hands grip onto your soft thighs, prepared for the feeling that was awaiting him.

“here we go,” you carefully pinched one end of the needle through his skin. eren hisses in sharply as he squeezes your thighs, his knuckles turning white. you skillfully move the needle up and over the gash, soon finding a rhythm as you sew eren up.

“all done.”

“thank you.”

eren traces his fingers up your thighs and the small of your back, you shudder at his touch.

“i’m so sorry baby.”

“i know, how many more times are you gonna say it?”

“i’m gonna get better i swear,” his glassy eyes look up at yours. you drag your arms around his neck as you lean into his lips, the water splashing at your movement. you feel your nipples graze over eren’s chest as you connect your lips to his, moving your tongue across his bottom lip. though bloodied and bruised, you wanted to believe that this was still your eren, and these were the lips that have explored every inch of your body for the past two years. eren leans back into the bathtub and brings you with him, submerging you two a little bit deeper. you looked up at him through your eyelashes, he was much more sober now that he’s had a needle stabbed through him ten times over. eren lifts your face up to his and kisses you again, tears beginning to fall down both of your faces all over again.

“i miss you, i miss this,” you mumble into eren’s lips, eyes gazing at him lustfully. eren’s mouth continues to move against yours skillfully, he knows exactly what you liked and how you liked it. he’s studied your body countless times, he’s mastered the complete encyclopedia of you. he hooks one finger in your asshole as he pushes your waist up into him, moving your clothed cunt closer to his exposed cock. he loops a finger through your panties and pushes them to the side as you moan into his lips.

“eren, my love, please fuck me. i need you.” eren was prepared to let you take whatever you needed from him in that moment. all of your pent up stress and pain, all the anger that he’s caused you. he wanted to be your punching bag, he wanted you to unravel on top of him as you fucked your sadness away on his cock. eren grabs the tip of his cock as he teases your entrance. your nails dig into his biceps as you lower yourself on to him, eyes squeezing shut and mouth lolling open. “fuck baby,” eren hissed, “you fit me so well, no one else takes my cock like you do. you’re my one and only.”

eren is babbling sweet nothings in your ear as your hands grab onto the edge of the bathtub behind him. your body bounces back and forth on his cock, the water rocking with your movements. you cried into eren’s neck and pulled his hair out of his bun so you can yank his head back. you wanted him to see how sad he made you, the pain he caused you. you look at him with wet, puffy eyes.

“look at me you fucking asshole,” you yank his head so he can look you in the face.

eren looks at you with the one eye he can still see out of. you keep your pace on his cock as you let years of anger flow out of you.

“l-look at what you fucking d-did to me!” you’re screaming, you’re screaming right in his stupid, fucking beautiful, heartbreaking face. eren’s eyes are welling up with tears as he looks at the one precious thing in his life that he destroyed, desperate to be healed, desperate to be put back together.

“you-you push me in… you tell me you f-fucking need me! then you leave and come back on y-our fucking death bed… and i have to be the one t-to fix you every. fucking. time!” you snarl through gritted teeth, eyes squeezed shut as you try to focus on the feeling eren’s cock is giving you. you wept and wept like this was the last time he’d ever see you cry.

“do you ever f-ucking thing about what that d-does to me?! every day i w-wake up and pray that y-ou didn’t fucking die the n-night before!” your moans broke up your words as your grip on eren’s hair tightened, he winced as you pulled his head back to look at you. you landed a smack to the right side of his face, careful to avoid the wound you’d just stitched up.

“eren!” you pound your fist into his chest.

“i h-hate you! god i hate you so fucking much! i used to be so g-good before i met you! all you d-do is hurt me! you just hurt me! do you like hurting me?!”

“look at me goddammit!” he looks up at you with dead eyes, he can’t stand to see you like this.

“you made me like this! you-you fucking made me like this!” your fists pound into his chest, sobs growing louder. hands moving to grab onto his shoulders as you speed up your pace. eren could tell you were getting close, your movements were getting sloppy and your hands desperately reached to hold his. you always liked to feel close whenever you guys fucked, he loved that about you. even when you fucking hated him, you wanted to be close to him.

“eren, you fucking asshole! look at me!” he was in hysterics underneath you, neither of you could breathe properly through your cries. he grabs your face in his hands and brings your forehead to his as he kisses away your tears.

you bring your hands around his neck and put pressure on it, eren’s eyes roll back in pleasure.

“say you’re sorry! fucking tell me you’re sorry!” you begged, your grips on one another were tight, both of you forcing the other to make eye contact as you fucked your anger into each other. eren made up for your sloppy pace by thrusting up into you hard and fast. your grip around his neck tightened as you chase your orgasm.

“i hate you! i hate you! i hate you! you fucking hurt me my love… and i still come back to you…” you laugh maniacally through your broken moans.

“can you fucking believe that? you fucking hurt me… and yet i need you so bad! i will always hate you for making me crave you the way i do,” you growl into his mouth.

“i’m sorry baby, i’m so f-fucking sorry,” eren shuddered as he tried to gain control of himself, he didn’t want to cum before you did. lord knows that would be the icing on the cake.

“oh! he’s sorry! th-thank fucking god the boy is s-s-sorry! shit!” you buried your head into eren’s neck as you lifted yourself up just enough for him to finish you off and drill into you passionately. eren’s arms hugged you into him as your grip on the bathtub had your knuckles turning white. both of your moans echoed throughout the small apartment as you came together, water spilling over the bathtub onto the tiles beneath you.

“eren, eren, eren, please, fuck!”

“shit baby oh my g-god, o-oh i love you.”

you two looked at each other’s fucked out expressions as you kissed one last time, like your lives depended on it. your hips slowly grinding into eren’s as you coaxed each other off your highs. eren’s hand held your head into his neck, he didn’t want to let you go. he held your shaking body in his hands as he rested his cheek on the top of your head. your body jolted with sobs as he hugged you steady into his body, he would not let go until you had calmed down completely.

the two of you stayed in the bathtub like that for two more hours, bodies pruning, listening to the cars from the early morning rush hour drive through the congested brooklyn streets. eren didn’t let you go, his arms were growing tired but his hold on you never let up. you wept to your hearts content, naked, vulnerable, and in the arms of the man that ruined you completely.

for you, my love…

i would do anything.

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utterlyinevitable · 3 years

Note

Do a HC about E&B's wedding. Not a courthouse like ik u want to do. An actual big wedding 😏

i spied a loophole so i ran with it ;)

The Grandest Wedding in all of Edenbrook

Ethan and Becca were getting married! Everyone was ecstatic and still shocked that someone was willingly going to put up with Ramsey’s grumpy ass on the daily. If anyone could it’s Becca. How lucky they are to have found one another!

Her family lives in New York and his dad and any other notable individuals in his life all live within an hour from Boston.

A vineyard on the coast of Connecticut seemed like the only obvious option. She gets her grand historic home with beautiful gardens for photos and he gets to see her happy. All Ethan Ramsey wants to do is call this woman his for the rest of eternity.

It started as an intimate affair - 60 guests of close family and friends. Their favorite of individuals would be invited to stay on the premises with them for three days to prepare and recover.

Then things got bigger than either could imagine.

Maybe hiring a wedding planner was a bad idea?

There were so many things neither accounted for a soon all of Becca’s free time was sat at the dining table huddled over binders of things that needed to be chosen.

And the problem with growing up in a small town meant that everyone wants a peek at the bride in her gown. And Becca’s mom was more than happy to invite people to the ceremony - to show off her wildly successful daughter and son-in-law.

There was colors and flowers and napkins and tablecloths and fonts and paper thickness and the date they wanted wasn’t available and either push all the plans they’ve already set deposits on back or find a new place to accommodate the 100+ people now invited to the affair, and it certainly was an affair now.

How many menus did a wedding need? Why are they planning five meals? Do they really have to dictate what color linens are in the guests bedrooms? Must their color scheme and names be on every and anything? Is a bridal party necessary? And a midday outfit change? What’s the difference between platinum and platinum plus photography packages? Must we get on a boat with all her cousins?

Ethan wanted to marry Becca.

Ethan doesn’t want this.

Coming home one evening after an entire day of messages from Becca and the wedding planner in the group chat and colleagues at work probing for scraps of details on what’s in store for the happy couple, Ethan couldn’t do it anymore.

It all became much too much.

They fought and he left.

And they got married at a courthouse in NYC the next afternoon in the slip she bought for their rehearsal dinner.

They told no one.

Except their wedding planner weeks later when it came time to find an officiant. They didn’t need a ‘real’ one anymore. So they got the best one.

They asked Naveen to perform the public ceremony. The old man nearly wept then and there and swore he wouldn’t blubber through the ceremony. It’s an honor. And they’re family.

From there Ethan and Becca put their foot down. This party - that’s what they’re calling it now - is less stress and a hell of a lot cheaper now that they’re not telling vendors this is for a wedding (#weddingtaxisreal).

They’re keeping whatevers already been paid for. But they’re only having a bridal party of 2 - Bryce and Sienna. And they’re only paying for the immediate family and bridal party to stay. And they’re doing a rehearsal dinner, sit-down lunch, buffet dinner, brunch the next morning. And if people want to come see the ceremony they can but they’re not invited to the reception. This is a day about them and family.

And it was a spectacular day.

_________________

a/n: i’ve never been one for a big wedding so i make all my characters elope. all the fine details of planning a wedding just seems so pointless to me 😅 one of my friends has been planning her wedding for the last 3 years and i think she should just get to a courthouse already bc she cannot find a venue that ticks all of her unrealistic expectations... /unnecessary soliloquy over

Perma:

@lucy-268 @thegreentwin @queencarb @danijimenezv @starrystarrytrouble @terrm9 @interobanginyourmom @maurine07 @mercury84choices @schnitzelbutterfingers @the-pale-goddess @whimsicallywayward15 @mvalentine @mm2305 @rookie-ramsey @drariellevalentine @withbeautyandrage @forallthatitsworth @stateofgracious @missmiimiie @uneravine @iemcpbchoices @sophxwithers @quixoticdreamer16 @lsvdw-blog

@adiehardfan @headoverheelsforramsey sey @dickgraysonsscrumptiousbooty @reputaytion-xiii

Ethan:

@udishaman @binny1985 @honeyandsunfl0wers @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @ohchoices @dulceghernandez @blossomanarchy @stygianflood @openheartthot @senseofduties @tsrookie @kalogh @aworldoffandoms @takemyopenheart @casey-v @ethanramseylover @a-crepusculo @randomperson111 @anntoldst0ries @aishaaaaaaah @estellaelysian @mysticaurathings @mayarambles

#Anonymous #asked #open heart #open heart hc #open heart headcanon #choices open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc

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thethirdwheel404 · 4 years

Text

Med Series Rewatch (#12)

S3 E12: Born This Way.

Episode description: Dr. Manning and Dr. Choi are faced with a tough decision.

Literally when are they not.

Okay, last episode ended with the first Ava/Connor kiss, so this episode should be a rollercoaster of emotions.

let’s get into it.

- okay, already we’re starting in connor’s apartment, so cue ava walking in bc they slept together?

- i think its hilarious that her casual clothing is.. a flannel. like lmao idk

- it is so unbelievably funny and stupid to have a one night stand with someone you work closely with. i mean come on

- never forget that dr. ava bekker has a fish tank

- this is exhausting. the tentative back and forth is so fucking exhausting

- another bit of evidence. ava is never not confident, and especially not to this extent, and she never follows connor’s lead. so, the fact that she is standing back and waiting for him to make the decision? stupid.

- it screams that she is having a moment of anxiety, which is why she isn’t up to make the decisions in the exchange.

-to be clear: what i’m claiming here is that the only reason ava actually got with connor was bc she was having a moment of anxiety because he was the only person she had built a relationship with after living in this city for six months.

- when connor says that he has plans you can see her fold in on herself. this stems from a place of anxiety

- remember when they did surgery on the panda? that’s when the show peaked

- ava in her lab coat will never not get me. especially with the gloves, running towards a patient (very hot)

- connor still looks kinda looks like a mess but ava is immaculate here like what dude out of your league

- ava asking the family questions (ik this is standard doctor stuff but showing worry, interest, all that jazz)

- okay, see here! here! ava calls connor out, saying that his procedure is too invasive. before, ava’s procedures where invasive, which everyone used as evidence to her being super cold, but now, we see that she purely does what she deems best for the patient at hand

- also, once again, the concern ava feels. you can hear it in her voice. we forget this part of her way too often

- the smile on ava’s face when she gives the family good news. god wept

- and then more concern when connor tells her they need to put him on ecmo

- the reason that ava is frustrated that connor didn’t go with her decision for their patient care is because she truly believes that if they don’t go with her treatment, he will die. don’t make it anything different. don’t argue she’s frustrated because he’s not listening to her. don’t make it anything about their relationship. she puts their patients care first and foremost

- there’s a stark shift in her demeanor when in the room with the parents vs. her alone with connor. in the room, you can see she’s stewing. she’s sucking on her teeth, she’s holding her emotions. she has control, she’s a professional. out of the room, she has full reign to be as mad with connor as she wants, which she does.

-AVA RAN INTO THE ROOM AGAIN WITH THE LAB COAT AND GLOVES AND IDK IT JUST HAS ME FEELING SOME KINDA WAY

- the way ava acknowledges everyone in the room (the nurse just informed them that the drug was running, ava nodded. just a little thing but yk)

- ava shaking her head at this sad, sad man (connor, who is floundering for a solution and misplacing his anger)

- their entire relationship is misplaced anger

- the fact that the last shot of the scene has connor in the foreground looking over the bed and ava watching from the door but ava is the one in focus - some cool cinematography points

- IS THIS THE EPISODE WHERE MAGGIE GOES TO JAIL

- med really went all over the place

- JUST THE AMOUNT OF CONCERN ON AVA’S FACE. im gonna say it again. look me in the eyes and tell this women is a psychopath. the med writers are fucking insane

- and when the parents ask ava if she disagreed with connor’s treatment decision, she has every opportunity (and right, frankly) to throw him under the bus and undermine him. but still, she says “it’s a complicated situation.” like. she never ever makes it personal, or loses her head. especially not to a patient. and she doesn’t have to defend connor. he’s made a lot of mistakes, and taken it out on her a bunch of times. yet she’s still nice to him, when he’s not even in the room

- it’s insane

- this is also the legendary scene where she comforts the family. there’s not a lot that i haven’t already said. this is the scene that most exemplifies ava’s humanity, the way she seems to feel, at least residually, what these parents are going through (since she obviously hasn’t gone through anything like this herself [unless.]). the way she kneels down, and gets on the family’s personal level.

- I... okay listen. I absolutely HATE the parallel they pull her between the line “I believe whenever you do something out of love, it can never really be wrong” and connor. especially because they show him when she says that line. and yeah, there’s obviously a connection that can be drawn between the meaning of that line and her sociopathic behavior in s4 and s5.

- it honestly feels like when writing s4, the writers hit so much of a wall they just googled the most ‘iconic’ ava moments and thought ‘how can i use these in the worst way possible?’ That’s honestly probably what they did (ava’s first interaction with connor - ‘you better watch yourself,’ this moment). There is no nuance to her character in s4. it is astoundingly terrible.

- lets move on

- THE WAY CONNOR LOOKS AT AVA HER MAKES ME FUCKING SCARED. HE HAS NO EMOTION ON HIS FACE. I know that we’ve been screen capping ava throughout this series but can someone find pictures of connor looking at ava bc, i need yall to remember how weird he looks

- like, no shade to connor, but just the emotion is undecipherable, but it is in no way a good one

- ava getting concerned (and looking slightly embarrassed) when she sees connor watching her by the door. obviously yeah she’s gonna feel weird you just caught her in a very uncharacteristic moment, outwardly expressing comfort. fucking back off

- i am so fucking protective of her and i demand he no longer look at her. it’s banned

- sam abrams looking at sarah’s dad’s head ct and asking if he’s a criminal. oh boy

- from a writer’s perspective, the storyline with sarah’s dad is actually pretty good

- ava ran into the room with gloves and lab coat again, if anybody wanted to know

- for the record, want it to be noted, ava was the one who realized that it was an issue with the machine again, so you could say she fixed connor’s mistake, again. so.

- connor making a big deal about handing the reins over to ava (if he really was selfless he wouldn’t have made a whole big thing, he still has an enormous hero complex)

- handing off control was very hard for him. boo hoo get some fucking humility I think they sell it at walgreens

- sarah fucking walking across the ed like she’s going to war. dramatic

- med really said pedophiles deserve rights with this ep huh

- anyway

- the way ava smiles

- the way she smiles when she turns him down. CAN WE TALK ABOUT THAT? SHE TURNED HIM DOWN. in the aspect of the story i cannot remember why she turned him down, but hey, i’m happy

- and it only further proves my story that the hook up came from a place of anxiety, and this is her realizing how silly that decision was. and her smiling was her laughing at herself for making such a stupid decision

- ALSO. LET’S TALK ABOUT THE FACT THAT THIS DECISION, THE DECISION TO TURN HIM DOWN, HAPPENED IN THE SAME EPISODE WHERE SHE SAID ‘IF YOU DO SOMETHING FOR LOVE, IT’S NEVER REALLY WRONG’

- like she literally says ‘last night was a mistake.’

- honestly, it’s fucking hilarious. connor deserves nothing

- and the confusion on his face when she walks away. hilarious

- if you wanted to take this the reesker route you could argue that the idea of ‘a decision of love’ was ava coming to terms with her slight little crush, though i don’t know how clean it would be if you argue that she panicked and told herself those were feelings meant for connor. idk, i’ll have to think about it further

- watching sarah let herself be betrayed by both herself and the people around in the story surrounding her dad will never not be hard to watch

This was a very good episode, character wise, for all the reasons stated above. It just hammers home the point of how strong a character Ava was. Key word, of course, being ‘was’. My conclusion over the last two episodes is that this specific sexual encounter with Connor was born out of a moment of anxiety from Ava. I suggest that over that last few weeks or days she has been experiencing some amount of anxiety out of having been living in Chicago for six months and only having one interpersonal relationship. So, that idea kind of built where she told herself the reason she only had one relationship was because she was in love with him. Then. after going through the story with this kid and comforting his parents, she realizes that she never actually loved Connor and maybe has a thing for someone else. I’m glad that I keep coming up with more ideas for this character, I was afraid the initial theory was somewhat of a one-off, but this only proves the idea of the complexity to Ava’s character.

I’m sure it’ll get worse from here, though.

as always, thanks for sticking through

read the rest here:

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Extra

#chicago med #med rewatch series #ava bekker #mine #born this way

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clydesballapaloozaextravaganza · 6 years

Text

PROF. CHAOS: Rise and shine, Freedom Pals...

PROF. CHAOS: (you guys can pretend to wake up now)

MOSQUITO: zz...

CAPTAIN DIABETES: Wh... where...

WONDER TWEEK: OH GOD JESUS FUCK I CAN’T MOVE MY HANDS WHERE THE HECK ARE WE?????!!!!!!!!!!!???^@^&*&#??

CAPTAIN DIABETES: W-wait-- where’s my insulin?

CAPTAIN DIABETES: Oh god they took my insulin.

MOSQUITO: What’s going on here?!

PROF CHAOS: Relax, relax...

PROF CHAOS: You’ve only been kidnapped.

WONDER TWEEK: ONLY!?!?!

MOSQUITO: Why us, though! We were like, buzzy! (that’s a fucking mosquito pun by the way, i meant to say busy but i said it with a buzz like comment & subscribe)

PROF CHAOS: Well, if you all could have kept your anxious little dog’s temper down, we would have never known where you were.

PROF. CHAOS: So, really... Thank you, Wonder Tweek.

PROF. CHAOS: You just couldn’t wait to save your darling partner of justice, Super Craig.

PROF. CHAOS: Of course, I have more to thank than you.

PROF. CHAOS: I’d like to thank my several new evil-doers, the ones who helped kidnap you, and the committee of the Heroes of Evil as a whole!

PROF. CHAOS: That’s, uh, H-O-E for short, in case any of y’all were maybe wondering like, “What in the sam heck are all these signs around here saying H.O.E???”

PROF. CHAOS: That’s what it stands for.

CAPTAIN DIABETES: Thanks for clearing that up, I was actually kinda confused.

PROF. CHAOS: As you all can see, my-- our evil reign stretches much further than me and a couple of minions this time, fellas.

PROF. CHAOS: All those younger kids, all those girls and weirdos that you never let play with you...

PROF. CHAOS: One by one, I offered them a space under my wing.

PROF. CHAOS: Eventually we grew into something greater. Something more...

PROF. CHAOS: Sinister...

HUMAN KITE: Wait... Ike?!

HUMAN KITE: It’s way past your bed time, you should be home!

PROF. CHAOS: There is no Ike here, you dumb kite!

PROF. CHAOS: You must be referring to the dreaded Doomsday!

DOOMSDAY: I hava crown!

PROF. CHAOS: When he told me his back story, my heart wept for him.

PROF. CHAOS: All he wanted to was to play super hero... To be a good guy.

PROF. CHAOS: But quickly he learned, the very one kite-wearing hero he looked up to... was a total jerk!

PROF. CHAOS: His idol wouldn’t let him play heroes with him at all!

PROF. CHAOS: Soon he realised that all the Freedom Pal’s were just huge dummies, and he vowed from then on to wipe you all from existence!

PROF. CHAOS: So many of these fine villains have tragic backstories, just like Doomsday.

PROF. CHAOS: But they’ve all been pushed away by society, and so they came to me...

PROF. CHAOS: If only you had played nice.

PROF. CHAOS: Sorta sad to hear, comin’ from the guy who’s supposed to be the villain, huh?

PROF. CHAOS: Anyways, I’m keeping you fellers waiting too long.

PROF. CHAOS: If you’d all direct your attention above--

PROF. CHAOS: You see that big ol’ hatch up there?

PROF. CHAOS: Once that opens, this room will be transformed into a ginormous ball pit!

MOSQUITO: Oh boy!

PROF. CHAOS: Yes, oh boy indeed...

PROF. CHAOS: Because there’ll be so many balls that it’ll fill the room to the ceiling, drowning you all in a colorful, plastic death!

MOSQUITO: Oh no!

MYSTERION: You’ll never get away with this, Chaos!

MYSTERION: This has gone too far!

PROF. CHAOS: Maybe so.

PROF. CHAOS: But after today, no villain will ever have to worry about you guys again!

PROF. CHAOS: No more good samaritans gone sour, no more being told that you can’t play with the cool kids or that your outfit’s too dumb.

PROF. CHAOS: And before you think that you can escape your binds...

PROF. CHAOS: Even if you did, we took all your phones!

PROF. CHAOS: Including a certain little bug’s phone, too...

MOSQUITO: Hey! Don’t touch my phone!

PROF. CHAOS: I see you’ve been blogging about your little adventure here.

PROF. CHAOS: It’s so cute, all the things you’ve been through.

MOSQUITO: Don’t mess with my blog, dude!

MOSQUITO: That’s like, my life’s work!

PROF. CHAOS: Oh don’t worry about that.

PROF. CHAOS: I’m gonna make sure all your little followers continue to know just what your up to.

PROF. CHAOS: They’ll all see your demise, because I’ll be live-blogging it from your blog!

PROF. CHAOS: From now on, your blog now belongs to the Heroes of Evil!

[The Heroes of Evil are now open to asks!]

#south park #professor chaos #wonder tweek #tweek tweak #tweek #captain diabetes #sp mosquito #clyde donovan #butters stotch #scott malkinson #bebe stevens #ike broflovski #c

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lesbian-raichu · 4 years

Text

I wrote a short story about love, death, and a tortoise.

Hope everyone is having an alright day.

My grandma was a strange woman.

She lived in Jerome, Arizona, when me and my mother lived in Phoenix a couple of hours away. Like my mum, she didn’t have a partner, but unlike my mum she held no bitterness over it. Grandma’s wife had died a few years earlier, and my mum’s fiancé had gone abroad for a business trip and then eloped with an Italian girl who needed a green card.

“Ah, I’m not alone here baby, I’ve got Ike.” Grandma would say, and then gesture out the window to a massive tortoise that had always been there. I didn’t know how long the tortoise had even lived there, because when I would ask, she’d just reply –

“Oh a little while, you know.” And then she’d just do a little dance and crumple her hair up in her hands, which was white underneath all of the colorful dye she painted over it. She was the quirky old woman you saw in the subways of New York, according to my girlfriend who lived over there. My mum and girlfriend found her funny, an eccentric little old lady.

The tortoise was always there. He barely moved, he wasn’t cuddly, he didn’t like to be picked up.

“Why didn’t you get a cat, gramma?”

“Oh, I can’t be a little old cat lady. What would the neighbors say?” And then she’d laugh like old ladies do, even though she had no neighbors within a few acres. “I’ve got Ike. That’s enough for little old me.”

According to her, Ike ate anything she grew, cacti, kale, broccoli, spinach. She had a little garden on her windowsill. Since I was a kid, I would sit next to her while she gently offered the tortoise her pickings, and he would mash everything together, and she would just nod as if he spoke some deep wisdom, even though he didn’t say anything.

Because he was a tortoise. The closest living relative of a rock on legs.

“Kind of a boring pet, isn’t it?” I had said to my mum, and she gave me a withering look.

“You respect your elders Jan, my mum has been through her own stroll through sewers. If Ike makes her happy, then you let her do whatever.”

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to understand it, I just didn’t see the point. I liked animals, I didn’t tease my vegetarian girlfriend, I had a dog named Dolly that I loved more than my own life. But Dolly would sprint around the yard with her ears tucked back, or nibble my fingers, or lie her head on my belly when I was on the phone. Why love something that doesn’t love you back?

That made me think of my dad though, and then I occupied myself by biting my fingernails.

“Mum, how long has gramma had Ike?”

“I really don’t know. A while.” She muttered, and she kept driving.

I drove down to Jerome by myself one day and walked out to the yard to see my grandmother hula dancing around the tortoise, humming something tuneless.

“Hi gramma.”

“January, baby, have some lemonade!” And she pointed at a jug on a small table under the awning. “Ike was just telling me something funny.”

I didn’t respond to this. “Oh, I’m no nutter-butter, don’t give me that look now.” She chuckled, but I didn’t know what expression I had on, so I tried to assemble my face into more of an innocently confused sort of look. “You know, take a seat beside Ike. You’ll see, you’ll get it.”

So I did. I saw across from the tortoise, who was grinding up a dandelion in his mouth.

“You know what’s wonderful about tortoises?” She said finally, plopping down on the grass, a little out of breath. “They can be very, very old.”

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve watched ‘Finding Nemo’.”

“No, no, see – the best thing about being old, is not much bothers you anymore. Tortoises get very, very old, and there’s not much that’s as refreshing as feeling like, next to a tortoise, you’re a real spring chicken!” And she laughed again. “Sometimes, when I listen, in a very slow voice, I hear Ike tell me stories. Sometimes they’re nothing important, like ‘tomorrow will be rainy’ or ‘I saw a blue jay on the fence’ but sometimes, I swear I hear him tell me that Osumare is waiting for me, that she misses me as much as I miss her, but that she loves me even more now, and that when I go, I’ll love her even more then.”

Gramma didn’t talk about Nanna often, my other grandma. I had always liked having two grandmas. I felt, after my dad was kind of a bummer, that grandpas weren’t as great as having two grandmothers that cooked for you on Christmas. I might be biased but there you are.

“Ike will live long after I go. Your mama knows that, and so Ike will fall to you. I’m not sure that he’ll miss me, I think he’ll just wonder where I’ve gone, but eventually he’ll tell you stories too, I think.”

I spent a few days with my grandma, I didn’t know why then, but I would sit outside with Ike when she was still asleep and feed him bits of greens. I thought, and I’m sure it’s my imagination, that he mumbled something once or twice. But I found myself talking to him, this large wrinkly thing, about my life, and my day, and my feelings.

I found myself sometimes lying next to him in silence, occasionally stroking his head with one, careful finger. My grandma and I sat outside eating watermelon, giving Ike the rinds. Sometimes we drank wine together, or barbecued, or baked a pie, and she said she was tired earlier and earlier, so I would stay outside with Ike to make sure he wasn’t lonely.

And then, on the morning of the day I was going to go home, when the sun was fresh through the trees, I heard, just so faintly, his voice.

“Bring her, please.”

I was never good at dealing with pain. My grandma showed no sign of any such thing though, when I carried her outside. I laid her softly against the grass, and I didn’t know why she was suddenly so weak.

The conversation she held with the tortoise sounded completely one-sided, but I think it was that I wasn’t the one being spoken to. My grandma laughed weakly, and had one hand intertwined with mine, and the other on the old tortoises’ shell.

“Ah well.” She sighed finally, her face bright and tired. “Ike won’t be a bother. He’s a simple being. He is simple and old.” And she laughed. “But I suppose I am as well.”

She was gone after a little while.

“The thing about tortoises, is that they are very, very old. They’re old enough that we don’t remember how they got there. They’re old enough that maybe they speak a different language, or that maybe they choose not to speak. They’re old enough that no matter how old we are, they still think we’re young.”

My eulogy was received well. My mother wept. Ike rested atop my grandmothers breast - her face peaceful as though dreaming something wonderful. The service ended, she was buried, the sun set.

I went home with Ike in my lap.

My gramma and my nanna are dancing, wherever they are. I lie beside Ike every morning and he tells me that my grandma knew her time was coming, that he just knows these things. That eventually we all go, but he just understands when. Time moves too quickly for a tortoise, and he says that is why they move so slowly.

“Do you know when I’ll die?”

“You are young. So small.”

“And my gramma?”

“She was young, but in an old way.”

I don’t say anything. The wind is soft on the leaves.

“Will you miss her?”

Ike doesn’t respond, and so I say nothing either. Finally, he speaks.

“I am just a tortoise.”

And for some reason, I understood.

#my writing #me and my lesbian problems #short stories #tortoise #wlw #writing

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having-a-freddie-time · 5 years

Text

Save me

summary: Y/N is trying her hardest to get out of an abusive relationship without telling anyone. However, she can’t always hide the bruises, especially from her best friend since childhood, Ben Hardy. Once he finds out, he tries his best to help her out without her getting hurt.

a/n: whadduupppppp. ik i said i was gonna try and post yesterday but plans changed and i ended up hanging out with my best friend lol. this part is gonna be a little angsty, but it’s mostly a filler chapter ig??

warnings: implied physical/verbal abuse (no descriptions), yelling, cussing, alcohol, drinking, drugs (just implied use)

word count: 2,104 (she’s thiccc. i got carried away SKSKS)

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

You sighed deeply as you watched Ben’s car disappear into the night. Turning away from the window, you looked around in your empty flat. You stood in the middle of your living room, swaying your arms around. It was a bit weird not having someone over, granted that someone was chucking a beer bottle at your head. However, kinda felt strange, but felt relaxing as well.

With a shrug of your shoulders, you plopped on the couch and turned your TV on. A re-run of M*A*S*H was playing, a show you grew up watching with your mother. You sighed happily at the memories and with a quick snap of a finger, you were suddenly upset. You hadn’t talked to either your parents or twin brother. You haven’t spoken to your TWIN brother in months. Your actual other half, the person you loved more than anything, your built in best friend. Sure, Ben was your very best friend but twins always have a different connection.

Suddenly you found your eyes pricking with salty tears. How could you have let some drunken idiot control your life? You were so much smarter than that. For God’s sake, you graduated with the highest honors. You couldnt believe you found yourself in this situation.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts and slung yourself off the couch and into the kitchen, while phone in hand. Swiftly unlocking your phone, you went to your contacts. Your finger hovered over ‘twin bubba

“Son of a bitch, where are you Y/N?” Trevor slurred his words and walked into the kitchen. He snarled at you and took a step closer, causing you to back up into the counter.

“Make yourself presentable, we’re having guests over.”

“The hell we are! This is MY-”

You winced loudly as your cheek stung. You held your face, tears threatening to spill. At this point, you couldn’t argue anymore. You lost the courage you had earlier and couldn’t speak.

“Hurry the hell up, you look like shit.”

You pushed past him and ran upstairs. As soon as you spotted the familiar door, you hurried in and locked the door. Another night, another fucking party.

You only washed your hair and brushed your teeth. You didn’t want to bother with makeup, knowing it’d smudge throughout the night. You blew dried your hair and slid into your outfit. The outfit of which contained a simpled black and white striped v-neck, black holy jeans, a maroon cardigan and some random slip on shoes. You thought maybe if you’d 'behave’, you’d have less marks to cover up.

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

You sat on the couch, holding hands with Trevor, and a drink in your free hand. Trevor made you act like you actually loved him when his friends were around. You hated it so much and just wanted to leave it all, but something inside you just wouldn’t budge.

You diverted your attention towards some man walking into your home, wearing a black hoodie, some rugged jeans and some old worn out Van’s. In his hand he held a baggie full of weed and a white substance. Oh God.

Trevor waved him over, causing the unknown man to pull his hood down. Trevor let go of your hand and stood up, walking over to Mr. Unknown, handing him a wad of cash. You immediately shot up, speed walking towards the two men.

“Trevor, what in the hell are you doing?” You hissed under your breath. Trevor turned to you, his eyes going dark. “Get the hell away, go sit down.” He waved you off, clearly pissed off.

Soon enough, Trevor came back, holding a brown paper sack. He dumped it out on the table, causing everyone to cheer. Some of his friends pulled out lighters, papers, and some random credit card. You knew exactly what was about to happen which made your stomach do a million somersaults.

Trevor quickly rolled out a joint, lighting it up before you could even blink. He took a huge puff and started passing it around. When it made it your way, you politely declined and passed to someone else.

“Why didn’t you hit it?”

“Because I don’t want to, Trevor.”

Trevor’s nostrils flared, indicating that he was starting to get angry and embarrassed.

At 3 in the morning, the party had dispersed and it was only you and Trevor. You were cleaning up the living room when Trevor came in there, a beer bottle in one hand, and a clenched fist in the other.

“I can’t believe you fucking did that shit in front of my friends.”

“Did what? I did nothing.”

“You embarrassed me, dumb bitch!”

“My fucking bad I didn’t want to fucking get high and drink!”

“You’re so fucking embarrassing! Oh and that little stunt you pulled when my dealer came…”

Trevor took a huge step towards you, hand raised. You felt a stinging pain on your face, causing you to fall yo the ground. You wept and winced, holding your face tightly. Not even a moment later, you felt something break against your back. A beer bottle.

“You’re fucking lucky I’m leaving to go to another party. I’m not fucking bringing your dumbass.”

And with that he left, slamming the door behind him.

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

You finished cleaning the house and fell asleep on the couch. You woke up the next morning to your phone ringing. Squinting, you read the contact and answered with a groggy “Hello”.

“Hey love, Gwil is in town and wants us to meet up with him for brunch. You up for it?”

The thought of getting out of the house resulted in you to groan. It would be nice to get some actual food in your system instead of microwavable macaroni and cheese. However, the thought of getting up made you contemplate.

“Maybe another time Ben.”

“Please Y/N, Gwil is really excited to see us!”

You sighed and threw your head back onto the couch pillow, rubbing your eyes.

“Fine, what time?”

“I’ll pick you up at 10. Seen you soon!”

You said your goodbyes and hung up. Looking at the time, your eyes widened. Crap, it’s already 9:30.

You shot up from the couch, racing to your bedroom. Slipping out of the outfit from last night, you looked around for something to wear.

“Maybe this shirt?” You mumbled to yourself, looking at some random red shirt with a cute little floral pocket on the chest. Looking around, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. A horrified look on your face as you saw a bruise on your eye. You slowly turned around and noticed a huge gash in hot back from last night’s events.

You couldnt go out like this. You look le you had just gotten your shit rocked, which you did. You grabbed a light blue jumper, some black leggings, and ran into the bathroom. You tried to cover up the bruise on your eye but it was no use.

Soon there was a knock at your door, causing you to jump up nine feet in the air. You tossed your hair into a low messy bun, pulling some pieces of baby hairs to style it and grabbed a pair of large sunglasses.

You frantically grabbed your phone, purse and keys. Turning off all the lights, you opened the door with a smile.

“Hello, Ben.” You greeted him as you stepped outside, locking the door and turning towards him. He pulled in for a tight with a huge grin on his face. You almost yelped as he patted your back, right where Trevor threw a beer bottle at.

Ben noticed and pulled away, brows furrowed. “Nothing, just sore from sleeping on the couch last night.” Ben shrugged and but still looked at you suspiciously as you walked towards his car.

After about a 30 minute drive, Ben pulled into this cute little cafe. You hopped out of the car and went around to walk with Ben. As y'all entered the little establishment, you were greeted by Gwil with a very tight “I’ve missed you” hug. His gripped was so tight, your back stung and resulted in you biting your lips harshly before you could yelp.

You hugged him back gently, patting his back. “Miss you too, Gwil.” You giggled and pulled away to look at him. He smiled brightly and planted peck on your cheek, a little greeting thing he did with his friends.

“Missed you tons, love!” Gwil smiled and made his way to Ben, embracing him in another one of his “I’ve missed you” hugs. Once finished, Gwil guided the two of you to a table he had reserved in a more private area of the cafe.

The three of you took a seat and began chatting. Gwil proudly announced he was engaged, which resulted in cheers from you and Ben. You three caught up quickly, which made your heart happy.

Without your realization, you had totally forgotten you were still wearing sunglasses in a building. Gwil noticed and gazed at you.

“Is it too sunny for you in here?” He joked. You were shocked when he had made you realize you still had sunnies on. You bit your lip and shrugged.

“I forgotten that I still had them on.” You giggled quietly and removed them. Boy were you very forgetful today, because you still had a bruise forming on your eye.

Ben looked over at you, his faces falling at the sight. His eyes widened and he nudged your shoulder.

“What in the hell is wrong with your eye?”

“What- Oh my gosh, I totally forgot.”

You instantly covered your eye, playing it off as if you needed to rub it. Gwil looked up from his menu, shocked.

“Y/N, got a bit of a bruise there on your eye.”

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about me. Just clumsy.”

Luckily Gwil bought it and shrugged it off, turning his attention back to his menu. Ben, however, didn’t buy it for one bit.

“Bathroom. Now.”

Ben got up, a fake smile toying at his lips. He excused himself and walked off towards the men’s room. You looked down at your phone, acting as if someone was calling you.

“I hate to leave you alone, but work is calling.” You smiled sheepishly and got up from your seat. Gwil didn’t bother thinking about what had happened, he just continued scanning the menu.

You slipped your phone into the waistband of your leggings and knocked on the bathroom door. Ben opened it and pulled you in.

“Pull your jumper and leggings off. Now.”

“Ben what? Are you bonkers?”

“I’ve seen you in a bikini. Off, now.”

You groaned and slowly peeled off the articles of clothing. Thankfully, you were a sports bra and boy shorts underwear today, so nothing to intimate for Ben to see. You set the clothes on the counter, along with the sunglasses.

Ben gently touched your shoulder, spinning you around slowly. He heart dropped into the Earth’s mantle when he saw the gash on your back. He looked closely, seeing little shards of glass poking from your skin.

“Y/N…”

Tears sprung from your eyes as he whispered your name, so sadly. You spun around and looked at him, your face already red from crying.

“Apparently I had embarrassed him in front of his friends because I didnt want to drink or get fucking high.” You said through a choked sob.

“Oh, love. Why didn’t you call me?”

“I was so scared, Ben. I tried to 'behave’ so he wouldn’t hurt me so bad.”

“You shouldn’t have behave for your boyfriend, he’s not your dad.”

“I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Come one.” Ben grabbed your clothes, gently helping you put them back on. Once they were on, he held onto you as you both stepped out of the bathroom, not caring about what people saw.

“Hey mate, mind if we take this brunch else where? Like my house or something?” Ben asked Gwil with soft ans sad eyes. Gwil caught on and stood up. Luckily he hadn’t ordered yet so it wouldn’t have been such a big deal.

“Of course, I’ll run by the market and grab snacks and stuff for a movie day. Sound good, Y/N?”

You just nodded slowly and leaned in towards Ben. He held you closely and guided you out the door, not before slipping your shades on.

You heard clicking noises, awful familiar to cameras, but you shrugged it off.

No big deal.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

tag list: @benhardyisdaddy @monochromedeacon @queenbbarnes @haileylansley @onexlittlespark

#having a freddie time #ben hardy x reader #ben x reader #ben hardy #bohemian rhapsody #borhap boys #angst #save me #bran writes

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pinknerdpanda · 6 years

Text

The Right Guy

Word Count: 1667

Characters: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

Beta’d by: @wheresthekillswitch & @hannahindie

A/N: Written for @spnfluffbingo Square filled: Hurt/Comfort

The Right Guy

Sam Winchester shifted his weight from one foot to the other, balling his fists up inside his jacket pockets. The line to get into the bar was obnoxiously long and his patience was wearing thin as the bitter cold nipped at his nose and ears.

When he finally he reached the door, the bouncer was so huge he made Sam look like a gangly teenager beside him. The man looked him up and down, quirking an eyebrow.

“ID, please.”

Sam sighed. “Really? Do I really look younger than 21?”

The large man merely blinked, his hand outstretched. Sam jerked his wallet from his pocket and hastily handed his ID over. The man’s lips pursed together as he scanned the card and glanced back at Sam.

“Have fun in there, handsome,” the man winked at Sam, his fingers lingering briefly as he returned his ID.

Once inside, Sam quickly surveyed the crowded, smoke-filled room, his eyes straining to adjust to the darkness. The music pulsed from everywhere all at once as Sam pushed his way into the hoards of gyrating bodies and swaying hips. Pink and green lights against the far wall captured swirls of smoke and fog in their beams as they blinked in time with the beat.

Sam made his way to the small bar, placing his hands against the dingy silver surface. The bartender turned his attention to him, his eyes narrowing as he took in Sam’s frame.

“What can I get for you? Beer? Whiskey? Me?” The bartender wiggled his eyebrows at Sam, propping one fist against his hip.

“I’m looking for someone,” Sam barked over the noise.

“Are you now?” The man bit his lip. “Maybe I can help with that?”

Sam caught the suggestive tone in the man’s voice, but ignored it. Instead, he pulled out his phone and turned it to face the man behind the bar.

“Have you seen her?” Sam’s gut twisted as the man squinted at the image on the screen. Surely this is the place.

Finally, he looked back at Sam and nodded. “She was just here; pretty little thing. She ordered three shots of tequila and a beer.”

Sam jerked his head up, searching the room frantically for any sign of her. He turned back to thank the man, but he was already helping another customer.

“Are you looking for that sad girl, with the pretty eyes?”

Sam turned toward the sound of the voice to find a petite woman with brown hair sipping a mixed drink. He held his phone up for her to see.

“That’s the one,” she smiled almost sadly and clucked her tongue. “I really hoped she played for my team. I think she’s out on the patio.”

“Thank you.” Sam’s heart fluttered as the woman pointed to a large glass door at the back of the room.

He braced himself as he made his way to the patio and pushed the door open. His breath caught in his throat when he saw her, slumped over a table in the corner. Three empty shot glasses sat haphazardly in front of her next to a half empty beer bottle. Her gaze was fixed on a crack in the pavement as she brought a cigarette to her lips and inhaled.

Sam frowned. This was y/n, but not the y/n he knew. He sucked in a breath as he forced his feet to move toward her. Y/n took another drag from her cigarette as he sat down, but she didn’t look up. Neither of them spoke, choosing instead to let the muffled sounds of music and laughter from inside fill the silence between them.

“Since when do you smoke?” Sam eyed her as she took one last puff before stubbing out the glowing tip and tossing it on the ground.

Y/n picked up her beer and drained it before looking up to meet his gaze.

“How did you find me?” She ignored his question.

Sam jammed his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching out and touching her.

“I tracked your phone,” he said, mentally cringing at how creepy that sounded.

One corner of her mouth lifted in an attempt at a smile. “There’s the Sammy we all know and love.”

Her words stung and she knew it. Sam kept his face impassive as she lit another cigarette, turning her head to keep from blowing smoke in his face.

“Those things will kill you, ya know?”

“That’s rich coming from the man who’s died more times than I can count,” she sighed.

Sam barked a humorless laugh.

“That chick over there keeps checking you out,” she mused. “Can’t say I blame her.”

Sam glanced over his shoulder and turned back to y/n, one eyebrow raised. “She’s checking someone out, but it’s not me.”

Y/n craned her neck to look around him and smiled. “Well, what do you know? Apparently, my charms only work on girls. Too bad I’m not gay.”

“Y/n…”

She held up her hand, silencing him.

“Save it, Sam. I don’t want to hear your ‘the right guy is out there’ mumbo jumbo, Dr. Phil crap,” she frowned, taking another drag.

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

She leaned forward on her elbows, narrowing her eyes at him.

“It’s not? Because that’s what you’ve told me every time a guy has dumped me since we were in middle school, Sam. Remember that summer at Bobby’s when I caught Joey Thomas making out with that redhead behind the pool? Or when Greg Sharp broke up with me because I was ‘too comfortable around guns’? What did you say to me then?”

Sam rolled his eyes, sighing. “I said that the right guy is out there.” Y/n sat back satisfied. “And that’s still true, but, that’s not what I was going to say this time.”

“Alright, fine. I’ll bite. What were you going to say, Winchester?”

Sam cleared his throat. “I was going to say that Mark is a fucking asshole and that you deserve much better.”

Large, sudden tear drops trailed down y/n’s cheeks and she clenched her jaw, trying to will them to stop. Sam shifted, plucking the cigarette from her hand and tossing it away before pulling y/n against his chest. He wrapped both arms around her as she wept, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling deeply.

“Why doesn’t he love me, Sam?” She sniffed. “Why doesn’t anyone love me?”

Sam pulled back, wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb. He cradled her face between his hands urging her to look up at him. When her eyes met his, he nearly gasped. How could anyone look into her eyes and not fall instantly in love with her? How could so many men have held her in their arms and chosen to let go? How has he gone this long without admitting how he felt - to himself or to her?

“Sam?” Her voice was soft, her gaze falling on his lips before meeting his again.

A dozen replies ran through his mind, but none of them felt right. Instead, Sam did the thing he realized now he’d been longing for since they were children. He leaned forward and kissed her. He’d planned on a soft press of lips, but when she leaned into him and sighed softly, a fire ignited within him. She opened her mouth to him and he accepted the invitation. She tasted like beer and stale cigarettes, but there was something more; she tasted like home.

Y/n pulled back, sucking in a breath and resting her forehead against his. He traced the line of her jaw with his thumb, straining to regain his composure. Behind them, a few people whooped and clapped in support. Y/n’s already flushed cheeks deepened to a lovely shade of pink as she bit her lip.

“I think I’ve been waiting for you to do that for a long time,” she rasped, pulling back and searching his face.

Sam smoothed his hand over her hair and smiled. “Sorry it’s taken me so long.”

Y/n’s brow creased. “Why now?”

Sam dropped his hand to hers, twining their fingers and considering the question. “I think all those times I told you that the right guy was out there, I was trying to convince myself that was true for you. I never wanted to stand in the way of you living a normal life with the ‘right’ guy. I loved you too much to take that from you.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, but she remained silent.

“I do, you know?” Sam looked at their hands, studying their fingers woven together.

“What?”

Sam’s voice was low and he refused to meet her eyes. “Love you.”

Y/n squeezed his hand gently and dipped her head to look at him.

“I love you too, Sam. I think I always have.”

Sam’s lips were on hers again, their tongues rolling against each other, and their breaths passing from one to the other. Y/n wove her fingers through his hair, desperate to pull him closer. Sam’s hand snaked under her jacket flattened against her back, his fingers brushing the skin just above the waist of her jeans.

Sam broke the kiss, his chest heaving as he sucked in a lungful of air.

“I think it’s time to go,” Y/n smiled.

Sam nodded, his heart racing. He frowned.

“What’s wrong?” For a moment, y/n’s face clouded with disappointment.

Sam grabbed the pack of cigarettes from the table, held them up and tipped his head toward her.

“These stay here.”

Y/n relaxed, smiling. “Deal.”

A wide smile broke out across his face and he stood, holding his free hand out to her. She accepted and the pair crossed the patio. Sam stopped, hurling the cigarettes into the trashcan by the door. She looked up at him, grinning.

“I’m glad you kicked the habit, Sammy. They say those things will kill you.”

Like what you see? Want more? My Masterlist is here. Thanks for reading! :)

My Forever Tags - Stay weird. I love y’all:

@wheresthekillswitch @pretty-fortune @arryn-nyxx @emlostinwonderland @fandommaniacx @cookie-dough-lova @impandagrl @maddieburcham1 @trexrambling @beachballsizeladyballs @hannahindie @rosie-winchester @winchesterprincessbride @that-writer-one @fandomismyspirit @angelsandwinchesters @cfordwrites @charliebradbury1104 @mogaruke @luulaachops @supernaturaldean67 @barbedwireandbubblegum @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @muliermalefici @galaxy-jellyfish-queen @canadianjelly @kathaswings @feelmyroarrrr @captainradicalpassion @bethbabybaby @myfanficlibrarium @akshi8278 @emoryhemsworth @boxywrites @atc74 @anticipate1003 @super100012 @lovesj2m @masksandtruths @ellen-reincarnated1967 @growningupgeek @there-must-be-a-lock @mrswhozeewhatsis @amanda-teaches @cassieraider @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @its-my-perky-nipples @squirrel-moose-winchester @sandlee44 @paintrider13-blog @arses21434 @petra-arkanian-1497

#sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam fluff #sam angst #spn fluff bingo #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #panda writes #i lost my queue

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vicandsade · 4 years

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1941-12-08 - The Bottom Buffet Drawer

[See additional commentary at The Crazy World of Vic and Sade]

[hear the episode here or here]

Every house needs a junk drawer. Unfortunately, Sade would prefer that the bottom buffet drawer not be that.

As a person who likes things to be organized in a certain way, I can sympathize with Sade’s intense disapproval here. Things have places where they belong and don’t belong, and those places are not always as obvious to the other people in the house or workplace as you think they are. It’s especially vexing that this has happened once before. You’d think Vic and Rush would have learned their lesson the first time. Their claiming not to remember putting those items in the drawer: lies, or pure absentmindedness? We can’t know for sure. But I would like to point out how ready Vic is to throw Rush under the bus in these situations -- it’s happened before. Whenever Sade is angry with both Vic and Rush, Rush always comes out looking a little better!

Transcript

————–

ANNOUNCER: Well sir, it’s late afternoon as we enter the small house halfway up in the next block now, and here in the living room we find Mr. Victor Gook, his son Mr. Rush Gook, and Sade’s amiable Uncle Fletcher. The gentlemen have just this moment arrived and they’re removing hats and overcoats. Listen.

FLETCHER: Guess Sadie’s not home.

RUSH: Probably upstairs or down cellar. The back door was unlocked. Mom very seldom even goes across the alley to Mis’ Harris’ without lockin’ the back door.

FLETCHER: Fine. Likely she’s off Christmas shoppin’.

SADE: [off] Yes? You, Rush?

VIC: [calls] Hidey-hi hodey-ho.

SADE: [off] I’ll be right down.

VIC: Take everybody’s hats and coats out in the hallway, why don’tcha, George?

RUSH: Okay. You can be gettin’ the cards outta the library table drawer.

FLETCHER: I’m only gonna play a couple hands or so, Vic. Sit down long enough to take the chill outta my bones.

VIC: Anything you say.

FLETCHER: I better let Sadie know I’m not stayin’ for supper. Otherwise she might--

SADE: [up] You here too, huh, Uncle Fletcher?

VIC: Greetings, Dr. Sleetch.

FLETCHER: I couldn’t stay for supper even if I was invited. My landlady Mis’ Keller’s fixin’ special turnip greens this evenin’. No, I’ll play a hand or two of rummy, and step on home.

SADE: You here too, huh, Uncle Fletcher?

FLETCHER: Hello, Sadie. [mischievous] These scalawags told me you were off downtown Christmas shopping.

SADE: [not amused] Did they?

FLETCHER: Yeah.

RUSH: [up] I suggest we deal everybody ten cards just like you do in two-handed rummy. That way the game lasts longer, and there’s more chances--

FLETCHER: What’s the idea tellin’ me your mother was off downtown Christmas shoppin’, Rush?

RUSH: [laughs] I never told ya that.

FLETCHER: You take boys, they enjoy a game.

SADE: Don’t bother there for a minute, Vic.

VIC: What?

SADE: I say don’t bother fixin’ up your rummies there for a minute. I’ve got something to show you.

VIC: Something to show me?

SADE: Yes. You too, Willy. Come out in the dinin’ room.

RUSH: What for?

SADE: [quietly] You’ll see. We’re goin’ out in the dining room a little bit, Uncle Fletcher. Siddown and make yourself comfortable.

FLETCHER: I’m not stayin’ for supper, Sadie.

SADE: You’re welcome to.

FLETCHER: Mighty nice of you to insist, but like I just got through tellin’ what’s-his-name, I promised Mis’ Keller I’d come home and eat turnip greens she’s fixin’ special.

SADE: Uh-huh.

FLETCHER: The way it was, I bumped into Vic just now comin’ from the office, and Rush comin’ from Tatman’s Vacant Lot. They said why didn’t I stop in for a while and get warm and play a hand or two of rummy. I decided fine.

SADE: Uh-huh.

FLETCHER: Thought I’d better get understood right away, though, I wasn’t stayin’ for supper.

SADE: Mm-hmm.

FLETCHER: [chuckling] Then Rush told me you were off downtown Christmas shopping!

RUSH: I never told ya any such a thing!

FLETCHER: Yes. I understand boys enjoy a joke.

SADE: Come out in the dining room, you two fellas. I’m sure Uncle Fletcher’ll excuse ya for a minute or so.

VIC: What’s out in the dinin’ room?

SADE: Come along.

VIC: After you, Charlie.

RUSH: Oh.

SADE: Shame company has to be present to see this.

VIC: See what?

SADE: If I’d realized I had two little babies in the house instead of two great, big men I’d have bought myself a padlock.

VIC: [laughs] Well, I got no idea what you’re talkin’ about, kiddo.

SADE: I wouldn’t laugh.

FLETCHER: [off] Where’s everybody goin’?

SADE: [calls] They’ll be right back. [to RUSH] Will ya open this bottom buffet drawer, please?

RUSH: Sure.

SADE: This happened once before. A long time ago. I thought then I’d made everything clear. Looks like I didn’t.

RUSH: Are you referrin’ to the occasion when--

SADE: I asked you to open the bottom buffet drawer. Just gonna stand there?

RUSH: [annoyed] Only a civilized question--

SADE: Open the bottom buffet drawer.

RUSH: Oh.

FLETCHER: [off] I’m not stayin’ for supper, you know, Sadie.

SADE: [calls] Just siddown and be comfortable a minute, Uncle Fletcher.

FLETCHER: [off] I made a commitment with my landlady Mis’ Keller I’d be home eatin’ special turnip greens. She mentioned at the dinner table this noon she was makin’ ...[continues talking in background]

VIC: Overshoes, by George! So that’s where they’ve been! Do you remember the other day me searchin’ high and low for them overshoes--

SADE: [accusingly] Yes, your overshoes, by George, so that’s where they’ve been!

VIC: Well, I don’t recall ever puttin’ my overshoes in--

SADE: What’s the matter with him in there? [calls] All right, just a second, Uncle Fletcher!

FLETCHER: [off] Well, I better be on deck to eat them special turnip greens!

RUSH: [chuckles] Uncle Fletcher’s a great fella--

SADE: Did you notice this?

RUSH: [pleased] Well! My first baseman’s glove! I woulda bet forty dollars I’d carelessly left that first baseman’s glove in Tatman’s Vacant Lot last summer! I woulda bet fifty dollars--

SADE: Do either one of you fellas remember how I cried and wept and yelled when I discovered you’d used this bottom buffet drawer to keep your trash in before?

VIC: About those overshoes, Sadie, I plead complete innocence. It’s a mystery to me how they ever--

SADE: You plead complete innocence about this?

VIC: Uh -- what?

SADE: This!

VIC: Why, isn’t that...

SADE: [voice shaking] Yes, it is! It’s the rotten, old, dirty, rusty, rotten horseshoe you brought home from Ike Kneesuffer’s basement!

VIC: That’s the horseshoe Ike presented me with. I won six games in a row with it and made seven ringers in succession. Let’s see, was it early last September that I...

SADE: What is it doin’ in the bottom drawer of my buffet?

VIC: Darned if I know! Rush, have you been takin’ liberties with my personal possessions and secretin’ them in Mama’s--

RUSH: [indignant] I have not!

FLETCHER: [up] What’s everybody doin’ in the dining room?

SADE: I don’t open this bottom buffet drawer, ever. It’s where I keep my NICE things. My best washrags and doilies and tablecloths and napkins. And you fellas knew! You just couldn’ta forgot that other time when this happened.

FLETCHER: What’s everybody doing in the dining room?

SADE: It’s by accident I opened the drawer this afternoon. Needed a place to put that little handkerchief Dottie Brainfeeble sent me. Opened the drawer and like to have fainted. Rush, how about that ice skate?

RUSH: I’ve been lookin’ at that ice skate with considerable interest. It’s not my ice skate.

SADE: It’s not your ice skate?

RUSH: It’s not my own, personal ice skate, no. I mean by that I never purchased the ice skate. As a matter of strict, downright fact, I found that ice skate layin’ in the middle of Center Street way last summer. I remember sayin’ to myself at the time it certainly was a peculiar season to come across an ice skate with the thermometer at 90 degrees in the shade...

SADE: Did you put the ice skate in the drawer, there?

RUSH: I’m just tryin’ to recollect if I did or not.

SADE: You’ll notice it’s stickin’ into the fancy table runner Mis’ Stembottom bought in Chicago and give me for my birthday and I considered it too nice to use.

RUSH: Well, I’m rackin’ my brains, but I can’t seem to recollect placin’ that particular ice skate in that particular bottom drawer...

[telephone rings]

VIC: [seeing an escape] Uh, telephone’s ringin’!

RUSH: Telephone’s ringin’!

VIC: I’ll get it!

RUSH: I’ll get it!

VIC: No, it’s probably Ike Kneesuffer.

RUSH: It’s probably Bluetooth Johnson.

VIC: I’ll get it!

SADE: I’LL get it. You fellas stay right here.

FLETCHER: What’s everybody doin’ in the dining room?

SADE: I’m sorry you had to be a witness to this, Uncle Fletcher.

FLETCHER: Fine.

VIC: [turning on RUSH] What’s the idea pilin’ ice skates on top of your mother’s table scarves?

RUSH: I don’t even recall doin’ it.

VIC: Ha! Likely story!

RUSH: As far as that goes, what’s the idea pilin’ horseshoes on top of Mom’s table scarves?

VIC: Are you all of a sudden the district attorney, the judge, and a stern old man? I’m not responsible to YOU for my actions, my friend.

RUSH: Oh.

FLETCHER: Sadie’s vexed?

VIC: What?

FLETCHER: Sadie vexed over somethin’, is she?

VIC: Yeah.

FLETCHER: Fine. No, you take ladies, they’ll get vexed. Remember Phil Wisher there in Sterling?

VIC: Uh-uh.

FLETCHER: Wore cap, socks, shirt, necktie, underwear, pants, coat, and vest all made outta the same material?

VIC: No.

FLETCHER: Later died?

VIC: No.

FLETCHER: Phil Wisher married a woman and that woman got vexed on her wedding day and stayed vexed for twenty-seven years. Phil never made her mad on purpose at all. All he done was say, “Who’s that funny-lookin’ chump with the whiskers?” Just happened to be his wife’s father. Wife got vexed and stayed vexed. Never a day passed but what she couldn’t jump up from the breakfast table and say, “I suppose you’re wonderin’ who that funny-lookin’ chump with the whiskers is!”

VIC: [chuckles quietly]

SADE: [up] What’s just terrible, terrible, terrible funny?

VIC: Uncle Fletcher just told an amusing anecdote. It was about a--

SADE: Shame Uncle Fletcher had to be a witness to this.

FLETCHER: [miles away] Yes! No, Phil Wisher’s wife got vexed and stayed vexed.

VIC: Who was it on the phone, Sade?

SADE: Mis’ Trogle.

VIC: Nobody for me?

SADE: I said it was Mis’ Trogle. No, I never open this bottom buffet drawer myself. I feel like it sometimes, but I hesitate to. See, everything is arranged so careful. Every washrag, table runner, napkin, and doily folded and patted down to perfection. I don’t like to dig around and take chances on disarranging stuff I’ve labored over.

VIC: If I may murmur one little word in my own defense, I’d like to--

SADE: No such scruples in you fellas, though. Ice skates, overshoes, old newspapers, baseball mitts and screwdrivers! These easy slippers are your property, aren’t they, Rush?

RUSH: I can explain exactly how they happen to be there.

SADE: Can you? Tell us. Oughta be interesting.

RUSH: Well sir, one evenin’ some weeks ago I was studyin’ algebra in my pajamas. The doorbell rang, and it was Mr. and Mis’ Heddles stoppin’ past for a few minutes on their way home from the picture show. “Rush,” you said, “run upstairs and put on your clothes.” I run upstairs and put on my clothes, and come down again, and--

SADE: This is a long, dull, tiresome story, don’t you think, Uncle Fletcher?

FLETCHER: Beg pardon, Sadie?

SADE: [chuckles] Don’t you think it’s kind of a long, tiresome story Rush is tellin’?

FLETCHER: Yes! Yes it is. Reminds me of Sid Teepers there in Belvedere.

SADE: Did Sid Teepers there in Belvedere pile dirty old junk on top of his mother’s loveliest linen things?

FLETCHER: Yes. Sid Teepers married a woman twenty-four years old.

RUSH: [giggles] How old was Sid?

SADE: This is hardly any time for you to snort and smirk and titter, Rush.

FLETCHER: Sid Teepers married a woman twenty-four years old.

VIC: How old was Sid?

SADE: Or you, either.

VIC: Oh.

FLETCHER: Sadie?

SADE: Yes?

FLETCHER: Sid Teepers married a woman twenty-four years old.

SADE: [giving in] How old was Sid?

FLETCHER: Twenty-six. Sid Teepers was twenty-six years old when he got married. Started takin’ violin lessons. Took violin lessons every Sunday afternoon up until the time he was fifty-seven, and at the end of that time, wasn’t able to play a single tune.

RUSH: What was the matter?

FLETCHER: Fine.

RUSH: Why couldn’t he play a single tune after all them lessons?

FLETCHER: He played scales. He liked scales, so he played scales. Ask Sid to slop out his fiddle and play ya a selection, he’d play ya a scale. Holler for an encore, he played another scale. He played scales as good as any violin player around. But he got monotonous after an evening.

SADE: Gettin’ back to the buffet drawer.

FLETCHER: Yes.

SADE: Is this gonna happen again?

VIC and RUSH: No.

SADE: You know what takes place.

VIC and RUSH: [guilty murmur]

SADE: You’ll come dashin’ in the house with your ice skates and your overshoes and your baseball mitts, and wanna get ‘em out of sight. And won’t go to the trouble of liftin’ your little finger to find a suitable place. This bottom buffet drawer is close and handy. Ya simply yank it open--

[telephone rings]

VIC: Uh, telephone’s ringin’.

RUSH: Telephone’s ringin’!

VIC: I’ll get it.

RUSH: I’ll get it!

VIC: I’m positive it’s Ike Kneesuffer.

RUSH: I’m positive it’s Bluetooth Johnson.

VIC: I’ll get it.

RUSH: I’ll get it!

SADE: [tired] Why don’tcha both go get it.

VIC and RUSH: What?

SADE: Why don’tcha both go get it.

VIC and RUSH: Oh...

FLETCHER: I hafta go home for supper, you know, Sadie.

SADE: Sorry you can’t stay.

FLETCHER: Mis’ Keller’s preparin’ special turnip greens this evening.

SADE: Uh-huh.

FLETCHER: Vic and Rush vexed, are they?

SADE: [chuckles] No...I’m the one that’s vexed.

FLETCHER: Fine.

SADE: Just look at my bottom buffet drawer...

FLETCHER: [approvingly] Yes!

SADE: And it’ll happen again.

FLETCHER: Oh, sure.

SADE: It’ll happen again.

FLETCHER: Remember J.L. Dunsplot there in Dixon?

SADE: No.

FLETCHER: Was right-handed up to the time he was twenty-nine, and turned left-handed overnight?

SADE: No.

FLETCHER: J.L. Dunsplot married a woman thirty-three years old.

SADE: Uh...how old was he?

FLETCHER: Thirty-seven.

ANNOUNCER: Well, neighbor, so end’s the day’s visit at that small house halfway up in the next block. But seems like something’s always going on at the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Victor Gook. I’ll be waiting there to open the door for you when you drop in on Vic and Sade the next time.

#vic and sade #vic & sade #victor gook #sade gook #rush gook #fletcher rush #uncle fletcher #mis' keller #rummy #tatman's vacant lot #dottie brainfeeble #mr. and mis' heddles #mis' trogle #ike kneesuffer #bluetooth johnson

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whydoyouwantmyname · 7 years

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Imagine your Parents (Joker and Harley) reacting to your return