#on our second date. and like the first one we literally had a LENGTHY conversation abt gender

[hematomes]

im never getting involved with a straight guy ever again

[justkending]

Moral of the Story (Prologue)

Series Summary: From childhood friends, to highschool sweethearts, the two naive, young, and lovestruck teens decided the best way to keep a strong relationship during college would be to marry right out of highschool. No one batted an eye at the idea as everyone knew they were soulmates. However, college is a big step in a person’s life. You learn new things about yourself, you make new friends, find new hobbies… And maybe being newly weds and going to different colleges across the states wasn’t the best plan… After a falling out, and a tragic heartbreaking divorce, the two now hold grudges for how the other handled the whole thing in the past. Neither not really knowing both sides of the story. 10 years later, and they both get a call from the lawyers office that settled their divorce. Somehow the papers never went through and the divorce was never completed. So now, the exes, or should we say husband and wife, have to meet back up after all these years to settle their failed marriage once and for all. (This summary will be shorter in other chapters. I just needed to get the full concept out there;)

A/N (repeat): So the other day while I was doing my hair (quite the process), I was playing music and the song Moral of the Story by Ashe came on. Mind you, I’ve heard this song hundreds of times, but for some reason, this time I got a major story idea! Listening to the lyrics brought me to this new series. Of course, the lengthy summary above will give you an idea of what came to my brain, but I recommend you listen to the song still because it plays a big part in my thought process:) (Plus it’s a good song;) Enjoy and please do not hesitate to share your thoughts and comments with me! I love each and every single one<3

(I will release the first chapter at the beginning of next week! That way I can give myself some time to write more chapters before sharing it!)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/N (Modern AU)

Word Count: 1200+

Prologue:

"Melody, have the papers for the Bee's Knees company come in yet?"

"Uh, no. But I can call them again and see if they faxed it or sent over a physical copy though," Melody answered from her desk, already typing away to find the company.

"Perfect. We have a meeting with a recycling plant next week and I want to get everything set before we go in with them," Y/N nodded, coming out from her office with a file in her hands. She turned to her assistant at the front desk who was about 20 emails deep and already finding the issue. "Hey, you're not coming in tomorrow, right?"

"Um, no, no. I am. I rescheduled that date," she answered bashfully as if she had been caught in the act of something.

"Melody..." Y/N drug out, hand on her hip.

"What? I- He understood. He said he was fine moving it to Saturday," the young woman shrugged, never looking back at her boss that was clearly sending her a motherly stare.

"You're already over your 40 hours this week, and you've rescheduled with him, what? 3 times now?" Y/N moved to the front of the desk so the young brunette had to make eye contact with her.

"Yes," she answered hesitantly.

"Is it just nerves or something else?" Y/N smirked.

"I'm not nervous... It's just been a while since I've had time for a date."

"Two things about what you just said in the past minute. One, clearly this guy likes you because he's rescheduled with you this many times and hasn't called it off yet. So if you're nervous about it not going well on his end, I think you're safe," Y/N pointed a finger at her.

"But-," Melody started.

"Second," Y/N cut off with a raised eyebrow. "I'm giving you time to go on a date and you're still not taking it. Work is no longer an excuse."

Melody stopped avoiding eye contact and looked up at the Y/H/C hair woman leaning on her reception desk.

"You've been talking with my mom again, haven't you?" she sighed.

"I promised I'd take care of you. So yes, I have. And though her reasoning for you dating is because she wants grandbabies, I just want you to have fun and live your life. You're 22. Don't waste your young years being scared."

"Ugh, fine. I'll text him now and see if he's still available for tonight," she groaned.

"Perfect!" Y/N grinned in victory as she started to walk back to her office. "I expect the details in the morning," she winked before she walked in.

"Oh, Y/N!" Melody stopped her. "A message came for you while you were in that last meeting."

"Who from?" Y/N quirked an eyebrow, moving back to the desk.

"Uh, I don't really know. Didn't sound familiar, but here's the name and number they said to call back from," she answered, handing her a note.

Y/N took the small paper and looked it over. Her face dropped and her eyes widened.

"You ok? Is it someone you know?" the young assistant asked, noticing what looked like horror on her face.

"Um, yeah. Yeah, an old acquaintance of mine," Y/N tried to quickly brush off. "Um, I'm going to take this. Can you hold any calls and if anyone comes to talk, tell them to just email me?"

"Oh, ok. Yeah, I'll take care of it," Melody nodded.

"Thank you."

Rushing back to her office and quickly shutting her door, she raced to her phone. She read the business name again, not sure if she was dreaming or if it was a hallucination.

Nope. Hammer Attorney was written in Melody's perfect penmanship on the paper with a number that held an area code from New York. A place she never thought she would hear from again and from a town she hadn't visited in almost 10 years._________________

"Buck, did you tell Fury about getting those new water therapy machines?" Steve shouted from his room.

"We're at home, Steve. Why are we talking about work?" Bucky groaned as he slouched on the couch. A beer in hand and a documentary with I Survived stories playing in front of him.

Steve came in from around the corner looking down at his phone in hand before moving his eye line to his roommate.

"Because I just got a call from the night crew saying that the last one that was working, finally went out tonight while they were running it for some test," Steve raised an eyebrow.

"Ugh, you would think that a facility run by a billionaire who literally makes his money on high-tech machines, wouldn't have to ask for those kinds of things," Bucky groaned, grabbing his own phone and going through emails. "Let me check to see if the email went through. He wasn't in office when I went to tell him."

As he was sorting through the hundreds of emails sent back and forth just this week alone, he found the reply message.

"Yeah, management confirmed it. They should be in by Saturday it looks like. Guess Stark was still working out the kinks to a new one and was waiting to send one our way until the last one died to get more time on his newest model."

Steve nodded before walking to the kitchen and typing Bucky's response to the other crew members.

"The man is always finding new ways to upgrade them before he can even send them to us."

Just as Bucky was about to throw his phone to the side again though, it started ringing. Looking at the caller ID, he didn't recognize the unknown number. It was from in-state but in his hometown area of Brooklyn. He pinched his eyebrows together confused at the call, but answered it anyway, thinking it must be someone from home.

"Hello?"

"Hello. Is this Mr. Barnes?" The other voice answered.

"Yes, this is him. Who's this?" he asked, sitting up a little and putting the beer on the end table.

"My name is Matthew Murdock. I work at Nelson and Murdock Law firm," he went on. Bucky shook his head not knowing what that was supposed to mean. "Well, you may actually know us previously as Hammer Attorney. We recently just took over their business after some fraud issues."

Bucky's heart stopped. He knew what that name meant.

"I hate to inform you, but we were going through some of their old files. Ones we were informed could be incomplete or done completely incorrectly due to little care in the actual cases, but more so in taking the money."

"Incomplete cases?" Bucky said softly. His brain was still trying to wrap around the conversation.

"Yes, unfortunately, it looks like a lot of cases having to deal with divorces that the past owners handled, were done strictly in order to launder money. They weren't actually certified, nor trained in handling divorce settlements."

Bucky froze. Eyes wide. Mouth agape.

He stuttered out a response when the man on the other line didn't continue.

"A-And talking about incomplete divorce settlements, you called because..." Bucky knew. He needed to hear it out loud because if he didn't, it wasn't true. It couldn't be.

"I'm so sorry Mr. Barnes, but it looks as though you and your wife, Y/N Y/L/N or sorry, Y/N Barnes, are actually not divorced."

(I will release the first chapter at the beginning of next week! That way I can give myself some time to write more chapters before sharing it!)

Moral of the Story Taglist:

@taylormobley @ximaginx @vicmc624

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @heyiamthatbitch @lizzymacy555  @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326 @captain-asguard @mollygetssherlockcoffee @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses​ @pham-tastical 

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravicente​ @kakakatey​ @traceyaudette​ @notyourtypicalrose​  @laneygthememequeen​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @thefaithfulwriter​ @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​  @xostephanie​ @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​ @gh0stgurl​ @cs-please​ @carls1022​ @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @carls1022​ @anise-d-castle6​ @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​ @alyispunk​

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker​ @charmedbysarge​ @jbarness​ @bellamy-barnes​ @katiaw2​ @aikeia​

[happyreid187]

Privilege - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

WC: 2.1 K

A/N: Sad Spencer post nightmare comfort. Discovering and sharing feelings about each other. Mild angst then fluff. I wrote this after my season 8 rewatch but it’s not explicitly situated in any particular season. 

Warnings: Brief mentions of Spence’s various trauma; case issues, mom issues, drug use, generalized dark and twistiness. Insecurity. Swearing. Single sentence implying reader grew up religious. References to sex but not actual smut. 

____

With both of us working insane hours, we agreed early on to be casual, and then completely and entirely ignored that agreement in every way except verbiage. Avoiding labels and verbal expressions of affection, I pretended that it wasn’t emotional self destruction to spend every waking hour with this man who was notably not my boyfriend. With the amount of affection between us, it was easy to pretend it was something more. When we weren’t working, I essentially lived in his bed.

____

I was deep asleep when I heard him whimpering, waking to find him tossing and turning, breathing quickly. It took me a second to get my bearings, but when I did, I woke him as gently as I could

“Spencer! Spence.” His eyes shot open, and he immediately jumped, looked to me with his eyes welling up, and started shaking.

“Hey,” my voice was desperate as I wrapped my arms around him, “Baby, what’s the matter?” The pet name was generally reserved for other activities in this bed, but it felt appropriate now. I ran my fingers through his hair, trying to calm him. “Was it about a case?”

“It was about...” he started. “No, I don’t want to freak you out!” He sort of tossed and turned again, now in my lap. “This isn’t your job, you shouldn’t have to deal with this.” He sounded angry; with himself, and the situation. I tried to ignore the feeling that’s he might be angry with me.

“Why would it freak me out? Your job is depressing as shit, Spence. This is kind of predictable. Talking through it with you? None of this is work for me. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but you can.” I said, waiting for him to decide how to proceed.

He fiddled with his hands in that nervous way of his. “It was about you. First, you were breaking? Like glass on a windshield? Cracking but not falling apart. And everything around us was breaking; the phones and then the walls and then your face,” his voice broke then, “and then my own chest.”

Where the tears were only threatening to overflow before, he was really crying now, in a way I’d never seen him do before. In a way grown men rarely do in our terrible society if they can avoid it. In a way that made it hard for either of us to breathe. “But then it sort of mixed with work, and there was an unsub and he had you, and I couldn’t get to you. I tried, but I couldn’t get to you, and then...” he paused there, and I inferred the rest by his pained silence.

“You don’t have to keep going, I get it. And I’m not freaked out. I’m right here, Spencer. You’ve got me, and I’ve got you too. You are okay. You’re okay.” he didn’t say anything for a minute, and I rethought my words. “I’m not trying to belittle or silence you. I know you don’t feel okay. But you’re here with me, and no one’s broken, and you’re breathing, and I’m breathing, and you’re okay.”

“I’m not worried about me...” he grumbled, like it was obvious. Like I was wasting our time, worrying about him.

“Well I’m fine. I’m good. I’m happy to be here for you.”

He looked up at me doubtfully. “How can you be happy to be woken up at 4:02 am?”

Too sleepy to veil my feelings entirely, with words like adoration and devotion drifting through my head, I settled on saying, “It’s a privilege to have the chance to be here for you, and support you, and help you feel better. I have you, and you have me; okay? I’m here.”

“I’ve got you...” he softly echoed my words from earlier.

“You’ve got me.” I answered easily. It was a simple, honest fact to share.

There was a shift in him then. He pushed himself up with one arm, leaning back and staring at me, looking exasperated and vaguely frantic, like he just realized something was wrong. He looked almost angry as he asked “What the fuck are we doing?

I didn’t even know how to begin to answer that question. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m having nightmares about losing you, you’re like, taking over my subconscious, and renting all this space in my head, and then I wake up to find you here, in my bed, drying my tears and calling it a privilege! Like do you have to be so... I don’t know. Warm?” Well, that was a new one. I had never known that to be a bad thing, particularly with him. He flocked to my sentimentality like a moth to a flame.

He wasn’t done though. “I never intended to care about someone this much. It’s confusing for me. I know you have your catholic guilt, but you don’t have to martyr yourself for me. Dealing with my shit is emphatically not a blessing.” He took a deep breath and braced himself. He half smiled, half sobbed, and to be frank, he was freaking me the fuck out. “Unless you..” he trailed off. IQ of 187; an epic communicator, this one. I gave him a look that begged him to continue, holding my tongue as if he would break, like the dream, if I spoke. He sighed heavily, trying to catch his breath. I reached over hesitantly, unsure if he wanted to be touched, terrified of making it worse. Slowly, I wiped away the tears on both cheeks, willing him to look at me. He didn’t, choosing his lap instead.

I waited for him to continue. “I don’t have a lot of experience with fuck buddies,” he spit the last two words like they repulsed him, like they didn’t fit right on his tongue. Foreign words with uncertain and unsettling definitions. “...but I don’t think it’s supposed to feel like this.”

“Feel like what?” Despite the tears and the heavy air that threatened to suffocate me, I felt a new feeling. Like I would maybe feel better soon. I silently begged him to speak faster, hoping he could somehow telepathically pick up on my anxiety as I hung on every word.

“A privilege. That’s just...” he paused again, shaking his head. I could feel my anxiety coursing through my veins in a bizarrely literal sense. I wasn’t entirely sure where he was going with this, and I waited in suspense as he chose every word carefully. He then looked with me with the warmth I’d come to know, to expect, and to crave. “I know you’re a really tender person but why would you do this if we're just sleeping together?”

IQ of 187, this one.

After his lengthy monologue with its intensely painful pauses I cut straight to the point. “Are we?”

The sadness vanished from his face, leaving nothing in its place but wheels turning. No more damned pauses; I have to be brave now. “I’m not.”

“What?” I couldn’t figure out what to make of his expression. It wasn’t relief. Concern, maybe? Or disbelief? “Just sleeping with you that is. Does that make you upset?”

“No, no, y/n/n, it doesn’t make me upset.” his eyes meeting my face. I could feel that he was about to ramble, finally, and I was intensely grateful. “It depends on what you really want. It’s hard for me to believe that you actually want this.” he points at himself, like that explained his insecure thinking. Honestly, how dare he speak about my person in such a way, but now wasn’t the time to critique his criticism.

“You want to be woken up by nightmares after cases? To sleep alone while I’m gone? and when I’m around deal with my neurosis and awkwardness and rambling? and family drama? and drug cravings?” He dropped his eyes and his voice, “You could do so much better.”

We didn’t have time to even begin to unpack all of that. Not in the middle of the night, on the edge of everything we both want. I could write a novel explaining how he is in fact the very best I can imagine, but that would take time to convince him of. Time like years. Time like marriage.

Again trying to move this conversation to the conclusion I ached for just a bit faster, I answered directly, “Yes. I want that. I want you.” Like it was the simplest thing in the world.

I searched his face for some sort of happiness or disgust but received a blank stare and a look of bewilderment.

“I just want you. I’ve wanted you this whole time. I thought you would figure it out.” I laughed, and he smiled, a real smile that touched his hazel eyes that somehow sparkled in the dimly lit room, finally. “With fuck buddies, I don’t typically snuggle and go on museum dates or stop seeing other people or stick around for months.”

“You want me?” he smiled, but doubt loomed, and his smile fell as his long fingers traced my jaw.

“You say that now, but I think you’re going to find that I am a difficult person to love.” He said, as if I didn’t already know him. As if I didn’t already see him in all of his brilliance and darkness, all of his complexity and baggage. As if knowing him hadn’t been a precursor to loving him.

“Spencer, everyone thinks that about themselves.” I replied, greeted with still more disbelief. I continued in spite of him. “Besides,” I shrugged with a small smile, like my conclusion was entirely self evident, “It’s too late now.”

“What, you think that about yourself? First of all, you are unbelievably easy to love. The easiest in the whole world, probably. I know that that sounds hyperbolic, but I really mean it - I sincerely think that you are the single most lovable woman on the planet.” he rambled, talking with his hands and earning a tearful chuckle from me. “In my world at least. You are in fact, despite my best efforts, impossible not to...” he paused to physically shove the thought away, moving forward with a grimace.

“Second of all, what do you mean too late? I have a feeling I might know what you’re going to say. Please say it, y/n,” he whispered like that would make it less scary. “Or do you want me to say it? I don’t want to spook you but... it’s too late for what?”

“Too late to stop myself from loving you.”

 Finally, finally a look of understanding graced his face. A look like he believed me. He smiled that stunning, whole face smile of his that was reserved for special occasions.

 “Can you say the whole thing?”

“I love you, Spencer.”

“I love you, too.”

He was only half sitting up anyways, so when I kissed him he fell to the bed, and protested immediately. “No! I’m so gross and snotty, stop.” I settled on peppering kisses on his neck and damp cheeks instead.

I laid my head on his chest, murmuring, “You can go back to sleep, and when you wake up, I’ll still be loving you, and I won’t be broken because of it, and I certainly won’t be gone.”

“Okay,” he responded, voice still broken, but no matter. He’ll heal. He’ll believe me more with time. Eyes heavy and stinging, my adrenaline eventually waned, and I was about to fall back asleep, when his voice pulled me back.

“Just to be completely clear, this is no longer a fuck buddy situation. Like, I'm your boyfriend. Right?”

“Was it ever really a fuck buddy situation?” I laughed “But if it was, it’s over. You are mine, Spencer Reid. If that wasn’t obvious.”

I could hear his smile in his voice “Sorry, it’s so late, and my brain isn’t really working and I just wanted to make absolutely sure.”

He paused for a few minutes.

“I’ll check back again in the morning.”

“I’ll still be here.”

~~~

In my half asleep state, his soft words barely registered. “Good morning, sweet girl. I’m so lucky to get to love you.”

“I love you too.” I mumbled, smiling without opening my eyes. There’s his confirmation. He’s always been one for collecting good data, I suppose.

“Please keep doing that.”

[kiribakuficrecs]

hello!!! im going on a very long trip at the end of april and I'm looking for some very long fics to download to keep me entertained! i dont care what they're about as long as there's no major character death or mentions of non-con. ur blog is a godsend ilysm and you do such a good job thank you so much 🙏

hi there!! i definitely have a lot of good lengthy fics i can recommend to you!

quote love unquote by newamsterdam 

Sero nods. “It’s the chance of a lifetime, really,” he says. “We want you to date Bakugou, for the sake of his reputation with the press. Some public appearances, a few ‘candid’ photos. For at least a couple of months.”

“Bakugou sent you to ask me to date him?” Kirishima asks, baffled.

“Of course not. We, his people, are asking you to date him. He’s going to have to get on board, if he wants his career to survive. And in the bargain, Riot will get all sorts of publicity, because their lyricist will be dating one of the industry’s hottest stars. A win for everyone.”

When Kirishima Eijirou's band hits the big time, he's not prepared for his newfound fame. He's even less prepared to meet the actor he's been crushing on for years, or to start dating him as a publicity stunt. The closer Kirishima gets to Bakugou Katsuki, the more he realizes he's in over his head. But it's hard to stop, once his heart is in it.

acceptance and denial by poteto

It all goes okay when Kirishima decides to come out to his friends and it all goes wrong when decides that Bakugou is the best fake boyfriend material.

cause the darks not taking prisoners tonight by imatrisarahtops

“Are those soba noodles?” Kirishima asked.

Again Bakugou’s only reply was a grunt. He offered no further explanation—not that Kirishima honestly expected one—as though making soba noodles from scratch at half past four in the morning wasn’t at all a bizarre occurrence and made complete and total sense. For a fleeting moment, Kirishima even wondered if maybe he was the odd one here. Besides, he’d already decided it was generally not in his best interest to question these types of things with Bakugou, especially when it was something essentially harmless.

When Kirishima has a nightmare and is unable to fall back asleep, he accepts defeat and decides to study in the common area of the dorms. What he doesn't expect to find is Bakugou, also very much awake, and Kirishima can't help but think that maybe they're both having the same problems with sleeping. If he's worried, it's just because they're friends. (Right?)

the weight of your hand by kamin

That night, to the citizens, the explosions were a jolt of fear at every blast, but to the heroes and the students of UA, they were punches and swings, fierce fighting and loud strength. The explosions were the pulse of the battle, and the power of a boy that would never back down.

One after another, explosions set a chorus through the shuddering city.

And then, suddenly—the explosions stopped.

(In which Bakugou’s kidnapping goes a little differently, and just a few seconds could change so much.)

so take my hand (your life will be brighter) by multiclassmaps

When a stranger shows up at the ice rink during Bakugou's usually private training sessions, Bakugou expects to hate him. He doesn't expect to develop feelings that become increasingly difficult to deny, or for them to help each other sort through their emotional baggage. - Bakugou really didn't like Kirishima's smile. There was something about it that made his stomach hurt, something about it that made it difficult to focus. He definitely hadn't thought about that smile on his way to the ice rink that day. He definitely hadn't.

distance makes the heart grow fonder (false) by dragontrappedinhumanskin

When Bakugo and Kirishima get hit by a quirk that forces them to literally stick together or face the less then desirable consequences, how the fuck is Bakugo supposed to keep his crush hidden?! Well, turns out he never needed to.

-- “Well, this fucking sucks, how are we supposed to train?!” "Really closely?"

perihelion by tauontauoff

Bakugou was a comet, blazing out of reach. Kirishima knew he was stupidly lucky that his furious trajectory went by close enough that his fingertips got to graze the cowl of fire. It was enough.

During Christmas Class 1A and 1B spend a laid-back week learning about extreme environment hero work in the Alps. Kirishima was used to keeping part of his feelings for Bakugou hidden, and had every intention of keeping it that way, but things don't always go according to plan.

fight me by mr_todoroki

Bright red, spiky hair. Annoyingly bright smile. Clothes that radiate ‘look at me’ vibes. Neon yellow tank top with black shorts. And those were definitely crocs on his fucking feet.

Yeah, Katsuki hated this guy.

-

Bakugou gets a new roommate.

quietly by chezka

“We’ve been taking the same way to and from school for weeks,” Kirishima grinned, and then when Bakugou frowned at him he put on an affected pout, tilted his head so that he was looking at him through his thick, long lashes, “you never noticed? Am I that easy to miss?”

He could barely finish the sentence before a laugh escaped his lips, and Bakugou rolled his eyes, hit him with a shoulder a little more violently than necessary.

“You stick out like a sore thumb, broom-head,” he grumbled, promptly ignoring Kirishima's whining about his hairstyle when it started coming, “I didn’t notice ‘cause I didn’t care.”

“And now you do?”

everyone knows that cats are independent by purplepersnickety

Eijirou enjoys his job, working the graveyard shift at a 24/7 coffee shop. His daemon Riot is always there to keep him company, and he likes meeting the early-morning patrons and giving them the best possible kick-start to their day. It's been his routine for about a year now.

Then one day, a grouchy guy with a daemon in the form of a lion walks into the shop in the dead of night, and Eijirou decides to strike up a conversation with him.

punks not dead by wrunic

“So you want to use me to piss off your mom?” Kirishima summarized, raising one pierced eyebrow at Katsuki.

“Look, if you want to be all fucking judgy about it, I take cash,” Katsuki said, dropping his hand palm up on the table.

“Hey now,” Kirishima said, raising his hands in surrender, “I didn’t say I wasn’t doing it. I’m always down for a little chaos.” He flashed a grin, showing off his ridiculous shark teeth.

“Good,” Katsuki said. “We start tomorrow."

sent, delivered, read, loved by kiribakuhappiness

Kirishima E. [6.49pm]: ur okay for such an angry dude bakugou! :)

Bakugou K. [7.12pm]: FUCK YOU!

Kirishima E. [7.14pm]: haha! :D ttyl!

Bakugou K. [7.48pm]: FUCKING WHAT DO THOSE DUMB LETTERS MEAN???

Bakugou K. [7.52pm]: I JUST LOOKED IT UP DONT FUCKING TALK TO ME LATER!

Bakugou K. [7.52pm]: STOP TXTING ME!!!

- OR -

Bakugou's and Kirishima's relationship develops from classmates to friends to more, as told through their text conversations.

flicker by mr_todoroki

He was starting to feel depressed. Life was so uninteresting. It was so mundane and forgettable. He had no one to hang out with besides Kota, his family didn’t even live in the city.

He grew his hair out as some sort of rebellion, some sort of stand to make his life the slightest bit more interesting. But he could already feel himself giving in to the pressure of cutting it. He needed to work to live. Without a job, he’d truly have nothing.

OR

Kirishima never applied to UA, therefore never became a hero.

let’s get down to business by kjelfalconer

Katsuki Bakugou, one of the brightest rising stars on wall street, is in need of a new personal assistant. Again. Could Eijirou Kirishima finally be the one to last more than two months?

Katsuki's long suffering HR department sure hope so.

something about us by bigstupidjellyfish

nothing like being in highschool and having no idea how to deal with emotions

fireproof by inkbender

Four years after a classmate nobody seems to remember is kidnapped by the League of Villains, Kirishima drags an amnesiac hobo he found washed up on the beach into his apartment, attempts to teach him how to adult (with varying degrees of success), and discovers along the way that the line between heroism and villainy is quite fine indeed. Plot-divergent after episode 45, the Forest Training Camp arc.

blood riot by magicallee (alternatively)

Kirishima from a universe with no quirks is mind-swapped with an alternate universe version of himself where there are superpowers.

And in that universe he’s a super villain.

And Bakugou is the superhero who caught Evil-Kirishima and put him in prison.

blindside by drowclericpelor

“You’re the first guy friend I’ve had that I can just like, be friends with. You’re either the most unthirstiest boy ever...” Camie shrugged and made another wobbly illusion appear between her hands. It looked like a sparkly rainbow with the word ‘friendship’ beneath it, accompanied by what Bakugou assumed was supposed to be a twinkling sound effect, but it had a tinny quality to it and sounded far away. “...or I just ain’t got the kinda straw you like to ssssip.”

Carefully, Bakugou considered the strange turn this conversation had taken.

He had never been asked, point blank, if he was gay before. And he honestly had never thought about how he would respond. Lying about himself didn’t sit right with him. But he’d always wanted to wait until he was the number one hero - when he stood above everyone else - before coming out. Though he’d had times when he’d thought about doing it before then and had almost gone through with it once. But being the number one hero came first. It wouldn’t matter what people would say about it then as long as he’d risen to the top.

Bakugou knew his lack of a response would give Camie all the answers she needed.

flour power by wingsonghalo

“I’m telling you now, Shitty Hair,” the blonde growled, “I am not gonna play house with you. We will cart this stupid flour around for a week like the assignment says. But some of our idiot classmates are naming the thing and setting up ‘playdates’ and dressing it and I am not doing anything that stupid. Got it?”

Kirishima and Bakugou are paired up to take care of a flour sack for a week. It would be so simple, except nothing with Bakugou is ever simple. Also Kirishima might be kinda sorta completely head over heels for him.

sunchaser by chonideno

that feeling when you suddenly want to jump off a cliff for no reason but instead of a cliff it’s your best friend and instead of jumping it’s growing feelings out of nowhere

or how Bakugou has to try really hard not to throw everything to the wind, and Kirishima doesn't help

i also have a tag specifically for fics that reach somewhere between 30k-70k words long if you wanted to check that out as well! i hope you enjoy the fics here and that i was able to help, ily enjoy your trip!!! :D 

[path-of-my-childhood]

9 Taylor Swift Moments That Didn’t Fit in Our Cover Story

By: Brian Hiatt for The Rolling Stone Magazine Date: September 30th 2019

Taylor Swift had a lot to say in our recent cover story (on newsstands now), tracing her eventful path to Lover, her political views and many other topics in a lengthy, revealing interview. There was even more to the caffeine-fueled conversation, which Swift made it through on four hours of sleep after staying up greeting fans at her parents’ Nashville house. Here are some highlights:

On releasing “The Archer” after “Me” and “You Need to Calm Down”: That’s sort of the world in which a lot of the album lives. It’s weird, because in pop, I love hooks and bop and catchy melodies so much. And I also love writing the songs you need to ugly cry to. So I really enjoy “You Need to Calm Down” and the brattiness of “damn, it’s 7 a.m.,” and then the next song being like, this is how I feel about myself in my lowest moments… It was unexpected when people liked “The Archer” seemingly sort of unanimously, I was like, What? This doesn’t happen to me. This almost feels like foreign and strange.

On Lover‘s place in her catalog: Reputation was so far from what I usually do. And Lover feels like a return to the fundamental songwriting pillars that I usually build my house on. It’s really honest; it’s not me playing a character. It’s really just how I feel, undistilled. And there are a lot of very personal admissions in it. And also, I love a metaphor. I love building on the metaphor for a very long time. You know, the whole of Reputation was just a metaphor, but this is a very personal record. So that’s been really fun.

Writing the title track of Lover: I was sitting up at the piano up in my loft, and I had the chorus. It just kind of happened immediately. It was one of those ones that I wrote very very, very quickly. And I was working out the cadence of the first verse and it just sort of fell together. But then I took some time to write the bridge because I wanted to really level up with that bridge. That one would for me be less of a ranting bridge and more of a story-time fable type bridge. Sometimes I like to imagine a bridge as like a sort of fairy-tale lullaby fable expanding upon a song that has been not as detailed until that point. “Can I go where you go/ Can we always be this close forever and ever”  is less detail then when you go to the bridge and you realize like, oh, it just got really personal in the bridge. It expands on it all.

Writing “Paper Rings” We just were messing around, just wanting to make something really, really fun. And I had all these lyrics about all these funny memories of how something can start off in a really quirky way and surprise you. Like how it says, “I hate accidents, except when we went from friends to this.” So I wanted to show the quirkiness of a relationship and how it’s like, wow, this really fell together in really interesting, funny, playful, cute pieces. And now it’s something we’re both really stoked happened exactly the way it did.

On her creative burst circa 2016: I was writing constantly. And a lot of the things I was writing ended up being songs for Reputation. So after 1989, I didn’t write really anything. After I made 1989 and put it out, did all the promo stuff, went on tour... The Grammys happen, which is like this unbelievable blitz of excitement, followed by me going, “Oh my god, what am I going to make next?” I had no idea what to make next, because I was so proud. 1989 — I’m still so, so deeply proud of that record. But I was like, where do we go from here? I have no idea what comes after this. And so, when my life took a very dramatic shift, all of a sudden I knew what to make next — which is a strange dichotomy to feel like, ‘whoa, this is all really weird, twisted, dark and dramatic, but I can’t stop writing.’

I think I would have made Reputation whether or not I actually put out the album or ever made another album again. That album was a real process of catharsis, and I thought I experienced catharsis before, but I’d never had until that album, because it was creating this strange defense mechanism. And, I’d never really done that in that exact way before. The only way I’d done it in the past, was with “Blank Space,” which I wrote specifically about criticisms I had received for supposedly dating too many people in my twenties. I took that template of, OK, this is what you’re all saying about me. Let me just write from this character for a second.

On the Reputation Tour: That’s just such a fun album, Reputation. I’m so proud of how that whole process was because I’d never had an album that made more sense to people after they came to the concert. Literally people would be like, “I came to the show and now I completely love the record.” Now I get the record. Whereas before with 1989, I felt like it was such a great listen but it was harder to portray it live because when you when you see it live, you’re like, “Oh, I love that song and now she’s performing it live.” But it never had songs that came alive live.

With Reputation, I wanted to keep my head down, not say anything, but work harder than I ever worked. It was really motivational for me to just have the stadium tour to prepare for and prove myself almost. My career was in a weird spot, but still have that kind of ignite something in you to work harder, to practice longer, to think of bigger, better concepts for the live show. I was thinking, if anything can pull me out of this weird disillusionment I have with the way that things have gone in my career that I was feeling back then, I knew it would be playing live. If I could be proud of the live show and if I could feel that connection with fans, that would remind me of why I love this.

On the challenges of choreography: It’s really hard for me to memorize choreography. Dancers keep count, but I can’t memorize choreography that way. So I have to assign movement to an exact lyric. Everything in my brain has to be assigned to a lyric. Because I have to learn choreography in a way that reverts back to songwriting. My vibe is I have to rehearse so, so many times for so long that I can do the choreography without thinking about it. Because when I’m thinking about choreography, my face says it. You can see it in my eyes. There’s a fear and, like, a deadness to my eyes if I’m trying to remember choreography.

On being less caught up in chart battles: I’m just a little more chill about stuff like that now. Obviously, you want to do well, and you want to do things that people like and you want people not to make fun of you for that. A lot of the pressure that I feel in my career is just the fact that I’m compared to everything I’ve ever accomplished in the past and also new artists. I can’t live in that pressure cooker. Charts — I truly, truly do not understand how they work anymore. My friend Ed [Sheeran] is such a chart monger. He’s obsessed with how it works and the math of it. I have no idea what goes on with the math with it now, it used to be so easy. I don’t even get how, people get a big release week, because they sold T-shirts, or they sold concert tickets with their albums. It’s just very confusing. But I was stoked about the “ME!” music video getting that many YouTube views. I was like, well, that’s like, that’s something to write home about.

On the longevity of songs: I think it often takes a lot of time for people to understand how they feel about music. And I know that now because there’s a song on Red called “All Too Well” that I’m really, really proud of, and it took people about three years to note that that was one of the best songs. I didn’t see that starting to pop up when people would talk about my music until about two or three years after the album had its moment. So one thing that’s actually really comforting about music — and I know that people consume at a crazy speed now — but I think that things settle for people after a long period of time. My music kind of assigns itself to maybe a moment in somebody’s life; that’s the way that my fans usually describe it. So when you’re dealing in memory curation in a way, if they have memories that include one of my songs, they go and they live their lives and those memories become further in the past and more nostalgic to them, and the music becomes more important to them.

[unaskedformagnustheories]

UNASKED FOR MAGNUS THEORY #5: THE TAPES BELONG TO THE WEB

There’s been a resurgence in speculation about the tapes in the red-string community since Salesa dropped onto the scene - but I’d like to throw my two cents out there and say I’m not convinced the tapes’ ability to manifest in Upton House tells us anything new. We’ve already known they’re exceptional. The tapes are able to record real-life spook statements when nothing else can, and remembered Sasha’s voice after the Not Them replaced her. They seem to operate by their own set of rules, so while I thoroughly enjoyed last week’s episode about our smooth-talking Samoan merchant - I don’t think we learned anything new about the way the tapes function.

Or who’s behind them.

But looking back at evidence from the show so far? I have a strong suspicion it might be The Web.

EXHIBIT A: In the pre-launch trailer there’s a lot of language that sounds eerily foreshadowing in retrospect, and in that statement Jon mentions he’s going to give the tapes a “spin” - which sounds an awful lot like a nod to The Spider’s interference. However, spin is quite literally also an apt descriptor of the mechanisms inside, so this one might be nothing. 

EXHIBIT B: Multiple characters throughout the series point out that it doesn’t make sense for the tapes to belong to The Eye. 

TIM: It’s that...the thing that runs The Institute. ‘The Watcher’ or ‘The Eye’ or whatever.

JON: I dis...I disagree. This whole place is a temple to The Eye, Tim. I don’t think the tapes make any difference. (MAG 114) 

Not only would they be redundant during The Archivists tenure at The Institute, but the tapes continue to appear after The Eye has successfully performed The Watcher’s Crown. Even Jon questions why they’re there in the season 5 trailer: “It’s over, you’ve won. What can you possibly still need to hear?”, and Martin echoes this thought later in The Lonely - trailing off as he struggles to figure out what it wants, “Why? The Eye has won. It can already see everything; it wouldn’t need a – w-wouldn’t need a –”(MAG 170). That’s the point, Martin. The Watcher can see everything now, it wouldn’t need a statement. 

EXHIBIT C: Gertrude’s tapes seem to have a spider-like control over Daisy when she brings them to the Institute. “You ask me to take a tape over to this murdering freak, and I’m all set to tear you a new one for it. But then I get the cassette in my hand, and suddenly all I want to do is deliver his tapes and spill my guts” (MAG 91) .

EXHIBIT D: In The Masquerade, the team finds the Wax Museum full of cobwebs just before discovering a tape that’s manifested to record them. 

EXHIBIT E: In Binary we learn that the tapes are in fact digital, even though most people think of them as analogue, while in Web Development we learn that The Spider is managing to work around technology’s tendency to act strangely around The Great Powers. Is it such a stretch to believe The Web tinkered with earlier technology first? Tapes seem like a breeze compared to impossible chatrooms - and the statements recorded to tape serve an eerily similar function when compared to the posts submitted to the Chelicerae. 

EXHIBIT F: Gertrude herself started using the tapes around the time The Web bound her to Annabelle. As with anything relating to Gertrude Robinson, the timeline’s fuzzy. We know she worked at The Institute for approximately 50 years. Elias confirms this when he shoots her in MAG 158, “Fifty years is a long time. End of an era”. While it’s not an exact date, if the tape in question was recorded in 2015 we can presume Gertrude started working at The Institute around 1965. However she doesn’t start using the tapes until 1975. This is extrapolated by her own estimation from another recording taken in 2015 where Leitner points out a tape’s been recording their conversation about blowing up The Institute without her noticing. Gertrude lets slip: “Oh, good grief. Forty years I’ve been using them, and I swear, I’ll nev–” before unceremoniously turning off the recorder. So why the gap? Why did she not start using the tapes until ten years after she started at The Archives? Could it be that The Web wasn’t able to gain a foothold until after Agnes and Gertrude were intertwined? While it’s also difficult to pin down the date of that bond - I think it’s worth noting that Hill Top Road burned down in 1964 - which seems exactly like something a creature of fire incarnate would do if they realized they’d been tricked into something by The Mother of Spiders. 

EXHIBIT G: Annabelle Cane seems to be able to hear through them. Twice in the post-apocalyptic world, Annabelle tries calling Martin. Once in MAG 163 and once in MAG 166. The first time, Martin has quite literally just finished saying to a tape “you still haven’t told me what you’re doing here” when the phone begins to ring. Almost as if Annabelle was calling in response. The second time is not as direct, but the tape recorder does click on just in time for Martin (who has just wandered away from Jon) to find a spade and discover a buried, ringing cell phone. We don’t know how long she’s been at Upton House. We don’t know if she pops out in order to make her calls, but if she doesn’t? Then Salesa’s theory that those sorts of things shouldn’t work in his oasis don’t seem to apply to this particular avatar of The Web. The tapes, as they always have been, are an exception, an Annabelle seems to hold sway over their operations. 

I don’t think a lengthy conclusion is needed for this one. I’m still happy to hear other people’s theories till the very good cows come home. Whether or not it’s right, at the very least The Web’s been invested since the beginning. After all, Annabelle did greet Jon at Hill Top with the recording of his first tape. Was it simply a taunt? Or a hint that The Mother’s had her in his web since he first hit record. 

Stay safe out there, folks. 

[thankskenpenders]

Yeah, this is the big one. Grab your popcorn

Sally finally gets a moment to talk to Sonic after being ignored all day, and tells him what’s up. With her being put in charge, and Sonic being her royal consort (basically, the guy who’s committed to marrying her someday but isn’t quite her fiance yet), Sally wants Sonic to stop going on away missions and lead Knothole by her side

Look. Let’s set aside all of our preconceived notions about what a Sonic comic should or shouldn’t be. Ignore the fact that we obviously want to see Sonic go on adventures. Forget it. Let’s look at it from Sally’s perspective for a second

Yes, this is the post in which I explain that “The Slap” isn’t that bad. It’s certainly not great, but it’s not The Worst Thing Ever like it’s been made out to be. I wish I didn’t have to spend my evening writing this, but 15 years of hyperbolic fan outrage (note: some Wikia rando added that “reception” section this year) have forced my hand

First of all, again, Sonic is formally committed to marrying her and ruling alongside her someday. This was established ten issues ago. He was already committed to this. Then, Sonic went and died. Sally still spent an entire year of her life thinking her basically-fiance was dead, and had to deal with shit in Knothole without him as things continued to get worse and worse. No one can just bounce back from that unscathed. After his return, she WANTED to help Sonic and go be a Freedom Fighter on the last mission, but her parents forbade her and the royal guards kept her in the castle. (That SUCKS, but is a whole ‘nother conversation.) She wants to fight by his side and keep him safe, but her parents are forcing her to stay home and be the princess, which only makes her more distraught. Last issue, she broke down into tears when she saw Sonic get shot by M over Eggman’s video feed, and her mother had to console her and reassure her Sonic wasn’t dead

Sally very clearly has PTSD over Sonic’s “death” a year ago. She doesn’t want to lose him again. She’s outright said as much

And also... when she says Sonic isn’t the only hero around, she’s got a point?Sonic barely did anything in the last arc! Tails was the one who outsmarted ADAM. Shadow dealt with Eggman. Bunnie did most of the damage to M and took out an entire fucking aircraft carrier on her own. Knuckles, the Chaotix, Rouge, and Amy took out the robot horde. All Sonic did was land the final attack on M--which, honestly, someone else could’ve done. And he got his arm injured in the process

Add on to this all of the chaos of the last few days. Sally’s barely had a free moment to see Sonic since she found out he was alive. They nearly got nuked by Eggman. They’re being harangued by the paparazzi. It sucks. And hell, it goes back WAY further than this! She spent years as a kid trying to save her parents, and now all they do is belittle her. She found out she had a secret older brother, and then her parents decided he was the more important child. She went through all sorts of relationship drama. She nearly died a few times herself. And now, her parents have decided to leave her in charge of their whole kingdom at a time of war, while she’s still a mess from the trauma of losing Sonic. The idea Bollers had was apparently that Sally had been bottling up her issues for years (which she totally had been), and this was just the breaking point

I know Sonic’s desire to keep being a hero is understandable. I know he’s right. That’s all he really knows how to do, and he feels useless in times of peace. And obviously, we the readers want to see Sonic go on adventures. But Sally’s concerns are valid. We don’t have to agree with her plan to have Sonic rule by her side for her emotions to be understandable

Sally’s been on the verge of a breakdown for who knows how long. She should be mad at her parents, but they’ve worn her down to the point where she thinks she’s unable to confront them. (It would be very, very easy to make a case arguing that Sally’s parents are emotionally abusive. Max especially.) She thinks that Sonic is the one person who will listen to her and have her back. They’re betrothed, after all. This is literally what he signed up for. After trying to get his attention ALL DAY, she finally gets a chance to talk to him. But he wants other things in life, and refuses. In front of a crowd, no less

So she lashes out at Sonic and slaps him

Then they both start yelling at each other and crying. Sally asks Sonic if she’s more important to him than fighting Eggman, Sonic can’t answer, and Sally runs away in tears. For all intents and purposes, Sonic and Sally are now broken up. (For now.)

Should Sally be lashing out at Sonic? No. Could this scene be done better? Oh, absolutely. This is not the direction I would want Sally to go in as a character, and if you ARE gonna have them fight, this wasn’t written with the care required to make fans sympathize with both parties. The fact that we’ve seen everything from Sonic’s perspective with barely any insight into Sally’s certainly doesn’t help. But as the several lengthy paragraphs above explain, this does not come out of nowhere. It’s easy to find lots of fans online calling Sally all sorts of names (sometimes very misogynistic or ableist ones) because they think she just flipped out on Sonic out of nowhere. But she didn’t. Sally having some sort of breakdown had been foreshadowed for several issues, and the reasons why make sense. No, she shouldn’t have lashed out at Sonic, but this isn’t just her going “Oh no, my period! Let’s nuke England!” as so many have made it out to be. (And hell, the comics already had a lengthy history of treating Sally even worse than this, with Gallagher making her the nagging girlfriend who bickered with Sonic all the time and Penders sympathizing more with her shitty dad.)

Again, this was supposed to be a turning point in which Sally bottling up all this crap and carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders finally leads to her breaking. It’s a dramatic low point to build back up from. The problem is that Bollers left the series only a few issues later, and Penders and “Chacon” never did much with this. So in hindsight, many view this as her randomly snapping “for no reason,” because the followup stories that would have explored how she’d been bottling up her feelings were never actually written. But it’s not hard to figure out what’s supposed to be going on in her head if you actually go back and look at the preceding Sally scenes

For the most part, this is just run of the mill relationship drama for Archie Sonic. You see this kind of shit all the time in serialized media. Characters date, but the writers need to keep things ~spicy~, so they break up, see other people... then inevitably end up back together, and the process repeats ad nauseum. You ever watch Scrubs? You know how JD and Elliot are obviously love interests from episode one, but they had to do that will they/won’t they shit for years and have flings with other characters to keep up ratings? Yeah, it’s just that. For Sonic, there’s also the added pressure from Sega, who never allowed Sonic to be in any stable relationship for very long. Several writers have talked about how this limited what they could do with Sonic and Sally. Do I like that this cycle of drama is the norm? No. But after over 200 of these comics, I’m used to it

(And hell, at this point in the comics, they had literally just broken up Bunnie and Antoine, and Rouge was starting to get in the way of Knuckles and Julie-Su’s relationship. Between Julie-Su and Knuckles’ first kiss and them actually dating, Penders had Julie-Su get mad at Knuckles and go out with some random other guy. They do this shit all the time)

The worst you can really say about this scene is that Jon’s art is a little too goofy and undermines the drama a bit. In his own words from his website’s FAQ: “I’m sorry. Like I said, I was an overeager noob and I drew what I was given.” But really, he had been drawing these sorts of exaggerated, frantic expressions throughout the entire issue. Not just with Sally. Look at all the panels of Sonic wigging out in the previous pages. I still think his work is fantastic. If anything, it was a bad call on Archie’s part to give this somber scene to a brand new artist with a very exaggerated, silly art style. He just drew what was in the script

You know what really blows about this whole thing, though? Jon Gray is still, to this day, over 15 years later, getting harassed for drawing The Slap

That is so utterly ridiculous and shitty. People have made up all sorts of conspiracy theories about the slap, saying that Jon had some sort of “anti-Sally agenda” and that it wasn’t in the script. (This is completely false.) People are so stuck in the past and bent out of shape over this one panel in a pretty run-of-the-mill Archie Sonic issue that Jon has to block people who come into his Twitter mentions accusing him of “sabotaging” the series on a regular basis. Y’all, Jon’s a good guy, and he doesn’t deserve to be treated like that

And lord. There’s so much nastier shit within this series. Penders hooking a 15-year-old Sally up with a dude in his 20s (and later saying that he wanted her to lose his virginity to said dude). Gallagher making Barby Koala have a creepy crush on Tails. Penders rephrasing a poem about the Holocaust to be about hedgehogs. Penders having Sally rationalize her dad’s attempt at genocide. (I could go on and on with Penders, can you tell)

This whole thing is just, so blown out of proportion. It’s not a great scene, but it didn’t “ruin” Sally’s character. Neither Jon nor Bollers had some sort of “anti-Sally agenda.” They weren’t out to ruin your fucking ship. And for god’s sake, quit yelling at them about it. This was 15 years ago and all parties involved have moved on. It’s just more melodrama in a series that’s always 90% melodrama

It’s a single panel in a comic about Sonic the Hedgehog. Can we move on

[emmerrr]

oh! what about an au where ronan and adam have been pining for each other for a long time and talked for the first time at a halloween costume party

YEAH OK I CAN DO THAT!!

-

Adam stood alone at the food table, eyeing up the pumpkin shaped cookies and bowls full of candy corn, and wondering if he could just shove a bunch into his pockets and then leave.

It was all Henry’s fault he was here, and yet within five minutes of arriving, Henry had ditched him. At a frat party. With no one else here he knew.

“You have to come,” Henry had said. “I’m inviting you. And you have to dress up. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

He’d needled away until Adam had eventually agreed, and now here he was, dressed as a very low maintenance and last minute cowboy using clothes he already had in his closet and a hat borrowed from his roommate, and Henry was nowhere to be found.

“Ugh,” said someone from his right, “candy corn.”

Adam didn’t understand the apparent universal hatred of candy corn. He loved it. He half turned to the newcomer, just annoyed enough to engage. “What’s wrong with candy corn?”

Too late, he realised who it was and he froze, eyes widening. But he’d spoken now, and Ronan, the boy he’d been pining over from a distance since the start of the semester looked up.

Adam only knew his name because during the first week of classes he had come into the coffee shop across campus where Adam worked, and that’s what he’d said to write on his to-go cup. Of course it was possible the drink was for someone else or that it wasn’t his real name, but Adam hoped it was, because it’s what he’d been calling this hot stranger in his head ever since. It suited him.

It was the only time Ronan had ever actually been in, at least while Adam was working, although he’d seen him walk past a few times. But he’d caught glimpses of him pretty often, all over campus. They didn’t share a single class, and Adam had never seen him with anyone else to even know if they had any mutual friends. Adam didn’t know what he was so taken by him for; he’d never spoken to him, not to mention he always looked just a little bit angry and unapproachable. But there was something intensely fascinating about him. Adam could never quite look away.

And now he was here, at this particular party and looking just as unhappy to be here as Adam was.

Ronan seemed to recognise Adam, too. Something sparked in his eyes, just for a second, but then he scowled and turned away. “What’s fucking right about candy corn is a better question.”

Adam might have been able to come up with a decent counterpoint, had it not been for what Ronan was wearing. Gone was all the black, pretty much the only colour Adam had ever seen him in, and in its place was an aquamarine polo-shirt and beige chinos. Instead of boots, there were boat shoes. All other thoughts fell out of Adam’s head. “Who the hell are you supposed to be?”

Ronan frowned. “I’m Gansey. Isn’t it obvious?”

Adam knew Gansey, sort of. They shared a few classes and only really ever said hi to each other, but Ronan’s outfit made sense as a costume now. More surprising was that he was good enough friends with Gansey to dress up as him for Halloween.

“I thought I recognised that polo-shirt.”

Ronan grinned at this and Adam hoped against hope he wasn’t blushing. “Right?”

“The tattoo kinda ruins the illusion though,” Adam said, nodding at Ronan’s neck, where the top of a tattoo he was absolutely dying to see in its entirety was just poking out.

“Thank fuck for that,” Ronan said. “Anyway, you’re not allowed to make fun of my costume seeing as you’re…what, a lumberjack cowboy?”

“Just a regular cowboy,” Adam said with a sigh. “I knew the flannel shirt was a mistake.”

Ronan smirked. “You only find out about this party today or something? This kinda looks like a last minute deal. I’m guessing this is all stuff you already own.”

“I mean, I borrowed the hat from my roommate but yeah, pretty much.”

Ronan gave Adam a lengthy once-over and then laughed. “You don’t even have cowboy boots.”

“Shut up,” Adam said, but he was laughing too. “You just raided your friend’s wardrobe. You expended no more effort than I did here.”

“Okay, true, but at least mine’s funny.”

“Only to people who know Gansey.”

“This is Gansey’s fucking frat!” Ronan pointed out.

Adam narrowed his eyes; he had to concede the point. “Alright, fair enough, you win.”

Ronan’s laughter subsided. “What’s your name anyway?”

“Adam,” Adam said. “Parrish.”

“Ronan Lynch,” Ronan replied. “C’mon, help me track down a beer. There’s gotta be one somewhere in this shithole.”

Adam followed him. How could he not? “Don’t suppose you’ve tried…oh, I don’t know, the fridge?” 

“Oh good, he’s a smartass,” Ronan said, shooting a smirk over his shoulder at Adam.

Well, shit, Adam thought.

Ronan led them through to the kitchen and pulled two beers out of the fridge, passing one back to Adam.

This task now over, Adam thought Ronan might disappear too, but instead he poked his head out the side door, then motioned to Adam. “It’s quieter out here.”

It was a little cold outside, but Adam’s shirt was long-sleeved at least. Ronan didn’t seem bothered by it at all as he leaned against the wall.

“So,” he said, taking a sip of beer, “no offence, but this doesn’t exactly seem like your crowd.”

“That doesn’t offend me,” Adam replied. “Although, I could say the same to you.”

Ronan shrugged. “Yeah, it’s not. But Gansey’s my best friend and he’s been on at me to come to one of these bullshit things all semester, so here I am.”

“So where is he?” Adam asked.

“That’s a good fucking question, Parrish,” Ronan said with a sharp laugh. It should have annoyed Adam that Ronan had called him by his last name, but for some reason it didn’t. “He’s probably striking out with this girl he’s been after for a while.” Ronan laughed again. “He accidentally implied she was a prostitute when they first met so it’s been a bit of an uphill journey.”

“How do you accidentally imply someone’s a prostitute?”

“I dunno, man, but Gansey fucking managed it.” Ronan shook his head, fond. “Anyway, who’re you here with?”

“My friend, Henry Cheng, d’you know him?”

“Don’t think so.”

“He’s around here somewhere, dressed as Tom Cruise in Risky Business.”

Ronan nodded. “Oh yeah, I think I saw him just before I saw you, he was holding court at the karaoke machine. I mean, unless there’s more than one Risky Business costume at this party.”

“Honestly? I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Adam was glad they’d come outside. He could hear better a bit away from the loud music and the noise of everyone else, and he liked that Ronan had clearly specifically brought him out here so he could talk to him. Conversation was flowing easier than Adam tended to find talking to strangers, and he was incredibly glad that his admittedly irrational crush on Ronan wasn’t being ruined by his personality.

It made him feel a little bit brave.

He leaned against the wall next to Ronan, letting their arms touch. Ronan didn’t move away. “I have a confession to make.”

“Oh yeah?” Ronan said. “What’s that.”

“I sort of knew who you were already. Before tonight, I mean.” He glanced up out of the corner of his eye, but Ronan was looking straight ahead. “I just…I’ve seen you around. And you came into the coffee shop once, and I served you. So I knew your name already.”

Ronan’s mouth curved up in a brief smile. “You remember that, huh?”

Relief flooded through Adam. “I thought you’d forgotten.”

“I never forget a face,” Ronan said solemnly, then he glanced at Adam and grinned again. “Well, not a face like yours anyway.”

Adam rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hide the smile. “So how come you never came in again?”

“I almost did a few times. But I dunno, I didn’t wanna be creepy? I didn’t wanna embarrass myself in front of the cute barista? Take your pick.”

“All this time we could have been living our very own coffee-shop AU,” Adam said with false wistfulness.

Ronan snorted. “How would it be an AU if it’s our literal fucking lives?”

“Shut up, just let me have this.”

Ronan elbowed him lightly in the side. “You’re a dork. I like that.”

“Yeah?” Adam asked, and Ronan nodded. “Well I like that you were too shy to come back into the coffee shop.”

“Hey, I never said shy,”

“Whatever,” Adam said smugly. “You were shy.”

“Alright, fine. But don’t tell anyone.” He turned so he was facing Adam. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

“I’m sure it’s a very terrifying reputation,” Adam tried to snark back, but he wasn’t sure how well it came off. Ronan was so close now, and he thought his heart was beating out of his chest.

“It is,” Ronan whispered, and his eyes flickered to Adam’s lips, and he leaned closer and both their eyes drifted shut…

…and Adam put his hand gently on Ronan’s chest to stop him.

Ronan’s eyes flew open. “Sorry,” he mumbled, and stepped back. “I thought—”

“No,” Adam said quickly. “You thought right. It’s just…”

Ronan tilted his head to the side, all concern. “What?”

Adam sighed. “I can’t kiss you while you’re wearing that fucking polo-shirt.”

Any thought that he might have offended Ronan disappeared when Ronan burst out laughing. “If you wanted me out of my shirt, all you had to do was ask, Parrish.”

That was exactly what Adam wanted, but perhaps now wasn’t the best time.

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Absolutely fucking nothing, why?”

“Do you maybe want to do something? Food, or a drink, or anything. Just…as ourselves, and not as Gansey and a lumberjack cowboy.”

Ronan smiled, the softest one Adam had seen so far. He suspected this one was rare.

“It’s a date.”

[drakewalkerfantasy]

Flames of yesterday: Chapter 13

Summary: 5 years ago they made a mistake. They were two broken men drinking away their love life issues, and one girl trying to help a friend. What the night leaves them with are two broken hearts and one nearly broken friendship. 5 years later, two are still broken and another one fixed. But what happens when they all meet again? Will it open old wounds and bring all the their insecurities rushing back?  Or will it mend the two hearts still looking for warmth, unable to find it after their parting?

Words: 4606

Authors notes: A crossover of Open Heart and The Elementalists, a collaboration series by @drakewalkerfantasy​ and @fluffy-marshmallow-heart​

Sorry that it took us awhile to come back with another chapter and thank you to everyone who send your asks. We really appreciate this :) Also this chapter got lengthy, but I hope you will love it.

Ethan x OH MC (Diana)

Beckett x TE MC (Oriana)

**Warnings: **

Leaving Diana and Oriana sleeping, Ethan and Beckett walked across the street to Donahue’s, taking a seat at the bar. Ethan ordered them both a scotch on the rocks. The men were silent as the bartender made their drinks and set them down in front of them. Ethan tipped his glass in salute.

“To your successful surgery. You were perfectly adequate in there.” He took a sip while Beckett rose an eyebrow.

“Adequate? Dr. Ramsey, I know we don’t know each other well, but I can assure you that nothing I have done in my entire life has been classified as ‘adequate’. I’m more used to the term ‘brilliant.’”

“And cocky.” Ethan grumbled, taking another sip.

Beckett just shrugged. “Sometimes cockiness is earned. You of all people should know that.”

Ethan sighed. “Okay, Dr. Harrington, I guess I can say that I understand why you’re the top surgical intern and everyone speaks so highly of you…including Diana.”

“She’s also brilliant.”

Ethan agreed. “She really is. She’s…one of a kind.” He eyed Beckett, who sat there nursing his drink quietly. “You’re not one for small talk I take it?”

“Not exactly. It’s not that I’m not interested, it’s just that most people look at me and how I carry myself, and assume I’m a snob. It…takes me awhile to warm up to someone. Not to mention, we have a bit of a history together. One that I’ve basically managed to forget until starting at the hospital. It has caused problems with my wife and I all over again.”

Ethan nodded slowly. “So, your wife knows about when we…your wife knows how both you and Diana have met me before?”

Beckett gave him an incredulous look. “Of course, she does. She’s everything to me, we don’t have secrets. I told her before she and I became serious. I mean, I was always serious about her, but…it was difficult on her to know that Di and I had been intimate, and in such a provocative way…” He trailed off as a small smile formed on his lips. “However, if it wasn’t for Di, then we would never have gone on our first date. Ori always says she fell in love with me on that date.” His smile broadened at the memory.

Ethan watched the way Beckett had completely brightened when talking about his wife. Wracking his brain, Ethan realized that Beckett never looked like that when he was around Diana. How could he have missed that? It’s his job to be observant, and he’s one of the best diagnosticians in the country. “How long have you all been friends?”

Beckett glanced at him.  “I’ve known Diana almost my whole life. Oriana and I got together five years ago. With Diana’s help.”

“Five years?” Ethan asked, confused.

“Yes, just a few months after…” He trailed off, clearing his throat. “Long story short, Di and I stopped speaking for a while. And one day, Diana approached Oriana and somehow managed to convince her to give me a chance, even though we didn’t know each other, we’d never met. But…” His face turned bright red. “I’d had a huge crush on her for several years already.”

“If you already wanted to be with someone, then why did you…”

“I was drunk. And it’s not like it didn’t feel good, it felt amazing. But it was wrong. That’s why we stopped speaking. That’s why she went to Oriana. To try and fix things between us. Di and I…we were never romantic. And we never will be. Growing up together, everyone expected us to eventually fall in love and get married, but…that spark…it was just never there.”

Ethan looked at him thoughtfully. “That’s why you originally didn’t want to participate that night, isn’t it? I remember she practically had to beg you. I knew you weren’t a couple because of that.”

Beckett looked away, embarrassed, the tips of his ears turning red. “I really don’t like thinking about it. And suddenly seeing you again forced me to think about it. I didn’t want to know you. I didn’t want Di to know you. I hated you after that night.”

“That’s…understandable.” Ethan said quietly. Beckett still wasn’t looking at him, so he decided to bring the conversation back to Oriana. That seemed to get him talking before, it should again.

“I know today scared you, Beckett. I didn’t realize your wife was pregnant. Hell, I didn’t realize you were married.”

“She’s almost as far along as Dolores.” He replied absentmindedly. “Though I’m a bit surprised you didn’t know I was married. Everyone else does. I literally have a picture of her in my locker. And an ultrasound picture.”

Ethan chuckled lightly. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

Beckett rolled his eyes. “Yes, you were. You’ve had jealousy written all over you since we started at the hospital. You assumed Di and I were together, and therefore didn’t pay attention to anything else.”

Ethan opened his mouth to argue but Beckett cut him off before he could. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. I’ve seen the longing, the respect, the passion, the…” Beckett paused a moment. “The love. My advice? For what it’s worth…don’t waste time denying your feelings. If there’s anything I’ve learned today…time is precious. You’re not going to know how she feels until you say something, do something. I wasted three whole years not introducing myself to Oriana. The two of you already know each other. There’s still chemistry after five years of not even knowing each other’s’ last names. Tell her. She may be more receptive than you think she is.”

Ethan swirled his drink around, the ice cubes clinking against the glass, deep in thought before Beckett cleared his throat to get his attention again. “And also…call me Beckett. You’re going to be important to Diana, which means you’re going to be important to me. So, stop calling me Dr. Harrington. Unless we’re at work. In which case, please, always call me Dr. Harrington.”

“It is a bit awkward, isn’t it? I didn’t expect to see either of you ever again.” Ethan chuckled.

Beckett put his glass down and turned to fully face him. “I didn’t either. But let me tell you something. If you hurt her, I will make you regret it. And what I’ll do is nothing compared to what my wife and Diana will come up with to do on their own.”

Ethan’s mouth fell open as Beckett turned back forward and took another drink calmly, as though he’d never made a threat. Finishing the drink off, Beckett stood up. “I’m going to head back. You coming?”

“I’m…going to have another drink. I’ll see you later.”

Beckett nodded and left the bar, heading back across the street to see if the girls were awake, leaving Ethan’s mind whirling, completely lost in thought at everything he learned that day, especially the relationships between everyone. He couldn’t tell if Beckett still had a problem with him, but considering everything he said, Ethan’s leaning towards no. He may have a strange way of saying it, but it sounds like he wants Ethan to make a move. It caused his heartbeat to speed up just thinking about all the ways he wanted to kiss Diana.

-----------------------------------------------

A couple of weeks later Diana walked through the empty corridors of the hospital running straight into no one else but Ethan Ramsey himself, gasping from the contact. She felt Ethan’s arms catching her by her waist preventing her from the fall. Their heartbeats fastened from the contact and their eyes meet.

This was the first time since Dolores that they found themselves alone again. Their bodies pressed, their faces so close that they could see even the smallest features of each other. Ethan’s eyes flickered to her lips and his breath caught from unbearable desire for them to meet. Words that Beckett said floating to his mind:

“don’t waste time denying your feelings.”

And yet here he is, doing exactly this. Trying to ignore the pull between them. Trying not to think of the last time their lips met. He closed his eyes for a second, warring with himself, while more words inside his mind made his heart flip.

“She may be more receptive than you think she is.”

He groaned quietly, listing all the reasons they shouldn’t be together. All the reasons he shouldn’t kiss her. But his face moved closer to hers, their lips almost brushing and their breath mingling. He froze searching her eyes, giving her time to pull away, but she didn’t. When he finally was ready to give up and finally kiss her his pager beeped pulling them both apart, his hands falling to his sides.

“Dr. Ramsey, I.... I’m sorry. I was thinking about patient treatment and I... I didn’t notice you.” mumbled Diana.

“It’s okay. I should have seen this coming, but... I got distracted...” said Ethan, fumbling with his pager. Quickly checking the message he received, his brows furrowed. “I... I need to go.”

“If everything okay?” asked Diana worriedly “if Dolores and little Ethan doing fine?”

“Yes... yes, they are doing great actually. Dr. Harrington done an excellent job. They both are out of impending danger.” replied Ethan. “and will be moved to postnatal ward in a matter of weeks.”

“Ohhhh, this is great news. Right?” smiled Diana, her hand finding his, squeezing it before letting go. Their fingers brushing lightly sending a shiver through both of them.

“Yes. This is.” said Ethan. They both standing still unable to move away, unable to take their eyes off each other. After some time, Diana was the first to break the silence.

“Dr. Ramsey, I... I need to get back to my patients,” spoke Diana chewing on her lower lip, the action alone draw Ethan crazy making him want to catch it between his teeth. “It was nice to see you,” added she after a moment of silence turning to leave...

“Wait...,” exclaimed Ethan catching her by her wrist gently without thinking. “I could use a favor,” said he, throwing a quick glance on his pager. “How busy are you right now?”

“All my patients are stable. As I said I just thought about patient’s treatment, but other than this I have nothing what needs my immediate attention. Do you need something?” ask Diana locking her eyes with Ethan’s, the proximity of them made her heart skip a beat.

“I just got paged that radiology got a new f.M.R.I. machine and Chief Emery ordered me to test it out. As they didn’t done it yet,” said Ethan with a note of annoyance in his voice. “Can I use you as guinea pig?” asked he still holding her hand.

“You want to stick me in f.M.R.I. and scan my brains?” asked Diana, raising her eyebrow questioningly.

“It’ll be easy. I’ll simply ask you a few questions and see which part of your brains react.” smirked Ethan, playful glint sparkling in his blue eyes.

“Uhhhh, what... kind of questions?” hesitantly asked Diana, stepping away from him, while he took a step forward backing her to the wall the space between them electrified.

“If you are too afraid or want to keep your secrets, I alway can be yours guinea pig and you can scan my brain instead,” he said lowering his lips closer to her ear. The breath of air skimming along her sensitive skin, making Diana inhale sharply, the slight shiver running through her spine. “Please, I really need this machine up and running. Will you help me?” more seriously asked Ethan taking a step back.

“Okay, I... I’ll help you,” replied Diana finally. “And so you know, Doctor... I have nothing to be afraid and no secrets to keep.” she replied throwing at him daring glance.

“Excellent. Come with me then,” said Ethan turning around heading toward the imaging lab, Diana following him.

After couple of minutes they reached the lab entering it together, Ethan softly placing his hand on her lower back, leading her in. A shiny white f.M.R.I. machine dominates the room.

“I will need to give you an injection of the magnetic contrast media, before going to control room.” he said, before adding softly noticing how she shifted uneasily “Are you sure it is okay? If not I can be a guinea pig for you. It’s really fine with me in case you are afraid of injections or small spaces.”

“Dr. Ramsey, it’s really unnecessary to worry about me. I’ll get the gadolinium. And can you keep this?”

“Diana, I cannot help myself but do it,” he whispered in a quiet barely audible voice, taking a beautiful gold chain with a small star from her hands. Their fingers brushing slightly. “Ummmmm...” started Ethan watching Diana filling a syringe with the contrast metal. “You may want to take your shirt and bra,” he said, his eyes flickering to her blossom and his cheeks started to burn.

“Doctor, if you wanted to get me out of my clothes... you should only ask,” said Diana teasingly looking him deep into his eyes, holding out the syringe. Slowly she unbuttoned her shirt taking it off and placing on the chair behind Ethan, her hand brushing his. After a moment of hesitation, she turned around looking at him over her shoulder. “Doctor, can you help me with my bra?” he could feel the heat spreading through his body and his eyes slide over her petit frame. Slowly as through the dream he came closer to Diana standing behind her, his hot breath skimming over her bare skin sending a wave of shivers through her. Unhurriedly he started to unclasp her bra, his fingers lightly touching her skin lingering there for a moment longer. His breath caught deep in his throat when the lace material slid from her leaving her chest bare. He could feel how his body reacted instantly when she turned toward him, standing just a whisper away.” I’m ready,” she murmured, her face raised up and she stood unmoving in front of him, the double meaning of her words made him gulp audibly placing his hand flat against her lower back. She feel his breath skimming over her lips and his face moved closer, internal warring clearly written in his eyes. After another heartbeat and a moment of hesitation Diana took a deep breath unwillingly stepping back. She took a robe hanging on the wall putting it on to cover her nakedness.  After this she laid flat on the table waiting for Ethan to approach her.

Gently taking Diana’s hand in his he palpated the veins in her arm, their eyes meeting for a split second, before performing intravenous injection. After what disposed of the syringe and pressed the buttons on the machine. watching Diana’s table slide into the donut of the massive magnet enclosure.

Leaving the magnet room, Ethan went to the enclosed room sitting at the workstation, checking on Diana through the glass.

“Can you hear me alright?”

“Loud and clear.” Diana’s voice came through the speakers. “Probably even too loud.” added she after a moment.

“Sorry,” said Ethan quieter after adjusting the volume “Let’s then begin our first scan,” continued Ethan powering up the magnet. He could hear how the machine started to humming, cycling, clicking and buzzing from the next room. “Okay, so far your brains looks like a brain. So far, so good. Now let’s test the detection of the contrast media. I will ask you a set of questions, to see how different parts of your brains would react on them.”

“What kind of questions?” asked Diana, something in Ethan’s voice hold the promise that this may get interesting and this promise made her excited and scared at the same time.

“Am I making you worried?” questioned Ethan, his heart skipping a beat when the set of questions lined up in his brain. He took a deep breath knowing that no matter how much it would cost him, but he must know the truth.

“N..no, You can ask whatever you want,” replied Diana, taking a deep breath, ready for any questions to come. “I have nothing to hide.”

“Soooo, let’s begin,” said Ethan softly. “What does makes you happy?”

“I...,” started Diana her minds working overtime, before she calmed down a little her voice flowing gently through the speakers making Ethan’s heart beat faster. “The people who are surrounding me. Who care about me. Who makes me who I am. The people who can make me grounded, who go through thick and thin for me and with me. The people who no matter what are here for me. Who do everything to make sure I’m safe and happy.”

Ethan’s hearts skipped a beat and his eyes landed on the screen, watching how Diana’s hypothalamus glowed slightly. Before asking a next question he took a deep breath.

Here goes nothing. I need to ask this. Just in case. Thought Ethan looking back at Diana through the glass.

“Do you have feelings for Dr. Beckett Harrington?” asked Ethan holding his breath, eyes focused on the screen trying not to miss anything.

“Of course, I have feelings for him,” exclaimed Diana before realization of what exactly was asked sinked onto her and her eyes widen. A subtle unseen smirk spread her lips. “I have feelings of respect, admiration...”

“That’s not what I meant,” protested Ethan, feeling a notes of teasing in her respond.

“Oh... didn’t you?” said Diana, her smile widened before disappearing from her face. And Ethan could see how her hypothalamus lightened once again, noticing an emotional respond of her brains. “I know what you have asked. I have no romantic feelings for Beckett. He is great and amazing, but I never seen him like this. But he’ll always be a bit older and more responsible brother, not by blood, but by choice. He always was there for me, always protected me. Seen me in my worst and best moments. I just... I cannot see him more than my brother, he is more than a blood... he is family I chose. He and Oriana are my family.” she spoke passionately, emotionally and her brains were lit brightly with every word. After a moment she stopped to speak, finally breathing out.

“I... hmmmmm,” Ethan cleared his throat, readying himself to another, last question. He hold his breath, feeling how his heart started to race. “Are you... are you involved with anyone romantically?”

“Does the work counts?” asked Diana teasingly, knowing quite well this wasn’t an answer he was looking for.

“Definitely not.” replied Ethan with impatience lacing his voice.

“Not fair,” pouted Diana. “But if you really wants to know... For this machine test purposes, than no... I’m not involved with anyone romantically,” stated Diana not missing another second and Ethan’s heart skip a beat when he seen a slight orange glow of another part of Diana’s brains. She didn’t lied, this he knew for sure, but she also didn’t tell the whole truth what made Ethan wonder if Beckett was right and Diana would reciprocate his feelings willingly if he would make a first step. And now, at this moment he knew for a fact that even if she didn’t have been involved with anyone romantically, some part of her wanted to be. And a memory of this person gave the strongest impulse to her hippocampus. He could read it nice and clear, right in front of his eyes. And without any doubts left in him, he knew that the person she wanted to be with was him.

Everything finally clicked together, her flirting with him, the constant pull between them and every single gaze they shared. Without thinking twice he quickly powered down the machine and raised up returning to the magnet room. His heart picking up the pace, thundering uncontrollably when he pressed the button making table slide back from the enclosure and Diana appeared in front of him. They eyes locked. Gently he helped her up to her feet and without even thinking for a second longer pushed her against the f.M.R.I. machine locking their lips in a passionate, hungry kiss. The kiss they both have been waiting and craving for five years.

He slipped his hand under Diana’s thigh lifting her leg up and around his waist, pressing harder into her. His hands exploring her body under the robe groaning into their kiss. His tongue thrusting inside her mouth swirling around hers. Their kisses grew hungrier and harder leaving them breathless. Their hands grabbing onto each other with desperation making them want more. As through the fog they could hear a faint sound of pager coming from Ethan’s waist making them unwillingly break the kiss both breathing heavily.

Quickly Ethan looked at his pager before meeting Diana’s gaze again, his heart beating uncontrollably taking in her disheveled state, realising he probably didn’t look better. Running his hands through his hair he took a step back, his mind filled with panicking thoughts.

What have I done... How could I allow this to happen. No matter how I want it... want her. I’m still her superior. We shouldn’t. I can ruin her career. I probably already done. thought he backing away from Diana toward the door.

“I.... I should... Sorry, I need to go. You should put your clothes back on. Sorry,” mumbled Ethan placing his hand on the doorknob without turning around, closing the door behind him. While outside the room he took a deep breath fleeing towards Harper’s office leaving Diana behind, feeling both glorious and pissed off.

The rest of the day for Diana passed uneventful and it seemed that Ethan was trying to avoid her once again. During the day she was able to finally decide on patient’s treatment what already showed first sings of success. She was already on her way out of hospital, when suddenly her pager beeped. She could feel how her heart flipped with hope while her eyes landed on the display and disappointed sigh left her lips. Quickly she went back to the hall where all interns were gathered. Diana’s eyes browsing through the crowd looking for her best friend. After a moment her eyes landed on Beckett and she moved forward standing next to him.

“Hey, do you have any idea why Chief Emery gathered everyone there?” she asked quietly Beckett, watching him to shake his head worriedly.

“Not a slightest,” replied he looking at Harper Emery standing up front with Ethan, carefully listening for what she about to say.

“Some of you may have heard already, then In a couple weeks’ time, will be annual National Medical Symposium in Miami. From our hospital I appointed Dr. Ramsey to attend this conference this year. Along him the board decided to send two interns who are on the top of their class and also already show the brilliant results during their internship in that hospital,” spoke Harper sternly throwing a glance on a stunned looking Ethan.

“We didn’t discuss me taking anyone along. I’m not a babysitter,” hissed Ethan.

“It was board’s decision,” hissed in reply Harper, before clearing her throat to continue. “As I said we are sending two interns to gain some valuable insight into the industry and brighten their knowledge. This year along Dr. Ramsey, we will send… Dr. Haynes and Dr. Harrington. Congratulations on your success. Please come see me in the morning for more details.”

“Shit...,” cursed Ethan meeting the eyes of the two dumbfounded interns, who looked at him in shock. His heart thundering inside his chest.

That’s going to be a long, long weekend. He thought as he fled to his office. The three of us back in a hotel. Did Harper somehow find out about our history together? But if she did, why send us? She’s already suspicious of my interactions with Diana. This is why the board gets on my nerves, they do whatever the hell they want to.

Back in the atrium, Beckett and Diana stared at each other. “This isn’t happening.” He whispered. “There’s no way I can go and leave Oriana behind, especially while pregnant. I’m going to have to turn the opportunity down and…”

“Don’t you dare!” Diana whispered back harshly. “You can’t leave me alone with him in a different state for a weekend. He’s too wishy-washy and I’m sick of it. We’ll probably sleep together, and he’ll run off again, leaving me to fend for myself in a city I’ve never been to, all alone this time. Beckett, please, I can’t do this alone.”

“He wouldn’t do that again.” Beckett argued.

“Oh, right. I forgot. Lately he only does that after kissing me!” Diana began marching off.

“Wait!” Beckett caught her arm. “What are you talking about?”

She glared down the hall towards Ethan’s office. “I’m not talking about anything that hasn’t happened before. If you’re not going then neither am I.”

“Di…” Beckett tried to reason. “It’s a fantastic opportunity.”

She shrugged. “You’re right, it is. Too bad we’re not going.”

Beckett sighed heavily. “You’re being immature.”

“I’m being guarded.” She corrected.

“Why can’t you two just figure shit out? Diana, he may be sending all kinds of mixed signals, but it’s not as if you’re marching into his office right now to confront him about them. You’re just letting it continue. If he’s too high and mighty to admit his feelings freely, then you need to step up and make him. Or, I don’t know, tell him how you feel so he doesn’t have to guess either. You convinced Oriana, a complete stranger, to go on a date with me, a complete stranger to her. Where is that confident girl? The Diana I know would have approached him and nipped it in the butt already. Why are you dragging this out?” Beckett snapped.

“Because I love him!” She whispered frantically, before slapping a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.

Beckett grabbed her hands, holding them tightly. “That’s your answer. Do you want to lose him because you never told him how you felt? That’s what would have happened with me and Ori if you never talked to her. I’ve already talked to Ethan, but apparently, he’s not as outgoing as my wife. If you can’t bring yourselves to talk to each other now, then this trip will force you to. And like it or not, Di, that’s what both of you need.”

“Still…I can’t do it on my own.” She murmured.

“You can and you will.” Beckett assured her. “Stop dancing around each other and face things head on. Neither of you are going to be able to move forward until that happens.”

“Why do you have to make so much sense all the damn time?” Diana muttered, throwing her hands up in defeat.

“It’s what I do.” Beckett smirked.

Diana eyed him thoughtfully, her eyes beginning to light up mischievously. “You know what, Beckett? You’ve given me an idea.”

He frowned. “I know that look. What are you doing.”

“Oh nothing. I have to go make a call, will you excuse me?”

“Diana!” He hissed, but she was already running into the nearest girls’ room. Shaking his head in frustration, he turned to go to the locker room. A few minutes later his phone buzzed with an incoming text. He pulled out his phone, seeing Oriana’s name flash on the screen.

Oriana: “Miami!!!! Beck, that’s amazing! I’m SO proud of you!! And Ethan suggested I come?? Omg, Beck, I’m so excited!!!! Please thank him for me!!!”

He groaned loudly, sinking down onto a bench. There’s no getting out of this now.

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[everysongineverykey]

*claps hands* alright motherfuckers i havent made a natm post in literally a year so heres one:

I’ve just got a nice idea for a post-natm 3 au where ahk and his parents get transferred back to brooklyn permanently by some amazing museum executive, bringing the tablet with them, of course.

You can guess what happens: People reconcile, friends are made, and parties are had. Big parties, just like the one at the end of natm 3, but about once a month, just for fun. Jed and Oct are dj’s (and Jed has a field day with the “disc jockey” puns, obviously) and everyone else just dances and has a great time.

But one person’s still missing, of course: Larry Daley himself. He’s a teacher now, and enjoys his job, and maybe he’s even got a pretty high position, who knows? Anyway, sometimes, after sundown, Larry’ll walk down to the museum and see the lights erupting from the stained-glass-wall, and smile, but never go in, because he knows it’s no longer his place to be.

But then one day, he makes friends with the current night guard at the brooklyn museum, and they’ll beg him to come see the museum one night after sundown, because he’ll never believe what happens there every night. And he tries to hide his excitement, and at first refuses, but consents to a short visit after his friend insists. 

What he doesn’t know, however, is that his new friend knows that he’s worked at the museum before.

They know he knows what happens after dark.

But they’re bringing him along because they like him, and because their good friend ahkmenrah simply insisted.

Ahk, you see, has been missing his old friend quite a bit. The new guard is sweet and all, but it’s just not the same without Larry’s bittersweet greetings and polite sarcasm. His parents, of course, can’t understand their son’s fixation on this strange “Guardian of Brooklyn”. They’ve met him, and he just doesn’t appear to be anything special.

Oh, if they could see the world through ahk’s eyes.

So one night, Larry and his friend walk into the noisy museum lobby, decked out with everything bright and colorful. It seems like the party will never stop-

Except once it does.

As soon as the exhibits spy Larry’s face in front of the door, the entire building falls dead silent. No breathing is heard, no footsteps, not even the sound of the cds turning gently, even though Jed and Oct have stopped moving them.

The first sound that is heard is Attila, screaming in surprise and delight and running to wrap Larry up in a hug.

The second sound is a confused, yet enthusiastic “Lawrence, my good boy, I thought you had left us!” from Teddy.

The third sound is Ahk’s soft “Larry. Guardian of Brooklyn” just as he starts to move closer.

Larry doesn’t waste any time in running around the lobby desperately trying to hug each and every one of them, including the animals.

As soon as everyone’s finished with their tearful hellos, they start the party right up again, and Larry, being the awkward, serious guy he is, refuses to dance, saying he’s fine just watching and talking.

Well, you all know where this is going. Ahk grabs Larry by the arm and whirls him onto the direct center of the floor so that he has no choice but to dance. So he does. He dances to the very best of his ability, which of course isn’t very good, but Ahk just smiles adorably and eventually grabs him by the arm again, and of course they start to dance.

It’s not a wrap-your-arms-around-each-other-and-sway-slowly-to-the-music kind of dance, but it’s not completely impersonal, either. It’s a quick, lively one with the partners touching hands, twirling and dipping each other occasionally. Larry once swore he’d never be caught dead dancing with someone like this. Ahk and Larry both know this, but neither of them care all that much at the moment. It’s fun. And fast. And personal. 

And…

And all of a sudden, they’re kissing, and the dance becomes a lot more personal. 

And soon enough, it’s not even a dance anymore, and they’re up on the roof together, talking.

And the conversation they have goes something like this…

“But why can’t you stay here? We’ve missed you! I’ve missed you! Whatever you’re doing right now can’t be as important as-”

“You heard me, Ahk. I love all of you. But I’ve built up a life for myself. I’ve got a new job. I can’t just give that all away.”

“Not even for me?”

“Don’t give me that. Look.” Their fingers are intertwined by now. “I do love you. But-”

“But you’re not willing to throw your life away for me.”

A silence.

“No, I’m not. And I’d never be willing to do that. I’m sorry, but-”

“It’s okay. I understand. If I were forced to choose between my kingdom and my lover… I’d probably do the same thing.”

“You mean that?”

“Of course. Just… make sure you come back and visit every month.”

“Of course I’ll visit you. I love you, Ahk.”

“I love you too.”

If either of them have anything more to say, the opportunity to say it is closed, along with the gap between their lips. They stay up on the roof until sundown, and when they return to the lobby to help clean up, no one asks where they’ve been. They don’t need to. 

After all, the way they look at each other tells them everything they need to know.

So, Larry keeps his word, and visits the museum at the same time every month for the next couple years. His affair with Ahk becomes somewhat of an unspoken agreement around the place, something that everyone is aware of, but feels no great urge to address. His visits are always welcomed, and each time the news he brings with him gets better and better- it’s always some kind of promotion he’s received. Last month, he told them he’d been accepted into a “new line of business,” although he won’t tell them exactly what it is. 

Then, one night, the current guard pulls them aside and tells them that he’s actually become a congressman.

No one believes it, of course- until they show them several articles about it on their phone. 

Then they do.

And when Larry comes to visit the next month, Ahk pulls him onto the roof again, but there is no romance in this conversation.

“Well, Larry Daley? I’m waiting for an explanation.”

“…Who told you?”

“Our good friend the night guard. Everyone knows. And I’d like to know why we had to wait so long.”

“If you’d been given an opportunity to rule a new kingdom overseas, wouldn’t you have hesitated before-”

“This is more than hesitation! You lied to us for several months. I don’t know why you’d-”

“Ahk, this doesn’t change anything between us.”

“No?”

There is a lengthy pause.

“No. I’ll always have time for you. It’s not like I’m moving out of the state or anything.”

Ahk is a little reassured, but their later conversation that night is strained, less personal.

Later, though, he relaxes a bit, thinks, Well, he’s perfectly capable, what could go wrong?

Poor Ahkmenrah.

To jinx himself like that.

Larry goes on to do great things, though. He’s a huge asset to the state of New York. Congress loves him. The people love him. Everyone loves him.

At least, that’s the general impression until one fateful night in mid-May.

Everything happens so very fast. The poor guard ambles in one evening, slumped and depressed, and when everyone asks what’s wrong, they look the exhibits right in the eyes and tell them that Larry Daley, congressman of the State of New York, has been killed in a hate crime.

An unidentified gunman shot him twelve times in the chest before taking off, apparently.

Larry Daley, Guardian of Brooklyn, is dead.

He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. That’s all that runs through Ahk’s head for the next few hours. He’s dead.

And he excuses himself quietly, walks up to the rooftop, and sits down and looks at the night sky.

And for the first time in nearly three thousand years, Ahkmenrah, Fourth King of the Fourth King, ruler of the land of his fathers, closes his eyes and starts to cry.

Not too loudly, of course. To let anyone hear him would be embarrassing. But he sobs quietly, covering his face with one arm and hugging himself with the other. His sorrow disappears into the night just as quickly as it is announced, heard by nothing but the stars.

And Ahk stares up at the sky, his vision blurred with tears that, when he wipes them away, reveal a seemingly infinite expanse of darkness, the air too polluted with artificial light to see more than a few stars.

But he doesn’t have to see the Milky Way to feel incredibly small at that moment.

And that’s how it goes for a long time.

Every night, on the anniversary of Larry’s death, Ahk climbs to the rooftop and sits there, alone, and wonders why.

Why he had to get stuck with poor, stubborn Larry.

Every time, some of the exhibits- his parents, or Teddy, or Jed and Oct- follow him up and tell him they’re there if he needs them.

The first few times, he refuses, insisting he’s fine.

But about five months later, he starts accepting their presence. 

And a year later, he stops going up to the roof, deciding it’s not healthy to hold onto your past forever.

Every month, the date comes and goes. But it’s not an unfortunate reminder anymore. It’s not a rude awakening. It simply is.

And life goes on.

Until, one day in the year 2099, Ahk is transferred again, this time to a museum in Vermont. He’s been in and out of Brooklyn and Britain a couple times by now, and he’s seen his fair share of Japan, and even Egypt, for a couple years. He can handle a quiet museum in a quiet state. 

What he doesn’t anticipate is that the Vermont museum is currently unveiling several new wax sculptures, depicting some of America’s most famous members of government, including senators and congressmen.

So, on his first few nights in Vermont, Ahk walks around a bit, makes friends with the mummified cats in the Egyptology section, talks to a couple of Greek Gods, nothing extravagant.

And then, two weeks in, just while he’s heading to the busts, he passes a room with about twelve empty human-sized glass cases, and decides it’s worth checking out. So he varies his route a bit, and by 3:AM, he’s met eight different members of congress, the senate, and the House of Representatives. So he’s walking slowly on back to his exhibit to talk to the cats a bit more, rather happy with his new acquaintances.

He’s just about to pick one up when he hears footsteps outside, coming gradually closer.

And then a voice.

“Get off me, you stupid cat, I don’t care if you were a god in ancient Egypt, you’re dead now, I don’t need this…”

Oh.

Ahk knows that voice- But it can’t be…

Can it?

The pharaoh races out of the room. He looks to the left. The footsteps stop short, but there is no one to be seen. He looks to the right.

And.

And it’s Larry.

Larry Daley. Guardian of Brooklyn. His Larry.

Larry stares at Ahk. Ahk stares back. Then the congressman breaks the silence by slowly moving closer. Ahk can’t resist reaching out to touch his cheek.

And Larry smiles. “Ahk.” And Ahk can’t resist pulling his mouth into a giddy grin.

All he can say is, “I never thought I’d see you again.”

There’s a brief pause, and then they lock in a gentle kiss.

And then they both laugh, and laugh, and laugh. And Ahk grabs his arm and leads him to the roof, where they’re too busy looking at each other to look at the stars, but it’s the thought that counts. 

“Looks like now, you’ve got no choice but to stay with me,” Ahk says, still grinning.

Larry smirks, but it soon turns into a warm smile. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

If a stranger were to look out their bedroom window at the museum roof that night, all they would have seen was two people tangled together as one.

anyway just a suggestion :)

[aleapoffaithfiction]

XIV.

It's like I've been awakened Every rule I had you break it It's the risk that I'm taking I ain't never gonna shut you out

You ever felt like you’ve been hit by a car, survived it, and as soon as you go to stand on your feet, you end up getting hit by an eighteen-wheeler truck?

No?

Well, that’s how I’ve been feeling since I woke up this morning. I’ve suddenly morphed into a milk chocolate toned dragon who breathes fire from the depths of my chest and straight out of my throat. Every word spoken comes with an excruciating aching that Tylenol refuses to ease. The tea and honey are barely doing anything to subdue the rough cough that began just yesterday. Oh, and the body aches? I might as well just lay down in the middle of the floor and pray the Lord has mercy on me at some point.

“I don’t know how the hell you made it through the entire show like that. You really are crazy sometimes.” Anna pulled my box braids into a high ponytail as I slouched my frame even further down into the styling chair. I’m conning myself into believing that the slump position will give me a few seconds of relief from the aches I’m having.

The chills trickling everywhere have left me shivering under a throw blanket I took from home. If anyone on set didn’t know any better, you’d think I’ve been standing outside in the blistering soon to be winter air. Thank God I sat through the lengthy amount of time to allow her to put the braids in on Saturday night. With the way I’m covered in perspiration, any straightened or curled hairstyle would have left me looking like an extra left out of a Soul Glow commercial.

“It irritates me to have to call out at the last minute. That typically leaves production scrambling to try and fill in gaps. If I were in their shoes, I know it would be a headache for me, so I don’t like to do it to them. On Saturday, I e-mailed both Amy and Chip to let them know that I feel pretty shitty and to clear my schedule for the next two days pending further notice. I’m hoping it passes by then.”

The last time I had a cold, it was right at the very end of winter and it felt like nothing more than a bad headache and the sniffles. A couple of home remedies and a few over the counter products had me feeling much better within two or three days, but what I’m feeling now? I don’t know what the hell is going on. Rite Aid literally showed up to the medical office at the studio and offered the flu shot to everyone, through our insurances, as a curtesy, so it better not be that. I can’t stand getting injections, so it would be one hell of a disservice if I allowed them to inject that medication into me only for it to not work out in my favor.

“Are you going to go to the doctor?”

“Probably tomorrow. It’s too late to do any of that today. Once I drop Taylor off at the airport, I’ll head straight there.” Though I’m so accustomed to living on my own, I can admit to being sadden about Taylor heading out to Los Angeles tomorrow. It’s not that I’ve gotten used to her being around; it’s more so that I’ve enjoyed the company that she’s been to me for the past week. We always have incredible conversations over the phone about the most trivial of topics, but it’s been far more fulfilling and hilarious to be able to say all of those things to one another face to face. We’ve indulged in our love for classic cult black films, shared recipes between one another in my kitchen, and have taken New York City by a storm.

Even with Jesse being in town, it didn’t feel like the presence of her man overshadowed anything that we did together. Ice skating was better than I thought it would be because I was and still am quite rusty in that area. We did see the Radio City Christmas Spectacular and humorously took photographs sitting on Santa’s lap complimentary of the showrunners. Although I’ve seen it more times than I can count, we saw The Lion King on Broadway and then had far too many pitchers of Matusalem rum infused mojitos over at Havana Central on West 46th Street.

I nearly came face to face with the filthy pavement as I moved at the best speed I could offer to avoid the invasive TMZ camera crew awaiting our exit. In Hollywood, I suppose it’s controversial for a woman to be involved with a soon to be divorced television actor while he’s in a discomforting public battle with his soon to be ex-wife over alimony and joint custody of their children. Anywhere she goes, that narrative follows Taylor like a sinister stalker in the night and though her feelings run deep for the blue-eyed Chicago native, I know that she’s quietly growing tired of being the scapegoat for what is beyond her.

“You better go too. I know you. Sipping tea and taking spoons of Robitussin isn’t going to get the job done this time it seems.”

“I’m going. I’m going with a shit ton of questions about why the flu shot is a hoax. I’m not one of those conspiracy theory people, but I don’t know. I might have to start.”

“Take your illuminati ass home and get in the bed.”

“I’m not rich enough to be in the illuminati. They’ll probably be calling me when I make my first hundred million. I’m not there just yet, but I’m working on it.” I wanted to laugh, but I couldn’t. Even a chuckle would have pulled more energy than I can exert at the moment. I’m currently questioning if I’ll even be capable of moving at a snail’s pace to make it out of the building with the next couple of minutes. I could have been gone already and yet I’m lingering around in this chair with hopes that my imagination will take me home. Where’s Glenda the Good Witch to instruct me to click the heels of my Jimmy Choo pumps so that I’ll be able to suddenly wake up in my bed in Edgewater?

“Get you a man that’s there already.” I knew she was going to say that. I just knew it. Anna will never not find it fascinating how I encounter countless men who earn hundreds of millions of dollars by running a ball around a field, court, or course.

In her words, I, more than the majority of the women in the world, have the perfect opportunity to live life lavishly and worry free by the way of someone else’s finances if I’d only open myself up to the opportunity of dating just one out of the many who flirtatiously attempt to garner some interest out of me. While my financial obligations are the last thing that I’m interested in a man handling for me, if only Anna knew what is going on in my life now.

“Yeah? So that he can think he’s entitled to stress me and all of his other women out because he’s providing materialistic shit? Girl, I refuse to allow a man to turn my head grey and cause bags to be up under my eyes sooner than it should be happening. No thanks. I’d rather be smiling in a Benz that I purchased than to be crying in one that he did.”

I’m naturally a giver. I give credit to my dad for instilling that quality into me. I’ve always struggling with taking or rather being gifted things. The majority of the time, all I wanted for birthdays and Christmas’ were new accessories needed for whatever sport I was playing at the time.

I never pestered either one of my parents to lace me in the latest Jordans, although my dad made sure to surprise me with them at least once a month. If he was due to leave town, he would leave enough money for my mother to handle it. Honor roll report cards always came with great gifts and while Celeste would often ask for the most expressive girly trinket she could think of, I never wanted anything. I was fine with a stack of pancakes from iHop and a day at the park.

What I did ask for was experiences. It never needed to be anything financially burdening or something that specifically catered to my taste alone. I was fine with exploring new exhibits at the Met or taking a random road trip to Philadelphia just for the hell of it. I loved walking around neighborhoods that I didn’t reside in to people watch and observe the different ways in which they express themselves and the culture that we all share.

I’ll never forget when we road on an Amtrak train to Washington, DC and stayed in the district for the weekend. I still consider that to be one of the best times of my life despite my sister’s ridiculous and pompous complaints about her boredom. Though she’s yet to admit it out loud, I know that she now undoubtedly regrets all that she said during that weekend because it was the last family trip, we ever had with him.

“All of his other women? Damn. Why did you have to put it like that?”

“Because men are vile creatures. If women are walking around talking about how much average men aren’t worth shit due to their antics, then use your imagination to think about what men with money and power are doing. I’m not saying all of them are dreadful, but I’ve heard far too much while working within this industry to write it all off as coincidences.” The last portion of my sentence barely made it out as my chest heaved up a rough cough. The furnace that only calmed for a mere couple of seconds ignited with a wild fire and sent a rush of warmth flushing through my chest while the rest of my weakening limps shivered.

“Okay, you need to go, because I’m not trying to get sick. You may not have any dick in your life at the moment, but I do, and I’m trying to get back to it with my health intact.”

“Whatever.”

Like a boxer in a ring attempting to peel himself off of the floor after a knockout, I pulled myself up and out of the comfort of the chair. With every step, my muscles stiffened and the aches throbbing from the sides of my body intensified unexpectedly. My Alexander Wang bag felt like a dozen bricks rested at it’s very bottom once I positioned it over my shoulder and it only slowed down my stride as I made my way to the awaiting SUV.

I could only silently thank God for Fred as he secured me inside the vehicle and warned me that he better not see me in the morning. Thankfully, I followed my gut and decided not to drive. If I were sitting in this parking lot in my own car at this very moment, I probably would have taken off this midnight black Moncler coat and used it as a blanket while I lay in the backseat awaiting a rescue that I never called for.

“Can you please turn up the heat just a bit more?” I’m sure I’m suffocating him but I can’t help that it feels like the temperature precipitously plummeted to ten degrees below zero. The sound of my teeth chattering against one another has surpassed the faint tunes coming from the radio.

“Sure, Ms. Nazaire.”

As the heat increased and swarmed me in the manner that I needed it to, I glanced down at my phone vibrating in my lap. The lone heart emoji was a clear signifier of who was attempting to contact me. He’s the only person in my phone not identified by his name and at this point, it is the most idiotic tactic to keep because I have more than enough photographs of him and the both of us together to implicate me in whatever may happen if we’re caught.

As soon as I slid my thumb across the bottom of the screen to answer, the splendor that is his face filled the frame of my screen. And just like that, I’d been reduced to speechlessness.

“I thought I told you not go to work this morning.” I certainly read the text message as soon as I opened my eyes this morning, but it did absolutely nothing to deter me from doing what I had to do. It was great advice but it had to be brushed off until I handled a number of things at the production studio this morning. Besides, it wasn’t as rough of a day as I thought it would be, effort wise. Aside from speaking throughout segments, we had no guests or anything major to cover.

“I’m staying home tomorrow. Also, look at how early I’m leaving today. It’s still the afternoon. I’m not doing the Podcast.”

The slight shaking of his head was brief and though he quickly stopped, I noticed it. I’m not sure if it’s in reference to this morning’s chosen defiance or the current state of frustration we’re both in for two totally different reasons. Despite my explanation about my occasional absentmindedness being a part of the reason why I needed to hurry home and write out a check for the nine-a.m. maintenance job my mother called to have done on her stove, I omitted the part that truly mattered most to the both of us.

I fear him.

My mind is with him whenever I’m not within his presence. My body yearns for the warmth that soothingly radiates from him whenever we’re within an inch of one another. I can eerily sense and feel him; emotionally and now physically. He evokes a sentiment within me that is at call unceasingly and has intertwined our lives in a manner that I never faced before or expected to come into my life at this point.

My body is now at his mercy. Just the tips of his fingers faintly grazing off the smooth surface of my skin awakens every aspect of me; sending my frame into an uncontrollable frenzy that only he knows how to tame. I don’t know what he did to me that night in New Orleans. I expected to be fucked; most men prefer to turn a woman over on her stomach to consciously strip away any intimacy that may be felt and emotionally clung to during and after those moments when their bodies are adjoined. Despite his unpredictable nature, I did cling to that repeated experience as something that I’d always endure. I should have known that what we shared would be everything but that.

He savored me; deliberately drawing out every single second of it in an effort to achieve a never-ending wordless oath that we’ll never be able to share with anyone else. His eyes bore into mine and spoke to me whenever his lips weren’t whispering into my ear in the midst of the groans spilling from them. My body clung to his, gratifying his silent plea to take possession of me in every way possible.

Our heartbeats created an identical medley as they thrashed against our chests in unison with the increase heat within our cores. I was no longer in control of myself. His flesh played as the remote; pushing buttons to leave me weeping and leaking. I believe I only slept for minutes. Though the clock read that it had been four hours later, it only felt like minutes because the feeling of him hadn’t subsided. If anything, he served as the gasoline to the flames as his tongue awakened me for what turned into another two rounds of him.

I am wordlessly at war with my evolving devotion to him; to us. What if I’m not enough? With the life that he lives, something better always comes along. What am I supposed to do when we’ve arrived to that point?

“You’re so hardheaded. You going out into the cold and being at work all day has most likely made your cold worse. You should have stayed in the bed today. Did you just leave?”

“A few minutes ago.”

“How do you feel?” He tugged on the neck of his hooded Givenchy sweater to loosen it’s pulled tightness around his neck and almond shaped eyes narrowed, intensifying his glare. He’d pull my card if I lied.

“Like shit, honesty. Everything hurts. It even hurts to breathe. I thought I’d be able to tough it out until I can see a doctor tomorrow, but I don’t know. I might have Taylor drive me over to Hackensack University Medical Center when I get home.” And just like that, he sat up from his lazy and laxed position on the couch. As his large palm brushed over the golden curls falling all over his forehead, he stood to his feet. He paces when he’s nervous but it was never my intention to provoke him to do so.

“You feel that bad? You want me to go with you?”

“Odell.” As great as that sounds, I shouldn’t have to explain why that can’t be. He already knows the answer to that.

“You’re going to the hospital.”

“Yes, so that I can speed up the process of getting some medication. I’ll be able to get prescriptions tonight rather than waiting until tomorrow. That’s all. It’s going to be an in and out thing. Also, you have an event tonight. Did you forget?” He’s heading into Manhattan to promote the launch of his Air Force I collaboration by speaking with fans and a couple of groups of kids who won a contest to be able to meet him and have their shoes autographed. I know he doesn’t want to miss that because being a great role model for the youth is one of the primary reasons why he does what he does. He loves kids, so disappointing them for no legit reason doesn’t make much sense.

“I didn’t forget. If I don’t go, the least I can do is come and stay at your house so that I can make sure you’re taken care of until you’re better.”

“And spread my germs to you?”

“What is it with you and your love for being difficult? You hate to cooperate.” I’ve heard that before. Actually, I’ve heard it far too many times. It’s been said that I have an answer for everything before even hearing the complete scenario or question being asked of me. I can be somewhat of an overthinker. Well, not somewhat.

I am an overthinker, but I’m not admitting that out loud because it’ll give people the ammunition to call me out on it whenever they feel like it and I’m not with the shits. It is never my intention to do it to be difficult or uncooperative as he just called it. I tend to try and side with logic first before I jump into anything. Unnecessarily spreading my germs isn’t logical. Besides, I tend to go and lay up at my mom’s place whenever I’m not feeling my greatest. She doesn’t always welcome me with open arms, but ultimately, who else do I have to lean on despite her resistance about that?

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is. It’s annoying as hell too.” He rolled his eyes to put even more emphasis on what he had to say.

“If you come, don’t complain when you start sniffling and feeling like every part of your body is aching.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll take the risk.”

“What time does your event start?” I nearly dropped the phone down onto the carpeted flooring as another rough cough poured out of me. I’m convinced my lungs are going to suddenly fly out of my mouth and land in my lap.

“You sound really bad.”

“I know. What time does the event start?”

“Seven.”

“Oh, you have time. I can’t believe I caught this stupid cold. I was supposed to start my Christmas shopping this weekend. Speaking of, what do you want?” I’ve been trying to think of gifts for him. There’s one in particular that I already have hiding in my closet. I consider that one to be the big gift.

Patek Philippe is a family-owned Genevan luxury watch manufacturer. Their watches are considered to be among the best in the world: full stop. Of all of the other impeccable Swiss watch manufactures with distinguished statuses and sophisticated watches, Patek Philippe has driven itself to the forefront of them all. While it would have been much easier to purchase him a Rolex, he deserves something that is as inimitable as he is. The “Ribbon Joaillerie” watch and its distinctive diamond embellishments that orbit its surface in a glimmering never-ending loop stole my heart as soon as I laid my eyes on it. The spiraling circles of diamonds beautifying the dial was what immediately made me hand over my Citigroup Chairman Card to secure it. It’s the first time I’ve ever spent six figures on a man.

“Supreme stuff. It doesn’t have to be any specific item. Oh, and maybe some art or something.”

“Art or something? Like a painting or a sculpture?”

“Anything. Actually, I want it to be a picture of you. A painting or something of that sort.”

“A painting of me? Are you kidding me?” That’s arguably the most narcissistic gift I could ever give anyone. I can only imagine how much internal cringing I’d be doing while boldly requesting for a painting of myself to gift to be my man. Actually, a canvas painting of Heather, Jazzy, and himself together would be breathtaking. I love that idea so much more.

“No. I’d love that.”

“And where exactly are you going to hang it up? You currently have a camera crew in your house once a week.” He is presently in the midst of filming a docu-series with Lebron James and Maverick Carter’s sports-media company Uninterrupted. Though the majority of it will focus on his comeback throughout the next season, they are filming coverage of his recovery from the ankle injury and his life off of the gridiron.

“In my bedroom. They don’t go in there.”

“We’ll see.”

“Ain’t no we’ll see. That’s what I want. Oh, and you in one of those sexy ass Mrs. Claus outfits.”

“Okay, I’m hanging up now.” I’m not sure if the driver is focusing on our conversation, but if he is, I’m certainly embarrassed now. His laughter might have made it even worse.

“I’ll call and check on you in a bit.”

“Okay.”

I attempted to take a nap but the physical discomfort served as a disruption to my mental state and kept me awake the remainder of the ride to my home. Traffic wasn’t as disorderly as it usually is during this time of the day, which allowed me to arrive just fifteen minutes over the nearly two-hour timeframe that it’s supposed to take me to get into Edgewater.

“You’re finally home!”

The way Taylor’s voice vibrated off of the walls almost made it seem like my house is completely empty. It was so piercing.

“Yeah.”

I’m not sure what she decided to cook but it smelled appetizing from the moment I stepped into the door. Maybe it’s Italian.

“I watched a bit of the show before making a Whole Foods run. Oh, and I found this bottle of wine upstairs in your room. I hope you don’t mind, because I couldn’t resist.” It was one of the remaining bottles of wine Odell bought me during our weekend getaway. I decided to pack it and take it home.

“You’re drunk?” That’s the last thing that I need her to be.

“I wouldn’t say drunk. I’m feeling pretty good though. Incredible, actually.”

She’s drunk.

“I want you to come with me to the ER, so that I can get checked out for this cold and get prescriptions for it. I wanted you to drive but since you had drinks, I’ll do it.”

“You feel that bad? Oh my God.”

“I’d just rather go now instead of waiting to go to the doctors tomorrow.”

“Let’s go. I just have to grab my coat. I told you to stay home this morning.” If I had the energy, I would have gone upstairs to change into whatever sweatsuit within close reach but I’m not walking up there. I’ve barely stepped away from the door.

“Taylor.” Part of her hazelnut toned wool trench coat hung off of her body as she rushed in my direction. As I nodded my head in the direction of the wine glass in her hand, she took a glance at it.

“Oh.” Before she put it down, the remaining contents inside of it went down her throat. If we both weren’t notorious for finishing entire bottles of wine on our own, I would have thought that something stressful or a man were driving her to drink so heavily today.

You good?

I read the message as I stood at the very top of my porch.

Yeah. Headed there now. Taylor’s drunk, so I’m going to drive.

Of all the days for her to get drunk, it just had to be this one.

Drunk? The sun hasn’t even gone down yet. I’m just going to meet you there.

As I slid into the passenger seat, apprehension immediately caused my eyes to bulge out of my face. His stubbornness will probably be the one thing that’ll always make me want to reprimand him.

You better not.

I-80 West was the fasted route. It took me to Exit 64B within seven minutes. As we walked through the parking lot, I slipped Taylor one of the cough drops I had in my pocket so they wouldn’t frown upon the whiff of the alcohol oozing from her breath any time she opened her mouth up to speak and I sprayed her coat with the mini bottle of perfume I keep in my purse to further mask it.

It’s very seldom that I use my status as a trump card for perks. Often times, it just happens and I go along with the flow. In this case, I used it. One autograph for the registration clerk served as a fast pass through the paperwork to process me through the emergency room and straight into triage. The hundred and two fever and slightly raised blood pressure rose the severity of my flu like symptoms to somewhat of an urgent case though I’d beg to differ. Luckily for me, the examination room was built to only fit two patients and thus far, I’m the only one in it.

“Did you see that bald guy nurse?”

“What bald nurse?”

“The one who walked past us out in the hallway. I’m not even into bald guys but he’s hot.” Like a child in a store, her curiosity kept her out of the seat next to the bed, and urged her to walk around examining everything in sight. Though she didn’t touch much, she looked on and read off whatever she thought I’d be just as interested in knowing about. Now I think she’s starting to see shit, because there was no bald nurse in that hall way. If she’s talking about who I assume she’s saw, that was a woman.

“Right in here?”

That voice couldn’t be mistaken no matter how much I desired to be hallucinating in a reaction to whatever drug they intend to give me for the pain I’m feeling. It’s that soft depth filled tone that plays like the sweetest medley in my dreams when I’m resting and fills my thoughts at random moments throughout the day when I am diligently executing every task on my schedule. It evokes chills and a throbbing within my center that nears me to the point of erupting.

I could choke him right now.

Behind a visibly annoyed Ben, he appeared in the doorway barely discreet in his black and vivid yellow attire. The Supreme beanie on his head barely covered his signature platinum blonde curls and casual dreads as they loosely hung out of the very front of it. His light caramel skin was without a single blemish as it always is.

God, he’s beautiful.

“Hey, big sister Sarai. I heard my favorite sister was in the hospital and I rushed here right away. I was hanging out with my boy, so I figured I’d bring him with me.” Both of my eyebrows rose as my head dropped back. Ben slowly panned his eyes to Odell and instantly rolled them in response to the nonchalant shrugging of his broad shoulders. What the hell is he talking about?

“Ben told them he was your brother so we could get in. I mean, it was either that or I was gon’ say that I’m your husband.”

“I’m going to fuck you up. You do know that, right?” If I had the energy, I would do it right now. His rebelliousness is absolutely pointless within this moment. It’s a trait that I’ve always admired about him from afar and now that admiration is coming back like a thief in the night to haunt me.

“I’m so confused. Maybe I’m a little drunker than I thought. What are you two doing here?” Taylor wagged her finger like a scolding mother as she twisted her head back and forth to take in the additional presence within the room. I had no set date or specific timeframe for when I intended to explain what’s been going on to her, but I planned to do it at some point. We share just about everything but I’m still trying to navigate all of this and figure it out on my own, which is why I’m purposefully avoiding any additional opinions.

“I’m going to sit in the car. Ya’ll two motherfuckers are annoying with this sneaking shit.” The hint of playfulness in his tone did not match the expression on his face. While my lover found it to be all so hilarious, a confused Taylor glared at me with a questioning expression that I did not want to have to answer to. I never thought I’d ever say it, but I was sad to see Ben walk out. If anything, I needed him to remain in place to be the comedic relief or better yet the distraction from the verbal questionnaire that is sure to come from my friend.

“The doctor came in here yet? What did he say?” As his large palm meshed into my forehead to serve as his own personal thermometer, I smacked it out of my way.

“Why don’t you listen?”

“I told you that I was coming. Don’t act surprised.”

“And I told you not to come.”

“And I didn’t listen. What’s next?” My frustration rose with every word that slipped past his supple lips.

“Since when are ya’ll such close friends? Like three months ago, you were ready to argue with me about why you two couldn’t be cool and now you’re the best of friends? What?” She finally flopped down in the chair that was in place for her to relax in and she looked on between the two of us as if we were two guilty souls. I may be the only guilty one.

“Sarai Nazaire?” A middle-aged white woman donning blue scrubs and a white lab coat cheerily entered the room with a chart in her hand and a stethoscope loosely hanging around her neck. I faintly raised my hand to single myself out so she wouldn’t confuse me with Taylor.

“I’m Dr. Shepard.”

“Oh snap. Like Grey’s Anatomy?” Why did I bring Taylor?

“Yes, just like that. I get that all the time. I’m not Meredith though. I’m Dr. Jane Shepard.”

“Nice to meet you Dr. Shepard.” I didn’t extend my hand to her because hers aren’t gloved and I’ve been using mine to cover my mouth during the coughing spells.

“So, it says here that you’ve been having flu like symptoms. I see the hundred and two fever. You’re visibly sweating. Tell me anything else you’re been feeling and for how long.”

“I start feeling sick a few days ago and it just got progressively worse. I feel chills, aching muscles, fatigue, a horrible headache, my nose is stuff up.”

“Don’t forget the sore throat, baby.” I was getting to it before he interrupted.

“Baby?” Oh my God. I should have let her finish off the rest of that bottle without any interruptions.

“Have you been taking anything?”

“Tylenol and cold medication. Robitussin DM.”

“Anything else?”

“No.”

“I’m going to take a listen to your lungs. You mind unbuttoning your blouse for me?”

“No.” Odell reached his hands in for the small buttons on the Zara dress shirt covering the upper portion of me and I rapidly smacked his hands down.

She only needed me to unravel the first few buttons so she’d be able to easily reach her hand down into my top to access my chest and back.

“You’re definitely congested. Are you allergic to any medications?”

“No.”

“Based upon the date of your last period, I have to ask, do you think that you could be pregnant right now?”

“Oh, dear God no. Absolutely not.” Taylor’s abrupt answer and laughter was nearly condescending. We’ve had far too many conversations about kids being something we’ll worry about later on down the line because we have so many aspirations that we’re working towards accomplishing now.

If a sewing needle suddenly dropped onto the floor, it would have sounded off like a vibrant bass within a stadium due to the stillness within the room. All eyes panned down on me while I had every urge to unexpectedly combust into a gust of nothingness so that I wouldn’t have to expose the anxiety I’ve been dealing with since we boarded the private jet to leave New Orleans.

My periods have always been slightly irregular and may sometimes skip a month, but God only knows how much I did not need one of those skips to happen this month. I haven’t been on birth control in three years. I decided to stop taking the pill because I had no use for it anymore and wanted to regulate my hormones and cycles. It’s been smooth sailing ever since because I haven’t had any men in my bed and I haven’t been in any of theirs until now. I’ve always been careful. Always. Even with the few years I spent in a relationship, I’ve never had unprotected sex until I shared my body with the man sitting at the foot of this bed.

“I….”

What was once one set of questioning eyes, turned into three, but all I could focus on was his. I awaited the grimace, but it never showed itself within his facial expression. Much like everyone else, he was awaiting the answer that would involve his fate just as much as it would mine.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I’m just not one hundred percent sure.”

And there it is. My reality. I truly don’t know. I’ve driven past a few Walgreens, Rite Aid, and CVS stores since it all happened and my lack of courage kept me from going inside to purchase what would give me a verdict to either ease or intensify the stress. Back in Louisiana, what should have been a trip to a pharmacy for a Morning After pill when the sun began peaking beyond the curtains and cascading down on us turned into yet another escapade of him filling me again.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on?”

“Taylor!”

“That’s not a problem. We’ll collect a urine sample to measure your HCG level. It’ll be quick. A nurse should be in the room within the next two minutes or so with a cup. It’s just protocol so that we’re on the safe side when administering medication to you. She’s also going to do a rapid influenza test so that we can verify those flu symptoms you’re having. Your symptoms align with it, but we still have to run the test. She’s going to swab the back of your nose.” 

“Okay.”

“In the meantime, just relax. Once we get the results back, we’ll proceed from there. Sounds good?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

The nurse couldn’t come with the plastic cup fast enough. I nearly fell onto the floor as I leapt out of the bed once she did. Locking myself in the bathroom is what eased the spell of anxiety being triggered by all eyes focusing in on me. What should have been a two to three-minute process turned into fifteen as I sat there wallowing in my thoughts. I never wanted my apprehension to be on display in front of him. I didn’t need any of what I’ve been dealing with being a conversation until it was absolutely necessary.

“You okay baby?” His knock was light but I could undoubtedly sense his urgency.

“I’m fine.” It’s far too late to hide now.

“The nurse is back. You want me to give the cup to her?” This man wants me to hand over a sample of my urine to him? Seriously?”

“No. I’m coming out.” 

Once I handled the hygienic aspect of things, I finally stepped out of the bathroom with the cup wrapped into two pieces of paper towel and I timidly handed it over to the nurse. Once I was seated again, she swabbed my nose just as the doctor informed me, she would.

“Thank you. I’ll be quick.”

I wished she would have offered to take me with her. I wouldn’t have minded walking to whatever laboratory that she’s going to drop that off to.

“How long has this been going on?”

Her lean leg crossed over the other and Taylor sat back with a knowing smirk on her face. Her haughtiness in figuring out the obvious would have been hilarious at some other time.

“Months.” His answer came with a shrug. His tone was so blasé that it nearly made it seem like the entire world knows about this and she’s the only one who’s late to the party.

“Months? You hid this for months?”

“T, can we have the room for just a minute or two?”

“So, you can talk about your baby?” The lingering headache seemed to strengthen at what she thought was some sardonic joke. Her irritation about being left in the dark is justified but now is not the time to admonish everything that I am. I’d rather she stand before me and release her frustrations in a private setting and away from him.

“Taylor, please?”

“I’ll go. I’m going to the waiting room. While there, should I think about baby shower themes? Maybe Tinkerbell if it’s a girl and Finding Nemo if it’s a boy? Oh no. I know. A New York Giants theme sounds so much better; a little cliché but better.”

“Taylor.”

“I’m going.”

She tenaciously cut her eyes at Odell sparking laughter from him in response.

“Cute though. Really cute.”

Those were her last words as she disappeared down the hall, finally leaving us in the privacy that I needed. The lack of commotion in the hallway kept my attention focused on his striking face. I thought I would have seen a rush of nurses running a gurney down the long hall and into emergency surgery. If not that, then maybe a crying baby and a fretted mother who can’t seem to figure out why her child has been crying all night long. I need a distraction

“I don’t want you to be upset with me. I should have been more careful. I…”

“Sarai. Upset with you about what? The unknown? I’m not upset with you. I’m not upset at all. I’m here. I’m right here with you. It’s not just you.”

“I know but…”

“What’s the but for? Whatever happens, happens. We’ll be fine.” Will we be? I don’t believe I’m with child but hypothetically speaking, what happens if I am? How do I explain a sudden pregnancy to a man that no one knows about? I am not Mary and this is not the Immaculate Conception. How do we navigate still being in the stages of exploring and learning all there is to know about one another while preparing to be parents to a child that we did not plan?

Both of his hands reached for my thighs. This time, I had no energy to smack them away as they began a pacifying caress. I just want to go to sleep. Is that too much to ask for? In the midst of what should be a temporary illness, the weight of erratic decisions rests on my shoulders and is further deteriorating my mood. He’s in the prime of his life. If people aren’t talking about Tom Brady, they’re talking about him. He’s not ready for any of this. He doesn’t need this.

“Relax.”

“What?”

“You keep tensing up. I can feel it. Relax.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

If it were, I would have already been home sleeping.

“It’s as simple as we want it to be. I don’t mind being your Big Daddy and someone else’s daddy. It’s cool with me. A kid that looks like us? We can both retire now and use the kid for money. Plus, we’re both athletic, so our kid is bound to be a pro athlete. Yeah, our retirement plan is set.” Every muscle within my upper core clenched to an unbearable tightness and yet I laughed anyway. With my mouth being open, I know I’m sharing every bit of this virus with him. However, his words tickled me in a manner that I needed. I haven’t laughed all day long. If anyone is more than capable of making me do so, it’s him.

“My what?”

“Your Big Daddy.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You sound like Stephen A. Smith. Ridiculous. Conspicuous. Prosperous. Expeditiously. He’s forever using some unnecessarily big word to describe his frustrations.” The joke about my fellow ESPN brethren amused me even more. He is absolutely right and it’s what we all love about Stephen A. He’s animated, exaggerated, and his outbursts about the eternally cursed New York Knicks will stand the test of time for sports fans. I constantly have a good laugh when I stop by his dressing room for conversations. He’s been a mentor to me from the moment we’ve met and my admiration for him is boundless.

“Don’t talk about Stephen A. He’s great.”

“He stays on my ass though. He tends to be hot and cold with me. One minute, he’s praising my talent and in the next breath, he’s tired of me.”

“He appreciates you. I promise you that. Steven A. is tough, but he believes you’re the heart of the team. It’s why he can be so critical.”

“I watched the discussion ya’ll had about my pending contract situation. You really think I should be the highest paid receiver?” He’s the most explosive one.

“We can make arguments about Antonio Brown and Julio Jones, but when people think of wide receivers, your name is the first name to come out of most people’s mouths. You have the highest selling jersey of any receiver in the league and you’re the one who fills those seats at the Giants stadium. You have been the heart of the team’s offense for the past three years. Prior to your injury, they averaged twenty-three points in three games when you were on the field for the most snaps. They averaged thirteen point six points when you weren’t out there. You’re worth almost ten points per game with your ability to take a short gain and turn it into a long touchdown. Teams literally run their defenses strictly off stopping you. Get paid. You deserve it.”

All I could see is pearly white porcelain as his eyes further narrowed the more his smile spread across his face. As soon as he leaned in for a kiss, I drew my head back.

“Germs.”

“The way you know your shit is sexy as fuck. You want my last name?”

“Shut up, you…”

Dr. Shepard stepping back into the room ceased my reply. And just like that, my nerves were rattled all over again.

“Well, the pregnancy test is negative. Flu test is positive. I’m not sure which way you wanted those results to go, but that’s the verdict.” I know it was supposed to be witty but it didn’t register as such as I signed in a relief that wasn’t as fulfilling as I thought it would be. No, I’m not ready to be a mother. I’m not in that space just yet. More than anything, what I’m now focused on is the person who would have been alongside me in the journey if the results were the opposite. I would not have been alone. I commend him for that.

“I got a flu shot.”

“When did you get it?”

“A little less than two weeks ago.”

“It takes the body about two weeks after the vaccination to develop immune protection. You probably were exposed to influenza viruses sometime since then. Also, there are different strains of the flu. The vaccination only protects you against certain ones. You may have been exposed to one that is very different from whatever ones the vaccination is designed to protect you against.”

“Well screw whoever was around me and had been sick.” She and my man shared laughter at my words.

I’m serious.

“We’re going to give you Tamiflu. The directions on how to take it will be in your discharge instructions and the pharmacy will give you some too. You can take Tylenol for the fever. Rest. You need a lot of that. No work for a couple of days because you have a ton of germs right now. Hot foods and drinks. Steamy showers will help with congestion and the stuffy nose. Vitamin C is great, so orange juice and they have the cough drop like ones. I emphasize rest. Getting rid of the flu is really a waiting game.”

“You hear that Sarai? Rest. Lots of rest.” If I had no class, my middle finger would have been up and towards him.

“If you feel like your symptoms are persisting, come back.”

“Thank you, Dr. Shepard.”

“The pleasure is all mine. The nurse will be back with the forms and prescriptions.”

As soon as we were left alone again, I immediately slipped back into my coat for much needed warmth.

“I’m about to head out so I can make it into the city on time. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sending Renee over so that she can make you some soup or something. So, be expecting her. You need something from the store?”

“I can make the soup myself.”

“Anything you need from the store?” See? This is what I mean.

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Alright, so I’ll see you when I get back. Be in the bed.”

“Uhm.” He knew I’d swerve his lips, so he softly planted his kisses on my warm forehead.

“See you in a bit.”

The nightfall car ride to Walgreens and finally to my home entailed of more conversing than I wanted to have. I was nearly ordered to confirm and deny many of her assumptions, feed into her baseless jokes about a baby that she now knows is non-existent, and defend myself against my supposed lying by omission as we spoke on the phone while I was away. She then proceeded to take credit for our relationship; citing the Bleacher Report party run in as all being a part of her master plan. I beg to differ. I still think it’s a coincidence that he saw me there, but I’ll let her run with that fairytale if it makes her feel better and keeps her off of my case.

“I’m going to lay down.”

“As you should. It’s not like you have to do anything anyway. Your man’s chef is currently making you tea and soup.”

“Taylor.”

“And he arranged for a driver to take me to the airport tomorrow so that you don’t have to get out of bed.”

“Taylor.”

“And he shoots up your club.”

“You know what, goodnight Taylor.”

Lavender; I doused everything in it. I lathered my body up with Dove’s Purely Pampering Relaxing Body Wash while in the shower and spent an extended time inhaling the steam to loosen my nasal passages. Once I was dried off, I moisturized my skin with whipped shea butter fused with lavender essential oil. I lit a match to my Joe Malone London Lavender & Lovage candle, and finally sprayed my pillow cases with Bath & Body Works lavender pillow spray. If I don’t get the best sleep of my life after all of that, I’ll know that I’m suffering from insomnia.

Renee’s coconut ginger carrot chicken soup and the cup of ginger tea certainly made me think of my mother because it’s her key remedy for illnesses. The rich flavoring and natural spice of the ginger eased the congestion discomfort in my chest.

I opted out of the television because it would only deserve as a distraction to the rest, I not only needed but wanted. Unfortunately, what I thought was going to be a long night of slumber ended up being nothing more than on and off naps.

Bergamot, cedar musk, and hints of sage superseded the rest inducing scent that once filled my room. With only a hint of moonlight peaking beyond the white curtain, the man of my affection quietly dropped what appeared to be a duffle bag onto the floor and began to shuffle around the open space within my bedroom to sort himself out.

“I’m not sleeping.” His pace was slower than his usual because he didn’t want to ruin whatever sleep he assumed I was getting.

“You should be.”

“I keep taking naps.”

“You hungry or something?”

“No. Not really. You?”

“I’m good. There’s more than just soup downstairs. I had something before I came up.”

“How was the event?”

“It was nice. The kids were great. They enjoyed themselves.” With every piece of jewelry that he removed; I could hear it clinking against the dresser as he placed them down one by one. “You smell great.”

“Thank you.” I love when he chuckles. It’s so lighthearted and innocent, especially following a compliment. I always want to hug him right after. It’s no different now.

“You look good too.” Yellow against his skin is defining. The whole time he sat with me in that examination room, I couldn’t look away. Even in this darkness, I still cannot do so. My body is riddled with a confusion that I cannot define. I can feel every single flu symptom there is and yet, my nipples are impulsively stiffening against this t-shirt of his that I’m wearing. The prickling in my thighs is increasing with every article of clothing that he removes. I should make him go into the guest room.

“Thank you. Go to sleep.”

“I’m trying.”

His presence kept my eyes open and trailing behind his every move until his almost bare frame slid under the covers and alongside me. I’ve warned him more times than I can count about my germs and yet here he is, basking in them.

“Thank you.”

As he always does when he’s in my bed, he took two of the pillows on his side and tossed them towards my side to lower himself to his liking. I’ve always been someone who loves to lay on way too many of them. It’s probably why I wake up with neck pain every once and a while.

“For what?”

“Taking care of me today.”

“You’re stubborn as hell but it’s what I want to do. It’s my pleasure.”

“Thank you for dealing with my stubbornness too.”

“Of course, baby.”

“And thank you for that yellow coat because I’m keeping it.” That amused him.

“You can have it.”

“Can I have a kiss too?”

“Nah. Germs.”

I used one of the pillows he tossed to whack him in the head. How is he so adorable and maddening all at once?

“Hey, Sarai.”

“Hm?”

His arm extended and slowly snaked around my waist to draw me closer. The skin of his legs melted into mine as they intertwined.

“No Beckham babies today, but later on down the line, for sure, right?”

Beckham babies. Plural. Maybe two boys? Possible two girls? How about the best of both worlds? More than two is out of the question. Twins would ideal. It’s a one shot and done, deal. Actually, no. Two at one time sounds like madness. The genes are strong within his family. I don’t think they stand a chance of genetically inheriting any of my traits. I’ll literally be birthing clones of him in either male or female form. It’s hilarious and yet warming to ponder about.

“Right.”

His lips then met mine.

[hazeleyesirwin]

i’ve seen you before (part two)

summary: self-indulgent soulmate au feat. ashton being softer than he comes off. 

Lunch was interesting to say the least. Chloe and I met Calum and Ashton at a little deli a few blocks away from where they were working. Calum and Ashton ended up there before us because Chloe refused to pay for parking so we spent an extra ten minutes circling the block for a free parking space. We walked up to them while they were still bickering about a new song they had been working on all day. Ashton’s eyes met mine and I felt relief wash through my body. He smiled his same smile that engulfed his entire face and made the corners of his eyes crinkle. He leaned down to kiss me and I leaned up to meet him halfway. It was over quicker than I would have liked, but our best friends were standing right there, awkwardly waiting to be introduced. Ashton introduced himself to Chloe more formally than he had the night before then introduced Calum and Chloe. They shook hands which made Ashton let out a scoff. It got slightly less awkward after we sat down and started to eat. Chloe and Calum had easy conversation about their jobs and how at some point they might have crossed paths before. Ashton and I planned our next date and discussed the possibility of introducing our friends to each other in a group setting. I glanced over and saw Calum absolutely beaming at Chloe. Ashton followed my gaze then we shared a look. This was right. 

Chloe and I got back in the car after a rather lengthy goodbye to the boys which involved them slowly walking us to the car while Chloe chattered about dance and Calum listened more intently than I had ever seen anyone listen to someone talk about something. It was like his life depended on this conversation with Chloe. He was crushing on her hard. “He asked me out,” Chloe said, her hands on the wheel as she stared straight forward at the car parallel parked in the space in front of us. “He what!?” I replied, looking over at her with wide eyes. “Calum asked me on a date and I said yes. We’re going out tomorrow night.” 

“Where the fuck was I when this happened?” 

“Kissing your fucking boyfriend.” 

“He’s not my boyfr-”

“He is and don’t even try to argue.” 

“I can’t believe you’re going out with Calum.”

“Why? The fuck is wrong with him?” 

“Nothing, nothing. I’m just surprised it was that fast. Usually it takes a month of ‘talking’ before you agree to go on a date with someone.”

“He’s different.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, it felt like the right place at the right time.” 

“A little like getting saved from walking into traffic?” 

Chloe looked at me and rolled her eyes, but nodded,”Exactly like that.” 

My bed is soft. Warm. Warmer with him beside me. The book I’m reading has a spine so broken I need to get a new copy. I need to write that on my list in the morning. His left hand grazes my thigh. His hand is warm, but his wedding ring is cold. His right hand reaches over to put my book on my bedside table. He lays it so it’s still open, not losing my page. His hands go to my middle, where I’m growing our child. The baby kicks his left hand which makes him beam with pride. He speaks softly to the baby. I want his attention, but he needs to bond with his child. He’s going to be such a good father. Kind, warm. In a time when fathers are cold and distant toward their families. He wrote a lullaby that he sings each night and will sing when the baby is born. I’m smitten. Husband, father of my children. Soulmate. I hope our baby has his eyes. The eyes that are on mine. The ones that remind me he's really there in front of me when I’m falling down my rabbit hole. 

I woke up, sitting up in Ashton’s bed with a gasp coming from my throat. My head was spinning. I couldn’t make out where I was in the dark. I felt a hand on my back which brought me back to earth. Ashton sat up and clicked on the lamp beside him. When I looked over at him the first thing I saw were his eyes, filled with concern. I hope our baby has his eyes. I couldn’t breathe. He noticed my shallow breathing and pulled me closer to him, taking slow, even breaths to get me to slow my own breathing. My face was pressed into his neck. I could feel his heartbeat underneath my palm. Steady. When my breathing evened out, he asked if I was okay. “Just a dream,” I replied. “Do you want to talk about it?” “No.” He laid back down, bringing me with him. He tucked me close to his side. 

Later that morning after the dream, I woke up to an empty bed and a sticky note on the pillow where Ashton’s head should’ve been. His handwriting scribbled across the yellow paper in black ink. “I texted you the address for the studio. Meet me there at 4?” I hadn’t even looked at my phone. I reached over to the bedside table for it and saw two texts from Ashton. One was him sharing his location with me and the other read: “forgot to write this in my note, but you need to sleep in my bed every night. I’ve never gotten such a good night’s sleep.” I decided to tidy up around Ashton’s house and do the dishes for him before getting dressed and heading out to the studio. He had left keys for me to drive one of his cars which was honestly pretty dumb on his part. I’m not a great driver and this car was expensive. 

When I walked into the studio Calum greeted me with a quick hug then led me to the booth where Ashton was recording backup vocals. He opened the door for me and I was surrounded with the sound of Ashton’s voice. His voice made my chest warm. He paused for a moment and glanced over to where I was standing. He motioned for me to join him and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. He leaned down to kiss me sweetly. A crackly voice from a speaker sounded in the booth as we broke apart,”Guys, you’re literally in front of a mic. Please don’t make me listen to your kissing ASMR.” “Shut the fuck up, Luke. You did the same thing. You’re just bitter because you’re single,” Ashton replied, directly into the mic. He flipped a metal switch and took off his headphones. He leaned down to kiss me again. His hands ran down my back. He pulled away after a minute,”I like this dress,” He commented. “Wanna borrow it?” I teased gently. “Hell yes,” He replied. 

We walked out the door of the booth and to another room where a bunch of guys were sitting around, including the half of the band I hadn’t met yet. “Luke, Michael, this is the girl I was telling you about,” Ashton introduced me. Michael wrapped me in a bear hug which was warm and comforting. Luke shook my hand and had me sit next to him. Calum was recording next. He went into the booth and started to sing. The pitch was slightly off so Luke told him to go again. After five tries, Calum was clearly frustrated. I looked down at the soundboard they were using,”You might want to turn down the higher frequencies because you’re picking up the high pitches in his undertone.” I looked over at Luke and he had a shocked expression on his face. Michael leaned over me and turned a few knobs then told Calum to go again, making slight adjustments as he sang. He was on pitch in the recording this time. “How the fuck?” Luke asked, looking at Ashton,”Where the fuck did you find her again?” “I saved her from throwing herself dramatically into traffic,” Ashton replied, a smirk on his face, dimples painted on his cheeks. When Calum was done, they were finished for the day. 

Ashton suggested we go bowling with everyone. So, we met at a secluded, kind of run-down bowling alley. Honest to god, it was kind of creepy. I introduced the girls and Ashton introduced the boys. Kass nearly collapsed the second Michael smiled at her and asked her if she wanted to help him get drinks for everyone. Ken and Luke wandered behind Kass and Michael to order pizza for all of us. Calum and Chloe went to get shoes. Ashton and I set up the scoreboard on the little screen above our lane. His hand was on my back while he typed in names on the sticky keyboard. He put up bumpers for me, which I complained about for a minute, but let’s be real for a minute, I need bumpers. Michael walked over to the table behind our lane and set down a pitcher of beer. Kass was close behind him with a stack of cups and a stack of plates. “You really labeled me ‘cocksucker’?” Kass protested from behind me. I turned over my shoulder and laughed. “You really had to call me out like that in front of boys I just met?” She gave me a look and flicked her eyes toward Michael who was pouring beer into cups behind her. I shrugged,”It’s your name, dude, I don’t know what to tell you.” 

We got settled, everyone picked out a ball to use, and the game began. Kass was up first and put her ball directly in the gutter while trying to show off. She spun on her heel, stomped back to the table and downed her beer, taking Ken’s spot beside Calum when Ken got up to take her turn. Calum patted Kass on the back and told her to “get ‘em next time”. She shot him a glare that made him slide back in his seat. Ken got a strike, which pissed Kass off even more. By the end of the first game, we were talking and drinking more than bowling. I was tipsy, giggling like a child, and staring at Ashton every chance I got. I swear, he gets more beautiful in every life. Kass was teasing Michael about how bad his score was, clearly flirting as hard as she could. She couldn’t see the absolute admiration in Michael’s eyes through her beer goggles. Ken and Luke were both on their phones, but had drifted closer together throughout the night. They kept showing each other thing on their phones and laughing together. It was very sweet. Chloe was trying to convince Calum to chug the rest of the pitcher of beer that was sitting on the table and had gotten warm. He was refusing, but laughing so hard at her argument he was crying a little. It all felt so familiar. I saw a flash of neon carpet in my mind for a second before I felt Ashton’s hand on my arm. My eyes refocused on his face. I saw his familiar smirk, his warm eyes, his red hair. God, I’m so far gone with him. I’m in too deep. “Ready to go home?” He asked softly. I nodded, standing up. He steadied me when I wobbled slightly. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he pulled me close to him. “You smell good,” I mumbled, looking up at Ashton. “You smell like beer and bowling alley,” He replied, then leaned down to kiss me, contrasting his previous statement. Mint gum, beer, aftershave. If I wasn’t already drunk, his kiss would have intoxicated me. 

I woke up in my own bed for once, a heavy arm slung over my waist, a familiar hand holding mine. I wiggled in Ashton’s arms, turning over to face him. I pressed my face into his neck. I felt him start to wake up. His grip on me tightened as he woke up, tugging me closer. “Ash, you’re gonna suffocate me,” I groaned softly. “If I suffocate you then you can’t get out of bed,” He replied, his voice a little deeper than normal. I pulled back slightly to run my fingers through his hair and sweep it off his face. “Are you ever gonna go back to your natural color?” I asked. I felt Ashton shrug,”Probably. Might dye it black first.” 

“I like the red.” 

“I’m glad.” He paused for a moment, staring at me. 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Ashton Fletcher Irwin, you have been looking at me like you saw a ghost every time we wake up together for a week, tell me what’s wrong.” 

“It’s like, I don’t fucking know, it’s like deja vu.” 

“Of what? Me?” 

“Us. Yeah. But, you look different. And it’s so clear and real. You’re cooking in the kitchen, but it’s not now. Like clearly, not this time. You come up to me and push my hair back like you do when we wake up together. Your voice is the same. It’s like this hazy fever dream.” 

“Like a past you didn’t know you had?” 

“Exactly… I’m crazy, right?” 

I shook my head,”No, baby, you’re not crazy.” 

We laid there together for a while longer. I could feel his heartbeat under my fingertips. Steady, even thuds that made me feel serene. Completely at peace. With Ashton, there was no anxiety. No panic. No fear. Steady. 

“We have to get up,” I broke the comfortable silence. Ashton nodded and pulled away from me, sitting on the edge of my bed then standing. My eyes raked over the expanse of his back. He turned and threw a shirt at me,”Stop eye fucking me and get dressed.” I stood and tugged the shirt he threw at me over my head. I walked over to him, my bare feet making soft pat noises on the hardwood floor. I had to stand on my tiptoes to reach his lips with mine. He met me halfway and we shared a quick kiss. 

I walked out of my room and was met with three sets of wide eyes. “What?” I asked, stopping in my tracks. The energy of the living room was the opposite of the calm I had just left in my bedroom. The way Chloe was looking at me made me want to cry. “Someone please stop staring and tell me what the fuck is going on,” I begged. Kass and Chloe shared a look. Ken kept staring at me like I was going to break into a million pieces at any moment. “Seriously, what the fuck?” I asked again. “You haven’t checked your phone this morning, have you?” Chloe finally spoke, but didn’t even give me a hint as to why they were looking at me like that. “No, I didn’t pick it up this morning, why?” I started to panic. I walked back into my room and picked up my phone. I saw hundreds of notifications. I clicked on one. A tweet that had an article by the daily mail linked in it. I clicked the link. The headline of the article read,” 5SOS Drummer Ashton Irwin’s New Fling”. I scrolled through the article, skimming over tweets from fans that were linked, saying I was the girlfriend of the week, that it wouldn’t last long, that he didn’t even look happy with me. Ashton approached me with caution,”Sweetheart, don’t take that seriously.” “How did they find out? I never once saw a camera,” I didn’t even look at him, consumed by the thousands of notifications still pouring in on all my social media. Ashton took my phone from me and turned it off. “Am I just a fling?” I asked, finally looking up into the eyes that brought me so much comfort. “No, what the fuck? I would have left last night after we fucked if this was a fling,” He replied. Wrong answer. “How many girls did you leave after you were done fucking them?” I stared at him in shock. 

“Is that really important right now?” 

“Yes, how many?” 

“A lot, okay!? A lot. I had a lot of meaningless sex and left a shit ton of girls in bed by themselves.” 

“Am I just another one of those girls?” 

“No, I told you that. You’re more to me than anyone else has ever been.” 

“I don’t want to get fucking attached to you if you’re going to up and leave!” 

“What about you? Are you going to leave? Are you using me for a career boost?” 

“No, why the fuck would you say that to me right now?!” 

“I don’t know! I don’t even know why we’re fighting!” 

“Because I’m already attached and if you break my heart I’m not going to recover so if you’re going to hurt me just do it now before I’m in too deep.” 

“I won’t leave.” 

Train station. Beige uniforms. I reach up to fix his hat. “I’ll be back before you know it,” his voice reaches my ears and I know he’s unsure. “Just don’t break my heart, soldier,” It comes out more of a plea than I meant it to. “I won’t. I promised, remember?” I do. I hear the conductor ringing the bell. He needs to leave. I lean up to kiss my husband. Mint. Aftershave. Desperation. He kisses me harder than he ever has before. I feel tears slipping down my cheeks as he walks away toward the train. Please don’t leave me. You’re the love of my life. I won’t recover. 

I stared up at Ashton, watching him breathing heavily. He was frustrated, everything in his body language told me that. I reached up and brushed back that one curl that always fell in his face. “I want you. I don’t want to leave. I never want to leave,``he explained, his tone softened as he spoke. “I’m scared,” I admitted. My fingers brushed down his jaw. He took my hand and pressed it to his chest so I could feel his heart beating,”I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not deja vu. I’m not a dream that leaves when you wake up. I’m here. For the rest of this life. I’m right here.” “This life?” I asked softly. “And the rest of them. As long as we both come back to earth, I’ll find you,” He had this look in his eyes that I had seen a hundred times before. The look that said “I’m going to love you as long and as hard as this body lets me”. The look that broke my heart because it reminded me that this life was fleeting. That we might get forty years if we’re lucky. Despite the dread my soul was enthralled in, I leaned up to kiss Ashton. Mint. Aftershave. His steady heartbeat under my hand. 

[thesloppiestbitch]

This Is Not A Temporary Love - John Deacon x Reader

A/N: This is based off of one of my favorite songs right now, Temporary Love by Ben Platt, so I suggest listening to it while you read!

Lyrics are in bold italics!

Summary: After a lengthy friendship with John, he finally works up the courage to ask you out. Despite you liking him as well, you refuse to let yourself get hurt one more time. You’d rather be alone than risk losing your best friend. John attempts to reason with you, but you seem to be a lost cause...

Warning(s): Swearing, mild angst for like a line or two (I don’t even think this needs a warning, but I’m putting it here just in case, even though it’s literally a line and a half and ends right away)

Masterlist

As you walked down the cold streets of London with your best friend since the beginning of primary school, John, your mind began to wander and your hands grew colder. You shoved them in your jacket pockets in an attempt to warm them, but, before they even had a chance to warm up, John had pulled off his gloves and handed them to you.

You shook your head at this gesture, a small smile present on your cold face.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, [Name], just take the bloody mitts,” He laughed out. “I’ll be fine,”

You sighed jokingly. “Fine,”

You took the gloves from him and slipped them onto your hands. Immediately, they warmed up, which you were more than thankful for.

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you again, but you didn’t mind. That was one of the many wonderful things about being so close with John; there didn’t need to be conversation to make the time you two spent together meaningful.

After a while, John stood still and quietly spoke up. “Look, [Name], I have something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about for a while now, but I’ve just been too nervous to bring it up,” He paused, looking down to you.

You gave him an encouraging smile, cheeks rosy from the cold. “You can tell me anything; you know that,”

He nodded, looking down to his feet. “Yeah, I- I know, it’s just...”

You took a step towards him, placing your hand in his upper arm. “What is it?” You asked, growing slightly concerned.

“Never mind, it’s stupid anyways—” He spoke quickly, looking up to meet your eyes.

You sighed in response, giving his arm a light squeeze. “Just tell me, you dork.”

He looked down, watching his hands fiddle with his fingers to calm his nerves, something he did a lot. “I...” He paused, pressed his eyes closed as hard as he could, and inhaled sharply. “I have feelings for you.”

He spoke so quickly, it took you a few seconds to process what he’d actually said, and he took this as a bad sign.

“[Name], just forget I said anything, it’s stupid, I know, I’m sorry, I’ve just been trying to tell you for a really long time and—”

You cut him off again. “No, no, John, you don’t have to apologize!” You quickly attempted to change his train of thought. “I’ve liked you for a while too, it’s just... You know I’ve had a lot of bad relationships in the past, and I don’t want to fuck things up with you and potentially risk losing my best friend,”

He nodded, understanding. “Love is good until it’s gone,”

You nodded, dropping your hand to your side and looking to the ground. “It seems we’ve both had to learn that the hard way, huh.”

“Yeah... Which sucks, because I was really hoping something would come from this,” He nervously laughed out, starting to walk forwards again.

You nodded in agreement, stepping quickly to keep up with him. “Me too,”

“Then why don’t we try? You don’t have to hide your love away because of some bad experiences,”

“I wish it were that easy... But I know that I’m gonna make mistakes—”

“So will I, no one is perfect,” He interrupted. “And I know that leaning on somebody isn’t easy, but I’ll do what I can to make you see that this is not a temporary love,”

You smiled at his wording. “That’s cute, John, but—”

He cut you off again, something he was sort of known for doing. Despite being such a quiet man the majority of the time, he could be very talkative when the right moment presented itself. “You may not think I know the difference between what would be temporary and what would be long lasting, but I do. We’ve been best friends since year 2, [Name], I know you better than anyone else in the world. I’ve seen you at your highs and your lows, I’ve been there to comfort you after every shitty guy you’ve dated before... I feel the gravity between us, and you can too, don’t even try to deny it,”

You looked down as you kicked a small block of snow. “I agree one hundred percent, there’s definitely something between us, but... What if everything is great for a few years and then we break up? I’d be left without the one person in the world who actually understands me and loves me for who I am. I can’t risk losing that,”

“One date is all I ask. If you still feel this way, we can just stay friends, but if you don’t, we’ll see where this leads. Deal?”

You laughed, brushing some hair out of your face as the chilly winds began to pick up. “Alright, one date, but that’s it!”

But, of course, one date turned into many, and the two of you continued to date in secret for months. John never understood why you felt the need to keep the relationship a secret, but he went along with it for fear of losing you if he brought it up. Until the night he’d asked you to join him and his family for dinner.

You sat on the couch, arms crossed over your chest. “No, John, I’m going if you’re going to try to introduce me as your girlfriend! Say nothing and act as though it’s just any other day where I’d come over? Sure! But I refuse to tell people we’re together!”

“Why? What’re you afraid of?” He questioned, growing fed up with your childish behaviour and secrets.

You fell silent for a moment before speaking. “You.”

This single word left John dumbfounded. “What?”

“I’m afraid of losing you. Every time I go public with a relationship, it goes to shit! Or things are going great until we meet each other’s parents and things go downhill from there... Those guys, I didn’t really care about— they were really nothing more than a fun shag for a few months, but it’s different with you. I don’t want you to turn into just another ‘fun shag’ and I most certainly don’t want to lose you.”

A small smile spread across his face upon hearing how much you cared about him. He moved to sit beside you on the couch rather than continue to lean against the wall opposite you. “[Nickname], we don’t have to hide our love away because of some shit guys who couldn’t see all the good inside of you. And both of us are gonna make mistakes cause leaning on somebody’s never easy, but look at me and tell me you see that this is not a temporary love. I know I’ve said that multiple times, many ways before, but your anxiety about our relationship hasn’t seemed to fade away; I figured you could stand to hear it again. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.” He comforted, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he spoke. You leaned into him, smiling upon hearing this common phrase. Some days, it seemed like hearing him tell you that was the only thing that would calm you down.

“Thank you,” You mumbled, leaning further into his embrace.

“For what?” He chuckled.

“When the world around is caving in, and the winds... Well, they keep on changing, you always seem to know just what to say or do to calm me down. You take my hand and let it spin, but we’ll hold still. You keep me grounded, and no one else has been able to do that. And I love you for that, among many other things,” You teased, attempting to lighten the mood after such an in depth conversation about the state of your relationship.

A large smile broke out across his face. “That’s the first time you’ve said that,”

You looked up at him, smiling as well. “Oh?”

He nodded. “It is. And I love you too,”

You hummed in response, leaning towards him to press a soft kiss upon his lips.

[queenlifesupport]

Pure (Ben! x Y/N)

@mhoodx - “hello, it’s me again. i don’t know if you’re still taking request but i’ve been thinking about this idea a lot. it can be something where the reader is chosen to play mary austin, but ben isn’t that happy about it, in fact he’s jealous. because that means the reader is going to be around rami a little too much. that’s just a short idea, maybe you could add something more? have a nice day/night” 

WORD COUNT - 2,130

Warnings - Flufffffff, and language because its me, what do you expect 

I really apologize for not uploading any imagines in a while, I’ve been having so much going on! Sorry if any typos, might've missed some! And sorry for this shitty thing lol. Thank you all! xoxo

"Take three, scene 13, action." The director yelled as he observed the scene that wasn't all complicated. We were currently working on the engagement scene, Rami and I had a hard time focusing while working together due to knowing each other in our personal lives but we made sure it never got in our way of work. We had just gotten to the scene of the guys walking into the makeshift flat, interrupting Mary and Freddie. We had to keep refilming due to Ben making Rogers character too upset when he wasn't supposed to be. I knew why the boy couldn't keep his acting straight. Ben and I have been dating ever since we were casted together, which had been 11 months ago. We met at the auditions, it immediately clicked, he invited me over a few times and eventually we started going out. It's been a few months of dating and just recently it got a little more serious, both of us have been considering moving in together and I couldn't be happier about it. Although given our current status, I don't think he was too happy with this scene though, along with the fact Rami and I have been spending plenty of time together on screen and off. I shouldn't have to change it though, he has nothing to worry about when it comes to Rami and I.

"Which finger do I put this on?" I recited the memorized lines while holding the blanket up to my bare chest, feeling the material graze the soft goosebump ridden skin, allowing the acted emotions to play on my face and through my body language.

"Wedding finger?" We continued the heartfelt scene, all until the boys entered. You could visibly see Ben's locked jaw and anger filled gaze causing the director to call cut and request a break. I sighed in frustration at the fact we didn't get it that time, at this point I felt there was no hope with getting through this scene. One of the stylists walked to me swiftly and handed me the thick black t-shirt with the Queen signature logo printed on the front, supporting the movie production. I slipped it over my torso carefully, making sure to not flash anyone in the process. Ben stood on the other side of the coffee table, crossing his arms while looking at me with his jaw slightly hung open, this wasn't his first time seeing me like this. I stood up, clearly annoyed at the man standing in my  peripheral vision. I avoided looking him directly in the eyes, soon leaving to spend the given break in my assigned trailer. As I shut the metal door behind me, I let out another sigh, closing my eyes and letting my mind unravel and collapse, just what I wanted to do. He's been making me stressed ever since day one on set, I had no clue he'd be this jealous. I wasn't jealous when they filmed scenes with women all over him, why is he jealous about Rami, a close friend of mine and only a friend that has always been a friend. I soon heard the door opening and closing after Ben entered, following me from the set silently. I turned around and locked eyes with him, now crossing my arms in front of my chest as I waited for the next move to be clear.

"Ben, what is with you? You've been acting unacceptable ever since the start date of recording?" I attempted to get answers from him, I was put up with his shit at this point. I knew he wouldn't come clean or explain if I hadn't made the first attempt to get him to spill his mind.

"I - I'm really sorry Y/N/N. We've only been together for such little time, seeing you interact with Rami in a different light than how we interact is kind of nerve-racking. I know you guys have been friends ever since The War at Home, I just need to accept the fact you're with me. It's just you're such a beautiful woman with a guy like me, it is clearly hard to believe that. You're literally the woman of my dreams." He clasped his hands behind his back as he took a few strides towards me. Now slightly towering over me.

I closed my eyes, letting a shaky breath escape, thinking about my next move. "Please just start doing your job, were all trying here and you're really testing our patience. We can't afford to continuously refill, we don't have the money and time." I looked up at him, he then looked down to his feet with a small frown upon his lips. "I forgive you." I whispered after a moment of dreadful silence, I could feel his guilt sap every corner of the room. He settled his gaze back to my face, then embracing me in a warm and lengthy hug. One of my favorite things were being held by him.

"I won't act like this anymore. I'll clear my mind and remember the truth, I promise, love." I smiled at his choice of words, he always knew how to fix our problems and make me smile at the same time. We both had fixing, but we always did it together as a team.

"So, no more acting all upset and jealous just because Rami and I are hanging out?" I questioned after leaving his warm arms, aching to be back in them.

"Of course, I'll now just be upset if you pay attention to Joe or Gwilym." He joked. I rolled my eyes with a warm-hearted smile plastered on my lips. I moved my hand up to caress his softly shaved jawline, rubbing my thumb across his chin. He shifted his head slightly to lay a gentle kiss on the tip of my finger while his hand rested on the top of mine. We stood there in admiration for at least a moment before he cut the lingering silence with his deep voice. "You look absolutely stunning." I blushed at his hushed compliment, his eyes held transparent love.

"You don't look too shabby yourself." I muttered only loud enough for him to barely hear me. I've never been so in love with a human being. He was kind no matter how hard he tried to be rude or judgmental, sometimes it was just masked with jealously or insecurities. Which I could never understand due to him being the most beautiful man I've ever seen walk this planet, let alone the universe. But here we were, two mortals fixing up a mess that didn't make sense. It genuinely made me concerned at times how much I fell for him, or just loved him. I had my insecurities at times too, especially about Ben not trusting me. I've done all I can to put in effort into our blooming relationship and the fact he doesn't give me all his trust makes me uneasy. Plus, look at me, who else would want me, having Ben was already out of my lea-

"What's on your mind, love?" He interrupted the thought I held in my scrambled brain. I swallowed hard as I debated on wither I should tell him or not.

"I just don't know why you don't trust me. Who else would I go after? No ones as good as you and no one will even offer me anything due to me being myself." He scoffed lightly at my remark towards myself, he had knowledge that I was my worst enemy. I feared I looked attention seeking at times, but that's just how I honestly felt and he requests honesty.

"Y/N, listen to me. You don't ever have to be ashamed of who you are. You are beyond beautiful on the inside and out, you have a heart of gold and a god-like beautiful face and body. There's so many people who would be so happy to be yours. I'm just scared to lose you to someone who can offer you more." I lightly gawked at his response.

"You are the kindest person I know, Ben Hardy. But the truth is, no one could ever replace you." I leaned in to place a sweet kiss on his soft lips that held flavor from his chapstick. Taking in the moment as every second passed. I always wanted to be locked with him. He was my everything as of now.

"How long until break is over, darling?" He asked, looking down at his watch once we pulled away. I thought back to the break schedule we discussed while at the start of filming. I also averted my eyes to the small clock on his wrist.

"20 minutes." I quickly did the small amount of math in my head, getting the total and answering him. He looked up to the roof with ideas on his mind. I giggled at his adorable and concentrating look. I felt much better after having the small yet informal conversation between the two of us. Communication was a huge part of our relationship, no matter what it is, it had to be played in the tense air.

"Just enough time to spend it with my favorite girl." He smiled softly at me with that stupid smile I always fall for, no matter what. He yet again pressed against me, allowing me to nuzzle up closer to him, feeling his chin rest upon my head. I felt at home whenever I was with him, mostly when I was rested up in his embrace. I breathed out in relief, feeling that familiar sense of warmth and protection, a feeling no one else but him could give me. His body radiated off heat and love, I could feel both with every pulsing vein in my body. At times I felt like a school girl with a massive crush on the most popular guy in school, always flustered and amazed at his interactions and way of life. But his way of life was with me, his intentions were pure as gold and clear like crystal. I was beyond thankful for being brought to him, he changed my life over the last several months, even in the slightest of ways. "You know how we've been discussing living together?" I felt his jaw move up and down as he spoke with his mesmerizing voice.

"Of course, baby." My voice was muffled by his shirt but someone the man still heard me.

"Let's do it. What's the worse that will happen? We both clearly want the same thing." His hand traced shapes on my back like a small child practicing its shapes on a blank piece of paper with crayon. I lifted my head from his chest, looking up at him while he softly hummed to rid the air around us of silence.

"I'd absolutely love to." I whispered delightfully. My heart raced with anticipation and excitement. I felt happy at the new achievement we've faced as a couple. Moving in together is a big step and there's no one I'd rather take that leap with than Ben.

"Good." Was all he replied with. I could tell he held his happiness under the surface, his posture fixed slightly after I answered and I could hear his heart pound in sync with mine. I inhaled deeply, trying to remember each sense of this moment. The smell of his cologne, the light racket of his breathing and heartbeat, the feeling of his soft and body heated shirt against my cold cheek, the dimly lit room as the sun hit his sand blonde hair, and the taste of oranges from his chapstick he regularly applied throughout the day. Everything played like a movie scene throughout my head, making every single system in my mind all wind down and just enjoy the moment for some time. I felt overwhelmed, but when he held onto me it felt like he held onto my sanity and allowed me to fix all the broken pieces without them floating away, like matter in the depths of space.

"I love you." I muttered, feeling the slight perfection of the moment. My eyes fluttered shut, melting under his every touch he placed upon my clothed or none covered skin.

"I love you too, Y/N." The moment felt nothing but pure and raw. Everything about it felt so natural, being here with him and reciting these words to each other with a different meaning and motive each time. I couldn't get enough of him and this feeling. I never will get enough and I knew I was stuck in this forever lasting love spell the universe set upon us. I would never trade it for the entire world, him and I knew that to be true.

{TAG LIST // @michael-langdonahs // @bemywiggins // @vampire-way // @brianrogerinas }

MASTERLINK

[andreaphobia]

fic: the aerodynamic properties of eggs. (HARUKA & MAKOTO)

Characters: Haruka/Makoto, Kisumi, Asahi Wordcount: ~2200

Summary:

Makoto eggs Haruka's house for a dare, then ends up asking him out.

Also on AO3.

If this was the last thing Makoto ever did, he wanted everyone to know that it was one hundred percent, without a shadow of a doubt, entirely Kisumi’s fault.

He can think of roughly a million other places he’d rather be, and a billion other things he’d rather be doing. Like... flossing, or folding his underpants. Doing his math homework. Literally anything besides standing in the middle of a dark street somewhere in his neighborhood, clutching a carton of eggs, and trying not to hyperventilate until he blacks out.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and without having to look, he knows what it says. It’s either Kisumi or Asahi, reminding him of the terms of their game. Trying to make sure he doesn’t chicken out. This is a real problem when it comes to Makoto, who is not big on rule-breaking as a whole. Without the reminder that someone out there is keeping tabs on him, he probably wouldn’t be here at all.

Fortunately for the two of them, while Makoto doesn’t make a habit of juvenile delinquency, he is susceptible to peer pressure. Which brings us to the present: Tachibana Makoto has to egg someone’s house.

Why? Because he was dared to, and Kisumi and Asashi already did: it’s as simple as that. Furthermore, neither of them got caught doing it, which raises the stakes somewhat. Now, not only does Makoto have to egg a house, he must also completely avoid detection, Mission Impossible-style. And, if he should be caught, he’s on his own—he’ll have to talk his own way out of it.

(Such are the ways of young men and the idiotic games they play with each other.)

In the first place, Makoto wonders, in increasingly growing dismay, how does one egg a house? He hasn’t the faintest idea. Oh, sure, he can make an educated guess based purely on the necessary physical logistics of it—you know, reach into carton, grasp egg firmly in hand, fling egg, repeat until someone calls the cops, and then hightail it out of there.

But it’s the other stuff that isn’t so clear. Should he stand on the sidewalk to maintain plausible deniability, or get way up close so he doesn’t miss? Would it be more efficient to try throwing the whole carton at once, and, if so, should he do it underhand or overhead? Is an airborne egg likely to retain its physical integrity as it flies, or is there a chance of, say, spontaneous egg combustion?

His phone buzzes again, insistently, and he almost drops the entire carton of eggs on his foot.

“Okay, okay, I got it already,” he mumbles, although it’s not like Kisumi or Asahi can hear him. There’s nothing else for it—he has to do it, consequences be damned.

Makoto fumbles the carton open, then stares at the contents within, immediately paralyzed by the array of choices laid out before him. Should he start with the egg in the top left corner? The one next to it? How much of an effect does the size and shape of the egg have on its aerodynamic properties? Also, does any of this even matter?

He shuts his eyes and snatches one at random, partially squishing it in his panic. This almost certainly compromises its aerodynamic properties; nevertheless, with eyes still shut, he draws his arm back over his shoulder and then flings the fistful of crushed egg in the general direction of the house. And that’s when the lights go on.

Makoto leaps several feet into the air, lets out a high-pitched whisper-scream, and actually does drop the carton of eggs on his foot. Then stumbles, and steps on them, for good measure. A shadowy figure has peeled away from the tree in the front yard, solidifying into the shape of a man. The man is holding a flashlight, the beam of which is pointed directly at Makoto’s face, blinding him.

“So,” a gruff voice says, “you’ve been egging houses on this street, have you?”

“NO!” Makoto wails, immediately. He shields his eyes, which allows him to sort of make out some of the details of the figure who’s standing in the yard pointing the flashlight at him. An adult. An older man, who looks very grumpy indeed. And not at all impressed by Makoto’s denial, either—understandably, given the egg bits dripping from his hand and the carton of broken eggs under his feet.

“A likely story,” the man says, brusquely. “Trying to play dumb even though you’ve been caught in the act, eh?” At last, he lowers the flashlight and crosses his arms, which gives Makoto’s eyes a bit of a reprieve. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

Without any apparent input or engagement from his brain, Makoto’s mouth leaps into action. He babbles something only partially coherent about a dare, something about his friends doing it first and feeling like he had to and he’s really sorry he didn’t mean it he’ll never do it again he doesn’t even like eggs—

“—I see,” the man interrupts, after listening to this word vomit for a solid twenty seconds. “A dare... is that right?” He shakes his head, sighing heavily. “You know, lad, you’re about my Haruka’s age. You really ought to know better.”

Alarm bells are going off in Makoto’s head, but unfortunately his brain is still out to sea, so his mouth can no longer be stopped. It has latched on to the name ‘Haruka’ as someone who can be used as an excuse, and barrels on into oblivion, guns a-blazin’.

“Haruka—um—we—it—my friends dared me—because we’d—gone out on a date—but it didn’t—I mean—we didn’t work out—but I still—”

The man stares at him.

“You... went out with Haruka?” he asks, in a very funny tone of voice.

There’s a lengthy pause, during which Makoto’s brain labors to catch up to the conversation of the past couple of minutes. Then another one, during which he screams internally and tries to rewind time to that period of blissful ignorance, before he was aware of the words that had just come out of his own mouth.

“Uhm...” Finally, Makoto decides that—if nothing else—he can at least make his story internally consistent. (He intuits that this will probably be a mark in his favor, when he’s going up on the stand in juvie court.) “Yes...?”

It comes out sounding like a question, but fortunately the man doesn’t seem to notice. He fixes Makoto with an unreadable look, which lasts for so long that Makoto hyperfixates on the feeling of the sweat dripping down the back of his neck, and starts to panic.

Then the man switches off his flashlight, tucks it under his arm, and turns over his shoulder to bellow, “HARUKA! Get out here!”

After an excruciating minute, the porch light on the front of the house comes on, and the front door swings open. A slim figure emerges from the house wearing flip flops, trotting down the gravel pathway and then down the lawn (taking care to avoid the aborted egg splatter that only ended up making it halfway to the house).

The figure comes up next to the man, who Makoto assumes is his dad, and looks back and forth between the two of them, expressionlessly.

“...What?”

Makoto gulps. Okay, first of all, Haruka is a guy. Which—not a bad thing, but definitely a surprise. Second of all, he’s—uh—how do you say it? Oh, right—smokin’ hot. Shorter than Makoto, with dark, silky hair and blue eyes; nice wrists and cheekbones, and a tight waist that looks just the perfect size for Makoto to grab him by and carry him around. Nice mouth, too, and kinda... sexy... lips. (Even in the privacy of his own head, this thought is enough to make him blush.)

“Boy said he wants to talk to you,” Haruka’s father says, his voice gone weirdly gruff again. “I’ll—uh—leave you two to it.”

“I thought you were trying to catch the kid who was egging houses on our street.”

“Never you mind that. Just—tell me about it later, okay?”

He claps Haruka on the shoulder affectionately, then turns and heads back up into the house.

Haruka watches him leave blankly. Eventually, he turns back to Makoto. He doesn’t say anything, however, and at this point Makoto becomes acutely aware that he is still standing there with egg drippings on his hand, and is standing on a carton of eggs. (As far as good first impressions ago, he figures this probably doesn’t even make the top two hundred.)

“Uh—sorry.” Good start—but future prospects are dim. Anyway, given the fact that he’s been caught with egg on face (and hand—and shoe), he feels like he may as well be honest. What has he got to lose? “My friends dared me to egg your house, and your, um, your dad caught me. So I told him that we... er...” This part is a bit of a sticking point, but he stands firm, “...that it was because we... um... broke up.”

Haruka blinks.

“But we’ve never dated,” he points out, quite reasonably.

“You’re right, we haven’t.”

“I don’t think we’ve even met.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

With the facts of the matter confirmed, Haruka lapses back into what appears to be a thoughtful silence. Makoto is just starting to wonder if he can excuse himself to go wash the egg off his hand yet when Haruka finally speaks.

“But we need to break up anyway.”

“Uhm...” Makoto tries to think about this logically, but his brain is fried. He shrugs, instead. “I guess so? Yeah.”

Haruka nods, like it’s all starting to make sense now. “So we should go out on a date.”

“Yeah, we—wait, what? That wasn’t what I—”

Makoto’s idiot mouth is on the cusp of producing another stream of idiocy when his brain finally seizes the wheel, stopping it in its tracks before it can scuttle his chances with smokin’-hot Haruka any worse. “You... want to go out with me?”

“It only makes sense,” Haruka says—slower this time, as though he’s talking to a moron, which is both kinda funny and also really rude. “We need to break up. But we’ve never dated. So we should date... so that we can break up.”

Makoto blinks. If you selectively disengage all the parts of the brain that process conscious thought, he supposes it almost starts to make a weird kind of sense.

“Uh... where do you... want to go, then?”

Haruka doesn’t hesitate. “The beach. I’m free this weekend.”

On some level, Makoto is starting to feel as though he is perhaps just having a very weird and specific dream. However, dream or not, Haruka still has a sexy mouth and a sexy everything else, too, so at this point it seems reasonable to decide that he’s just going to go wherever this wild ride takes him.

His phone buzzes again, reminding him of its existence. Thanks to that, it occurs to him that maybe they should exchange numbers, so he reaches into his pocket to grab it, and by the time he remembers he has eggy hands it’s already too late.

“Oh, crap—darn it.” Helplessly, he wipes his phone screen off on the seat of his jeans, and then his hand as well, because what the hell, right? “Here, do you want to give me your number, then? Sorry about the... um... the egg.”

Haruka takes the phone from him without a word, dials in a number, then hands it back. Makoto saves it into his contacts, then returns the phone to his pocket.

That seems to be that, and he’s not sure what to do next, so he just laughs, awkwardly. “So... see you on Saturday, I guess...?”

“Bye,” Haruka says, turning to go back into his house.

Part of Makoto feels like he’s won the lottery; another part suspects he’s actually making a mistake. (The last part just enjoys the sight of Haruka walking away; those jeans look like they were made to be peeled off of him.)

The door shuts behind Haruka, and then the porch light goes out, leaving Makoto standing alone in the dark.

For quite some time, he doesn’t move, still processing the events of the last ten minutes. Eventually it occurs to him that he’s got texts waiting, and re-extracts his phone. There are several unread messages in his inbox:

10:31pm > no waiting! no pulling out! the house must be egged! THE GAME HAS SPOKEN!

10:32pm > did you get caught?

10:37pm > you got caught, didn’t you?!

10:40pm > WE’RE DISAVOWING ALL KNOWLEDGE OF YOU, OPERATIVE MAKOTO!!!

Makoto sighs, scrapes a fleck of egg shell off his phone’s screen, and hesitantly types out a reply to the last message.

10:42pm > I’m not really sure what just happened, but I... got a date, somehow?

The reply is nearly instantaneous (“WHAT?!?!?!”, though depicted here with less punctuation for brevity’s sake), but Makoto has already put his phone away. After being put through the wringer like that, the least he can do for revenge is make them wait a couple of hours for all the juicy details.

As he reaches down to scoop up his ruined carton of eggs, it occurs to him that he never told Haruka his name. Makoto’s gotta admit, he admires the chutzpah of a guy who’ll ask a complete stranger out without even knowing what to call him. Well, that’s what he got Haruka’s number for (and thank God he’d had the foresight for it).

Feeling strangely cheerful for no particular reason at all, he picks up his eggs and heads on home.

[transenbyhollis]

idk if my relationship with the ex roommate was abusive or not but im just gonna put down a bunch of stuff here. this is probably gonna be long so putting it under a readmore

ok so im beginning to realize that this all probably sounds pretty bad for him but KEEP IN MIND that his anger is a response to abuse and breakdowns are sometimes used to manipulate people. also every story has two sides and i dont know what he would say about all this. also for the first couple years or so he was really nice most of the time. super supportive. feel free to skim through this if you wanna know whats gonna on but dont want to read the entire lengthy tale.

so it started nearly five years ago. i met him my first year of college, we were in the same hall. i thought he was really cool. we didnt talk much that first year but we were friends i guess.

second year a lot of shit happened during the first term. the important thing is that it cemented our friendship. after that term we were rock solid. we spent all of our time together.

during the next term he briefly dated a girl we were friends with. idk if it was even dating really. the whole thing was a trainwreck. at one point i felt like i was losing him and i had a breakdown. it was then that he said he never wanted to make anyone more important than me. things went bad between them and then i noticed something was wrong. i wont go into everything that happened, but suffice to say he kept getting angry for reasons i still dont understand, she was frustrated and very stressed, and i was terrified and miserable.

after this, we were still pretty close. it was around this time that he told me we were in a queerplatonic relationship. now i was genuinely considering spending the rest of my life with this guy.

sometime around the same time the first red flag went up. he told me that he had gone through my phone, found my tumblr among other things, and read several months worth of my personal thoughts. i was kind of in shock when i heard this, so i didnt say much about it. this was also when he told me he had been sexually abused.

not too long after this is when a relationship began to grow between him and another friend of ours. i started to feel a distance growing between us, and this is when he really started to show his angry side. sometimes he would get angry and i would break down crying. this became a regular occurance.

there were some instances of him insistently trying to get me to come out to people. this was mostly in reference to a trans group that was beginning to form at this time. i did eventually give in, although at least once i had a breakdown and left crying because he got upset about it. also i sometimes i didnt feel good about leaving because once he made a comment about how i always run away when im upset so i basically begged for permission to leave.

there was also something that happened a couple times where he and his partner decided that i wasnt allowed to be alone and i physically attacked them and screamed at them before they would let me be alone in the bathroom for a few minutes. the second time this happened i was so angry i smashed a bunch of my belongings and then afterwards i apologized frantically and said some bs about being upset for religion related reasons.

after this, we had a conversation where i said i needed to be alone sometimes, and if they literally said i was not allowed to be alone i wouldnt ask, i would kick and scream until they agreed to let me be alone. he got upset because i made an analogy about a cliff and kept getting mad about that. i insisted that if they refused to let me be alone i would make them hate me.

there was a argument i had with him that ended with him essentially saying our friendship was over. i did not realize he was being sarcastic here. i went to the bathroom to cry. i asked his partner to come and told them that i was feeling very suicidal. they calmed me down a little and went to go arrange for all three of us to have a talk. i took several melatonin and tried to take a nap in the meantime, although that didnt work. later we met at the library. we had an argument about them being controlling and some other things. i remember he started to throw a chair. i broke down and went to the bathroom where i cried a lot. i texted him and apologized for wrecking our friendship. he said that he was the broken one and i said i thought we both were.

it was around this time i started medication. i told the doctor i was having problems with mood swings and so they put me on abilify.

at the end of this school year i moved in with them. towards the beginning there were some arguments about them being controlling and needing to know where i was all the time. we made a compromise where i would have some kind of board or something that i would uodate to say if i was feeling good, not so good, or bad. that never ended up being implemented tho. at some point the roommate who didnt totally suck told me they didnt want me to tell them when i felt like self harming and if i did they would call the police.

the angry outbursts and my terrified breakdowns continued. it escalated to the point where sometimes he was straight up screaming his head off at me for no discernible reason. sometimes i would break down if he so much as snapped at someone.

there was an incodent where i started crying when he was angry, and he told me essentially he didnt see why i would break down so easily and he was jealous of me for having such a good childhood. i told him that i was still suicidal and he started yelling at the other roommate to call the police. i kept asking why he was doing this and what he was trying to accomplish and he didnt respond. the police came, we talked a little, i said i would take a walk and calm down, and they left. i went to my room and had a panic attack. my roommates wanted to call the police again and i begged them not to. at some point one of them said something about me having a sheltered childhood.

a few weeks later we were grocery shopping and he got mad at me for not helping put the groceries in the car. at this point i decided to stop being friends with them because i couldnt handle it. later when we were at home someone asked me if anything was wrong or something like that and i said i decided earlier that i couldnt be friends with them. they told me to calm down and we talked about it. they asked me if there was anything else i wanted to tell them and i said there was something they had said that had made me uncomfortable some time ago. the rest of this was all dragged out of me, slowly and painstakingly. i told them that i didnt like when they said a sheltered childhood. they confirmed that sheltered basically said i hadnt had any problems. they asked me what problems id had and i said i felt that my relationship with my sister and with religion was somewhat abusive. they then dissected all the problems id had in my life to see if any of them were really that bad.

there were also a couple of other incidents, like that time he screamed his head off at me, smashed a bowl, and then apologized to his partner while i cleaned up the bowl. and the time he screamed at me for rescheduling an appointment. a lot of other shit happened but im not gonna talk about all of it.

a few weeks before i moved out, i told his partner that basically i couldnt handle his temper and screw him.

i am now going to mention again that breakdowns cam be manipulative, and his anger im fairly certain was a response to abuse, and for the first couple years at least he was very nice and supportive most of the time.