#overall lately I’ve felt like I’ve got my shit together and it’s such a relief

[inverse-problem]

oh shit I turn 30 within the next two weeks lol. I keep forgetting. gonna fudge the day of my actual birthday by a few days though for Privacy Reasons (will update my age on my blog soon but not necessarily on my birthday lol)

don’t feel obligated to send me birthday wishes, since I don’t know a lot of you very well, but if you are so inclined, feel free to send me “approximate birthday” greetings within the next 2 weeks or so!

[j-j-ehlby-writes]

Almost (c.e.)

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Word Count: ~5.9k

Summary: You and Chris were set up on a blind date by your mutual friends. Sparks flew, but you never heard from him again. Two years later, you come face-to-face with him once more for their friends wedding.

Warnings: Some angst, swearing, not much else

A/N: This is a mixture of the movie “Life as We Know It” (mmm Daddy Josh Duhamel 🤤), a dating experience I had, and one scene from One Tree Hill. Enjoy.

My Masterlist

                    Two years ago…

My heart is pounding all the way to my ears. My hands are shaking under the table. My knee bounces uncontrollably as I wait.

I knew this was a bad idea. Why did I let her convince me to do this?

“You haven’t had a boyfriend for as long as I’ve known you.” My best friend so pointedly mentioned when we were out to lunch last week.

 “What’s wrong with that?” I counter.

“I’ve known you for three and a half years.” She deadpans. Even without looking at her, I know she has her eyebrow raised at me and her lips are pursed.

“Your point?” I know she thinks my serious lack of companionship these past few years is wearing on me, but it’s been quite the opposite. Not being attached is freeing. I can do what I want when I want; I don’t have anyone to answer to. If I want to sleep until 3 on a Saturday, I’m going to do it. If I don’t want to socialize with anyone, I won’t. If I want to take a spontaneous road trip, I’m going to do it. My life is my own and that’s how I like it.

“I want my best friend to have someone to experience life with.”

My shoulders dropped, sighing in defeat. There was no way I was getting out of this conversation.

“I want you to be as happy as I am.” I see the love in her eyes as her mind goes to her boyfriend and their new relationship. They’ve only been together for a few months, but I know that this is it for her. She’s a smitten kitten and he is equally as infatuated with her. They’re sickeningly cute. “Which is why I think you need to meet one of his friends-”

“Lemme stop you right there,” I interrupt her, “I hate blind dates.”

“You’ve never been on one.”

“And there’s a reason for that.” She rolled her eyes at me. “They’re cliché, they’re awkward for both parties, and they never amount to anything, thus being a total waste of time.”

She sighed, “Ever the skeptic.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

“Regardless,” she continues, “I think you’ll really like this guy. He’s already expressed interest in you.”

Like that makes everything better. “Great so now I have to live up to his impossible expectations of me when I know absolutely nothing about him.” As if the idea of a blind date wasn’t bad enough, now it’s only a semi-blind date. There’s no doubt in my mind that she has hyped me up impossibly high, that’s what a best friend is for. However, when your confidence level is next to none and already skeptical of the pending meeting, there’s no way he’ll like who I am in reality.

“I can tell you anything you want to know about him.” She is bargaining with me. She really wants me to meet this guy. She wouldn’t be trying this hard if she didn’t believe we would hit it off.

“Well is he nice?” This was the only real question I had. If he isn’t kind then there’s really no future.

“Incredibly!” She continues to tell me of the many things he has done for a charity he started a few years ago and slowly but surely she was starting to convince me. If he was that generous then he has to have a good heart and therefore is a good man.

How bad could it be?

I check my phone, glancing at the time. Great, he’s late. That can’t be a good start.

Numerous reasons why popped into my head.

Reason one: he saw me and bolted.

Reason two: he got into an accident on the way here and he could be in the hospital.

Reason three: he changed his mind and decided to stand me up.

More and more played through my head as I sipped my drink. 

By the time I was on my second drink, I was convinced he wasn’t showing up. I knew this was a ridiculous idea. I knew I shouldn’t have done this. I never should have listened to her.

I chugged the rest of my drink followed by some water before standing up to leave some cash. I was slightly humiliated for actually thinking this would be any different than all of my expectations.

My shoulder rammed into another as I turned to leave.

“Oh my, God, I’m so sorry!” A hand steadied me, gently grabbing the shoulder he ran into. “Are you okay?”

“My already small ego is a little bruised, but I think I’ll live.” I looked up to meet my assaulter’s eyes and immediately I froze.

Holy shit, it’s Chris Evans.

His piercing blue eyes were staring right at me, his concern was directed towards me. In all of his charming, ray of sunshine, bearded glory, he was here.

“I’m so sorry that I’m late. Traffic was insane over the bridge. I would have called but I don’t have your number.” He half-smirked but not in a cocky way. I’d seen him do it in interviews before. He could have come up with a lame excuse, but somehow I knew he was telling the truth.

“No, it’s okay. I understand completely.”

He sighed in relief, his gorgeous and perfect smile taking over his features. He looked down at the table and it disappeared. “Were you leaving?”

“Uh,” I stammered, “I was because I thought I was being stood up.”

“I feel awful. Please let me make it up to you. Let’s sit down, have a nice dinner, and get to know each other.”

I hesitate, now even more nervous than I was before.

As if sensing my hesitation, he decided to sweeten the pot a bit to persuade me, “We can even get dessert.”

I chuckle at his attempt. That’ll do it though. I sit back down with him following suit, finally starting our date.

We talked about everything. Anything and everything. No topic was off limits. Hours went by but it felt like minutes. We didn’t even know how long we’d been there until our waiter came to tell us that the restaurant was closed. We left and walked around the city until the night sky was giving way to the morning. He accompanied me back to my car, gave me the best hug I’ve ever received and a kiss on the cheek, promising we’ll get together again soon, and opening and closing my car door for me. I drove away with the biggest smile on my face and literal butterflies in my stomach. That was the best date I’d ever been on.

When I made it back to my apartment with the early morning rays peeking through my shades, I had a text message waiting for me from him. Just a simple good night, he had had an amazing time, and he couldn’t wait to see me again.

I fell asleep, hopeful. Hopeful that I would see him again, that this could maybe go somewhere. I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but it was hard not to. I hadn’t felt this way in an exceptionally long time. I haven’t been on this good of a date in equally as long. I can’t wait to see him again…

                      Present day...

I finally pull into the parking lot after an hour stuck in traffic. My 12-hour day at work today has taken a lot out of me. I’m exhausted, mentally and physically. Thankfully though, my 2-week-long vacation starts tomorrow. After that, I have fourteen days of no working, no getting up at the ass crack of dawn to be able to drive in miserable traffic, no dealing with difficult or boring co-workers. Just fourteen days of rest and relaxation, after the wedding of course.

My best friend and her fiancé are getting married on Saturday. I’ve watched them go through all of their highs and lows throughout the last few years and when he came to me telling me he planned on proposing, I couldn’t have been happier for them. He even asked me to secretly photograph the moment for her. She was more than surprised about everything.

Now their wedding is here and everyone couldn’t be more excited to celebrate them.

Tomorrow is their rehearsal dinner. The wedding party and their plus ones are all invited.

I walk into my apartment, immediately relieving myself from the confines of my shoes. A heavenly scent registers to me and I’m carried all the way to the kitchen. I see my sexy boyfriend standing at the stove with his back towards me.

“Hey babe,” he calls without turning around.

I hum, happily making my way towards him. I wrap my arms around his waist, placing a kiss on his back. “What is that unbelievable smell?”

He chuckles, vibrating through his chest. “Your favorite, of course.”

I hum again, “You spoil me, baby.”

He chuckles again, turning in my arms. His handsome face finally came into view. His gorgeous brown eyes look into mine as I get lost in his. For the past year, I’ve been the happiest I’ve been in a while. Since the day I met him, it was like everything fell into place. He’s sweet, ambitious, funny, kindhearted, passionate, and just overall the best man I had ever met. He makes me so happy…

Oh who am I kidding? He’s perfect. He is everything I ever wanted. If I made a list of all of the qualities I wanted in a husband, he would check off every single box.

But the feelings I have had for him over the last year are nothing compared to what I had in one night for him. I find myself wishing his eyes were bright blue instead of dark brown. I wish his arms were around me instead of the ones around me right now. The butterflies from that night have stayed dormant ever since.

I don’t know what happened after that night. I honestly thought we had a good time that night. Conversations flowed seamlessly. We made each other laugh so hard we had tears running down our faces. The physical connection was there- at first he had his arm around my shoulders as we walked around town, but as time went on he slowly moved lower around my waist, eventually intertwining our hands together until we arrived back at our cars. He even said that he wanted to see me again.

But I never heard from him again after that one text message. No call, no text, not even a message from my friend’s boyfriend. Nothing. I was disappointed beyond belief. I didn’t think he was that guy: the type to ditch someone without any explanation or goodbye. I thought I understood him to be a gentleman. Everything I had read about him pointed to him being one of the purest humans in the world. This was the opposite of all of that.

From that day on, I’ve loathed him. He gave me the perfect evening and then cut me off cold turkey from anything further. I have a three strike rule. His first: he was late. His second: he tricked me into liking him. His third: he lied to me. Three strikes and he’s out.

I have tried not to look back since. It’s not without its difficulties though since he’s literally everywhere. On magazine covers, in commercials, movie trailers, streaming services- he’s there. Why did he have to be such a successful actor? If he weren’t, it would make for forgetting him that much easier.

No closure. No answers. Nothing.

The rehearsal dinner went smoothly the next night which hopefully was foreshadowing for the big day itself. 

A majority of us were standing around about to start when the doors loudly being opened drew everyone’s attention away from our milling about. A man stood in the middle of the doorway then strode in like he owned the place. The closer he got, the more the details of his face came into focus.

No. Freaking. Way.

I look toward my best friend. She looked like she wasn’t shocked he was late, but she knew he was coming. I creep up behind her and clear my throat. Instantly she cringed.

“Did you forget to tell me something?” I whisper to her.

She sends me an apologetic smile, “Well, I actually put off telling you ‘cause I didn’t know how you would react and then I meant to tell you last night but with the whole ‘I’m getting married in two days’ buzz took over and now the rehearsal is here-”

“Just please tell me I’m not walking in with him.” I beg.

She chuckles nervously before she escaped to go greet him with her fiancé.

I turn to her sister who is also one of my closest friends. “Did you know he was going to be a groomsman?”

The guilt written in her face tells me everything I need to know. “She made me promise not to tell you.”

I groan, “The loyalty level around here is staggeringly low.”

I head over to where my boyfriend is standing and take comfort in his arms before I have to deal with the man who broke my heart.

“Are you okay?” He asks a little confused by my actions.

I nod, “Just tired from last night.” He chuckles at the mention of the night before, squeezing me into his chest.

“Alright everyone! Time to get started.” The wedding coordinator beckons us all to the back entrance of the barn standing next to our corresponding wedding party member. I stand right in front of the Maid of Honor and Best Man. I kept my eyes forward focusing on anything but the guy who took his place next to me.

“It’s good to see you,” He murmurs to me over the instructions of the coordinator.

I scoff and roll my eyes. He has the nerve to say that to me after two years of silence. I imagined a million times what it would be like to see him again. I’d imagined a lot of screaming with possible hitting. Or I thought about the ever-effective, old fashioned silent treatment. He doesn’t deserve to know that our one night out together effected me so much and I’ve carried a rather large torch for him ever since. At the very moment, it will be the latter, but there’s no telling what tonight and tomorrow will bring.

“Now ladies, rest- don’t grab- your hand near the crook of his arm. Men, keep your arm at that angle with an open hand resting on your stomach- no fist. And don’t forget to smile- this is a happy day!” As quickly as he showed up, the coordinator was on to the bride and her father before either of us could register he was there.

I begrudgingly did as I was instructed, “resting” my hand on his bare forearm, holding a stand-in bouquet for the occasion in my other hand.

“Are you not going to talk to me?” He speaks again but I ignore him once more.

Thankfully that was when it was our turn to walk down the aisle. For the rest of the rehearsal, he didn’t get a chance to say anything else. As soon as we were done, I go straight for my boyfriend. I figured there’s no way he would approach me if I were with another man.

We all head to the restaurant afterwards to celebrate the last night before our friends begin their lives together as husband and wife. I keep my distance from Chris, always sticking close with my boyfriend.

The one moment I was alone was when I went to the bathroom. I thought for the few minutes I wouldn’t be in danger.

However I was wrong.

As soon as I step out an arm shot out in front of me. A very pale muscular arm.

“Are you seriously going to ignore me for the next two days?”

I duck under his arm fully planning on continuing what I set out to do.

“Y/N,” he grabs my arm, “will you please talk to me? What did I do to make you so mad at me?”

I whip around hopefully sending daggers his way. “Are you serious right now?”

“She finally speaks!” He exclaims.

“Because I cannot believe what I’m hearing. Like, I don’t think I heard you right.” All of the feelings I’ve been burying for two years were making their way up to the surface and I don’t think I can stop them. “We had a fantastic night. It was literally the best night of my life, it was the most comfortable with a guy that I had ever been. You made me laugh, you gave me butterflies, you helped me feel for the first time in years.” I try to swallow down the lump that was forming in my throat. “You told me you wanted to see me again. You made me excited for the future for once in my life… and then you took it away.”

With every second that passed, his expression got closer and closer to utter defeat: his shoulders slumped, his grip on my arm loosened, his jaw slowly unclenched, his eyebrows furrowed.

“You were late,” I hold up one finger, “You tricked me,” two fingers,” “You lied to me.” Three fingers were up and in front of his face for emphasis. “Three strikes and you’re out.”

I back away from him, having nothing more I wanted to say. As soon as I turned the corner, I felt liberated… for about five seconds. When that passed, devastation hit. For the last two years, I’ve held out hope- I tried not to- but I did, that maybe someday something could happen between us. That maybe, just maybe, we could pick up where we left off that night.

Now that the moment of confrontation has come and gone, I feel all the hope fade away. All of those possibilities I pictured have left the building. Being with him is no longer an option. I have my boyfriend who makes me happy, who gives me everything I could possibly want.

The rest of the night went on without another incident. Chris kept his distance. However, I could feel his eyes on me for every second that passed as we sat at the table. It was a relief when we finally left and could retreat back to our hotel rooms for the night. The bride and I got to stay in a suite that we’ll all be getting ready in in the morning. They wanted to uphold the “not seeing each other the night before the wedding,” even though they’ve lived with each other for a year and a half now.

On the wedding day, everything went according to plan. Everyone was on time to hair and make-up, pictures went flawlessly, the weather cooperated with everything, Chris didn’t attempt to talk to me at all- it was a perfect day to watch two people who love each other commit to the other for the rest of their lives.

But then came the reception. That’s when I knew apparently all bets would be off. The ceremony was over. Niceties would wear off as more and more alcohol is consumed. I was not looking forward to it.

We make our ridiculous entrances and take our seats at the head table. We eat then speeches were made. Lots of laughs were had as the Best Man dished on stories he had with the groom growing up, a few tears were shed at her sister’s after recounting the moment the bride knew he was the man of her dreams- overall I’d say they were a success.

Again, I felt his eyes on me, burning holes in the side of my head from the other side of the groom for the entire dining portion of the evening. I kept myself from glancing in his direction, instead focusing on the conversations with the bride’s sister next to me and my boyfriend who is across the way- anything not to meet his eyes.

Finally the DJ announces it was time for all to convene on the dancefloor after the specialty dances. I immediately see my boyfriend start to stand, knowing he’d been ready for this all night. I’d been looking forward to dancing with him all night as well, I even removed my shoes in anticipation. As I stand up, a hand is held out in front of me. I knew whose hand it was. I remember staring at it as he would rub his lips on our date. The strength of it as it intertwined with mine as we walked down the streets of our town, the safeness I felt as he squeezed it if he detected I was getting anxious around a group of people and I needed the reassurance. I knew that hand well, unfortunately.

“Dance with me?” He nearly whispers in my ear. I didn’t realize he was that close until I could feel said whisper on my neck. I contain the shiver that runs down my spine at how husky his voice is. God I’ve missed that…

No! I will not be enchanted by him again. He does not deserve me.

I exhale the breath I was holding, it comes out a lot harsher than I expected. “No, thank you.” I turn away from him, but his hand gently grabs my arm stopping me from going any further.

He whispers again, “He’s not good enough for you,” before walking away.

I’m frozen in place. I glare at his retreating back as he makes his way over to the bar. My mouth hangs open in disbelief. How dare he… How fucking dare he assume anything about me or my relationship. He doesn’t know anything about what our relationship is like. My boyfriend treats me so well, spoils me even though I know I don’t deserve it. He listens to me, he cares about me, and he makes me laugh until I cry- he’s everything I’ve wanted in a man. Chris is the one who had his chance and subsequently blew it. He has no right to judge or even comment on my relationship when he knows absolutely nothing about it.

I hurriedly make my way to my awaiting boyfriend and pull him onto the crowded dancefloor. “You okay?” He asks me, “Did he say something to upset you?”

“Nothing worth repeating.” All I wanted to do was forget about him and his irrelevant feelings towards my relationship…

…Except I couldn’t. His words rattled me. Does he see something I don’t? He told me on our date that he’s an excellent judge of character so he wouldn’t say something like that unless he got a bad feeling, right? Either that or he said it just to get under my skin and force me to talk to him. No matter the reason I hate him for it because my pride won’t let it stand.

I spot him leaning against the bar, staring directly at the two of us over the rim of his glass. His perfect eyebrow quirks up at the eye contact, that sets my blood to boiling. He thinks he’s so smug. I wish I could just slap that stupid hidden smirk right off his perfect face…

Following a few dances, I mutter something about him going to dance with the bride to my boyfriend before exiting the dancefloor. I rush out of the barn, away from the crowd needing some air from his suffocating gaze. I find a little lit area that’s perfect for pictures. There are rectangular hay bales set together as a makeshift U-shaped bench with some low watt bulbs strung up above between two poles. It would be serene if I weren’t already on edge.

After taking a few deep breaths, I finally feel like I can speak without yelling. “You had no right.”

I didn’t have to turn around to know he followed me out here. It’s exactly what I wanted him to do, just like it was his intention to get under my skin. As much as I wished to avoid this conversation it seems that we can’t go on without it. We may tear each other apart in the process, but this is my chance for closure. This is my only opportunity to get the answers I’ve been needing to move on for the past two years. Two years of wondering what went wrong after the most perfect date I’ve ever been on with an equally perfect man has been eating at my heart and mind. I hated always wondering “what if” or “what would I be doing right now if I were with him” especially when I started dating my boyfriend. I had no answers as to why those questions could not be. I thought with time I’d stop asking them, thinking I’d never see the man again. He’s a big movie star, why would he wonder about a woman he went on one date with?

As I expected, his deep baritone voice comes behind me, but his words do little to ease my nerves. In fact they set them off even more so than before. “I’m sorry.”

I scoff at his half-hearted apology, knowing he doesn’t mean it at all. “Oh bite me, Christopher.” I turn around to face him. God he looks even better out here. The subtle gold glow from the lights are complimenting his skin tone, they make his baby blues shine which just frustrates me more.

“Please, Y/N,-” He takes a step closer to me, but I won’t have that. 

“No,” I take a step back keeping the needed distance between us for fear I may strangle him. “I don’t want to hear any of your bullshit excuses. You had no right to pass judgment on a relationship that you know absolutely nothing about.”

He slips his hands into the pockets of his dress pants. “Oh, I’ve seen enough.”

“Really?” I jut my hip out, resting my hand on it. “In the two days you’ve been here, you think you’ve got us all figured out?”

“Yes,” he answers with conviction. 

My shaking hands clench into fists, trying my damnedest not to lose control. I entangle them into my hair as best as I can without ruining the work the hairstylist did this morning before running them down my face. He has some nerve. 

“We had one night. One night! One nearly perfect night together and suddenly that makes you an expert on what is good for me?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘an expert’-”

“I wouldn’t say anything!” I interrupt, “I never heard from you again. Now after two years, you come in here acting like you know anything about me or my relationship? Who do you think you are?”

“A man who made a mistake!” He snaps.

There was a long pause. I never expected to hear that from him. All these years I wanted to think the worst of him for leaving me hanging like that. He got my hopes up, thinking we may have a future together only for them to come crashing back down to Earth when he never contacted me again. I wondered and wondered if maybe I read the signals wrong. Maybe I took his flirting as more than it was. Maybe the small gestures like his arm around my shoulders, on the small of my back, or the hand holding were only him being friendly. I wracked my brain going over every single detail of the night to try and pinpoint a reason for him not to have called me afterwards. I found nothing, which was equally as frustrating.

“Alright, I made a mistake.” He moves to sit on one of the hay bales. He rests his elbows on his knees and buries his head in his hands, letting out a huge sigh. “God I wanted everything with you.”

Once again, I’m frozen by his words. He what? But that doesn’t make sense. His words and his actions don’t line up- how could that be?

He removes his hands from his face, staring at the grass. “After that night, I wanted it all. I wanted to settle down, get the house with a white picket fence in the suburbs, carry you through the threshold after our wedding day, bring our children home from the hospital, watch them grow until we’re old and gray. I wanted everything.”

My heart aches. All of that was exactly what I wanted, especially with him. I could feel the tears building behind my eyes, my heart breaking mourning the loss of what we could have had by now if he had only said something.

I also find my anger growing as well. If he felt all of that, why did he not contact me again? Why did he give me hope that our night out together could have been the start of something good and then taken it away just as quickly?

“But?” There had to be a “but” coming after his statement. Clearly something stopped him from pursuing the possibility of “us,” destroying any future we could have had.

He sighs, “but…” he finally looks up at me with more emotion in his eyes than I was expecting. There was contemplation, confusion, honesty, agony…

I look away. In an instant I knew what he was about to say. It makes complete sense. He was at the height of his career, shooting movie after movie all around the world for a majority of the year. How would he have had time to have a relationship mixed in with that? He couldn’t.

“Your career was more important,” I interject, “I get it. I do.” I couldn’t fault him for choosing work over someone he just met, no matter how much he claims to have liked me right off the bat. He was going to be busy. We probably wouldn’t have had a lot of time to see each other. It’s not like I could give up my career to follow him. Besides even if I could have, he wouldn’t want that. He said so himself. He wanted someone who was independent; who could do their own thing and not be enveloped in his crazy life.

He stands up and steps closer to me, “no, that wasn’t it. I promise you that wasn’t it.”

There’s that word. Promise. He promised we’d see each other again soon after our night together. But he broke that.

“Then what was it?” My voice cracks at the end. I can feel my reserves slipping the more he speaks. I didn’t realize how much I missed his voice until now. I haven’t seen any of the movies he’s been in the last few years. I have him and his hashtag blocked on all social media platforms so I don’t see anything of his on any of my timelines. My other friends think I don’t like him (only my best friend and her now husband know about our date). To hear it again brings back all of the good memories we made together in that short night and all of the emotions I’ve been holding back since. “I have been wracking my brain for years wondering what went wrong after that.”

“I got scared,” he finally admits the truth. “I got scared of how much I liked you and how much I wanted to protect you.”

“From what?”

“From me,” he casts his gaze down at his hands as he fidgets with them, “and my life. I didn’t want to subject you to the chaos that is my life. I know what my fans would do to you if we were in a relationship, I was trying to protect you from all of the ugly that being with me comes with.”

So that’s what he was afraid of? He was afraid our relationship would inevitably end exactly like his last one? His “fans” were horrible to her. They sent death threats to her and her family members, always commenting negatively on her social media pages all because she was dating him. I remember reading about it right after it happened. I knew that side of his fandom was toxic. But did I care? No. Did I think I couldn’t handle it? I honestly don’t know, but would I have been willing to deal with it for him? Yes. I would have given up anything to be with him. That’s precisely why he did what he did. He didn’t want me giving anything up for him because he knows I’d be giving up any semblance of privacy I had if I were in a public relationship with him.

If I had known these were the reasons why he ghosted me, I would have been broken hearted but I would have understood. Hell, I probably would have fallen more in love with him if I knew that, not fallen in loathe.

He continues, “I thought that if I never contacted you again, you could move on”- he clears his throat-“and find someone better than me who could give you the normal life you deserve. Which as much as I wish I couldn’t, I see that you have…” he pauses as if deciding whether he should keep speaking. When I don’t stop him, he does, “But I can’t help feeling like that could have been me.”

My slightly shaky hands cover his fidgeting ones. His hand moves until he’s intertwining our fingers together, palms touching. They fit perfectly together as if they were each other’s missing puzzle piece. His thumbs stroke mine sending warmth down my arms all the way down to my toes. The sparks I felt back then return with full force. He leans down, pressing his forehead against mine. My heart is beating out of my chest, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t feel it in some way.

I feel my heart break in my chest. My lip quivers and the tears threaten to make themselves known. My only saving grace is the fact that he can’t see my face. I may lose it completely if he did.

His breath is coming out equally as shaky between us, he squeezes my hands as if he doesn’t want me to let go. Believe me, I don’t want to. I bring one of our interlocked hands up to my lips. I kiss the back of his hand because I can’t kiss him where I want to. I pull back just enough to see his beautiful baby blues that could have any woman in the world swoon. They were terribly bloodshot right now but that only made them more tragically breathtaking. I tear one of my hands out of his and bring it to his cheek. He leans into it, a tear drops into the crevices between the contact.

The barely above whisper that came out was all I could muster without having a total breakdown because he’s right. It could have been him. We could have been something great. We could have built a life together. We could have had it all. And it broke my heart into a million pieces knowing all of this could have been avoided if life had handed both of us different lives.

“It almost was.”

~*~

Taglist: @the-marvel-wars​ @elusive-beauty​ @drakesfiance @im-a-slut-for-an-accent​ @fantasy-is-my-reality​ @princess-evans-addict​

[the-iceni-bitch]

I’m Going to Take Care of You

Pairing: Thor/Fem-Reader

Words: 3502

Summary: A fun night out with the Avengers makes you realize you want something more from you friendship with Thor.

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, size kink adjacent, fluff, SMUT, 18+

A/N: Whoo, I managed to keep it under 4000 words this time y’all. I loved writing Thor though. He’s such a sweetheart and really treats our reader right! Please enjoy and message if you want to be added to my permanent tags list!

“I got shots, bitches!!”

You set your carefully balanced tray on the table in the middle of everyone and started distributing tiny glasses around, grinning around the table as you did so.

“Goddamn it, Y/N. You and Nat are trying to kill us” Clint groaned as he took his shot from you and looked at it like he was about to throw up.

“Suck it up Barton.” Tony scolded. “These girls are out drinking us and refuse to black out before they do. Knock it back.”

You made sure everyone got a glass before taking one for yourself and settling back on the couch.

Nat downed hers easily and gave you a knowing grin once the taste hit her tongue. Clint, Tony, and Sam tossed theirs back together and immediately started spluttering and coughing. Steve paused before bringing his glass to his lips when he saw their reaction.

“Son of a bitch, what the fuck is this?” Tony exclaimed, grabbing a glass of water and chugging it as Clint headed to the bathroom, looking like he was going to hurl. Nat clapped her hand against Sam’s back as he tried to get a hold of himself. Steve was just looking at his shot with abject horror.

“We’re in Oslo so I got us Aquavit!” You grinned at Tony as he stared at you murderously. “Oh, my god Rogers, suck it up and drink it, it’s not going to kill you.”

Steve gave a shrug and chugged it, sucking air through his teeth and wincing as he swallowed. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’ve told you a million times, Y/N, you’re the only one who can drink that shit.” Nat laughed at you as Sam waved her off, his coughing fit finally ending.

“You’re all just pussies. Where the fuck is Thor? He always appreciates new liquor.” You searched the club for that giant golden retriever of a man before you heard his deep voice behind you.

“Is that more liquor? Excellent!” he exclaimed as you turned yourself around to give him a grin and handed him the last shot. He threw it back without hesitation and gave an appreciative nod. “What is this delicious nectar? We should get a bottle.”

“Thank you, sweetie.” You said, giving the rest of the group an exasperated look as you headed over to the bar, and returned with a full bottle of the spicy liquor and two clean highball glasses. You poured yourself and Thor two hefty portions and sat beside him on the couch.

“You two are insane.” Tony said, shaking his head as you tossed your drinks back and poured two more. “How are you still standing, Y/N? You’ve had almost as much to drink as a literal god!”

You just laughed at him giddily. You were pretty drunk at this point, but there was no way you were going to let anyone outdrink you tonight, you wanted to let go.

You had just finished your fifth mission with the Avengers. You had been apprehensive when you first moved onto the compound six months ago. You of course already know Nat and Clint, but it was a tight knit group, and you sometimes felt like a spare tire.

You spent most of the first few weeks in the lab, working on your serums and formulas, doing calculations into the small hours of the morning. Tony did his best to engage you, but you both only had the most basic understandings of each other’s fields. You did develop a healthy respect for each other during that time though, and you started to feel more at home.

Nat had finally convinced you to join the rest of the team for a workout after you had been there for a month. You were concerned about losing yourself and accidentally injuring someone, but Nat almost shoved you onto the mat to square up against Steve. She sat there with a smirk as the group watched him chase you around the mat, growing more and more frustrated as you slid out of his reach over and over. When you accidentally threw him into the ceiling one handed, you were sure they were going to shut you out. But Thor started laughing hysterically as the rest of them started teasing Rogers, and just like that, you were one of the group.

Thor and you bonded the most for some reason. You made each other laugh constantly, and being able to complain about your crazy families with someone else was a relief. You’d often stay up late together watching stupid movies or drinking some new liquor or beer you had discovered. He had once mentioned that he missed the tasted of mead, and the next day you surprised him with several large bottles you had gotten from a friend who brewed it on his property upstate. Sometimes when you got drunk enough, he’d let you braid his hair in intricate styles, not feeling an ounce of embarrassment when Tony would give him shit the next morning.

You became sparring partners as he was the only member of the team who could actually get you in a hold, and that translated well to you partnering on missions.

This latest one had been a doozy, busting an arms dealing ring that was suspected of distributing old HYDRA equipment. It was a success overall but had been exhausting. Nat and you always did your best to come up with some sort of morale booster after a mission and you somehow had convinced the team that a night of clubbing in downtown Oslo would be just the thing.

“Aww shit, is this Ghostface Killah?” You asked the room as a new song started. “This is my song! Let’s dance!”

“Girl, you have the best taste in music.” Sam said as he followed you onto the dance floor while Nat tried to coax Steve and Tony to join you. Thor tossed back his drink and strode after you.

The Norse God was a surprisingly good dancer. He didn’t seem to have the hangups you noticed from most white guys about their movements.

“This is a good song!” He shouted at you over the music “It reminds me of ‘Krakemal’.”

You had no idea what he was talking about so you just grinned at him as you whipped your hair around and swung your hips, losing yourself in the music. You loved dancing.

The song ended too soon and Tony came to let everyone know that Clint had finally stopped vomiting and the group was going to head back to the safehouse. Thor threw you over his shoulder as you headed out the door, making you squeal as he gave your ass a playful slap, not putting you down until you were walking down the street. He grinned down at you and started telling you a story about a snake. You were staring at him, breathless and giddy from the alcohol and you laughed when his story reached its conclusion, suddenly realizing that you were going to sleep with him.

He walked forward to chat with Steve and Nat put her arm through yours to chat.

“Sooooo…” she said slyly. “What’s going on with you and Point Break?”

“Oh god, Nat. I’m pretty sure I’m going to let him fuck me tonight.”

She laughed at that, tossing her head back. “Jesus Christ, it’s about time!”

You slapped her arm lightly and told her to shut up.

“You couldn’t have come to this realization a little earlier, Y/N? Now Tony’s going to win the bet!”

“Fuck, you perverts bet on when me and Thor would sleep together? Was anyone else in on this?”

“I mean, it was just me and Clint to start off then Tony found out and looped in the rest of team into it. He made a spreadsheet and everything. Rogers took some serious convincing. That big puppy thought it was ‘inappropriate and mean-spirited.’ Of course, then he walked in on one of your sparring sessions where you let yourself get pinned by that himbo a little longer than necessary and turned over his money with no problem.”

“Great. You guys are such good friends.” You said sarcastically.

“Not our fault you two idiots don’t have the emotional intelligence to just get to it. I’ve gotta tell the rest of the team to make sure you guys have some privacy.”

You hissed and tried to grab her as she scampered away to talk to Tony, who turned back and gave you a thumbs up and massive grin. You slapped your palm into your face and rubbed your thumb and forefinger into the ridges above your eyebrows.

“So, Natasha told me I should come back here and talk to you. She wouldn’t tell me what about and just laughed when I asked.” Thor had a look of slight confusion on his face as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, pulling the bottom edge of his shirt up enough to expose the top of his boxer briefs and give you a glimpse at his happy trail. You felt yourself clench and fought the urge to moan.

You arrived back at the safehouse then, and Tony and Natasha did their best to usher everyone upstairs discreetly. She gave you a wink as she followed behind Steve at the back of the group and disappeared from view.

“So, more drinks?” Thor clapped his hands and rubbed them together, heading into the kitchen as he shed his coat.

“God, yes!” You followed him, removing your own coat and tossing it onto the couch. You had no idea how to approach this without making things painfully awkward.

He found an opened bottle of mead and poured you each a glass, leaning back against the counter as he sipped at the sweet liquor.

You peered at him over the edge of your glass as you contemplated your next move. His plain white tee was just tight enough that you could see the shape of the muscles in his torso. His arms were crossed, making his thick arms flex deliciously. You wanted to take a bite out of his bicep. You moved your eyes back up to his face and found him staring back at you. Neither of you said anything as you gazed into each other’s eyes.

“Fuck it.” You said, tossing back the rest of your drink and setting the empty glass on the counter before you took three steps forward and pressed the front of you body into him, pulling his face down to yours and kissing him hungrily.

You felt his posture change as he set his own glass behind him before grabbing your hips and drawing you even closer to him. You felt his cock starting to harden through his jeans and you let out a moan. He growled softly into your mouth before bringing one hand up to the back of your neck and drawing you away from him briefly as he studied your face.

“How drunk are you, Y/N?” he asked, a look of concern on his face.

Your inebriation had faded on the walk home and that kiss had sobered you up considerably. “Just buzzed.” You told him, breathlessly.

“Good.”

He didn’t say anything else, just put a hand on your ass and lifted you to wrap your legs around him as kissed your neck, scraping his teeth along your collarbone.

“God, keep doing that.” You said, twisting your hands into the back of his tee as he dipped his tongue into the hollow of your throat.

He gave a low hum against your neck and you felt it resound in your core, a rush of arousal soaking your panties as you felt your cunt throb with desire.

“Not gonna make it to the couch.” He whispered into your neck, sucking softly and raising a small bruise.

“Fine.” You couldn’t focus on anything, his mouth was so good and felt like it was leaving a trail of fire wherever it met your skin.

He moved forward and lowered you onto the counter gently. He brought his mouth back up to yours and kissed you softly as he moved his hands from your hips to the buttons of your blouse. He started undoing them slowly, his thick fingers moving nimbly down the front of your torso. Once it was fully open, he slid the blouse down your shoulders and discarded it to the side.

He brought his large palms up to your breasts and kneaded them gently. You groaned into his mouth and drew him closer to you with your legs, forcing the hem of your skirt up around your waist. You ground yourself into the front of his jeans desperately.

His fingers found the clasp at the front of your bra and unhooked it as he brought his mouth down to your breasts. He pressed the flat of his tongue against one nipple before swirling his tongue around it and sucking on it softly, making you gasp.

“Fuck, just like that baby.” You scrabbled your fingers over his back as he mouthed at your breast and drew his shirt over his head. He broke his contact with your skin for just a moment to throw the tee somewhere else, then moved his attention to your other breast, laving his tongue over the nipple slowly and making your pussy clench so hard it was aching.

“Shit, Thor, I need you.” You whined at him, clenching your thighs around his hips, trying to get some sort of friction to relieve the tension you were feeling in your core.

“I need to make sure you’re ready for me, beautiful. Don’t you trust me?”

“Mmmmm, yes!” you gasped as one of his hands moved your panties aside and he brushed his fingers against your folds, making you twitch.

“Oh, good girl. I just want to make you feel good, sweetheart.” He swirled one finger through the arousal at your entrance before inserting it at a deliciously slow pace.

You clenched around him immediately, letting out a whimper as he started moving it in and out of you slowly, stretching you from the inside a little further each time before adding another finger.

Your breath hitched and you tried to buck your hips into him but his other hand moved to press against your abdomen, pinning you to the counter.

His face came back up to yours as his fingers flexed inside of you. He brushed a soft kiss against your lips as you swallowed a moan.

“I know pretty girl, but you’re going to be happy I’m taking my time in a few minutes.” His third finger slipped into you as he gave you another kiss before he moved his face between your legs.

You did your best to keep from screaming when his tongue found your clit and started drawing soft circles over the tiny bundle of nerves. He curved his fingers inside you and pressed them against your sweet spot before he stretched you even further by adding a fourth finger.

You bit your lip so hard you drew blood. His tongue had increased in pressure and speed while his fingers stretched you so good. When he started sucking you lost it. You let out a thin wail as your body went rigid with pleasure, releasing to make every muscle tremble. He kept his fingers fucking into you at a steady rhythm as you rode it out. He removed them once you had finished and you let out a groan at the feeling of emptiness.

He smiled up at you before giving your pussy a kiss and standing up, releasing his hold on your abdomen. “I think you’re ready now gorgeous.” He murmured around a grin.

You propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him as he drew your soaked panties down your legs and threw them to the side with the rest of your clothes. He then unzipped your skirt and added it to the pile before he moved his fingers to the fly of his jeans.

You felt your pussy clench as he drew the zipper down slowly and you stared at him through your lashes darkly. He bent over briefly to remove his pants and underwear and when he stood up, all the air rushed out of you as you understood his insistence on preparation.

He had the biggest cock you had ever seen. It was almost as thick as your wrist and quite a bit longer than the span of your hand. Your mouth filled with saliva as he gave it a few pumps and stepped closer to you, dragging it through your slick folds to coat it in your arousal.

“I’m going to go slow, love. You promise to let me know if it’s too much?”

You bit your lip as you nodded at him, not trusting the integrity of your vocal cords at the moment.

He bent forward over you and gave you a gentle kiss as he breached you with just his tip and you let out a sigh. He drew his hips back slowly before moving into you a little further. He continued this slow pace, pulling out just a bit and before breaching you further, waiting to feel you stretch and relax around him before he pushed into you more.

It seemed like forever before his hips were flush against yours and you were stretched around the whole length of him. You had never felt so deliciously full and you let out a low moan to let him know how good you felt.

“You’re doing so good baby.” He whispered to you and you couldn’t help giving him a wide grin that he returned. “I’m going to move, now, ok?”

“Fuck, yes please.” You whimpered as his hips started to move.

He kept his mouth on yours as he picked up the pace, exploring every inch of your mouth with his tongue.  You tangled your hands into his hair and snapped your hips to meet his thrusts, the only sounds your soft moans, the slap of flesh on flesh, and the obscene wet sucking sounds your pussy was making as his cock thrust in and out of you.

You felt your pleasure starting to coil in your core and you cried softly into his mouth, urging him on as he moved one hand between the two of you to work your clit.

You came around him suddenly, every muscle in your body vibrating as the biggest orgasm you’d ever had ripped through you body. You had to bite down on his shoulder to keep from screaming, and he growled into your ear as his paced picked up even more.

He drew your knees up to your shoulders as he kept thrusting into you. The change in position was too much for your overworked clit and you came again immediately, tears leaking down your cheeks as you tried your best to be quiet.

He saw the tears and started to slow down, a look of concern written all over his face, until you hissed at him.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

He gave you a grunt that may have been a laugh and rotated your legs to your right side, the twist in your spine arching you so your chest pressed up into his, the coarse hair dusting him rubbing against your sensitive nipples and making you whine.

You felt yourself building again and you dropped your head back against the counter, preparing yourself. Thor’s hips started to stutter as your final orgasm wracked you, and he released right behind you as you twitched and fluttered around him. He bent back down to kiss you, his long hair brushing against your chest.

You opened up to him and let his tongue run against yours gently as he slowly pulled out of you, leaving you with a soft ache between your legs.

“How you feeling sweetheart?” He asked you, one hand cupped against your cheek as he watched your face, wanting to be sure he hadn’t hurt you.

“God, that was amazing.” You grinned at him, groaning as you stretched underneath him, knowing you were going to be stiff and sore tomorrow.

He gave you a swift kiss before scooping you off the counter and wrapping you around his torso. You nuzzled yourself into his neck as he started to carry you upstairs.

“Let’s get you a bath, beautiful. Make sure you’ll be able to walk in the morning.”

You laughed softly against his skin. “Mmmm, baby you know just what I need.”

“Of course I do, Y/N.” He looked into your eyes, a serious expression on his face. “I’m going to take care of you.”

You couldn’t express how happy that made you so you just hummed against his shoulder as he kicked open the door to the bathroom. You didn’t even care that you had left your discarded clothes downstairs for poor Steve to find when he woke up for his morning run.

Permanent Tags:

@drabblewithfrannybarnes​

[nalgenewhore]

good

elide x lorcan, modern/neighbours au, fluff + tension, word count: 3515

There hadn’t been a new resident in the building for a while, but the girl seemed nice enough. Really, he shouldn’t have been surprised that she moved in next door, considering that the unit next to his had been vacant for some time.

When he’d received the email from his landlord, Lorcan supposed he was simply used to only having to share one wall with someone and that with a little time, he’d get used to it.

He met her the day she was moving in, bright and early on a Tuesday morning. He’d held the door open for who he assumed were her friends – a tall blonde with wickedly electric blue eyes and a shorter brunette with upturned emerald eyes. Lorcan had nodded at their thanks and stepped out of the building. Then his sight had set on her, Elide Lochan. It was pure muscle memory on which his feet propelled him forward. He’d been so entranced by her that he’d been too late to prevent her from twisting her right ankle as she tried to save herself from falling off of the moving truck’s ramp, but he’d been able to give her a nudge so that she didn’t eat shit on the asphalt road.

“Ooh, fuck,” the woman said, a grimace twisting her delicate features. She hopped to balance on her other foot and sat down on the edge of the truck bed. She glanced up at him, muted gratitude flashing across her angular eyes, almost as dark as his. “Thanks,” she bit out.

“Welcome,” Lorcan replied. He nodded towards her injured ankle, “I can take a look for ya, ‘m a physiotherapist.”

Her brows arched up and she ran an eye up and down him. Lorcan resisted the urge to straighten his posture and his skin felt like it was tingling beneath his clothes. “Really? Don’t look like one.”

“Yeah? What do I look like, then?”

She shrugged, tilting her chin back to properly assess him. “Hmm… a boxer or something like that. Gang enforcer.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Nah, s’not me. I mean, I’m a boxer’s physiotherapist, but I don’t fight.”

“Really? Who’s the fighter?”

“Ya got a lot of questions for someone whose name ya don’t know.”

She laughed and extended her hand towards him, “Fine. I’m Elide Lochan.”

Lorcan’s hand dwarfed hers and he could feel his calluses scraping against hers. Interesting. “Lorcan Salvaterre.” They dropped their hands and he gestured towards her ankle again, “Want me to check now, Elide Lochan?”

“Sure,” she chuckled, slipping her faded black Van off and taking off her sock, too, as it covered her ankle. Elide put them to the side and reached down to roll the hem of her overalls up.

He lightly wrapped his hand around her heel and lifted her leg to examine it, fingers gently prodding the already swelling skin. Despite feeling her eyes burn into him, Lorcan didn’t look up. “Alright,” he slid his hand up her achilles tendon and rested his other palm against the sole of her foot, locking it in place, “bend ya knee for me, yeah? Tell me when it hurts.”

Lorcan flicked his eyes between her ankle and face, tracking her pain. Elide grit her teeth as she bent her knee without moving her ankle and stopped after only a few degrees of movement. “There, it hurts there.”

He hummed and nodded, straightening her leg. “‘kay, move it inwards.” Again, she could only move it a few centimetres before the pain made her wince. Lorcan nodded, tilting his head to the right. Elide followed his wordless instruction and was able to move her foot further.

“Is it bad?”

“Could be worse, but yeah, s’not great, Lochan.” Lorcan tapped his finger against the swelling on the outside of her ankle, “See this, s’really swelling up, so probably a grade two sprain, which means there’s a partial tear in the ligament.” He gently put her foot down and looked up at her, her eyes wide. “Hey, s’ok. Sounds worse than it is, promise.”

“You said I tore a ligament!”

“Said partial, and these types of sprains are really common,” he told her, his voice even. “There’s gonna be some bruising later and you’re gonna have trouble walking for a couple weeks, so what you’re gonna do is you’re going to get ya friends to move the rest of ya boxes, you’re gonna sit down and keep it elevated and iced – twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off for the next two days, yeah?”

Elide nodded, the panic melting from her face. “Then what? I can’t just sit around for the next two weeks.”

Lorcan chuckled, shaking his head, “Ya got a compression brace?”

She shook her head, worrying her bottom lip. “No.”

“That’s fine, they’re pretty cheap down the street at Brullo’s,” he told her. “s’a gym, but they sell stuff like that. Get one of ya friends to go and get it, yeah? I really mean rest for the next two days.”

Just then, her friends arrived and their eyes snapped back and forth over the scene they were confronted with. The blonde rose a single brow, her hand cocked on her hip. “Well, this is cosy.”

Lorcan blinked. It wasn’t even nine in the morning.

“Shut it, Aelin,” Elide said, rolling her eyes. “I sprained my ankle and my new neighbour here is a physiotherapist. His name is Lorcan.”

Aelin looked at him as the other brunette shook her head and walked around her to check on Elide. “Really? What qualifications do you have? Where do you work?”

“‘m a licenced physiotherapist. Work for a private client.”

“Hmm.”

He rolled his eyes and stepped back from Elide, deciding it would be better to address her other friend. “I’m Lorcan.”

“Lysandra,” the woman told him as she helped Elide with her shoe. “Please ignore Aelin. She was neglected as a child and now has attention seeking behaviour issues.” Lysandra’s words were light with laughter and Lorcan chuckled quietly. “Is there anything we can do for Elide?”

“Yeah, make sure she rests and ices her ankle for the next two days. I told her, but it’s twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off for the icing and make sure ya get some sorta compression brace.”

Lysandra nodded, “Ok, we’ll do that. What if it’s still this bad in two days?”

“Knock on my door, s’unit 3D.”

“I’ll do that,” Elide said, something in her voice making him pause and meet her stare. “Salvaterre.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Lorcan replied, the tip of his tongue rolling against his lower lip. He caught the way her eyes tracked the movement. “Lochan.”

Lorcan parked his car in front of his building and picked up his bag as he got out. When he stood, he arched his back, hearing his spine pop in a couple different spots. “Fuck,” he groaned in sweet relief. He slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder and locked the car before walking up to the lobby doors.

As he slid his key into the lock, he glanced around, wondering if he would see Elide. He’d learnt a few days after she moved in that she was a baker and owned a local bakery-slash-coffee shop when she’d come to thank him with a box of freshly made wild blueberry and pastry cream tarts. They were easily the most delicious things he’d ever eaten and after the first bite, he swore he fell in love a little bit.

With his late schedule, he had to go to Fenrys’ fights which were always scheduled during the evening, but he would often run into Elide on her way home from the bakery. It had become routine for them to chat on their way up and smile at each other as they slipped into their apartments, their doors often closing with the same click at the same time.

Lorcan didn’t see her and his heart sunk a little in disappointment. He crossed over to the fire escape instead of the elevator and walked the six flights of stairs up to his floor.

The moment he opened the door at the third level, he could hear music playing, albeit muffled. He frowned, it wasn’t like the tenants to blast their music. Elide was silent and kept to herself, except for when they both happened to be out on their balconies. Lorcan liked those evenings, he liked sitting out there and enjoying his dinner while Elide had hers. They’d quickly found that they could talk about anything together and it was as easy as breathing. Within the month, give or take, that she’d been here, her ankle had healed up nicely, but there was still lingering stiffness and an ache if she was on it too long.

As Lorcan got closer to his apartment, the music grew louder too. He quickly realised that it was coming from underneath Elide’s door and figured she had friends over or something like that. Lorcan let himself into his house and the music was louder inside. He toed off his shoes, hung up his jacket, and put his work bag down. He walked down the front hall, pulling the elastic from his hair, which fell out of the high bun he’d shoved it in and tumbled down to his hips.

Lorcan dragged his hand through his hair, shaking it out and massaging the kinks out. The longer he listened to the music, he realised that it wasn’t happy music, not the type of song one would listen to with friends.

He stepped closer to their shared wall and leaned towards it, unable to figure out the lyrics. The melody was still blasting and Lorcan glanced at his oven’s clock. It was almost midnight, so she couldn’t be up for too much longer, surely. Lorcan decided that he’d go to the building’s gym for the next hour and by the time he returned, Elide’s little music thing would be over.

He moved to his room to get changed and in his bedroom, he could hear Elide singing along, loud and angry.

“...lost my mind, I’ve spent the night cry-ing on the flo-or of my bedroom, but you’re so unaffected, I really don’t get it, but I guess good for yo-o-ou…”

Lorcan smirked, shaking his head softly. A few minutes later, he was changed and tying his high-top Chucks, winding the laces around his ankles once before hitching a neat bow. He grabbed his headphones and phone from the pants he’d discarded, and he got up, moving towards his door.

As he walked to the stairs, fitting his headphones over his ears, Lorcan glanced back at her door, wondering what had happened for her to be cathartically shouting along to what could only be a breakup song.

He shrugged to himself and connected his phone to his headphones, playing his own music loud enough to drown hers out. Lorcan disappeared into the stairwell and jogged down to the gym.

Exactly two hours later, Lorcan stepped out of the elevator, his shoulders and deltoids stiffening from the workout he’d just finished. He paused his music and pulled his headphones off as he stopped in front of his door, pausing when he realised that music was still playing. Lorcan checked his phone to make sure that he’d paused the song and frowned in confusion when he confirmed that it wasn’t his music.

But if it wasn’t his, then it could only be… Lorcan snapped his head up, staring incredulously down at Elide’s door. She was still playing music and the melody matched the same song he’d heard before he’d gone. Sweet fuck, something was really wrong.

He wanted to go check on her, but Lorcan wasn’t sure if they were there yet in their young friendship.

Sighing, Lorcan just resolved to suck it up for the night. It had to end at some point, he told himself.

<3<3<3

Some point ended up being four o’clock in the morning. At first, Lorcan had thought that he’d gone deaf or something. He’d fallen asleep minutes after and his body, like always, forced him up three hours later.

To wake himself up, Lorcan had gone to the corner shop down the street and bought a cup of their coffee, which was practically tar, and a pack of cigarettes. The man didn’t smoke much anymore, but the nicotine would wake him up like nothing else so he’d given in.

He was sitting on the edge of the planter box outside the building, sipping on his coffee and smoking a cigarette. The smoke was bitter and alongside the coffee, Lorcan was feeling marginally conscious. It was enough to interact with humans, so he supposed it was good enough.

The lobby door opened, but Lorcan didn’t bother looking over until he heard a familiar voice.

“Oh. I didn’t know you smoked.”

“Mornin’ to ya too, ‘lide,” he said, his voice quiet. Lorcan looked up at her, drinking in the sight of her. He’d learnt quickly that overalls were a staple in Elide’s wardrobe. She was wearing a black tank top beneath her dungarees and her black hair was twisted into a bun at the nape of her neck. A red bandana was tied around her head, matching her tote bag.

She chuckled, looking down at her black Vans. “Hello.”

“Hey,” he replied, grimacing as he drank some of his coffee. “And I don’t.” At Elide’s look of confusion, he elaborated and took a drag from his smoke. “Smoke, anymore. I quit a couple years back, but it helps wake me up.”

Elide nodded, running a cursory eye over his slightly disheveled appearance. “Hmm, you don’t look so good. Rough sleep?”

He snorted, tapping his finger against the cig to knock the ash off. “Yeah, had a shit sleep. Some girl was playing her music real loud, ya hear it?”

She squeaked and blush as her eyes filled with guilt. Lorcan smirked and finished his cigarette. He stubbed it and tucked the filter back into the pack, pulling out the gum he’d bought and taking a piece. “O-oh, you, uh, heard that?”

“‘lil bit, yeah.”

“It kept you up?”

He shrugged, “S’not a big deal, I’ve had worse.”

“Still,” Elide said, her cheeks pink, “I’m sorry. If you want- if you’re free, you can come to work with me? I’m sure my coffee is better than whatever that is.” She tilted on her tip-toes, hopeful. “And it’s free.” Lorcan stood up, finishing his shitty coffee. He shuddered as he swallowed it and Elide laughed, tilting towards the sidewalk. “That’s a yes, then?”

“Sure is,” Lorcan grinned slightly.

“Right then.”

They fell into step and walked to her bakery, which was only a ten minute stroll away.

When they got to her shop, Elide showed him to the table closest to the counter so that they could be as close as possible throughout the day. Despite that, they didn’t see each other too much. Lorcan read through a few newspapers and the magazines Elide offered to him. Once in a while, she would come by to drop off a coffee for him, usually an americano with an extra shot in it. She brought him various pastries too, always lingering until he took his first bite and praised her for her talent.

Elide closed her shop at four and let Luca, her employee, go home early. “Wanna help me with the dishes?”

Lorcan grinned and got up, “‘Course I do.” He followed her into the kitchen and he washed the dishes while she dried them and put them away. “D’ya have a good day?”

She nodded, “Yeah, I did.” Elide snuck a glance at his profile, “Did you?”

“I did.” He paused, a teasing grin curling his lips. “All the free shit really made up for last night.”

Elide gasped and hit his shoulder, trying not to gawk when her ineffectual blow was met with pure muscle. “I already told you I was sorry for that!”

“Just teasin’ ya, Elide,” he chuckled, looking at her through the corner of his eye.

“Mm-hmm,” she replied, shaking her head at him.

They continued in a comfortable silence until all the dishes were done and the rest of the kitchen was clean. Elide pushed Lorcan towards the big counter, “Take those stools down and I’ll get something for dinner.”

“Well, shit, Lochan, ya don’t gotta do all that,” Lorcan protested, his eyes wide. “Really, ‘m not even mad ‘bout last night. I wasn’t ever mad, I swear.”

She laughed, shaking her head, “I know, I’m just teasin’ ya.” He narrowed his eyes at her as she cackled, throwing his words back at him. “Gods, man, sit already! I’m starving and it’s not like I’m going to kick you out to find your own dinner.”

He gave in and took the metal stools down, putting them in front of the counter. Elide bustled back with two beers and two sandwiches. The food was from the industrial fridge in the back and the drinks were from the staff fridge.

They sat next to each other. Both of Elide’s feet were on the spindle, while Lorcan only rested one on the bar and his other leg was stretched out, his heel against the floor beneath Elide’s stool. Dinner was a wonderfully domestic, simple affair. Like everything else Elide made, the sandwiches were phenomenal and Lorcan told her so, around a mouthful of said sandwich.

Elide laughed at his muffled voice, her head tipped back. He swallowed and stared, captivated by the sight of her joy. Lorcan didn’t bother to hide the fact that he was staring when she calmed and he smirked at her blush, casually draining the rest of his beer. His eyes tracked the way she watched him, swallowing once.

He put the glass bottle down, now empty. Nodding his chin to her bottle, which was also empty, Lorcan rubbed his fingertips up and down his jaw. “Done there?”

“Yeah,” she said, biting the inside of her cheek.

He nodded again and got up, gathering their trash. Lorcan tossed it as Elide got her things ready to go. He followed her out, flicking off the lights when she told him to. As he waited for her to lock up, Lorcan stood on the curb, head bent with his eyes on her, his hands shoved in his pockets.

Night had fallen and that was the only reason he reached his hand out to her, so that she wouldn’t trip over anything. Elide slipped her fingers through his and tugged him with her. He marveled at how naturally their hands fit together, her thumb pressed against the first knuckle of his index finger.

They didn’t talk much as they walked home. Somehow, their steps matched each other’s despite their not-so-little size difference.

They held hands all the way to her door and when she let go, his hand felt strange, a bit useless, too. Lorcan leaned his shoulder against the wall and tilted his head to the side, one corner of his mouth higher than the other. “How loud is it gonna be tonight? Just tryin’ to plan around ya heartbreak.”

Elide scoffed, flicking her eyes upwards. “It was hardly heartbreak. Don’t you think breakup songs are kind of cathartic?”

He shrugged, “Depends.”

She rolled her eyes at his taciturnity. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, it’d slipped free during the day. “Besides, there’s better ways of being too loud and pissing off the neighbours.” Elide looked up at him, shifting closer to him.

Lorcan arched a brow, making a show of slowly surveying her, eyes clinging to the curve of her hips. “Oh, yeah? Need a partner for that, hmm?”

It was Elide’s turn to tilt her head to the side and shrug, “I don’t think so. I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.”

His pulse jumped, heart beating faster than it had two seconds ago. Lorcan ran his tongue along the undersides of his teeth and pulled it back to the roof of his mouth as he grinned, “Oh, I’m sure ya can, but I’m tryin’ this new thing, ya see.”

“Really? And what’s that?”

He raised his chin in challenge, delighted to see the heat and desire storming in her eyes. “Bein’ a gentleman.” Elide laughed at that, but Lorcan continued. “See, so I gotta lend ya a hand.”

Elide reached out, her fingers wandering innocently up his sternum. “Just one? And just your hand?”

“Lochan,” he murmured, letting her pull him down when her hand curls in the collar of his shirt, “you can have whatever that ‘lil heart desires.”

She sharply tugged and then they were kissing, weeks of tension and hesitation leading up to this. It wasn’t nice or neat, but neither cared as their mouths fit together. Lorcan’s hand rose to cup her jaw, his thumb on her chin, tilting her head up. Elide parted her lips for his tongue and moaned softly. She reached her hand backwards and twisted the door handle, shoving the door open. “Good.”

<3<3<3

an: i wanted 2 write smthng with good 4 u but im a softie now n i cant write breakup fics 😭

@mythicaitt @eyllweambassador @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @ladyverena @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @empress-ofbloodshed @b00kworm @hizqueen4life @silversprings98 @amren-courtofdreams @jadeaffliction @superspiritfestival @sanakapoor @ireallyshouldsleeprn @spyofthenightcourt @thegoddessofyou @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx @claralady @neonhellas @darlinminds @readingismyonlyhobby @gracie-rosee @myshadowsingeraz @firestarsandseneschals @elriel4life @always-in-a-daydream @jlinez @hellasblessed @mariamuses @darklesmylove @adelzd-bookblr @rowaelinismyotp @sassyhobbits @swankii-art-teacher @januarystears

[red-jaebyrd]

My Brother’s Keeper

Ric hadn’t set out to make a new friend that day. In fact he hadn’t even expected to see the guy again once he had helped Ric push his busted cab to the side of the road.

Hardly anyone ever went out of their way to help others in Bludhaven. It surprised Ric when this guy, Jason just appeared as if out of nowhere to yell at honking drivers and help Ric get his cab out of the way of traffic. Ric had invited him to The Prodigal for a beer that night as a thank you. He wasn’t sure if Jason would even show up that night, but to his surprise he did.

“So what do you do when you're not swooping in to help complete strangers push their broken down cars out of rush hour traffic?” Ric asked.

Jason laughed. “Little bit of this, little bit of that, mostly free-lance stuff.”

It was a vague answer, but Ric let it slide. Everyone had their secrets, he couldn’t fault a guy he just met to have a few.

“Must be nice. Is it real lucrative?”

“The pay isn’t bad,” Jason shrugged. “I get to set my own hours and carry a gun.”

“Can’t argue with those perks,” Ric chuckled, taking a drink of his beer. “So did you grow up around here?”

“Nah, I grew up in Gotham, what about you?”

Ric tensed at hearing Gotham and gripped the handle of his beer mug tighter. He really hoped Jason wasn’t another one of Wayne’s associates trying to jog his memory and lure him back ‘home’. Maybe he should just play along.

“Same, seems everyone one I’ve run into lately is from Gotham.” Ric challenged.

“Well, to be fair Gotham is a pretty big place,” Jason replied causally. “So what brought you to Bludhaven?”

Ric shrugged allowing the tension to leave his shoulders. “Let’s just say I needed somewhere new to spread my wings.”

“And you chose Bludhaven?” Jason snorted. “Did you lose a bet?”

“Shut up.” Ric laughed, elbowing Jason in the arm. “Don’t knock it. You’re here too. What brought you to the ‘haven’?”

Jason ran a hand through his hair. His brow furrowed in thought before he answered. At first Ric thought that maybe he was prying too much into this guy’s life, or asking too many personal questions.  He couldn’t help it. He liked talking and Jason was the first person besides Bea that was actually interested in talking to him.

“Gotham wasn’t safe for us anymore, so my brothers and I bailed and came here.”

“Looks like you left just in time. I heard a lot of crazy shit with the Bat was happening in Gotham. Wait, did you say ‘brothers’?” Ric’s smiled wistfully.

Jason nodded. “I have four. One was staying with our sister the last time I checked in with him and the other two came here with me.”

Ric had always wondered what it would be like to be part of a big family.  He wondered if he had ever asked his parents for a brother or a sister. If they hadn’t died, would they have had more children? Would he have been a good big brother to them? Wayne did have a younger son, so Ric was technically a big brother, but he couldn’t remember his life with him. When it came to the Waynes, Ric was just a son and brother on paper.

“Where’s the other one? You said four brothers, but only mentioned three of them.”

He watched as Jason scratched along a groove in the wood of the bar, like he was trying to think of the right words to say. Ric’s stomach flipped as he started to speculate that maybe something serious did happen to Jason’s family. Or maybe Ric was just making Jason feel uncomfortable with all his questions. Ric did that sometimes when he got too excited talking to new people. Jason took a swig of his beer before answering Ric’s question.

“Our older brother...” Jason answered, running his fingers along the condensation of his mug. “…he went missing a few months ago. It’s been hard on the family, especially our father and my youngest brother.”

“I’m sorry. I can imagine it’s been difficult for everyone, especially you. It can’t be easy being the one that they depend on.”

Jason shook his head. “No, truthfully it sucks sometimes, but it has its moments. He was– I had a good role model and they’re good kids. They just miss him. I miss him too.”

“Well you got them somewhere safe,” Ric clapped a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Well…relatively safe. Any leads on his whereabouts?”

“Nothing but dead ends. Deep down I don’t really think he wants to found,” Jason shrugged. “But I’ll keep looking for him. So what about you, any siblings?”

Ric knew a dismissal when he heard it. He didn’t mind the change in subject. He couldn’t blame Jason for not elaborating. It had to be stressful for anyone looking for a missing family member. He assumed this question was bound to make its way onto him.

“No, I’m an only child. My parents died when I was eight.”

“Shit, sorry man. We can talk about something else.”

“It’s fine. You told me about your brother. I can talk about this. I did get taken into a good home, so I shouldn’t really complain,” Ric shrugged.

“But…”

Ric shook his head. “It’s just frustrating to have these people who are supposed to be my ‘family’ constantly telling me how I should be living my life.”

“Oh, I know how that is, trust me. It’s the worst.”

“Right? Why can’t I live my life how I want to? I’m an adult. They’re not even interested in getting to know me,” Ric ranted. “They just want their precious ‘Dick Grayson’ back. It’s my life now not his, let me live it how I want to.”

Shit. He went too far. He could see the look of surprise on Jason’s face. The lull of silence between them stretched and Ric couldn’t form a cohesive thought. Ric’s brain was scrambling for something else to say, anything to say, to fix the mess he just made but nothing was coming. Instead his mind started replaying all recent moments of disappointed people coming and going in his life claiming that they loved him, but not wanting to take the time get to know him.

Ric really hated his brain sometimes and how there was no filter between what he was thinking and what came out of his mouth. He needed to explain himself to Jason fast. Ric knew Jason had to have noticed the gnarly scar on the side of his head. Maybe the scar would give him a free pass at his unfiltered choice of words.

“Sorry, sorry, that uh kinda came out of nowhere. I…uh…had a bit of an accident…” Ric explained, pointing at his scar. “…I got shot a few months ago and well let’s just say my “family” or whatever they want to call themselves, didn’t take to my recovery well.”

“I’m sorry. Sometimes injuries that intense can either bring a family closer together or tear them apart.”

Ric shrugged his shoulders. It had been rough having to relearn how to do everyday tasks like eating, writing his name, and walking. His “family” and friends had been there at every therapy session encouraging him with their words and overall presence. But the worst of it had been their reactions to the news that his memories of them were gone.

“I couldn’t remember them,” Ric admitted, staring at his near empty beer mug.  “They were literal strangers to me the moment I opened my eyes from the coma, and it was something that they wouldn’t accept. In the end their concern for me and my recovery just felt conditional, so I left and came here.”

“Damn. Do they at least check up on you?” Jason asked.

“The old man used to, but I haven’t seen him in a while. A red-headed chick did too, but I told her not to bother anymore. Not if she’s going to keep looking at me searching for ‘him’ to come back. Apparently the other guy they really want was a real ‘Golden boy’, that’s not me.”

Jason snorted.

“What did I say?” Ric quirked a smile.

“Nothing,” Jason smirked, and took a drink of his beer.

“I’m doing just fine on my own. I don’t need them.”

“No you don’t. I know they’re family, but fuck them.” Jason clinked his beer mug against Ric’s.

Oh Ric really liked this guy.

 8888

The next few weeks Ric and Jason met up at The Prodigal for beers. Some nights all they did was talk and drink. Other nights they drank and played pool. Jason became one of Ric’s favorite drinking buddies.

Ric couldn’t legitimately remember ever having a feeling of kinship with anyone like Jason before in his life. It was nice and a bit scary at the same time letting someone new in his life. Still, instead of running away from this newfound friendship, Ric embraced it.

Friendship was a concept Ric wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to again. He didn’t have many friends in Bludhaven, well friends that he remembered. Dick’s old friends wanted nothing to do with him. They kept waiting and pushing for Dick to “come back”. When he finally snapped at them that Dick was gone and never coming back, they stopped visiting him. He did have Bea. She was the only one who had welcomed him with open arms and genuinely wanted to get to know him.

Jason had been the only other person he had run into that also didn’t have some hidden agenda to “bring Dick back”. With Jason there wasn’t any pressure or demand to be anyone other than himself. He could be Ric with no expectations thrust upon him. Jason empathized with Ric’s struggle to find his identity apart from the Waynes.

This was what made hanging out with Jason so easy. The anxiety of having to censor himself, afraid he might say or do something that was so inherently not Dick didn’t exist when he was around Jason. It was such a relief and a weight off Ric’s shoulders to just exist in a space with a friend and be himself.

Once Jason had opened up to Ric, he learned that there was a whole slew of shit that had happened to his friend in just a short amount of time. Aside from his brother going missing, Jason had a serious falling out with his dad that had caused a significant rift between them causing him to take his brothers and leave. However, the most devastating news had to be hearing that Jason’s best friend had been killed while staying at an inpatient rehabilitation facility.

“I wish I had some advice to give you, but something tells me you weren’t looking for any,” Ric said.

“No, not really, just a sympathetic ear, I guess.”

“I’m sorry about your best friend. That really sucks what happened to him.”

“Thanks, man. At least we got to work one last job together before he died. Anyway, that’s enough of my bullshit. What’s up with you? You look like my little brother after seven Red Bulls and 3 hours of sleep.”

Ric sighed. “It’s kind of embarrassing, but I’ve been having these dreams lately of faceless people in weird costumes. In the dream I feel like I know them. I’m ready to say their name but I can’t talk. I wake up and by the time I try to recall the images I can’t remember them.”

“Do you think your memories are trying to come back?” Jason asked.

“I don’t know, maybe?” Ric shrugged.

“But…you don’t want them to come back, do you?”

It felt silly getting so worked up over something like lost memories resurfacing. Ric should be happy that parts of his lost past was trying to get through to him. He should be relieved that the 15 years of lost memories were finally starting to return, but he wasn’t happy or relieved. He was worried.

“What happens to me when I start remembering everything? Will I still be Ric when Dick’s memories come flooding back filling in the gaps? What if I don’t like the things I start to remember? What then?”

Jason turned in his stool to face Ric. “No matter what, you’ll still be Ric. You’ll still be the guy with the busted cab I had to push out of traffic. You’ll still be the guy that kicks my ass playing pool. You’ll still be the guy who insists on buying the first round and listening to all my bullshit. You’ll still be you, just with new memories.

“No matter what happens you are not obligated to go back to your old life or live your life by your old memories. You don’t owe those assholes in Gotham anything.”

Ric nodded allowing Jason’s words to sink in.

“We’ll take it one day at a time,” Jason clapped a hand on Ric’s shoulder. “Next round is on me.”

The anxiety slowly started to ebb away as Ric watched his friend leave their high top table and make his way to the bar to get another round of beers.

Ric couldn’t stop the new memories from coming. They were coming whether he wanted them to or not. And when they did come he was glad to have found such a great friend in Jason. The man was right, no matter what happened, he was not obligated to go back to his old life or live his life by his old memories.

Part 2: Somebody That I Used to Know

[xjoonchildx]

guarded | jhs x reader | chapter four: cham-pain

summary: you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you.  now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: mafia AU, E2L, slow burn, tsundere, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 4.4K

A/N: hey, you.  yes, YOU. has anyone told you that you’re pretty today? well, if not let me be the first. i can’t help but feel lovey-dovey about the love you guys have shown me on this story. thank you so much for everything.  i hope you like this chapter and i hope you’ll reach out and let me know either way.  big shoutout to the baes @ladyartemesia​ and @taetaewonderland​ they know why.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

********************

At what point do you stop calling them shorts and start calling them panties?

That’s the question Hoseok ponders when he walks into the kitchen to find you precariously perched on tiptoes, straining to reach for something in an overhead cabinet.  He lets his gaze linger over the soft skin of your legs, up to your thighs, up higher to where he can damned near see the swell of your ass peeking out from that obscene little scrap of cloth.

What he does next is probably unwise.

What he does next is approach silently from behind, pressing one hand into the small of your back as he reaches over you to get a hold of the jar you’re struggling to grab. And if he enjoys the way your body jolts with surprise beneath his fingertips or the way your hair smells when he’s this close, then that’s his business and no one else’s.

“Thank you,” you murmur, avoiding his eyes and for a moment Hoseok thinks you’re going to scold him for being so bold.

But you don’t.

*********************

Hoseok shouldn’t be toying with you right now and he knows it. It’s not like you’ve ever been an open book with him, but these past few days you’ve been even more withdrawn -- more in your head than ever before.  

Not that you don’t have your reasons.

Shit is off the rails with your case and you’re living with a complete stranger and someone left a live fucking snake in your bedroom a few nights ago.  

So if Hoseok has noticed that you walk around in a fog — that the fire he used to see inside of you from time to time seems extinguished — well, that’s certainly understandable. 

But he can’t help but wonder if there’s something more to your melancholy. He can’t help but wonder if you actually hold a candle for that idiot you left reeling at the restaurant.  

Hoseok can’t stop thinking about that guy.  

There is a feeling he can’t shake and it’s not just the urge to beat Kang Donghyuk to a pulp. Hoseok can’t shake the feeling that beneath the dopey smile and the lazy charm and the overall benign affect, there’s something more.  

Something Hoseok is determined to figure out.

So he leaves you to your cooking in the kitchen and retreats to the privacy of his room to phone Seokjin.  If this piece of shit is up to something, Hoseok is going to make it his personal mission to find it.

And if he finds something?

Then Hoseok will make it his personal mission to make him pay.

***********************

YOU

“Amsaja -- with Hoseok.  Try being nice.”

You think back to your brother’s words as you stand just outside the door to Hoseok’s room, fist raised to knock.  But you don’t, at least not right away.  

What is your fucking problem?

You remind yourself that you are a grown woman, not some skittish little girl.  You remind yourself that Jung Hoseok is just a man.  

And then you get a grip.

The door opens after one light knock.  You don’t mean to stare, truly you don’t -- but Hoseok is wearing one of those goddamned tank tops again.  What happened to suits all day and all night?  Suits are a hell of a lot less distracting.

“What’s up?” he asks cautiously.  

Your eyes dart from his face to his chest to his arms and finally settle around his neck, where a pair of dog tags hang from a silver chain.  You had nearly forgotten that Jung Hoseok made a career of the military before he was one of your brother’s right-hand men.

“I made some Samgyetang,” you say lamely, gesturing to the bowl of soup in your hands.

I made it for you. 

“And it’s uh, supposed to be good for a cold,” you add, when he says nothing.

Which you have.  

“So, I -- ” you clear your throat, shift your weight back and forth on your feet, “ -- made some.”

For you.

Hoseok stares at the bowl like you’ve brought him a grenade instead of a meal.  The puzzled look on his face makes you feel awkward, makes the entire gesture seem silly.

“Never mind,” you say under your breath, turning on your heels.  

“Wait --” Hoseok calls quickly, stepping out of his room to follow you,  “ -- I didn’t -- I was just surprised, that’s all.” 

“It’s just soup,” you say over your shoulder, trying like hell to sound casual and not at all offended.

Hoseok keeps pace behind you into the kitchen; commands your attention with one firm hand on your arm.  You turn to face him, averting your gaze from the sweatpants that hang low on his hips and the thin cotton that grips every muscle of his lean chest.

“I didn’t mean to make that weird,” Hoseok says quietly. “Thank you. It’s been a long time since I’ve had homemade Samgyetang.”

You pull your arm out of his hold.  

“Well, it’s there if you want it,” you shrug, brushing past him.

It’s a relief to trade the charged air of the kitchen for the uncomplicated quiet of your room.

*************************

Hyejin takes her reading glasses off to rub the bridge of her nose.  

“I’m not even kidding about my eyesight being shot,” she sighs, reaching for her coffee cup.  “It gets worse every day and the print on these depositions does not help.”

“I know,” you mumble, highlighter flying over your own set of fine print.  “Sorry.”

“Hey, at least we’re in this together,” she smiles. “Right?” 

Her face falls when you don’t return the gesture.

It’s not exactly a secret that you haven’t been firing on all cylinders lately.  You are so worn out from the shit going on at work and the shit going on at home that it feels like you don’t have much more to give.  You just want to climb into bed and sleep for a week straight.

If only you had that luxury.  

Instead, you’re back at it with Hyejin today, trying to figure out a way around the missing digital evidence you so desperately need.  The loss of those files was a terrible setback, but you refuse to let it be the end.  You still have an entire warehouse full of confiscated guns under lock and key.

Now you just need to get your head in the game.

“You still going to the gala tomorrow night?” Hyejin asks, sipping her coffee.

So much for getting your head in the game.

“Not sure,” you murmur, underlining a key part of the testimony.  “Lots of shit going on right now.”

“Yeah, I know things between you and Donghyuk got weird,” Hyejin says carefully.

You stop yourself from laughing out loud. 

Donghyuk is so far down your list of fires to fight, you’d nearly forgotten him completely.  You probably could forget him if you weren’t subjected to his dirty looks every time the two of you cross paths at the office.  You’ve made at least two very awkward cups of coffee standing side-by-side in the past week alone -- but honestly, you can’t bring yourself to care.

“That’s -- “ you start and stop before continuing, “ -- not really an issue right now.”

“Okay, sure,” Hyejin concedes. “Just don’t forget that I’m here if you need someone to talk to, alright?  You don’t always have to take everything on by yourself.”

You stop your incessant highlighting to look up at your friend and colleague.  

Concern is written all over her pretty face and for a moment you entertain the thought of opening up to her.  The idea of talking about what’s going on is tempting -- like if you could share just a piece of your burden you could relieve some of the pressure inside of you.  But there’s another part of you that worries that you are too pent up to let go of any of this.  A part of you that feels like all it will take is one tiny crack for the entire dam to give.

You finally manage to muster one weak smile for your friend, who seems relieved to see any display of emotion out of you.

“Thanks, Hye.  I’ll keep that in mind.”

***********************

You almost skipped tonight.  Almost.

But you’d already bought a dress and the tickets were paid for and Hoseok didn’t even flinch when you told him you had to go to a black-tie event. 

If only you could say the same for the moment you saw him in the living room.

When Hoseok turned at the sound of your heels on the marble floor, with hands tucked into the pockets of his bespoke black tux, you nearly forgot to breathe.  All of the coordinating details, the slim-cut jacket and the perfectly-styled hair and the carefully-crafted bow tie felt like a gut punch.

You’d silently prayed that Hoseok didn’t catch the way your eyes lingered on him for just a beat too long -- or that he didn’t spot the heat you could feel creeping up your neck and into your cheeks. The color that must have been made all the more obvious against the rose shade of your gown.

“You ready?”

Hoseok interrupts your thoughts with his usual business-like tone.  The one that tells you that this inner monologue about how incredible he looks tonight is painfully one-sided.  

You nod, not trusting yourself to use your words.

All things considered, the situation with Donghyuk couldn’t have gone south at a better time.  He would have been your date for the night were it not for the blow up at dinner -- and it certainly would have drawn unwanted attention to have two men at your side all evening.  

Though with the way Hoseok looks tonight, you imagine the attention will come anyway.

*********************

There are few things in life rich people enjoy more than pretending to give a shit about poor ones. 

They make sport of it, jockeying for position in front of the cameras, gladly shelling out hundreds of thousands of won a plate to prove just how much they care.  They spend their evenings drinking top-shelf liquor and eating top-notch catering and convincing themselves that they’re making some kind of sacrifice for the greater good.  

A string quartet plays softly in the background as guests mill about, grabbing drinks and hors d'oeuvres off of passing trays.  Hoseok is at your side, a glass of water in hand.  He is just close enough for you to take in his heady, masculine smell -- but not too close.

You hate that he smells this good.

You hate that he looks this good.

You have tried -- and failed -- to ignore the appreciative stares he’s gotten from some of the gala guests.  You already caught one woman ogling outright, gawking unrepentantly while at her own date’s side.  When a cocktail server walks by with a carefully-balanced offering of champagne flutes, you grab one right away.

Hoseok, as usual, takes nothing.  

You sip your champagne and watch him watching the room.  

He certainly looks the part of a society player tonight in his tux, the occasional wrinkle of his nose the only indicator of his disdain for the men and women drinking and dancing around him.  When a woman bumps into him while carrying a plate of appetizers, he holds out a hand to help her keep upright and she damned near melts at his reassuring smile.  

“Oh, thank you,” she breathes deeply before her eyes dart in your direction.  

You look away.

Not once have you ever seen this man smile, and he’s certainly never smiled at you.  You turn to slam the rest of your champagne and put the empty flute on a nearby table just as another cocktail server passes with a full tray of drinks. 

How fortuitous.  You grab another.  

There’s a few more minutes of mingling before the guests are asked to take a seat at their assigned tables.  Hoseok holds out your chair and you accept. 

The interaction, like always, is silent.

You look up from the perfectly staged spread to spot Donghyuk two tables away.  Even from a distance you can tell his cheeks look ruddy — like he’s already had way too much to drink. He narrows his eyes when he realizes you are looking and you lift your champagne flute to tip a sarcastic salute in his direction.  He scowls back.

“Miss Kim,” a deep voice interrupts your petty exchange. “What a pleasant coincidence.”

You force a smile when your boss and his wife unexpectedly fill two empty seats at your table.

“Mr. Park,” you return quietly. “Nice to see you tonight. And Mrs. Park, of course.”

Mrs. Park’s answering smile is warm and genuine, but the same cannot be said of her husband’s. Of course, the last conversation you had with him one-on-one, he’d practically thrown you out of his office. The smile on his face right now is a bit watery.

“It’s so nice to see you dear,” Mrs. Park says sweetly.  “And who is this handsome fellow?”

You falter when you open your mouth to answer, but Hoseok smoothly interjects.

“Yi Sang, ma’am. Pleasure to meet you.”

You close your mouth and turn to smile woodenly at Hoseok, who doesn’t bother to look back. 

“Mr. Yi,” your boss extends his hand for a firm handshake, but a strange look passes over his face.  “The pleasure is ours.” 

Hoseok’s mouth pulls into a tight smile and you down what’s left of your champagne.

A couple you don’t recognize join your table before dinner is served.  You do your best to appear engaged in the small talk; nodding when appropriate, smiling during the awkward pauses.  But there is an emptiness in you tonight.  You spend the entire meal pushing the artfully-arranged dishes around your plate because you find you have no desire for food.

The same cannot be said for the champagne, though. That’s going down quite nicely.  Your server dutifully brings another flute as soon as yours is empty.

“I must commend you, Miss Kim, on forging ahead with this case,” Mr. Park says, when the plates have been cleared and after-dinner coffee is being served.  “I know it hasn’t been easy after the theft of your files.”

“Oh,” you clear your throat. “Yes, well -- I’m doing my best with what I have left.”

“Of course. It’s important we do what we can to bring these low-lives to justice,” Mr. Kim says slowly.  He looks from you to Hoseok with an expression that stops just short of a challenge and the champagne in your stomach seems to come to life. “Organized crime in this city is out of hand. We can’t allow Seoul to descend into chaos because of the trash making a living off of guns and drugs.”

Trash like your brother. 

“Right,” you say quietly, swallowing past a lump in your throat. “I’ll do my best.” 

Hoseok remains composed at your side, but you don’t miss how his knuckles go white as his grip around the water glass tightens.  

Trash like Hoseok.  

You swallow another mouthful of champagne.  

The couple sitting next to the Parks -- oblivious to the friction at the table -- strike up a conversation about the dessert selection and you’ve never been more glad for small talk.  The tension in the air slowly dissipates.

But you keep drinking.

Hoseok leans into you, lips so close they nearly brush the shell of your ear and your entire body goes still.  Goosebumps bloom all over when you feel his breath against your skin.

“You should eat something,” he murmurs.

You could almost laugh at the way your stomach seems to fall with disappointment.  What were you expecting him to say? Something complimentary? Something reassuring?  

What a joke.

All at once you decide you need space, you need air, you need a break from the bullshit you seem to be taking from all sides tonight.

Hoseok’s eyebrows lift as you stand from your seat.

“If you’ll excuse me,” you announce to the table, “I need to visit the powder room.”

The champagne seems to hit you the moment you stand and you have to work hard at keeping your steps steady as you make your way out of the ballroom.

You would never admit it, but Hoseok is right. 

You really should eat something.

***********************

hoseok: text me or i’m coming in [11:02 PM ]

You stand in the mirror and stare at your reflection in the dim lighting of the ladies’ room. You’ve been to dozens of these events over the years and it’s never felt as pointless and unnatural to you as it does right now.  A part of you hates how much you’ve tied yourself into knots seeking the validation of these pompous assholes.  So desperate to be chosen by the chosen few. 

hoseok: last chance [11:06 PM ]

Another part of you hates Hoseok.  

You hate his constant presence and his constant silence and his constant judgement.  It always feels like he’s punishing you for some transgression you don’t even know you’ve committed.  Your phone buzzes with a reminder of the waiting texts and you sigh, unlocking the screen to fire off an answer before Hoseok makes good on his threat to storm his way in.

you: i’m fine. be right out [ 11:08 PM ]

You take one last look in the mirror.  Have you always looked this tired? 

Before dinner -- after you’d meticulously primped for tonight -- you’d been satisfied with what you saw in the mirror.  Now all you can see are the shadows under your eyes, the grim set of your mouth.  Is this what other people see when they look at you, too?

A knock sounds on the door and you blow out an exasperated breath.  Hoseok must be tired of waiting for you to wrap this pity party.  You yank the door open with more force than intended, fully prepared to tell him to fuck off.

But it’s Donghyuk on the other side.

You stare at him.

“What do you want?” you hiss, stepping out into the hallway.

“I just want to talk,” Donghyuk says coolly, standing just a bit too close. You grimace at the smell of liquor on his breath.  “You still haven’t given me a chance to thank you personally for making me look like an asshole at dinner the other day.”

“Oh, honey -- you don’t need my help to look like an asshole,” you fire back, pushing more space in between you with a firm shove of your fingers to his shoulder. “You do a fine job of that all on your own.”

His laughter blows whiskey-tinged hot air in your direction and you make a face.

“I see you upgraded the bodyguard to dinner date.”

“Shut up, Donghyuk, honestly,” you seethe.  You try to step around him to leave, but he blocks you with his body.  

“You fucking him now, too?”

You barely register the movement of your own hand before it’s connecting with the side of Donghyuk’s face.  You barely register Hoseok’s arrival before he’s between you both, pulling you away and practically shoving Donghyuk to the floor.  You barely hear Hoseok’s whispered threats and you nearly miss the way he unbuttons his jacket to ensure Donghyuk sees his gun.

The whole debacle is so fast and so surreal you could almost convince yourself you imagined it.

But there is no imagining the sting still throbbing in your palm.

*****************************

HOSEOK

The trouble tonight started long before you smacked the shit out of Kang Donghyuk. 

The trouble started when you walked out of your room in that goddamned gown. Hoseok had not been entirely prepared for you in that dress.

He had only a split second to make sure he wasn’t staring.  He jammed his hands into his pockets and forced the most casual demeanor he could muster, but fuck it wasn’t easy.  There were a hundred things he could have said in that moment, would have said in that moment -- if you weren’t you and if he weren’t him.

Of course, dinner was a bit of a clusterfuck, too.

Playing dress up with the city’s elites was somehow less enjoyable than Hoseok imagined it would be.  The stares from tipsy society girls and the critical looks from their dates were bad enough but your boss laying it on thick with the white knight bullshit at the end was the real icing on the cake.  The coded language and the veiled threats that made loud and clear he knew exactly what Hoseok was but wouldn’t say it out loud.  

Hoseok saw the way you seemed to retreat even further into yourself during the exchange, silent and thinking.

And drinking. 

Hoseok has only ever seen you enjoy the occasional glass of wine with meals.  Tonight was an entirely different story. You were on a mission to get wrecked from the moment you sat down; forgoing food for an alarming amount of champagne.  Hoseok counted four glasses down before he decided to say something. 

Of course, that went over about as well as he’d expected -- and seconds later, you were walking away.

Hoseok hadn’t planned on following you to the bathroom. He hadn’t planned on overhearing the nasty back-and-forth in the hall . And he hadn’t planned on threatening to kill Kang Donghyuk at some ridiculous charity dinner.  But when he saw the man get up from his seat to follow you -- Hoseok moved on auto-pilot.  

There was no avoiding what came next.

**********************

You don’t utter a single word on the ride home.  

You don’t say a word when Hoseok walks you upstairs, unlocks the door to usher you inside.  He’s still securing the new deadbolts when he hears your bedroom door slam shut.

Hoseok scrubs a hand over his face and sighs deeply before loosening the bow tie and slipping it off.   

Then he pulls out his phone to text Seokjin.

hoseok: you on him? [ 11:48 PM ]

seokjin: sleeping it off in his car right now. what a slob [ 11:49 PM ]

seokjin: you’re welcome btw [ 11:49 PM ]

hoseok: thx [ 11:50 PM ]

Seconds later, your bedroom door swings open so hard it bounces back off the opposite wall. Hoseok looks up from his phone just as you are storming into the living room, hands still securing the belt to the short robe you’ve just changed into.  

You are positively vibrating with a dangerous energy Hoseok can feel clear across the room.  Maybe you’ve been sleepwalking through these past few days, but you are definitely awake now.

And angry.

“I don’t need you to win my fights,” you fume, pointing one hostile finger in his direction. “I took care of myself long before you came along and I can take care of myself now.”

Christ, do you have any idea how little you are wearing right now?  

Hoseok focuses on that accusing finger because it keeps him from staring at your legs. It also keeps him from opening his mouth and making you madder than you already are. 

“I don’t need you or anyone else swooping in with that macho bullshit,” you hiss, bringing your body within inches of his.  “I have had enough of men running and ruining every aspect of my life.”

Shit, do you have any idea how close you are right now? 

Hoseok can smell the perfume that lingers on your skin when you’re this close.  He can see how your pupils are blown wide and your cheeks are flushed with heat when you’re this close. 

“Say something,” you demand, jabbing your finger into his chest.  “Do something.”

Fuck, you are playing with fire.

You want a fight and Hoseok is this close to giving you one.  He has to summon every ounce of his self control to keep his voice and breathing steady. He fists his hands at his sides to keep them from moving.  

“You’ve had too much to drink,” he replies with careful calm.  “You should go to bed.”

“Or what?” you challenge, fingers reaching to unfasten the top buttons of his dress shirt.  Hoseok’s entire body tenses under your touch. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he says between gritted teeth. 

“Checking for a heartbeat,” you murmur. “Looking for signs of life.  Is there a real man in there?”

There’s a real man in here, alright, Hoseok thinks darkly.  Keep pushing me and you’re going to find out.

“Of course not,” you whisper to yourself, snaking one hand into the collar of his shirt. He flinches when your fingertips brush up against the cool metal of his dog tags. “You’re some kind of robot.”

You pull the tags out from under his collar and Hoseok swallows thickly.  

“Just a machine programmed to follow orders, right?  My brother’s orders. The Army’s orders,” you pause to read the embossed letters on his tags.  ‘Isn’t that right, Captain Jung?”

You gasp when Hoseok’s hand comes up to seize yours.  His fingers circle the delicate bones of your wrist and he doesn’t let go, applying a pressure that sure as hell gets your attention.

“People like me follow orders so people like you don’t have to,” Hoseok seethes.  “People like me do the dirty work so people like you can impress rich assholes at stupid parties. People like me stay behind and handle our responsibilities so people like you can walk away from yours.”

Your stare at him for a moment, eyes wide at his outburst.  Then you jerk your wrist out of his hold so violently you nearly fall back with the force of it. 

Hoseok freezes when your robe slides down off your shoulder. He stares when his eyes settle on the jagged scar that runs deep across your collarbone.  

Fucking hell. 

Hoseok traded one bloody business for another when he gave up his rank in the Army for his rank in the Gajog. He’s seen more than his fair share of vicious cuts and nasty wounds. 

Whoever did that to you wanted to make sure you’d have to carry it with you for the rest of your life.

********************

Tomorrow morning, Hoseok is gonna regret a lot of shit that happened tonight. 

He’s going to regret not telling you how beautiful you looked when you walked out of that room.  He’s going to regret going out of his way to hurt you with his words. 

But most of all, he’s going to regret the moment he looked into your face and saw the anger in your eyes change over into pain.

You yank the robe back over your shoulder, cinch the belt tight — and walk away without another word. 

********************

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[jinkicake]

Kuroo, Iwaizumi, Akaashi with a bubbly extroverted s/o that is good at hiding her feelings.

TW// Depression, Depressive Thoughts

Truthfully, I found this difficult to write and am not really confident in how it turned out but I hope you still enjoy it! (☍﹏⁰) I liked writing this because I hope it will bring more self-awareness that it is always important to check on your loved ones. If you're ever going through a rough patch please don’t be afraid or embarrassed to reach out, sometimes it is important to just get somethings off your chest. I have my inbox and messages open so please feel free to talk to me. 

Also! I listened to EXO’s Beautiful while writing this because the song just makes me feel so light-hearted, it’s like a warm hug for people who don’t like hugs. I recommend you listen to it too! 

WC- 2,752

~~~

Akaashi 

Akaashi is pretty perceptive of everything, he’s so quiet that it makes him seem like he doesn’t care or he doesn’t pay attention to little details but he does

He notices a lot of things

One of the many reasons he admires you is because of the way you care for your classmates and how easily you get along with them 

At first, he thought you had no worries but he would soon notice small changes

He would notice how carefree you look while talking to classmates, he would also notice how your eyes fall whenever you’re done talking to them

Akaashi wouldn’t think much of it until he started noticing more of it every day, how for split seconds he can see your resolve fall

He’d want to ask about it, talk to you but you were so good at keeping a front up that sometimes he wondered if what he noticed was real

If you always looked that tired, if your smile didn’t reach your eyes as it once used to, he can see your eyes are clouded with something but he can’t figure out what

When he finally realizes what’s going on, he’d feel like such a fool for not picking up on it earlier 

Akaashi would comfort you with actions more than words, it would be easier for him to just hold you tightly

He is good at using his words though, he would be able to figure out what the best thing to say is and how to easily calm you down 

Yet, he’d want you to let it out first before he says anything so he can assess how you feel and find the best ways to comfort you

He’d push his feelings for you aside in exchange for being there for you, sometimes you just need someone to listen 

Though over time you'd both acknowledge your feelings for each other, and once he has you, Akaashi would make sure you never feel alone again

You told yourself that you'd never let yourself falter at school and always try your best to remain the friendly student everyone knew you to be. School was a place that distracted you from reality, there you weren’t focused on your own feelings but rather on your friends or your club activities.

Sometimes school helped ease your mind, sometimes it didn’t.

However today was just not a good day, you woke up feeling like shit and it was hard to find the motivation to continue on with your day. When you made it to school you got to talk with your classmates and no matter how much your friends provided you with a great distraction you still felt that nagging voice at the back of your head. Despite having a classroom full of people, friends who care about you deeply, you felt isolated.

That’s how you found yourself in the bathrooms late after school hours, the sink turned up so no one could hear your soft sobs. You tried to calm yourself down, tell yourself it would be okay but stupidly you made the mistake of looking at yourself in the mirror. That only made yourself feel more pathetic and numb. 

It makes you think, when was the last time you actually felt something other than pain.

Akaashi finds himself wandering the empty hallways late after volleyball practice, looking for a notebook he swears he left in his desk. When he finally makes it to the classroom he lets out a relieved sigh when the book he had been searching for was under his seat, yet when he bends down to pick it up he notices your bag still hanging on the side of your desk. He thinks back to earlier in the day, how upset you were. 

Gentle he lays the notebook on his desk before quietly walking around the hallways, trying to figure out where you would be if you were still here. Maybe you went home and just left your bag? Akaashi shakes his head at that thought, that wasn’t like you. 

In the distance, he could hear water running, and he decides to go and turn it off. When he peers inside his heart drops at what he sees, you're leaning over the sink with one of your hands gripping the edge hard while the other covers your mouth. Akaashi knows now that what he noticed earlier in the day was real and he mentally kicks himself for not doing something sooner.

“Y/N?” He gently calls out and you freeze before turning towards him, tears still gushing down your face like there isn’t any sign of stopping. You can’t figure out if you want to kick him out or run into his arms, you don’t want to tell him anything but you want comfort.

“Come here” His voice remains soft and your face contorts as a new wave of pain washes over you, the quick strides over to him feel like nothing when you’re finally in his arms. His heart feels torn, he realizes the way you’re feeling isn’t like ‘Bokuto’s game emo-mode’, it's much more than that. 

“I think it will be good for you to tell me what’s on your mind, to acknowledge what’s going on.” Akaashi gently rests one of his hands on the back of your head, holding you close and trying to ignore the way his heart aches whenever a new sob erupts from your throat. 

When you finally calm down and explain how you’re feeling, how tired and alone you feel, Akaashi’s eyes would never leave yours. 

“Please whenever you feel this way, tell me, let me be there for you.” When Akaashi sees the surprised look in your eyes he feels his face heat up and he pushes your face back into his chest so you won’t see him blush. He'd feel relief when you smile against him and the grip you have on his shirt softens. 

It will be okay.  

Iwaizumi 

Out of the three, Iwaizumi would get the most frustrated, not at you but the world

Having a best friend like Oikawa who can hide his feelings as if they don’t even exist, Iwaizumi would be used to the feeling of hurt when someone he cared about is suffering 

When he starts realizing his feelings for you, that he quickly fell for his caring manager, he would start paying more close attention to you

Iwaizumi may seem like he only has three things on his mind at all times; volleyball, Oikawa, and Godzilla but that isn’t the case

He has four things on his mind! Volleyball, you and Oikawa, Godzilla

Even before he knew how he felt about you, he picked up on the way you’d close yourself off after practices when everyone left

After he develops feelings he would worry about you more and more, asking his friends if they noticed anything off with you

They didn’t notice

Iwaizumi would want to know what's wrong and wouldn’t be afraid to ask you about it because he is that worried about you

He might come off rather strong about it

If you start crying he’s holding you in an instant, Iwaizumi wouldn’t leave until you tell him what's wrong 

He might seem overbearing but he that isn’t his intention, he just wouldn’t want you to bottle up your feelings

If you tell him that you don’t want to burden him, Iwaizumi would get upset 

Your feelings matter to him and he’d hate for you to feel so terribly

When you tell him, Iwaizumi would be so much softer around you

Iwaizumi’s heart is as big as the size of his massive **ck (sorry could not resist) 

He was always soft, let's be real it’s Iwa-chan but, he is much more gentle when he notices you're in a bad spot 

Iwaizumi will always be there for you and will take care of your heart as best as he can because he knows depression isn’t something that will go away overnight

Overall, where is my Iwaizumi I genuinely need one

Iwaizumi’s eyes followed you as you move throughout the gym, you are picking up stray volleyballs and chatting easily with Kindaichi and Kunimi. His eyebrows furrow together as he watches you carefully, narrowing his eyes as if to pin you in place. Hanamaki snaps him out of it as he hits the back of the ace’s head with his hand resulting in a choked laugh leaving Matsukawa’s lips.

“What are you looking at?” Hanamaki tosses his hand in front of Iwaizumi’s eyes, waving as if to catch his attention. Iwaizumi swats his hand away and looks at where the spot you were, tilting his head in confusion when he doesn’t notice you there anymore. 

“Anyways dumbass you walking home with us? Oikawa is throwing a hissy fit cause he wants to go home and start his stats homework.” Hanamaki tosses over his shoulder as he starts walking towards the gym doors yet Iwaizumi shakes his head.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later.” Iwaizumi glances over at his two friends who shrug and walk out of the gym. As the tallboy makes his way over to the supply closet he notices the gym is nearly empty. Everyone has left except the two of you, you always stay late to finish cleaning or put away equipment. 

A perfect manager. 

“Oh, Iwaizumi! What’s up?” You smile brightly at him as you finish folding clean towels.

“I wanted to talk to you.” He mumbles, staring at the floor as heat floods to his cheeks. You let out a laugh as you try to mask your nerves.

“Mmm about what?” Your hands slightly shake as you finish folding the last towel and you nearly fall over at the sigh that leaves his lips. 

“Are you okay?” His question makes you blink rapidly, your brain running to find excuses for why he is asking you this. Deep down, you always wanted someone to ask, to check up on you but now that it's finally happening you’re not sure what to do. “You just seemed not like yourself.”

“Huh? What do you mean Iwaizumi?” You try to laugh it off but by the hard eyes that meet yours, you're not getting out of this easily. “I’ve just been tired recently, don’t worry about it!” 

“But I am worried about it, I’m worried about you.” Iwaizumi rubs the back of his neck and glances to look over at the wall rather than your face.


“What?” You’re starting to feel corned but you try to hide it, giving him a wobbly smile. 

“I know something has been bothering you.” He pushes and you find yourself taking a step back, bumping into the table that you had just put the towels on. “You can tell me.” 

You smile at his kind words, not sure how to react to them.

“I don’t want to push my problems onto you Iwaizumi, don’t worry about it!” You press harder this time, the fakest smile resting on your lips. 

“I want to know, I want you to tell me.” He repeats, giving you consent and you nearly wince at this. 

“I’ve just felt alone recently.” The words fall from your lips in a hushed whisper as you rub your sweater sleeve. “Shitty and alone.” You laugh and a sad smile paints your lips as your eyes stay trained on the floor. 

“(Y/N),” Iwaizumi breathes out and you turn your face to hide from his pitiful gaze. “I’m sorry you’ve been feeling that way.” 


“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Iwaizumi’s words make your head snap up and you press your lips together not to cry. “Listen, I’m always here for you.” 

Your eyes widen and you look up at him in shock at the intimate words. 

“We all are, Oikawa, Makki, hell even Mattsun!” He gently grabs your chin and makes you look up at him. “Always, we care about you so much and-“ Iwaizumi glances at the floor trying to think his words carefully. It would be wrong for him to confess his feelings right now, it would be selfish, he thinks. 

“We never want to see you hurt like this.” This time you give Iwaizumi a genuine smile and wrap your arms around his body, resting your head in the crook of his neck. 

“Whenever you feel bad, please come to me.” You nod at his words and his arms wrapped around your shoulders squeeze you tightly. Iwaizumi doesn’t let go until you’re ready, he continues to hold you tightly against him until he knows you feel better.

Kuroo 

Growing up with a best friend like Kenma who is self-aware of everything around him, Kuroo has the habit of picking up on small changes in a person

When you first started dating, Kuroo became almost hyper-aware of how easily you hide your feelings and he feels like an idiot that he didn’t pick up on it before 

He’d wait for you talk to him about it, unless he thought something was really upsetting you, he doesn’t want to push you

Since you’re good at hiding how you feel, Kuroo would gently try to get you to open up

You can take as long as you want and he’d listen to it all, comforting you the best he can

Whenever you feel particularly down, Kuroo would try to help you ease your mind, take you places and do random activities

Spontaneous late-night convenience store run, anyone?

If you would rather stay inside and just hide, he’d do it with no hesitation, he’d hold you tightly until you’re pushing him off 

When it comes down to it, Kuroo is just naturally a caring person

He might seem like a petty volleyball player but he cares about your feelings more than anything

“What’s wrong kitten?” Kuroo peers down at you as you both rest on the empty train. It’s late in the evening, the city just settling down. You hold your frown, cheeks puffed out as you stare hard at the seats in front of you. The way the city lights light up the darkness outside makes your heart tug oddly. 

The two of you had just come back from hanging out with a few other third years in the city. You were laughing and talking with each of the boys the entire time, even when you two bumped into Daishou -much to Kuroo’s dismay-. It was fun and you had fun yet, there was an odd feeling settling in your chest. Softly, you lean your head on your boyfriend’s shoulder before mumbling out a response.

“My social battery just ran out.” You slowly draw shapes on his clothed leg with your fingertip. Kuroo frowns at this, he is used to 'social batteries' with both you and Kenma but something else is bothering you. When you glance up at him you can see the knowing looking in his eyes and you shift uncomfortably. 

“I got into a fight with my family this morning, I just feel like I’m destroying my relationship with them.” You let out a shaky breath as tears well up in your eyes and you glare harder at the ground like it’ll make them disappear. “I keep being mean to them but I can’t control it, I don’t mean to do it, I just feel so shitty.” 

Quickly you cover your face with your hands, trying to hide away as humiliation floods through your veins at your own words and feelings. A warm hand wraps around your wrist and you shake your head stubbornly.

“Look at me (Y/N).” Kuroo’s voice is soft and you feel more tears well up in your eyes at this. “It’s okay.” 

And the tears finally fall, soaking your skin with salty trails. 

“It is,” An arm wraps around your shoulder to bring you into his chest, tightly holding you as if you’ll slip out of his grasp. “You might not feel good now but you’ll feel better with time. I’ll help you, you’re not alone.” 

His words provide you with a comfort you’d never felt before and you nod your head against his shirt. 

“You might not believe me but it’s true.” Gently, Kuroo cups your cheek with his warm hand and forces you to look up at him. His eyes are unbelievably soft as he stares down at you before he leans down to rest his forehead against yours. 

You’re glad at this moment that the train car is practically empty but even if it wasn’t, it doesn’t matter because you feel safer in his arms than anywhere else.

[anotheronechicagobog]

Connor Rhodes x Reader Motherfucking Done

requested prompt:  Hey!😊 Could you write an imagine with Connor Rhodes, like the reader is a doctor, and he is jealous of her friendship with Will? Cute ending maybe. Thank you so much

written by: @anotheronechicagobog​

warnings: swearing, pregnancy complications, this is shit, I’ll probably redo it later, but I’m so tired and stressed, oh and Cornelius Rhodes murdered his wife and no one can tell me otherwise

You and Connor returned to the U.S. as fast as you could. Connor more anxious than you, but then again, he had reason to. Two weeks ago you and your husband were at a party thrown by one of his patients at his penthouse. His massive, over the top, Fast and Furious 7 penthouse. It was three stories with a balcony with a pool. You and Connor always felt out of place at these parties, not even Connor had grown up around such extravagant wealth. But you made do, it was part of doctor-patient culture apparently, so you went. You hadn’t been feeling all that well, nauseous and with a skull-splitting headache. Connor had gotten another email from his sister, so you didn’t want to stress him out more than he already was. You and Connor had mostly stuck to the shade of the indoors, but eventually, you both had to go outside. Connor went to socialize with the host while you went to the third floor to the balcony that hung over the pool. There was a bar there, but you weren’t interested in alcohol. You didn’t think you could stomach it, but you hadn’t been able to stomach anything lately. You’d just sat at a table with a large umbrella and ordered a water.

You’d started feeling dizzy, the heat was suddenly beyond unbearable. You started panting and you knew that stressed out or not, you needed to tell Connor what was going on and leave. Something was very, very wrong. You turned in your seat, waving trying to get his attention. You leaned against the railing while still sitting down and he didn’t notice again. So and flimsy, shaking legs you stood up, clutching the railing. Sweat was pouring down your face and neck, it became so much more difficult to breathe, you were about to try yelling his name over the blaring music when, in a matter of seconds, you felt like you were going to faint, your entire body went limp, and you fell unconscious.

When you woke up you were, not only in a hospital, but the one you worked at. Connor, who was clutching your hand and praying in Hebrew noticed you stirring. “Y/N, sweetheart? Oh thank heavens, how are you feeling?”

“Groggy. What happened?”

“You fell off of the balcony at the top on the penthouse, three stories into the pool. Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?”

“It wasn’t bad when we left for the party, for most of the time we were there even. It was just at the end, I tried to wave at you, but looking back on it I probably should have just gotten one of the waiters to get you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Please don’t be. The, uh, the doctors found out what was wrong though.”

“Really? What? Oh please tell me it’s not cancer, you know I’ve got a family history of that.”

“No, you don’t have cancer. You, uh... You’re pregnant.”

“I’m pregnant? Like with a baby?”

“Yeah, heat just doesn’t agree with some women and pregnancy though, so we need to move.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Yeah, you are... We’re going to be parents.”

“We’re going to be parents.” The dam finally broke and happy tears flooded your face. Connor joined you seconds after, but his tears were a combination of joy and relief, after all, he did watch you fall three stories into a pool.

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You and Will had gone to med school in New York together. You’d been fair acquaintances, but he was a bit too cocky and you were a bit too serious. You both decided to have two specialties, the one you shared was emergency department medicine. You became Facebook friends, but that was about it. Truthfully, you didn’t think you’d see him in person again unless there was a reunion. So you were a bit surprised when you ran into him on your way to your OB appointment. “Y/N? It’s been a while, how are you?”

“I’m doing great. Really, really great, actually. I didn’t know that you came back to Chicago, though. When we were in school you always said you’d never come back.”

“Things changed. Congrats, by the way,” Will gestured to your obviously pregnant belly, “how far along are you? How are the symptoms?”

“Five months. Uh, the symptoms have been really bad. And I’m just on my way to an appointment though so I should get going. But maybe we could get dinner sometime, I’d love for my husband to meet you so that he’ll finally believe all the crazy med school stories I have thanks to you. He works here too, actually.” You weren’t kidding, pregnancy had taken a huge toll on you. You had wretched morning sickness, high blood pressure, gestational diabetes, and a pregnancy-related iron deficiency. It was a quick walk from the entrance to the elevator to the OB ward, so you thought you’d be fine, but you were starting to feel weak and Will noticed. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I need to sit down.” Will whipped around and grabbed a wheelchair for you, helping you to get in. “What’s wrong do I need to call your doctor or husband?”

“Honestly, I already feel better, but would you mind taking me to OB or getting someone else who can? This has just been a difficult pregnancy overall, so feeling faint really isn’t unusual for me.”

“Yeah, I’ll take you, don’t worry.”

“Thanks, I’m just gonna text Connor and let him know, he was going to try to meet me there if he can get away from work for a minute.”

“You don’t happen to mean Connor Rhodes, do you?”

“I do, why?”

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You found out why when Connor burst through the doors just after you and Will had entered. He kissed you on your forehead and gave you a once over. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“Connor, I’m okay. I just started feeling weak so Will got me a wheelchair. I think that I was just on my feet too long, well too long while pregnant. I really hate that I can’t do what I used to be able to...”

“I know, but you should have just gotten help at the door, here let’s go talk to Dr. Hajjar. Thanks, Halstead, I’ve got it from here.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Excuse me?”

“Will!”

“You heard me, Rhodes, why didn’t you meet her at the car or entrance? You can’t really think you’re too important to help your pregnant wife.”

“Will that’s not-”

“That’s enough Halstead, you should get back to the ED, where your obnoxious presence is actually required.”

“Okay, that’s more than enough jabs from both of you. Will, thank you for helping me get here after I tried to get here myself when I probably shouldn’t have, Connor, I’m sorry for being so stubborn and I’m glad you had time today to come to another of my appointments which are happening more and more frequently.”

Will and Connor begrudgingly nodded at each other. “Thanks for getting her here safe Halstead.”

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You decided to hold off on dinner together after seeing how little they got along. Having only realized at that first meeting that the ‘doctor douche’ your husband ranted about so much was your friend from med school. So instead you did what you could to keep the peace whenever you were in the hospital, which was frequent, but their pissing contest was grating on your nerves. It all came to a head the day you went into labour two weeks early. Connor was finishing up a surgery with Dr. Downey so Will was the one in the ED when you were rolled in. “Get Connor, Will.”

“Are you sure Y/N?”

“YES I’M SURE!”

Connor came running into treatment four minutes later and gently kissed you all over your face. “I’m here, Y/N. I love you so much.” Will, who had been holding your hand while you waited for Connor, scoffed.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME WILLIAM?! I AM SO OVER THIS SHITTING CONTEST YOU HAVE WITH CONNOR. YOU ARE BOTH GROWN-ASS MEN GET OVER YOURSELVES. YOU ARE BOTH GOING TO APOLOGIZE TO EACH OTHER AND HUG RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I AM MOTHERFUCKING DONE!”

“Y/N-”

“WILLIAM SEAMUS HALSTEAD I KNOW THAT YOUR MOTHER TAUGHT YOU BETTER THAN TO INCUR THE WRATH OF A PREGNANT WOMAN!”

“I’m sorry, Will.”

“I’m sorry, Connor.”

“Y/N Y/L/N you are officially my favourite person in the world, I was just about to ring their necks!”

“No problem Maggie.” You gave a weak smile as another contraction hit and Dr. Hajjar looked under the blanket before nodding. “Alright, Y/N, it’s time to push. If you’re not her husband or part of the delivery team; get out.”

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Five days later you were still in the hospital, because of all the complications you’d had during pregnancy. Dr. Hajjar wanted to make sure your blood pressure wasn’t a high average before she discharged you. So when Natalie went into labour, you could hear her screams from down the hall. You’d also been where Will briefly went to hide with his tail in between his legs after Helen, Natalie’s mother in law, dressed him down. When you heard her screaming for Will, where he was, you gave Connor one look before he sighed and called Will.

Connor briefly appeared at his father’s ‘I-want-control-as-much-of-my-son’s-life-as-possible-so-I-donated-money-in-my-wife’s-name-for-mental-health-when-it’s-mostl-likely-that-I-murdered-her’ ceremony. He only went for the speech, and when it was over he approached his sister. “Connor, it’s nice to finally see you. You’ve been back in Chicago how long?”

“Almost four months. I, uh, want you to meet my wife and daughter.”

“You- what? Who? How?”

“Well I personally have absolutely no idea how I got lucky enough to have a baby with my wife Y/N, much less have her love me as much as I love her, but I’ve decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“How old is your daughter?”

“Five days today.”

“Oh my God... When can I-”

“Now. You can meet them now.”

“I’ll get dad-”

“Claire don’t. Please. He’s the reason I left Chicago, you’re the reason I came back. I just don’t want the happiness I feel to end just yet.”

“Okay.” She hooked her arm around his as he led her out to the hall. “Did you really come back for me?”

“Well Y/N couldn’t stand the heat while pregnant, but you’re the reason we came back here and not to Seattle.”

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You were cradling your bundle of joy and poop, Aviva Nadya Rhodes, in the lounge chair when Connor and Claire came in. “Hi, you must be Claire, I’m Y/N.”

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you too. Is it okay if I hold- Aviva?”

“Sure, here just sit down on the loveseat and I’ll pass her to you.”

“Oh, she’s so tiny. And she looks just like you Y/N. Doesn’t look like she got anything from Connor. You sure are a lucky girl, huh?” Claire had Aviva’s head in the crook of her elbow and was giving the infant an unbridled, beaming smile.

”Hey! Stop trying to turn my daughter against me.”

“Connor don’t worry, you’re going to be an amazing dad and she is going to love you so, so much. I can feel it.”

“Y/N’s right, Connor. You’re going to do great, plus I’m only joking, I promise. Aren’t I, my sweet, sweet girl?”

“She loves my daughter more than she loves me.”

“I’d normally say no and try to reassure you, but she does,”

“And that’s not a bad thing.”

“Yeah, exactly. I love you, Connor.”

“I love you too Y/N.”

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Sorry this was so bad, I’ll probably re-do this at some point cause I really like the whole faint-cause-pregnant-move-to-Chicago storyline I came up with. 

Again, sorry.

[parkeraul]

Concept 1: reader teasing Tom in front of his mob friends, and him ruining her in the next room for “being a naughty girl”. I’m taking smut all the way. Concept2: Tom coming home after business all bruised up, and reader taking care of his I injuries, running a bath for the two, leading to passionate love making in the bath. You choose honey, maybe you can make the two work together ? Up to you, you’ll do it GREAT either way - 🪐

ann’s note — PLEASE DON’T KILL ME. i have a similar request so it’ll be continued in the next one, i promise! by the way, this is ridiculously filthy in terms of dirty talk so excuse my mouth. enjooooy.

pairing: tom holland x reader

warnings: dirty talk, swearing, drinking, smut & mobster–related stuff.

masterlist ┊add yourself to my taglists ┊give me feedbacks.

→ IT’S A MOB!TOM WEEK.

It was no secret for everyone in the room — including you — that Tom wasn’t in the best of moods today. You had arrived in the tight and black silk dress he gifted you last week, the most expensive Louis Vuitton heels on your feet and your hair done the way he loves so much. In your hands, a glass of whiskey with two ice cubes for Tom as you used your free hand to knock on the door. After a brief moment of silence among the men, Tom said ‘come in’ the that tone it’s unmistakable: he is beyond angry.

A faint smile from him appeared when you opened the door and got into his sight, but it went away as fast as it came when he drank you in.

All the men were rearranging themselves, wanting to look respectable in front of the queen. Tom eyed them one by one, checking if there was someone staring at you way too much as you closed the door and made your way around the meeting table — documents, cigars and pens scattered all over the black wooden piece. And Tom, at the extreme edge of the table, rolled his chair a little bit away from the surface to fold his foot on top of his leg and spin his golden pen in his fingers, studying the way you trailed your strides towards him. His jaw was clenched, eyes dark and a frown tensing his entire face whilst his chest rose up and down with deep and sharp breaths.

“Well,” One of the men cleared his throat and brought everyone back as soon as you approached Tom. “The dealer in Wolverhampton didn’t agree with the terms I told him through the phone,” Soon you were placing the glass in front of your king and bending down a little bit more to plant a kiss that was too slow for Tom’s liking — of course he would’ve enjoyed it more if he didn’t know your actual intentions. He didn’t react on the outside, grabbing the glass with might and exhaling as you got back up. “We will meet in a couple of days though, he said he’s still open for new negotiations as long as he doesn’t need to change spots.”

“This motherfucker may as well take his drugs and guns and shove it down his fussy ass,” Tom spat, lifting shortly the glass and forcing it down onto the table quickly, making the drink spill a little. Everyone in the room tried hard not to show contrary reactions, while you decided not to play their game. “I thought I told you to make it very clear for him...” You stepped to stand behind Tom in the chair as he positioned himself straight, feet down on the floor and back aligned, hard as a rock. Your hands wandered around the structure of the chair to land down smoothly on his shoulders, massaging him in his most tensioned regions while your thumbs made their way to the sweet spots on his neck, earning some goosebumps off his skin. “That’s only my way or no way.”

“But sir–”

“I don’t wanna hear any whinings about that!” He cut the man off. To that, you slipped your hands under the suit to undo two buttons of his dress shirt, fingers travelling to his hot flesh so you could knead his pulsating muscles better. When everyone started to also blame the poor man with swearings and rudeness, Tom pressed his lips together and tilted his head to the side, muttering for you to hear, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

You felt your stomach jolting, heart beating faster. This tone of voice was raspier and darker than you’ve ever heard, but the way his limbs tensed and softened under your touch made you conclude you were doing the right thing to get what you wanted, “I’m helping you relax, my baby.”

“With the dress I’ve told you to wear on the dinner party on Saturday?” He asked right back, enjoying the talk between the guys filling up the room. “You go take that off while I solve this shit right here, for fucks sake, Y/N. It’s 11PM, this isn’t the time for you to act up.”

“Fuckin’ shit, Tom,” You whine back, pressing your hands down on him and digging your nails just a bit onto his skin. “I got up to get you a drink so you could deal with these idiots, all pretty for you and this is how you treat me?”

Tom looks back at the table and sees that the guys are all over each other, drawing plans on the papers and poking at one another, cigars and cigarettes on their mouths as incoherent mumbles fly past their throats. He seizes the moment to spin his chair, facing you with chocolate eyes on yours, hair brushed in the signature Tom–way with his suit and dress shirt messed up by your hands, “Darling, listen. I’m super stressed right now, you don’t want to push me to my limit.” He states very seriously as you glance back at him, palms on the armrests of his enormous chair as you leaned closer to him. “Would you just please go back in there and stop testing me?”

A knot squeezes your throat and Tom can see by the way your irises are glistening that he’s hurting you with his words. He drops the pen to his lap and takes your chin in this index and thumb, bringing your mouth to his in a peck, breaking it quickly to lick his lips and kiss you again. That was his way to say ‘I’m sorry’ when he didn’t have the time to make it up to you at the moment. So he tapped the side of your exposed thigh twice, hand reaching back his pen, “‘S that enough?”

Your lips didn’t even have the time to get used to the sudden emptiness, so your head shook  negatively and you pouted, knowing that the way he exhaled was different, he was letting his mind get consumed by you even though he shouldn’t.

—

The meeting continued and you hadn’t left.

You hands were now drawing random patterns on his collarbone, going down to his chest and scratching your way up very temptingly, though your massage wasn’t leading Tom any closer to a state of peace. His pen was now clickling furiously against the surface, glass of whiskey long finished as the voices in the room were annoying both of you.

Everytime your nails left soft burning stripes up to his clavicle, Tom shut his face harder and tightened his grip on the pen, turning his head to the side sometimes so you could see how impatient he was growing because of your teasing. In response, you smiled and bit your lip, driving him to a state of anger that consumed the tiny rest of calmness he was holding. The lack of attention lately made you come with all your tricks tonight, being only quickies over here and there that never satisfied you completely, so he was getting his payback, right?

As you were reminding yourself of these two weeks of edging and no highs, one of your hands kept on rubbing Tom’s chest while the other one came up to the nape of his neck, tracing the center line up and down lightly, causing chills on him before you splayed your fingers in between his hair strands, tugging it in that way you knew his trousers would get uncomfortably tighter.

“Everyone out.” Tom simply says and the meeting room falls silent. He doesn’t need to tell them twice, they know that. “I’m done with this bullshit for today.”

You knew that referred for you too.

As soon as they all look at you two while making their ways to the exit door, Tom mumbles for you to hear, “On the table. Now.”, facing the trail of men climbing their way downstairs as the last one closed the door by the time you were hopping onto the cold material. His look on you was overall cold, but with a pinch of desire and admiration as your bare legs were slowly finding their place in front of him. “Closer,” he demanded, one arm on the armrest and the other one being supported by the elbow on the opposite armrest. You shifted closer, looking at him with those pleading eyes, as if you weren’t purposely irritating him to get more than a quickie for today. “Yeah, from all the people, you’re the one who knows me best, aren’t you?”

You nodded, rubbing your thighs together to get some relief. The way he was acting was somewhat terrifying, but it didn’t make it less exciting for you. When Tom was mad, you had the best sex everytime and an even better routine the day after, because he couldn’t get enough.

“Then tell me why,” He started, discarding his pen to grab your ankle and put your foot on top of his tensed thigh, in a way you could feel his muscle through the fabric of his trousers. His palm went up, grazing your skin gently as he avoided to look you in the eyes, completely aware of how much you love to be connected with him through it. Soon, his palm found your thigh and reciprocated the actions you performed on him, scratching all the way from the top of your limb to your knee forcefully, earning the smallest whine from your lips. “Why the fuck do you have to be a fuckin’ brat out of the time and place for it?”

You shivered, letting your mouth agape as you shook your head to take your hair out of your front, giving him a good view of your body squeezed by the tiny dress, “You don’t have an answer for it, do you?” he asks. You decide to look at him and find him staring back, eyes dark and his disheveled eyebrow cocks up whilst his hand grab your knee strongly. “Well, I always have an answer for everything, don’t I, darling? And, if you were so quiet until now, then it’s your lucky day. From now on, you can keep your bratty mouth shut for the rest of the night until I tell you to talk again.”

To that, you had to gulp harshly and chew on your cheeks as a slight frown traced your eyebrows, telling Tom that you were slowly acknowledging the consequences of your actions. Although, your clit was already throbbing impossibly harder to every word of his, a wave of anticipation travelling all around your body, specially your throat and lower stomach.

“Now, here’s my answer,” Swiftly, Tom parted your knees to find your bare pussy dripping onto the table, the strength of his movement making your entrance accidentally rub against the material and causing you to sigh. “You came to play your stupid little game in the middle of my bloody meeting because my pussy can’t handle the edging I’ve been giving. Too bad this is, as I said, my pussy. So I give the rules, what makes me wonder if I haven’t been clear enough about them.”. You struggle to hide your smirk and plant your hands on the table in order to keep the balance, having Tom holding both of your ankles to open your legs more, his chocolate eyes watching the way you were already clenching around nothing. “It’s a shame, isn’t it?”, Tom thinks out loud, rolling his chair closer to you and mapping your inner thighs with spread–open hands agonizingly slowly. “How I’m gonna have to fuck my tight little cunt until your legs can barely close because of the overstimulation, hm? How I will force you to orgasm as many times as I want so you, pretty little slut, can quit whining around in the wrong time.”

A sharp slap lands onto your thigh and you jump lightly in surprise, gasping loudly and unsuccessfully trying to close your legs again — the tight grip from Tom’s fingers interrupting you to do such thing. Instead, he removes your heels, throwing them somewhere else as if they were nothing and setting your feet on top of the table.

“To any sound you let out after my command, it’s a whole day of denial so you’ll learn to behave when we’re surrounded by people. Unless you want me to take you in front of them and put up a little show. Would you like that, slut?” His hand comes up and lands down on your inner thigh, kneading the flushed skin to bring the same hand closer to where you wanted him, thumb tracing near but never the places you craved the most. You don’t answer him with words, but your eyes can’t tell him yes or no — just a faint idea that you wouldn’t call off the concept of having sex with him in a crowded place, maybe hidden from everyone, thinking how delicious it would be to have his hand covering your mouth as he whispered you to stay silent and be a good girl. “By the way you’re soaking my table, I assume you’re more than of a brat than I expected. Gonna have to pound this attitude out of you, right?” His accent had never sounded this thick, and his free hand came to work on his belt, the clicking noise echoing deafeningly. “Legs together and feet up, I want you in full display to me, babygirl. The fun you’ve been looking for is just getting started.”

TAGLIST: @outlandishnerd — @jilanaholland — @space-holland​ — @hollandraul — @tomhollandseverything — @mcuspidey — @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory — @peterspideysense — @fanficscuziranout — @parkernerd.

TAGGING MUTUALS AND BLOGS: @madmadmilk​ — @angelic-holland​ — @parkershawn​ — @keepingupwiththeparkers​.

if you don’t wanna be tagged, please let me know.

[argylemnwrites]

Fight or Flight - Chapter 14: Help

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (canon divergent from the end of book 2)

Word Count: ~4100

Rating: R (language, 30 diamond scene)

Summary: About three weeks since The Walker Absconding

Author’s Note: With my state surging so badly that the CDC had to come up with a new category for coronavirus monitoring, and my hospital group changing policy constantly, even the illusion of an update schedule is pretty much out the window at this point, so thank you to all of you who are still sticking with this series! I saw that in canon, our crew just now decided to go on the run, but my MC and Drake have been on the lam for a while at this point, hahaha, so thanks for going on this wild ride with them!

This series follows the Walkers, their friends, and Cordonia as a whole after they flee the country with their daughter during Barthelemy Beaumont’s attempted coup. To catch up on this series, check out it’s masterlist. (link can be found via my bio - sorry, Tumblr is once again not putting my posts with links in tag searches)

Olivia let out a sigh as the privacy divider in her town car finally finished closing, tipping her head back and tugging the pins out of her hair. “God, what a nightmare.”

Liam hummed in agreement. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay at the palace tonight? It might be good optics, keeping you in the thick of things since the social season just started.”

He shook his head as he shifted slightly next to her. “After Hana’s conversation with Kiara and all its revelations, we need to be able to discuss things openly. With everything that has already happened, I don’t trust my assigned quarters at the palace to not be bugged.”

All Olivia could do was let out a little shrug. She knew he had a point, but she was worried about his overall approach here. All the strategizing and discussing in the world wouldn’t matter if he didn’t maintain an image of strength and dependability. Trotting back to the seclusion of Lythikos consistently would absolutely weaken the perception others had of him.

“So, I think we can safely assume that Amalas knows about this alliance between Barthelemy and Auvernal. It would explain why she was so eager to strike a deal with us,” Liam continued, reaching up and loosening his tie as he stretched his neck.

“But why would Aurvernal agree to work with Barthelemy? He wasn’t exactly supportive of them when they were trying to force Drake and Riley to solidify the betrothal. Hell, he used that mess to argue against their suitability to raise Bridget.”

Liam frowned, his eyes dropping to his lap for just a moment. “The latter part of your statement I can see him spinning over the coming months. He can argue that he has met with neighboring leaders and struck more beneficial alliance terms than I was ever able to foster, making him better suited for the role of monarch. With the delay in the start of the social season, he’ll have plenty of time to sell it as believable.”

“We had to push Rashad to delay. Hana told us that we need to make sure-”

“-Kiara represents House Theron, I know. It’s just unfortunate the delay may also be desirable for Barthelemy’s camp as well as ours. It would be nice to catch a break for once.”

“Liam…”

He ignored her attempt at sympathy. “Oh well, that’s just the reality isn’t it? We need to figure out how Auvernal played into Landon’s decision. Have you been able to buy off any of their staff?”

Olivia shook her head. “Not yet. I have a couple of leads on a maid and a driver who might be loyal to you, though.”

“That’s something, I suppose. I guess we should probably try and gain some intelligence about the motives of Bradshaw and Isabella as well, shouldn’t we?” He sounded tired, his hands working to remove his cufflinks.

“Yeah, we definitely need to hit this from multiple angles, find out their goal and what they might have done to sway not only Landon, but Hakim and Adelaide. Barthelemy is absolutely going to challenge Bertrand for control of House Beaumont, so we need to gain at least two of those votes. Counting on keeping the Beaumont vote in our camp is just too… dicey at this point, don’t you think?”

Liam nodded, but didn’t seem to want to say anything, so Olivia just kept going. “Now, I think since it’ll be Kiara voting, and she’s been very willing to divulge things to Hana, that is probably our best bet. And I know I’ve been focusing on getting some dirt on Landon and Emmeline, but maybe Adelaide would be the easier pick up? She’s never had much interest in actual politics, so maybe if we had Maxwell just socialize with her repeatedly at the upcoming events, that might be enough? For whatever reason she’s always loved him.”

She glanced over, surprised to find Liam with his eyes closed, his head tipped back. Had he fallen asleep that quickly?

“Liam?” she hissed out.

“I’m still listening; I promise you I’m not asleep.”

“Do you have anything to add?”

He shook his head against the back of the seat without opening his eyes. “No, you seem to have things under control.”

“But, I was-”

“-I trust you, Olivia.”

His words should have been affirming and confidence boosting, but instead all she felt was fear. He should be more invested than this. He needed to be more invested than this. And honestly, she was sure he knew that fact. He would go through the motions of strategizing with her on a regular basis. But he always faded quickly, becoming distracted or introspective. He was ruminating instead of focusing and channeling that hurt and pain into something productive. 

But that wasn’t going to stop tonight. It was very late, and the drive back to Lythikos was a long one. So, Olivia just let him rest, pulling out her burner phone and scanning for any news bulletins about the Walkers being found in Athens, letting out a small sigh of relief when she found none. It looked like Leo and Riley had managed to pull it off. Combine that with Hana’s intel, and she knew the night had been more successful than not. She just needed Liam to start to see things that way. Otherwise, the upcoming months were going to be even bleaker than anticipated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Riley kept her head down as she shuffled past a man in the hallway. With two large duffels, it was a bit awkward, and she didn't want the man to remember anything about her other than the fact that it was a bit of a tight fit with all her luggage.

Once he was out of sight, she unlocked the door to their hotel room, opening it as narrowly as possible to slide into the room. She had barely closed and locked the door when she felt a pair of familiar strong arms engulfing her. She dropped the duffel bags to the ground and spun in his embrace, wrapping her arms around his back.

"You're back," Drake murmured into her hair. She could feel his chest rising and falling rapidly, his whole body practically trembling. "You were late, and I thought…"

"Leo was almost an hour late," she said, her voice somewhat muffled by his chest because of how closely he was holding her. "I wanted to text you, but-"

"No, you made the right call." They had decided early on to avoid using their new phones to contact each other if at all possible. That way, if one of them got picked up and taken into custody, the other wouldn't be instantly traceable. It meant a lot of anxiety and fear when they weren't together, though. "I just… I… I was worried that…" Drake kept trailing off, almost as if he was unable to say his fears out loud.

"I know, Drake. I know. But it's okay. It all went okay." She slid her hands up, tracing between his shoulder blades, running her fingers through his hair, trying to soothe both him and herself. To call tonight stressful was a mad understatement.

“Leo had our stuff?”

She nodded against his chest. “In his hotel room. I obviously didn’t take the time to dig through it all, but I saw toys, clothing, documents, money.”

Drake ran his hands through her hair, then loosened his hold on her enough to lean back and look her in the eyes. “Did anyone… were you...”

“I don’t think anyone noticed me, Drake.”

He let out a shuddering breath, and then he was kissing her. Not some gentle, tender peck, but hard and deep. Like he used to kiss her when they were alone. Before she turned their lives upside down.

She missed this. She knew it was stupid. They were wanted fugitives and barely getting by in a foreign country. They were hungry and stressed and sleep-deprived. On top of that, they shared one room with their soon-to-be 11 month old daughter, so they had no privacy. Their sex life was far from their most pressing concern.

But… she still missed it, that sense of shared connection and intimacy, and that encompassed more than just the sex. She honestly felt like his teammate or coworker more than his wife far too often. They just spent so much time on the practical, discussing next steps, trying to arrange logistics. Moments of shared laughter and warmth were few and far between these days. And sure, they didn't really have much to laugh about, but it was still a loss.

When she’d sat on his lap yesterday after dyeing her hair, it almost felt like a sliver of their old life and dynamic was back. She’d teased him, he’d held her close. But moments like that were just not the norm for them anymore. Most of the time, even any physical affection was more focused on comfort in light of something negative. Holding hands, hugs, that sort of thing seemed to only happen when their world felt like it was crumbling around them. It’s like they shared nothing but worry and fear most of the time.

There was also the fact that Drake hadn't opened up to her about his own emotions. She knew him. She knew that his fractured relationship with Liam must be weighing on him, that he must feel mad guilty about so many things. But he wasn't telling her anything. He hadn't kept things from her like this in years, and it honestly scared the shit out of her. At first, she thought he was just trying to shield her from his own pain. She knew that her initial panic had probably sent him into hyper-protective mode. But that was weeks ago. She was pretty sure she was holding it together better now. At the very least, she didn't think she was a walking mess anymore.

But Drake was definitely still keeping everything bottled up, and she had to wonder if that was in part because he didn't trust her. Whether it was because her initial panic had meant that she had not considered him enough or because he resented her decision to take Bridget out of Cordonia and away from their entire support system or because he couldn't help but see her as the reason he was named a traitor she had no idea. And maybe he was still just trying to shield her from his own worries and anxieties, but the fear was there that in her efforts to protect her kid, she was slowly losing her husband.

While Drake was off busting his ass to keep their family afloat, she'd had a lot of time to think, and she knew that wasn't helpful. When Bridget was awake, playing with her kept her mind off of those awful thoughts, but they kept creeping back in when she napped and slept. There was only so long that playing Dopey Cat could provide a distraction, after all. So instead she wondered endlessly if she had only been able to keep Bridget by her side at the cost of the foundation of her marriage.

For so many years, those fears of never mattering enough to someone else, of always ending up alone in the end had led her to keep relationships superficial. She’d avoided vulnerability, and therefore pain, at all costs. But then she came to Cordonia, and she had Drake, Hana, Maxwell, and Liam. She’d come to trust and feel and it was beyond anything younger her could have ever dreamed up. But now she’d ruined things with Liam, was disconnected from Hana and Maxwell, and it seemed all too likely she’d damaged things with Drake, too. All those people, who actually cared about her. She’d made a mess of the best parts of her life.

And maybe she was overreacting. Drake still clearly loved and cared about her. Worried about her constantly, in all honesty. But she also worried that he was gradually pulling away from her, that some day would creep up on them where all they would share would be concern for Bridget. But tonight, after all the stress and anxiety and fears of the evening, he was kissing her like he wanted her, like he loved her, and she couldn’t get enough of it.

She let out a pathetically needy moan, the sort of noise that would usually draw a smirk and some teasing from Drake. But tonight, he didn’t. Instead, he just surged forward with a groan of his own, driving her back into the wall and hooking his hands around her thighs, hoisting her up onto his waist before she could even process what was going on.

Riley clawed her fingers into his shoulders, dropping her head back against the wall as he moved his lips across her jaw. She began rocking her hips against him, tilting her head to the side as he worked his way down her neck, biting down lightly as he went. She tugged at his t-shirt, and after a few moments, he finally got the hint, sliding his hands out from under her thighs, letting her drop to the floor as he pulled off his shirt.

Deep down, Riley knew they had a lot they still needed to talk about and that doing this wasn’t going to fix the ache that had been growing in her heart, day by day. But she also knew that after weeks of stress and the horrible possibilities about tonight that had been running through both their minds, maybe this was just something they really needed. So she scrambled to tug off her shirt and jeans, kicking her sandals somewhere towards the door as Drake unbuckled his pants, and in almost no time they were both adding their underwear to the pile of clothing on the floor.

They were back on each other in an instant, hands grabbing and stroking, mouths everywhere. Riley felt her feet leaving the floor, so she wrapped her legs around Drake’s waist as he held her under her thighs, slamming her back against the wall. And then he was sinking into her, dropping his head to her shoulder to muffle the groan he let out as he did so.

It was all quick and frantic, both of them thrusting against each other wildly. She could sense that Drake was just as desperate as her. Desperate to feel something besides anxiety and guilt and pain. She knew she was going to have bruises from his fingers with how tightly he was clutching her thighs, but she didn’t care. Hell, she wondered how badly she was scratching his back. None of that mattered.

She hissed out his name as his lips latched back onto her neck. She knew this was going to be quick, so as she slid one hand up to his neck, tugging on his hair, she also dropped her other hand down between them, letting her fingers trace circles right above where they were joined. It didn't take long before she felt a warmth spreading out, down her legs and up her back, and then she was gone. Drake must have felt her climax, because he muttered "Fuck" into the skin of her neck, only driving into her a couple more times before she felt him spilling inside her. He slumped against the wall, his weight the only thing keeping her from sliding to the floor.

After a few moments, Drake let out a sigh, placing his hands back on her thighs and easing her down as he took a step back. “You okay?” he asked, his head slightly downturned.

Riley closed the newly-created gap between them, stepping forward and sliding a hand up to his cheek. “Drake, I’m fine. Are… are you okay?”

He nodded, tugging her into a gentle hug. “I just… I think I…”

“It’s okay, Drake. I get it.” She didn’t like that he still apparently couldn’t talk to her, but if he’d needed a minute of physical comfort and reprieve, well that was pretty fucking understandable. So she didn’t push him, just joined him in getting cleaned up and dressed in a t-shirt and underwear. While Drake washed the day’s clothes in the bathroom, she checked on Bridget, passed out in the travel crib Drake had picked up a few weeks back. They hadn’t used it to this point, and Riley wondered why Drake had dug it out of the car tonight. It had been safely tucked away with the tent, sleeping bags, and ground pad since he bought it.

“I thought we should probably start trying to get her used to it.” Drake’s voice cut through the room, startling Riley and answering the question she never got a chance to ask. “We are looking at months of being on the run. We need to start… I don’t know, making things… stable for her, I guess.”

“Makes sense,” said Riley, giving her daughter one last look before turning around to face Drake. “How did she handle bedtime?”

He grimaced and shook his head. “I think she was scared or upset because you weren’t here. She was basically inconsolable. I contemplated taking her on a drive just to calm her down. I kind of figured the night couldn’t get any worse, so I might as well try the crib. She screamed for about an hour before she wore herself out.”

Riley walked over and wrapped her arms around Drake. He struggled more with the sleep training than she did, even if he talked a way bigger game about letting Bridget “cry it out” in the light of day. “Well, she’s asleep now at least.”

Drake nodded, running a hand up and down her back. “You ready to go through the bags?”

She nodded and gave him a little smile, sitting down on the end of the bed as Drake grabbed the duffels and brought them over. They slowly worked their way through them, item by item. Hana had included so many useful things, from the practical, like clothes appropriate for a variety of types of weather and spare contact lenses and Riley’s glasses, to the unessential but truly missed, like Bridget’s stuffed corgi and Riley’s good hair brush. There was a lot of money in there, too. Thousands of Euros, which probably wouldn’t be enough to get them all the way until January, but at least made their situation a lot less dire. Their passports and birth certificates were tucked in there as well. For the first time, it felt like they might have some options when it came to their next steps. 

After twenty minutes or so of sorting and unpacking, they reached the bottom of the bags. There were a handful of framed photos. Riley hadn’t mentioned any pictures as being something they wanted, so this must have been Hana’s idea. There were a couple that had been displayed in their bedroom and den. A candid Maxwell took on their wedding reception, Drake sitting down as Riley stood behind him, her arms looped over his shoulders, both of them looking at each other with stupid, cheesy grins on their faces. The two of them with Savannah, Bertrand, and Bartie taken down in Texas, the day before the wedding. A photo of the three of them that Hana had taken in the privacy of their home the day after the anointing with them in casual clothing, just curled up on the couch holding Bridget, a stark contrast from the pomp of the formal portrait for the history books and press release the day before. There were a couple of new ones, too. The corgis snuggled together on their massive cushion in the den. Hana and Maxwell grinning with arms thrown over each other's shoulders, clearly a selfie taken by Maxwell at a formal event. Liam and Olivia sitting on a couch at what appeared to be the Lythikos keep, Olivia with an eyebrow raised, Liam with a hollow-looking smile.

Riley glanced over at Drake, unsure how these photos would affect him. He just swallowed roughly before placing the stack of photos he was holding on the bed next to him. Riley leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. They were both silent for a few moments until Drake finally spoke.

“Was that everything?”

Riley shook her head. “No, there’s a letter. At least I assume that’s what it is. It’s an envelope with Hana’s writing.”

Drake didn’t say anything, so after a few seconds, Riley leaned forward, grabbing the envelope with “Riley & Drake” looped in beautiful cursive sitting at the bottom of one of the duffels. She slid her finger under the flap and pulled out a sheet of stationary with delicate pink and cream flowers in the corners. She held it between them so that Drake could read it at the same time.

Riley and Drake,

I hope that you and Bridget are all doing well and in as good of spirits as the circumstances will allow. I can only imagine how incredibly difficult this must be for you. 

In these bags, I’ve included the items you mentioned as well as a few more toys for Bridget and pieces of clothing that I thought would be suitable for when the weather gets colder. I know it isn’t much, but hopefully this will make your lives just a little more comfortable.

I also sent some pictures I thought you might like to have, both old and new. Whenever things get tough, just remember that you have people who love you and want the best for you and your family.

While this is probably the furthest thing from your mind, I want to assure you that I am not taking my position as Duchess of Valtoria lightly. I am setting up citizen meetings for the upcoming weeks. Judging by the protests outside of the estate, you have a lot of support still here, and when this is all resolved, I will step down if you would like to rightfully reclaim your titles.

I love and miss you both, and tell Bridget that Aunt Hana misses her, too. Maxwell said I should include paw prints from Anderson, Vera, Ellis, and Ilsa, but for the sake of the staff who would need to clean up that mess, I will just settle on saying they clearly miss you as well.

Keep safe, Hana

Riley twisted to look at Drake. She knew he would already be done since he was a faster reader than her. His face was very still as he stared over at Bridget’s crib. 

“Drake?”

He jerked his head over to look at her, giving her a very empty smile as he did so. “Your best friend is really something, huh?”

She frowned, trying to suss out how much she should read into that statement, but he kept his expression blank. When it became clear he wasn’t going to elaborate more, she settled on a light response, knowing he probably didn’t want to delve into things too deeply at this point. “She really is. But her assumption that we would be at all worried about our former titles is adorably naive.”

Drake let out a little snort of a chuckle, so Riley kept going. “Can you imagine us just rolling back to Valtoria after all of this and challenging Hana for the title?”

His smile became a little more genuine at that. “Well, being out of touch with reality is a common trait amongst the nobility. Maybe it would just be us finally catching up with the rest of them.”

She nudged him with her elbow. “Come on, let’s pack this stuff up and get some sleep.”

“Sounds like a plan, Walker.”

Riley stood up and offered a hand to Drake, tugging him to his feet as well. There was still a lot they needed to sort through and take care of, both practically and emotionally. She knew that. Even with everything given to them tonight, the months ahead were hardly going to be a cake walk, and she knew she would have to get Drake talking at some point. But for the first time in weeks, she felt true hope. Hope that they could make this work, that they weren’t two seconds away from failing their daughter and each other, that they were moving forward. And for tonight, that felt like enough.

Perma: @walkerswhiskeygirl @octobereighth @kimmiedoo5 @mom2000aggie

TRR/TRH: @iaminlovewithtrr @mskaneko @axwalker @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @debramcg1106 @masterofbluff @sarahx206

Drake/MC: @no-one-u-know @iplaydrake

FoF: @burnsoslow @bobasheebaby​

[shinneth]

So... the way Steven Universe Future ended. As its own season, as a story, as a franchise, ended.

I don’t think I can make a comprehensive list of all my thoughts on the finale in one post, so bear with me. I’m also not gonna be all that extensive with everything that happened because... well, plenty of others covered this stuff better than I will.

But I’ve got some things to get off my chest before I can get myself to write. also never got to play one piece pirate warriors 4 because it refuses to acknowledge my controller so no stress relief pre-finale for me

So... I’ll anticipate at least some degree of backlash, depending on how many people read this.

I don’t think the finale was bad. But I don’t think it was good, either.

It hit pretty much all the cliche notes I expected it to. While that’s not always a bad thing, there is one event that pretty much embodies what I did not want to happen more than anything else. And it’s a scene everyone really really loves. So... here we go.

I hated everything about this scene.

What I hoped wouldn’t happen, above ALL ELSE, was for Connie to be glorified to the extent where she basically makes all the gems collectively come off as incompetent and dumb by comparison. 

They not only did that, but they made goddamn sure to put in the visual effects that she is the light of hope and everyone’s goddamn fucking savior because only she knows the full extent of Steven’s pain.

No, she isn’t.

I haven’t been a fan of most of the gems being written to be excessively dense in general during SUF, but this entire time, I couldn’t help but notice that Peridot, Lapis, and Bismuth weren’t blubbering about how they fucked up with Steven.

That makes sense. NONE OF THEM fucked up with Steven this season!

In fact, Peridot in particular witnessed Steven’s internal struggles not that long ago. Peridot resolved her misunderstanding with Steven in In Dreams, and for once Steven remained HAPPY at the end of a SUF episode! 

So.... what I’m saying is:

I’m not against Connie being part of raising morale and getting the group to get their shit together in concept. 

I AM against the concept of Connie being the only one to do this.

This would have been so much more powerful if we had Connie, Bismuth, Lapis, AND Peridot doing this speech together! As I said, none of the aforementioned gems were wallowing in a pity party.

And I felt so insulted when Connie basically grouped them together with the sadsacks anyway.

Brushed to the side, just so Connie alone can be portrayed as the true remedy for Steven’s monstrous form. 

Of all the times for the writers to go “fuck continuity”, I think this is a moment where it actively pissed me off the most. 

I’ve said before that I don’t think the fanbase really acknowledges how human Peridot especially has become over time. She’s adapted to Earth life, Earth culture, and Earth society better than most other gems - including the ones who’ve lived there thousands of years longer than her.

I did personally love that Steven gave Peridot one of his old shirts, telling her to “be the Steven you want to see”. 

Honestly, I think Peridot’s done her best to live by Steven’s example ever since her redemption arc. I fully believe her investment in befriending Lapis and endearing her to Earth was inspired by how Steven went to great lengths to help Peridot adjust to Earth life.

So in Steven’s absence in Beach City and Little Homeworld, Peridot has basically taken the mantle of “Steven”. And she’s the best candidate for that position, by far.

And not too long ago, I thought of the coolest thing: what if Steven doesn’t necessarily need a human to get back in touch with his human side?

Wouldn’t it be fantastic if the one who helped rebuild a broken Steven was a gem who he did the same for in the past? A gem, who Steven helped learn to embrace the human spirit, returning the favor? That would’ve been amazing.

But sure, let’s just have this BS instead.

Because even if I shipped Connverse, I would say this afflicts the ship with the dreaded conditional foundation.

I said in the past I’d gain mad respect for Connie if she stuck to her guns and just kept things professional with Steven. She handled the rejection as well as anyone could, because Steven was an idiot through-and-through with his proposal attempt. Considering the circumstances, this is not the time nor place for a relationship when Connie has plans and goals for becoming the person she wants to be. Especially when Steven’s so mentally unhinged; he shouldn’t be in any kind of relationship until he sorts his shit out.

But nope! Connie backpedals, gives Steven exactly what he wants (well, not a “yes I’ll marry you”, but the kiss thing is close enough, imo), and now that cures him.

I mean yeah, I know it was a collective effort with all the gems, but...

I earnestly believe this scene would have been just as powerful if Connie just fucking hugged him like everyone else.

Speaking of that group effort...

I can’t believe nobody has brought this up...

I AM MY MONSTER’S RESOLUTION IS LITERALLY IN DREAM’S RESOLUTION - ONLY WITH HIGHER STAKES AND MORE PEOPLE

OKAY? IT TOTALLY FUCKING IS

And that’s why I say In Dreams is still the best SUF episode overall, by far.

But hey, way to make that whole affair a red herring just so Connie can look super mega cool, right? 

So yeah, that’s the story of my least-favorite part of SUF’s finale and how the CG B-Team, Peridot especially, got robbed.

Guess I’ll end that here. Other parts of the finale rubbed me the wrong way, but with all the Connie worship I’m seeing around me lately, I just had to get this off my chest.

Because I couldn’t get my controller to work with a game to let me beat up thousands of grunts to let off my steam, you see.

[allie1804-fan]

Malaise (Chapter 7 - Playing the Field)

Chapter 1,  2 ,  3,  4,  5,   6 

Over the few weeks that followed her realisation, she made an effort to not always agree to the meet ups he suggested.  A couple of times, they would agree earlier in the day that Chinese was on the cards and then she would bail on him (claiming tiredness or something coming up with the kids) or she’d go for the Chinese but decide against the sex.  It was never because she didn’t want to but sometimes just to feel like she had some power over the situation, to not feel like every time he said jump , she asked how high.

One of the other actors, David, was also ‘sniffing around’ as Keanu called it. He’d even teased her about it but she also sensed a certain tone in his voice , a certain bristling!

The day finally came when David got the courage to ask her out to the theatre  - he’d got tickets for a show with a friend but they were ill. They were within earshot of Keanu when he asked and she said she’d check if she could and let him know – her excuse was that her kids might need her,  they would often spring the need for a ride on her last minute. “That’s true” thought Keanu but he also knew that she’d tell them to ‘do one and get an Uber’ if she wanted to be with him.  He smiled to himself and hatched a plan to make the decision for her, or so he thought.  Over lunch, they sat together and he asked her to a movie he knew she wanted to see, throwing his hat in the ring as it were. Surprising him, she said she was not sure and later on she made her mind up to go with David, just to try something new.  After all, that’s what she had said after her divorce and, she argued with herself that she and Keanu had said ‘no strings’.  She should test what she’d promised herself and play the field.

Later on when she went to find Keanu and let him know she couldn’t make it to the movie, she could see he was pissed off – it gave her a slight thrill if she was honest.  However, the date with David really wasn’t fun and she just didn’t find him sexy and his goodnight kiss was lousy.  She’d chalk that one up to experience!

Keanu chose to go to the gym instead of the movie – he realised he really wanted to see it with her so they could talk about it after.  He spent a good 10 minutes on the punch bag and spent longer than usual overall, just trying to get the tension out of his body.  When he got home, he called the agency and asked for Tara.

She was free the next day and he felt a kind of childish glee telling Celia he had to go and skip the Chinese even though they had worked late so it would usually have been on the cards.

“So, this is a surprise” Tara said when she’d sat down on a stool at the huge kitchen island.  I thought maybe you’d given up on this, I’ve seen a few pics of you lately out and about with a raven-haired beauty” she teased and he blushed.

“just a friend” he lied “she’s the cinematographer on my movie”

“With benefits?” she pried and he went even redder.

“OK, OK, yes there have been benefits!”

“So where is she now?”

“I don’t know and I don’t need to know, we’re playing it cool, no strings.  She’s a divorcee, she’s playing the field”

“You’re pouting!” she laughed wickedly.

“Am not!” he protested.

“Ok, ok I’m sorry.  I’m overstepping.  Why don’t we eat” she said gesturing towards the Thai take out on the kitchen counter that he’d ordered in, “and you can tell me all about her”

“So you met on set then?”

He nodded, tucking into his chicken.

“and how did the whole benefits thing get started?”

“Well she basically told me she was horny and asked ‘was I’ and we took it from there”

 “Wow, direct! And she said this on set?”

 “He guffawed

 “No, we started having a Chinese together, round the corner from the studio on days when we worked late discussing the shoot for the next day and she suggested it after one of those meals.  I told her I wasn’t after anything serious and she said ‘me neither’ and so we went from there”

 “From there to where?” Tara enquired

 “Well to it being a regular thing for the last couple of months but lately ……”

 “Lately what?”

 “She’s seemed less keen,  had more other commitments and then, I’m pretty sure, a date with this other guy from set”

 “You’re jealous!” she exclaimed.

 He opened his mouth to protest but decided against it and just shook his head then nodded before whispering sadly

 “but I have no right to be”

 “And I’m here as your revenge, right?”

 “naahhh,  relief more like”

 “come on!” Tara blurted out “be truthful, I’ve got no stakes in this, you can admit it to me!”

 He shrugged his shoulders

 “Maybe”

 “and do you really want to have sex with me?”

 He shook his head.

 “you’ll still get paid, don’t worry but no, I don’t”

 Tara smiled sympathetically

 “From the pics I saw, you obviously didn’t just have sex.  What else did you do?”

 “dinner, movies, bike rides, just chill together reading a book”

 Tara just chuckled “mmm very non committed – not!”

 “Friends have dinner, go to the movies, bike rides, chill……”

 “mmmmmm” she replied still smiling smugly.

 “And what’s she like?”

 Mmmmm sexy....”

 “Typical man, I mean as a person!”

 “I was getting to that! – she’s charming, witty, well read, empathetic, kind, hard working, straightforward”

 “seems pretty obvious to me that you’re smitten”

 “I gotta get a grip, we said no strings and no pressure.  That’s what we both wanted – pressure free sex.”

 “Maybe it’s time to see if she, and you are willing to be more committed. She might just be testing you with this date thing or maybe she’s freaking out because it all got too cosy too quickly”

They chatted a bit more and Tara took her leave for the first time ever without having sex, leaving him to stew on what she’d said.

Meanwhile, Celia had called a couple of girlfriends, Sarah and Chloe, round to her house for a few drinks and a catch up.

“So what’s Keanu like?”  Chloe asked.

“What?!”  Celia said sharply, taken by surprise at the question. She had wanted to talk about him but in an anonymous way and her first thought was that maybe her friends had seen pictures of them and put two and two together.

“he’s in the movie you’re on right?, Thought you might like to share if he’s as nice as they say”

“Right, yes, sure he’s on the movie and yes he is really nice, a real sweetheart” she said honestly, relieved that they seemed only to be asking from a ‘please dish about the celebrity’ point of view.

“And hot right, isn’t he like heading for 60 or something?”

She laughed at that

“I guess he must be, and yes he’s very fine looking, easy on my eyes behind the camera!” she smirked, thinking (and easy on the eye when he’s on top of me too!)

“And Chris Pratt, what about him?” Sarah chipped in.

“Yes sure, also a sweetie, no divas on this set which is always good” she replied, relieved that the conversation on Keanu had moved on quickly.

“And how’s the love life going?” Sarah asked.  The last time they had met had been on the one year anniversary of Celia’s divorce where she’d announced her intention to ‘get back out there’

“good, well I think good, I dunno”

“Pray tell, sounds like there’s a story there!”

“Well I’ve been seeing a guy from set, but nothing serious.  We agreed up front to just have a little fun, you know”

“Sexy fun?”

Celia was blushing as she nodded ‘yes’ to that.

“Good?”

“sooooo good, my god!”  I’ve never …”

“Never what?”

“She blushed, never having been quite so direct about her sex life

“Never come so hard!”

“Ooooh wow, so why do you sound all uncertain? Sounds ideal to me no strings, great  sex that makes you happy”

“I dunno, we haven’t put any pressure on really and we are comfortable in each other’s company, very comfortable. It just started to feel a bit coupley you know and I wasn’t seeing anyone else, just him a couple of times a week.  So a couple of days ago, this other guy, one of the actors, asked me out and I decided to go. And the other guy also asked me to go see a movie we’d been talking about seeing and I turned him down, to make myself try playing the field, you know. Because that’s what I said I would do and, you know what, it was lame, he was lame and not a good kisser so now I’m wishing I’d gone to the movie with K. with, you know the first guy (she had almost said ‘with Keanu’ and stopped herself in the nick of time before saying Ke and giving the game away!) but I am also worried that, you know, I am just slipping into needing it to be a proper relationship and he said he doesn’t want one so that’s just going to end in tears right and I said I didn’t want one but maybe I’m just not cut out for this no strings thing”

She paused to draw breath

“wow, OK, so maybe you need to have it out with him, the non actor guy, and tell him what’s going through your mind”

“mmmmm”  Celia was relieved that her mentioning Dave as the actor guy had made them assume Keanu was a non actor guy!

“he’s a nice guy right?”

“yes! He’s a sweetheart, very charming, he really makes me laugh, has a sharp wit, intelligent, kind, incredibly committed to the project, pretty down to earth, oh and sexy, sexy as hell!”

“So, if you tell him how you feel and he doesn’t want a relationship, then he’s not going to be mean about it right?”

“Probably not”

“Ok so tell him. You can’t carry on in limbo can you, wondering if this is it but maybe needing more?”

“I guess, I just feel bad, I mean I was the one to proposition him for god sake! And the first thing he said was that he wasn’t looking for anything serious and I was like “me neither” We went into it for fun, sex and companionship, he didn’t ask for me to get all smitten and need to know where I stand!”

“Shit happens!” Chloe giggled

They all laughed and clinked glasses.

“So what happened when you turned down guy no 1 for the movie”

Celia giggled

“I think he was pissed – in fact I think he heard actor guy ask me out so he maybe knew I’d rejected him and then the next day we’d worked late and we’d normally go for a Chinese and he said he had some other commitment”

“Ohhh, I say he’ was proving to you that he’s not your bitch!”

“mmm I hadn’t thought of that, doesn’t seem like his style”

 “Well you’ll only find out if you talk to him” Chloe stated firmly and Celia nodded, knowing that was the only way forward.

@penwieldingdreamer @fortheloveoffanfic @kindainlovewithkeanu @ladyreapermc @witty-wallflower @gatsbynouvel @bitchyslut99 @keanureevesisbae @omg-imagine @iworshipkeanureeves @fics-not-tragedies @ficsnroses @kindainlovewithkeanu @paperplanesandwallflowers

[xtrashmammalstefx]

Jesus (A Deacury Fluff/ Smut)

Part 9 of The Queen Repertoire

Warnings: Language, smut

Notes: This will contain same sex love and overall homosexual/ lgbtq+  themes. If you don’t like that well... tough titties! Go follow another blog, nobody cares!

I've always been a reserved kind of man. People made me nervous, stemming from my childhood when the lads at school would give me shit about my size and stature; I've always been rather small and slender compared to most.

As I got older music became more and more of a  beacon of hope for me. Every time I picked up my bass guitar and started plucking at the strings I felt a weight lift and suddenly felt I could breathe easier. It was almost as though my guitar kept telling my anxiety to fuck right off back to hell, the bloody demon.

When I went away to London for school my anxiety grew worse but I managed as best I could. I tried venturing out at night and at one point wound up at a local disco. It is there I met my first real friend; a blonde haired drunkard named Roger. Trying my best to be friendly I answered every question he asked and when I mentioned I played bass he grew wide eyed ( a feat I didn't think was possible since his eyes were naturally big and round, as though he were a blue eyed cherub). He then asked me if I would be willing to audition for his band. I figured what have I to lose? Besides it would make music an even bigger part of my life which meant my bloody demons could stay away longer.

So we arranged a day, time, and a place.

The following week I went to Imperial College and made my way to the lecture room where the band was holding the auditions. I was shaking horribly. The annoying voice in my head that was always with me kept whispering at me. And as I got closer the voice grew louder. You're rubbish mate. They'll probably have a listen and tell you they'll call you but instead leave you hanging. Or worse they'll tell you you're garbage and tell you not to let the door hit you in arse on the way out.

It. Was. Maddening!

By the time I was a couple feet from the door the voice was screaming at me. My breathing was rapid and I felt like I would break. I used to have panic attacks when I was a kid and it had been years since the last one. I knew the feeling though and knew I had to stop and sit down before I faint. I leaned against the wall and slid down until I was seated on the floor.

I was working on trying to slow my breath and silencing that bloody voice when suddenly there were a pair of legs standing in front of me. I followed them up to the most beautiful being I had ever seen. The man had long dark hair, tan skin, a bone structure that seemed to have been carved by  Michelangelo himself, and he peered down at me with dark concerned eyes.

“Are you alright there, darling?” he asked. My breathing was still a little fast and ragged but not as bad as before.

“I-It's nothing I haven't dealt with before,” I said.

He nodded but continued to look at me worried. “Are you here for the audition?” I nodded. “And is it that that's caused this?” He motioned at me. I nodded again. He sighed and brought his hand to my cheek. “Darling, no matter what happens today I doubt it'll be anything compared to the pain of regret you will have if you decided not to go in there and shine. I promise you everyone in there is family, and won't tree you as anything less.”

My breathing finally slowed to a normal rhythm. The voice was rendered silent and I felt a great amount of peace. “Who are you?”

He smiled. “Freddie Mercury, darling,” he said. “Or at least I will be.” He held his hand out to me. “Now are you ready to change your life? Or did you want to stay out here and let your life pass you by?”

I breathed a sigh of relief and placed my hand in his. I picked up my bass and followed him inside.

“You're late,” said a tall lad sitting at one of the desks.

“Just doing a good deed Bri, no need to get snippy at me,” Freddie said taking his place among Bri and Roger. In introduced myself to Freddie and Bri and took my bass out. I played some songs from my former band and gave them my all. Freddie was the one who welcomed me into the band, once they'd deliberated. “You're playing is brilliant and your dance moves are definitely what this band needs.”

I smiled and hugged the shit out of the man.

We played a few gigs at the local pub and eventually decided we wanted to record an album. That album led to a record deal, which led to a tour, which led to more records, and eventually the whole world knew our name.

As time passed my feelings for Freddie grew. They continued to grow until I felt something that at the time was seen as vile among the assholes of the world; something a lot of people had to keep under wraps for fear of being killed. I was in love with him.

Sure he had Mary, the love of his life, and I had Ronnie but no matter how hard I tried there was no stopping it.

Then one night it happened.

We were a few days away from starting on our fifth record. I was married and a father. More importantly I was happy, and the voice that had taunted me that day all those years ago had never returned. We just finished another tour and were taking a week long break to relax before getting back to the studio. Two days into the break Ronnie got a call from her mum saying that her father was ill, so she took the baby and went to see him for a few days.

I was home alone the following night when there was a knock on the door. I went to answer it and found Freddie in tears. “Fred...what?”

“Mary left me,” he cried.

“Oh dear,” I sighed and moved aside to let him in. I closed the door and escorted him to the sitting room, sitting him down on the sofa. “What happened?”

Not going to lie. The lads and I knew there was something going on between him and Mary for quite some time now but we didn't want to pry.

“I-If I tell you something will you promise not to hate me?” Freddie said, almost begging.

“I could never hate you Fred,” I said. “I promise.”

He sniffed back a few tears and took a deep breath. “I-I'm gay Deaky.”

He looked at me expectantly but honestly... I had a feeling he was...we all did. For years we had believed that Fred was special, and would just come out when he was ready. Besides who am I to judge? I, a closeted bi-sexual in love with a man who just came out as gay. “D-Did you know?” he asked when I said nothing.

“I had a feeling,” I said. “Doesn't change how I feel about you though. I love you Fred...I'll always love you.”

Freddie broke down crying again and I wrapped my arms around him. I held him and let him sob, all the while cooing him and trying my best to sooth him. I kissed the tops of his head, tears now leaving my own face. Very slowly and nervously I brought my lips down to his cheek. Freddie froze at this.

“W-What are you doing?” he asked. I brought my hand to his cheek.

“You saved my life once,” I said. “And ever since then I've looked at you and seen an angel. Eventually I found out that not only do you exist but that one can indeed fall in love with an angel.” His eyes grew wide. “I love you Fred.”

I kissed his cheek again.

“I'm so in love with you it bloody hurt to think you might never really be mine,” I brushed my nose with his. “You're the love of my life Fred...and I'd rather die than go another day without saying so and doing this.”

I crashed my lips to his.

At first he didn't do anything. Just sat there frozen but then I felt him wrap his arms around me and he kissed back.

After a while we pulled back. “I love you too, Deaky.”

I smiled at that and stood up holding out my hand. He took it and I led him upstairs to the guest room. Once inside I brought my lips back to his and led him to the bed. I'd never done it with a man but I always imagined it feeling just as brilliant.

Once the clothes were gone we took turns. We kissed and touched. He would be inside me for a while and then I would be inside of him. Eventually, we both moaned loudly and released.

Sweaty and breathless we laid there holding one another. “So what happens now?” Fred asked. “I don't exactly want this...well I mean I do want this but...you know how the world will see it.”

“Fuck the world,” I said.

“And what about Ronnie and the baby?” Freddie asked. “I-I don't want to hurt them. I love them both too much to ever...”

“Ronnie already knows how I feel about you,” I said. “She's known for a while now but still loves me nonetheless and refuses to leave me to be killed by the press like a common criminal. I told her it was okay that she needn't stay and pretend. But she said she loved me, and I honestly love her and the baby.”

“So you'll stay with them then,” Freddie said. “I won't have it any other way. Freddie Mercury does not break families. Not now, not ever.”

“Then I guess this will have to be enough,” I said peppering his face and lips with kisses. “You, and me...together...for as long as we both shall live.”

“I do love having a romantic getaway every now and then,” he smiled.

We laughed and got to having another round. Then as we laid there peacefully being pulled into sleep I thought back to an old song of ours and how in a way those words were true, for us at least.

Then came a man before His feet he fell Unclean said the leper and rang his bell Felt the palm of a hand touch his head Go now go now you're a new man instead

I was indeed a new man after meeting Fred, a changed man, a better man. And I know that no matter what may come he will always be a part of me.

Taglist: @okaykathryn​ @fairestkillerqueenofall​ @onceuponadetectivedemigod​ @boherahpsody​ @thebohemianpenguin​ @ihatethespacebars​ @madsthegroupie​ @freddie-bulsara-queen​ @rose-de-jaune​ @xxkellsvixen19xx​ @valeriecarolinaw​ @5sos-wdw​ @hearttshapeddboxx​ @spicyarreagaa​ @fluffffffffffff​ @pleasingiswhatweaimfor​ @hatemylifesofuckingmuch​ @jollyavacado​ @painandpleasure86​ @haileynicoleseavey17​ @queenlover1997​ @rrogerrz​ @peachyywine​ @mrsmazzello​ @hannafuckingsucks​ @zwiezraczek​ @night-writer-writer​ @theborhapboysawakenedmywhatever​ @tinywildeace​

[itslaurenmae]

What is this sudden influx of "Cabin in the Woods" reblogs? Did you just see it for the first time? Second time? Umpteenth time? Your take on things must be had, lest the old ones wipe it away.

I am SO GLAD... so BLESSED to receive this ask. This turned into a full-on essay, sooooo buckle up and read on. (TL;DR I rewatched Cabin in the Woods and forgot how much I loved it, sooo yes, you're gonna see a lot of it on my dash) - SPOILERS AHEAD

I rewatched Cabin in the Woods for the second time on Saturday night and DEAR GOD. I’m gonna have NO CHILL while responding to this because I’ve been thinking about it for a day and a half already. 

First of all, I should probably state for the record that I am a longtime Buffy the Vampire Slayer fan. I wasn’t allowed to watch the show when it was airing on television (thanks to my very strict evangelical conservative upbringing) - I found Buffy in my early twenties and fell in love. The subversion of tropes, the excellent character writing hand-in-hand with narrative arcs that actually make sense... it really is one of the greatest shows that’s ever been on TV. Yes, I will fight you about it. I haven’t watched everything Joss Whedon has ever touched, but I also really loved Dr. Horrible’s Singalong Blog and Angel, so I am not a stranger to the Whedonverse.

Cabin in the Woods is the first horror movie I remember watching and genuinely enjoying. Loren and I had decided that, with my being deprived of Halloween traditions (thanks to that upbringing), we wanted to start a new tradition of watching a horror movie on Halloween night. This was back in 2013. Our first daughter was only a few months old. 

I’d seen maaaaybe two other actual horror films before CitW - but I’d long been a fan of books, tv shows, and other mediums in the paranormal family (because that was okay, because it was spiritual - thanks again, upbringing). I think a friend from college had recommended it to us - and once I'd seen it had Joss Whedon as a writer and producer, I knew I'd probably like it. So, we put our daughter to bed, snuggled up, turned off all the lights, and watched our very first Halloween horror movie.

I fell in Love. 

It was funny? And subversive? And I was scared in a good way? 

I had no idea what was going on in the very beginning, but as this tale unspooled itself on our flatscreen, I knew I Loved this movie.

From that day forward, anytime anyone asked me what my favorite horror movie was, I said Cabin in the Woods. 

I said that for seven years.

Somehow, seven years of my life went by? We had another baby? We moved houses? I left jobs and got a new job and Loren moved school sites and wow... somehow it was 2020. We watched lots of horror movies, and not just on Halloween anymore (take that, upbringing!!). We're huge fans of a YouTube channel called Dead Meat, and specifically, a series they do called the Kill Count. 

Every Friday, James A. Janisse and his team release a new video counting down the kills in a horror movie. And when I saw at the end of 2019 that he was going to do one for Cabin in the Woods, I was SO EXCITED.

It had been YEARS since I'd seen it, but I remembered that I Loved it. And yes, I'm using Love with a capital L. I Love this movie. 

Loren and I watched the Kill Count the day it was released. I remembered most of the kills, and I definitely remembered that ending. It made me so happy to watch something about that movie again.

Some time goes by. 

Covid-19 happens. We all get told to shelter in place. 

We log in to Hulu one night after the kids are down to watch Letterkenny, and I see that Cabin in the Woods is streaming. I was SO HAPPY to see it there.

Some more time goes by.

We finished watching Letterkenny. 

We can't pick another show to watch together. So I suggest we watch Cabin in the Woods. 

That was Saturday.

I forgot how much I Love this movie.

I forgot how much I Love Fran Kranz’s character, Marty.

I forgot about how much I Love the look of relief on Kristen Connolly’s character, Dana's, face when Marty shows up at the dock where she's about to be clobbered to death. She thought he was already dead, but no, he's alive. And he clocks Matty Buckner with his giant bong and they run like hell back to the house. 

I forgot that Marty figured out that the whole thing was rigged against them. 

I forgot they break into the elevator to confront The Organization about killing their friends.

I FORGOT ABOUT THE VERY TENDER HUGGING FROM BEHIND IN THAT SCARY AS HELL, MASTERFULLY DONE ELEVATOR SCENE.

I forgot about the very painful and earnest exchange of apologies between Marty and Dana at the end, after they decide they’re gonna let the Ancient Ones rise.

I forgot about the way they scoot to be near each other as the building is coming down. 

I forgot about the way they put their heads together, shivering, as they huddle for some semblance of safety and comfort as the world is ending. 

It's so HUMAN - that last scene between Marty and Dana. And you get this feeling that, if they survived this, they'd maybe have a shot at something good together.

Basically, I forgot how much I Loved this movie.

And it all came back to me on Saturday night.

It's good writing. It's good acting. It's just good.

Something A LOT of media just isn't anymore.

Character writing. Overall narrative. Subversions on the genre. An ending that is tragic and shocking but still MAKES SENSE.

Watching this movie reminded me of the kinds of characters and stories I love. And it had been a long time since I'd watched something I Loved. 

Especially after watching a very popular franchise I love shit the bed last year, I've been feeling very uninspired and unimpressed by most popular media. 

Most shows or movies I've watched from the last decade just feel... soulless. They don't make me feel things. 

They don't affect me. They're numb, they have no heart. They kinda pass the time but they don’t move me.

The characters don't feel real. 

They don't make understandable, human decisions. 

It all feels really stilted. 

And that’s because the writing is bad.

I think most actors out there are doing their best, but there's just been a deluge of seriously shitty writing, and people aren't discriminating enough to either notice or care, or stop spending their money on things that are frankly, poorly crafted cash grabs. 

I don't want to point fingers and name names (because a. that’s been done already, and b. Whedon's not getting off scot-free here, he's one of the men behind one of the biggest franchises of the late 2000s and 2010s) - but somewhere in the last seven years, a lot of soul just died in the writing of American TV and movies. 

But not this movie. 

This movie is real, and it's human, and it's funny and subversive and tonally resonant and I Love it.

So yes, the deluge of content is here because I remembered I Loved this movie.

I Love Marty and Dana and their very human clinging to each other in that crumbling building. 

I Love those scenes in the elevator, I Love the tragedy of sacrificing young people to appease a nameless evil, I Love the way Marty and Dana choose each other over all the rest of humanity, I Love the humor and the wrongness of it all being engineered in an office. 

It's just Good, and I’ve really missed Good Shit. 

So yes, I’m gonna post the hell out of The Cabin in the Woods (2011) on this blog for however long I see fit. Bless you, @iowastubborn, for gracing my inbox with this ask. It’s the first thing I’ve written in MONTHS and it felt good to write about something I Love.

If you need me, you can probably find me in the marty x dana tag at 3am anytime in the foreseeable future.

[rational-mastermind]

It Doesn’t Hurt

Ch 1/5

Hurt/Comfort. A Trilbhan (Trilby x Siobhan) fanfic taking place after Trilby’s Notes. Warnings of suicidal thoughts and depression (in later chapters) and blood. But I mean.. If you’re into this series you’re sure as fuck not squeamish.

--

 It's been a few months since the Clanbronwyn Hotel incident. The events that took place there still haunts me to this day and my reputation around the Ministry of Occultism hadn't gotten any better, now that I'm responsible for the permanent decommissioning of two agents, Andrew Jarvis and Lenkmann. Granted, most forgave the latter, as he not only threatened my life but was a part of an insane cult named The Blessed Agonies. But AJ…

 Ever since my first day I was referred to as "the one who killed AJ". As if it wasn't bad enough bearing the responsibility of killing the man to begin with. As well as bearing the responsibility of three other deaths, Philip Harty, Simone Taylor, and Abed Chahal.

 A week or two after the Hotel Incident, I attended Dr. Chahal's funeral. At a distance, mind you. Somehow knowing why they couldn't find his body and making it a closed casket ceremony made me feel worse, but at least I could properly, discreetly, pay my respects to the man.

 However, seeing his family come to the casket to say their good-byes, forced me to leave. I suppose that's what people call guilt. I was walking out of the building when a familiar voice called out.

 "Terry Railby?"

 I couldn't tell if my initial feeling was one of surprise for being recognized or dread as I, in turn, recognized who it was. I turned around only to find Siobhan O’Malley standing by the doors, looking a little shocked herself. I should've figured she was here, being the late professor's assistant. Still, I was foolish to hope I wouldn't run into someone who would recognize me, let alone know me by the more common alias, Trilby.

 "Siobhan..." I started, unable to mask my surprise.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, rightfully perplexed.

 "Just came to pay my last respect." I said giving a nod to the funeral house behind us. "The least I could do."

 She nodded sadly and folded her arms around her.

 "Same. But… Well I mean.. ", she started to say before smiling back at me. "It's good to see you again."

 "And you as well." I smiled back politely.

 "I was kinda hoping you would show up." She stepped a little closer. "I don't think I thanked ya properly for rescuing me."

 I gave a modest shrug.

 "All in a day's work." I stated, cringing inwardly from how cheesy that sounded.

 "No really." She insisted. "If it weren't for you, it'd be my family in there. At least lemme buy you a drink, as a proper thanks."

 I nodded back to the funeral.

 "Wouldn't you rather say your proper good-bye with everyone else?"

 "Nah. I actually hate funerals. It's like church, but more depressing." Siobhan explained, looking at the ground in thought. "I paid my respects and don't get me wrong, I do miss him but… Well. I know he's not in there. Saying goodbye to an empty casket isn't gonna do me much good is it?"

 She looked back at me sadly. I knew we were both thinking the same thing. We had both seen what really happened to Abed.

 "So come on. Lemme thank ya for saving me from a worse fate, and we'll say a real good-bye instead."

 I don't know what possessed me to agree, but in about 15 minutes, I found myself sitting in a corner booth of a small cafe with Siobhan and a couple of drinks.

 "Here's to a good man." Siobhan tucked away the small flask she used to "fix" her drink, and raised the cup in a small cheers.

 I returned the gesture and we drank.

 "I didn't know you drank." I mentioned.

 "Terry, I am Irish. Of course I do." she chuckled before adding. "Only on occasions."

 I nodded and dropped it. We sat in silence for a while before I decided I should ask the obvious question.

 "So… do you want to talk about Abed?"

 Siobhan sighed a little and shrugged.

 "What can I say?" She asked and looked absent mindedly at her drink. "He was nice. A good professor. Passionate about his work. A nice man overall. I mean.. don't get me wrong, it always hurts to know someone's dead. But well… it's life, isn't it?"

 “That's a very mature way of looking at it." I agreed.

 "Well.. Thanks." She smiled a little, albeit sadly. "Personally I don't think anyone should mourn the dead for too long. It's bound to happen, and it makes life a little brighter to know they were a part of yours. I did. Back at the hotel. But then that was it. Time to move on."

 "Hmm. And where are you moving on to?"

 "Well I finished college last year. I'm planning on opening up an antique shop here in about a month." Siobhan perked up a bit.

 “Well that’s nice to hear.” I smiled more comfortably. “So soon?”

 “Well I've been planning this for a while now." She explained. "It's just now been coming together. And I've already got a decent amount of stock set in storage to get started on."

 "Very smart. Sounds like you have a good head for business."

 She grinned a little.

 "About the only thing I'd be concerned about is if any cat burglars broke in overnight."

 "Hmm. And why would they?" I asked, playing along. "I'd assume anything worthwhile would've already walked out the door."

 Siobhan laughed a little, blushing, and finally dropped the charade.

 "If you mean me, I'm actually going to live in the building. Right above the shop actually."

 "Ah I see." I nodded with understanding, but couldn't resist teasing further. "So there WOULD be a reason for some, tall, dark, handsome, mysterious-"

 "Oh crap Terry!", Siobhan laughed.

 "-sophisticated and impressively dressed gentleman thief to break in"

 Siobhan was trying hard to keep her laughter quiet but it was obviously a strain. Her face started to flush as tears swelled. The reaction caused me to laugh along, equally quiet and strained. It was nice. This frivolous moment of peace. I couldn't remember the last time I laughed like this. It felt good. It felt like such a relief to laugh. I supposed this is what Claire meant by getting a "good vibe" from someone.

 And that was when it dawned on me.

 Oh no.

 Claire.

 Work.

 SHIT.

 I quickly checked my watch and mentally cursed.

 "What's wrong?", Siobhan asked, noticing the sudden shift in behavior.

 "I have somewhere I need to be." I stood up and left a bill for the drinks. "Sorry for leaving so suddenly. It was nice seeing you again."

 "Oh! Um, yeah. It's great to see you!" She said giving a small wave good-bye.

 I hurried out the door. I had just caught myself in time and barely made it back before someone missed me.

 I came into the office and sat down at my desk with a sigh. Just in time. I clocked back in from my computer. Claire, sitting right across from me as usual, looked up from her desk with a smile.

 "So…? Where were you? Missed you at lunch."

 "Had something to attend to."

 "Personal? Or is it a girl?"

 "Wouldn't a girl be personal?" I frowned, quizzically and glanced back at her.

 "You'd be surprised how casual people really are about their love life Trilbs." She rolled her eyes, though still smiled. "It's called socializing."

 "Well I'm not entirely one for doing such, to start with, and secondly, don't call me Trilbs. A nickname of a nickname is ridiculous."

 "Oh fine. You're no fun today." She shook her head and went back to work.

 Any thoughts I did want to have about Siobhan went right out the window. The last thing I needed was office-stereotype-like Claire gossiping my thoughts to the entire department.

 The rest of the day was as normal as it could be and I hadn’t seen Siobhan again for the rest of the month. August passed with almost nothing noteworthy, aside from the occasional ghosts I had to banish and demon slayers I’ve met while working. Then one day, I came into the break room.

 I had been dealing with a woman on the phone who claimed to have seen her dead mother come back to nag her and she wasn’t willing to listen to reasoning. I wasn’t really needing the coffee, though I poured myself a cup regardless. Just needed an excuse more than anything to get away from the griping.

 “Hey Trilby.” one of my co-workers, I believe his name was Darren, came up to me.

 “Good afternoon.”, I greeted, not turning to face him until after I made my cup.

 “Kill anyone lately?”

 My heart stuttered and I looked back to find Lenkmann staring me down, inches from my face. A sudden sharp pain welled up in my abdomen. I screamed in pain and looked down to find blood dripping off my hands.

 It hurts

 Everything was growing dark. There was a scream and I looked up only to find a dead Philip Harty, sprawled out on the dining room table. Simone and Jim were running away into the house.

 It hurts

 I had to chase them down. I had to kill them. I wanted them to suffer. Just like I did.

 It hurts

 I looked down at the floor to find Abed. His porcelain face looked back at me, trying to mouth words but I could only barely understand.

 It hurts

 Pain coursed through every vein of my body and I knew the name of the King.

 IT HURTS

 I was running through the hotel, trying to escape. Sharp, hot, agonizing pain scorched my nerves. The smell of death and blood was everywhere. The darkness around me was growing. I tried to reach out. Siobhan caught my hand. I grabbed her throat and snapped it.

 IT HURTS

 I ran until I tripped on something and fell. Into nothing.

 Into darkness.

                                       Eternity.

                                                                                 On the floor.

 With a gasp of fresh cold air, I woke up on the floor of my apartment, just off my bed. My head hurt with a sharp pain. I likely fell on it first. I quickly checked my body only to find no blood. Just the scar from where I had been stabbed. I sighed. There was a phantom pain there, but it was fading. Why was I? Oh.. Right. The nightmare.

 A pit in my stomach grew. Having a stressful nightmare wasn’t unheard of. You don’t just accept murdering two people under possession and nearly dying. But the last time I had such a vivid dream like that was when…

 “Oh no…” I felt like everything in me suddenly grew cold. “Oh God no. PLEASE NO.”

 I scrambled to look around my apartment for something.

 It wasn’t there. It wasn’t anywhere.

 I hurried to get dressed and ran out the door. Praying I was mistaken.

 I got to the office and came rushing to my desk

 “Trilby? You okay?” Claire asked as I ravaged my drawers, searching frantically.

 “Where is it? Oh crap, WHERE IS IT?!”

 “Trilby, calm down! What are you looking for??”

 “Where the hell is that letter?!”

 “What letter??”

 I slammed my hand on the desk, too flustered and frustrated to listen to her.

 “THE DAMN LETTER FROM NASA, CLAIRE. DID THEY SEND THAT ABOMINATION OUT OR NOT??”

 “That idol? From Defoe?? Yeah, they- Oh, Trilby, calm down they did!”

 She came over and laid a hand on my shoulder. My frantic paranoia was wavering, swaying as she tried to calm me down.

 “Trilby, Trilby, they sent it out.”

 I looked back, still scared.

 “They did?”

 “Yeah, it launched a couple of weeks ago. You got a letter.”

 I started to calm down. I could feel waves of nostalgia and serenity from Claire as she tried to help.

 “They did.. Okay.. O.. okay..” I placed my head in my hands, rubbing away the bags under my eyes. “Holy.. Alright. It was just stress…”

 “Doing better?”

 “Y...yes? No?”

 “Right now?”

 “....Yes. Yes, I’ll be okay.” I sighed. My paranoia and stress melting away. Being replaced with a settled, calm, hollow feeling. Like the still peacefulness of the dark. “I’m… better. I’m sorry.”

 “It’s okay. We all have those days.” Claire reassured me. “So, what happened?”

 “Just another nightmare… I thought.. I was worried that…”, I couldn’t find the words.

 Blurry images of the nightmare flashed through my mind. Growing more distant.

 “You thought you killed someone again?”

 “Y...yeah.” I sighed. “I thought.. The idol…”

 “It was shipped out.. It can’t hurt anyone.”

 “And you’re sure the box wasn’t opened?” “I doubt they would’ve opened it.”

 I sighed with relief.

 “Okay.. Alright.”

 Claire sat down at her desk. I noticed a piece of paper sitting under my monitor and pulled it out, only to find it was, indeed, the letter from NASA. The idol was shipped out. No one had opened the box. I started to ease up. It was okay. Siobhan wasn’t going to be killed. Everything’s alright.

 “Trilby.” one of my higher ups, a short, stocky man with thick round glasses, came and sat a folder down at my desk. I believe his name was Richard. “I’ve got a case for you. Mysterious deaths happening at the same locale. The only person people could have in suspicion, doesn’t add up. Especially cause she phoned in the deaths herself in hysterics, and no one’s that great an actor.”

 “Alright. I’ll uh, take a look at that.” I said, starting up my computer. “Thank you.”

 “We want you to take someone with you. It looks dangerous.”

 “Very well.”

 He left and I looked over the folder. Mysterious deaths happening at an antique store named Rusty Pot o’ Gold. I looked up at Claire. I usually like to go with Chris Quinn, but something told me I was going to need her help in this. Someone who would be a bit more… serious than Chris.

 “Would you like to come, Claire?”

 She looked back, a little surprised, but smiled sincerely.

 “Yeah. Why not?”

 A small drive later, and we arrived at the antique store. The first thing I noticed about it was how new it seemed. I was reminded of Siobhan for a moment.

 For a moment… I was reminded of that nightmare.

 I shook my head, trying to clear it. Nothing like that was going to happen. There are about a dozen antique shops, this side of town. What was one more? No one said this had to be Siobhan’s.

 We walked in, past the police tape and glanced about us. There were dozens of shelves, display cases, and boxes of worn antiques. Everything from hats to farming equipment was found here. Everything was full, cramped, and kind of messy. Admittedly, the owner made it feel homey. The various chandeliers, lamps, and torches, all lit and warming the place while the rugs and strange antiquated china dolls and figurines made it feel almost lived in. I was reminded, for a moment, of visiting my own grandmother’s for the holiday. I would say the shop felt cozy, if it weren’t for the obvious, damp, chill that hung in the air. A first sign of possible specters.

 We started to look around, hoping to find something unusual, or out of place. Something the magenta in our pockets would react to, though they carried a generalized warmth and a healthy glow regardless. But we didn’t get far before my previous concerns came true and Siobhan’s voice called from the back of the store.

 “Are you with the police? Be right with you!”

 “Oh no…”, I grimaced.

 “What?” Claire looked at me curiously.

 “I know her.” I said in a low voice.

 “Ex?”

 “What? No!” I rolled my eyes. “It’s Siobhan O’Malley. From the Clan Bronwyn Hotel.”

 “Oh! Ohhh.” Claire grimaced as well. “Oooh..”

 “I’ve got this.”

 “Aw, man. I came up with names and everything!”

 “Well I’ll still introduce you as your alias.”

 Claire beamed and handed me the slip of paper. I took a glance at it, frowned in disgust and handed it back.

 “And you lost your alias privileges.”

 “Aww! Why?”

 “That’s far too crass for me to say.”

 “Gosh you’re boring.”

 I shook my head and came up to the counter.

 “Siobhan?” I called out. “It’s me, Trilby.”

 “Trilby?! Come in! What are you doing here??”

 I walked in, past the counter to find a hallway leading to a small office space. Siobhan greeted me at the doorway with a smile.

 “Hello, Siobhan.” I smiled back.

 “I certainly didn’t expect this! What…” suddenly her face fell as the pieces began to connect. “Oh.. Wait.. What are you doing here?? Unless...”

 “Yes, I’m here about the deaths.” I said, growing serious. “I’ve reason to believe it’s paranormal.”

 “Into the ghost hunting business now, are we?” she looked at me with reasonable disbelief.

 “Well.. actually, more or less.” I shook my head. “Believe me, not by intention. Just something I’ve… fallen into.”

 “Oh, really?”

 “Ludicrous, but it’s a living.”

 “Hey, Trilby?” Claire called from the other room. “There’s something going on out here!”

 We head back out into the shop. Claire stood up from where she was, piece of magenta in hand.

 “So.. Who’s your friend?” Siobhan asked.

 “She’s my co-worker, Claire.” I explained.

 “Hi! You must be Siobhan.” Claire beamed and shook her hand. Always the friendly extrovert.

 “Nice to meet you.” Siobhan smiled, though it seemed out of sheer politeness.

 “So what’s wrong?” I asked.

 “Look at this.”

 Claire held up the magenta to the ceiling as high as she can. It began to grow dim. She then brought it low to the floor and it burned brighter.

 “Hm. Siobhan, there wouldn’t happen to be a basement, would there?”

 “Um. Yeah, actually.” She headed to a door in the back of the store.

 “Any extra information on this place, while you’re at it?” we followed her down the stairs.

 “Well there used to be a prison here.” Siobhan began to explain.

 I immediately grimaced. Prisons are just one of those things I’ll never fully appreciate, given my life choices. I felt uneasy standing in the old grounds of one.

 “Ooh. That makes sense!” Claire chimed in. “A lot of things could’ve happened in one of those.”

 “Actually the history is kinda scarce, but interesting.” Siobhan began, immediately falling into a sense of careful study and quiet enthusiasm. She almost sounded like a tour guide, if the subject were anything else. “The jailhouse was originally erected in 1602. The plot of land for it was actually a lot larger than the current store, starting from the sidewalk from one end of the block to another, but it was bulldozed down and divided by 1718. What we’ll find down here is some of the original brick foundation and layout of the previous jailhouse.”

 “That’s um.. Comforting.” I commented.

 We came out into a large, brick and cobblestone basement. Some old cells were polished up and filled with various cardboard boxes and crates.

 “Well it kinda gets worse.” Siobhan continued. “Apparently this basement was specifically used for… well.. Death Row.”

 An icy chill went down my spine and it wasn’t just because we were literally in the coldest room. Looking around at the iron bars, I could only imagine what it must’ve been like. Convicts simply waiting here in the musty, damp, dark, wondering when their time was going to be up. Likely a few wrongly accused. The pit in my stomach grew worse.

 “Of course it was…” I muttered, recognizing that I could now see my breath, but only barely.

 “Hm. That could be a good lead.” Claire noted.

 “Possibly.” Siobhan shrugged. “There was a few rumors surrounding the place about police brutality. A few convicts were found dead before their due date. The prison was shut down after that.”

 “So we’re looking at the possibility that several upset ghosts are still haunting, after being killed prematurely in their previous life?” I questioned, looking back at Claire and Siobhan.

 “But if it’s just a mindless ghost… Then why hasn’t it killed Siobhan? Or….us?” Claire asked.

 “Good question.” I pondered and turned to Siobhan. “Any similarities to the previous deaths?”

 “Aside that they all broke in, looking to steal stuff? Um.. No. Old, young, short, tall, man, woman.” Siobhan sighed a little. “They were all different.”

 There was a moment to think before Claire spoke up again.

 “...Maybe the ghosts have something against thieves?”

 “Wouldn’t that be kind of against the phrase, ‘thick as thieves’?” Siobhan grinned a little.

 Siobhan and Claire both looked at me curiously. I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help a small smile.

 “I find that to be somewhat of an offensive phrase.” I clarified. “I preferred to work alone.”

 “Hm.. Alone, you say?” Siobhan nodded towards Claire.

 Claire laughed a little.

 “I tagged along. Otherwise, yeah, he would’ve probably worked alone.”

 I shrugged modestly and returned to the task at hand.

 “There’s no guarantee that it’s multiples, either. We’d just need at least one to stay and become a ghost.”

 “Would it be alright if I poked around, Siobhan?” Claire asked. “Maybe I can find some piece of the corpse or an artifact he’s attached to.”

 “Oh, yeah, help yourself.” Siobhan offered politely.

 “Actually, while you’re doing that, I might as well try to find more information myself.” I sighed. “Do you have a computer I can borrow?”

 “Yeah, in the office.” Siobhan nodded to the stairs and smiled. “I’ll show you.”

 We headed back up into the office. Siobhan sat at the desk and began to start the dial-up internet.

 “So, be honest. What does one have to do to become a Ghost-buster?” she asked, with a playful grin.

 I rolled my eyes. That reference has been made around the office several times, and even though I’ve yet to see the actual movie myself, I still know so much of it, picking it up in passing conversation.

 “Well you don’t have to wear a ridiculous jumpsuit.” I started to explain, earning a giggle from the other. “Secondly, I don’t think you’d want me for a reference on the job interview. It um.. Wasn’t exactly the best.”

 “Oh.. Really? Is it all that bad?”

 “Mine was at least. I hear it’s different for everyone. Besides, it’s a boring desk job most of the time.” I shrugged. “Half the time chasing down the paranormal isn’t even as thrilling as movies make it out to be.”

 “Oh, it can’t be all that terrible.” Siobhan grinned, obviously still trying to hold onto some silly romantic idea she had of the whole thing. “I’m sure it must be a lot of fun at times. Or at least a few good stories to share.”

 I decided to spare her the retelling of one obnoxious, love-sick, school boy.

 “Well.. Perhaps I’m just unlucky.” I simply told her. “Claire would know better than I.”

 “Hm. Maybe I’ll ask her opinion.” Siobhan chuckled. “She’s nice, by the way.”

 “She’s the nicer of the people in the office, at least.” I agree. “A little absent minded.”

 “Hm, sounds like someone else we know.”

 I chuckle.

 “Okay. Not that bad.”

 “So… What’s her.. thing?”

 “‘Her thing?’” I looked at Siobhan, perplexed.

 “Well I mean, I doubt any normal person could be right for the job.”

 “Ah. Well, she’s a um.. Clairvoyant.”

 “Claire the clairvoyant?” Siobhan grinned, though incredulous.

 I shook my head and chuckled.

 “As silly as it sounds, she’s actually really good at what she does.” I replied.

 “She reads minds?”

 “Somewhat. She’s said it’s a little more complicated than that. But basically it’s about what you’d expect. Read minds. Telepathy. Senses ghosts. Um.. Feels…. vibrations or something?” I shrugged. I never really understood it myself, though I had tried to read up on it.

 “Hmm. Well, the internet’s up now. Here you go.”

 We traded places. I sat down and began to search. Siobhan made herself comfortable on the desk. I checked reports on the previous deaths. No leads there. The victims were all just as varied as Siobhan explained. Mostly hooligans. Nothing similar.

 ‘Rookies, the lot of them.’ I thought to myself, reading through their reports. ‘No wonder they got caught.’

 I tried looking for information on the jailhouse. The deaths that occurred were equally varied. The only thing any of them had in common was that they all appeared to have been horribly beaten to death. Everything from cracked ribs to broken bones. One was even killed with his skull bashed in. To be fair, my stomach was somewhat weak to read in more detail what all had happened. The chief of police at the time, a man by the name of Brutus J. Ustyss, was held in suspicion for the deaths, but never brought to court.

 Suddenly the website I was searching turned blank and then the screen flickered and went black.

 “Wha-?” I sighed in frustration and Siobhan did as well.

 “I’m sorry, Trilby. The computer blinks out, sometimes.”

 “Well..” I checked my watch. It was late into the afternoon. Soon enough I would have to stop. “I suppose I should go check on Claire. After that, we’ll try to gather more information elsewhere. I’ve been meaning to pay the library a visit, anyway.”

 We headed back out of the office.

 “You know, I’m still curious how someone as infamous as you landed a job as a paranormal investigator.” Siobhan started as we walked into the main room of the shop. “I mean, did you always want to be one? Or did you want something more?”

 “Honestly? I wouldn’t have ever wished for something as ridiculous as this.” I sighed. “I yearn for the days before the Defoe Manor. Back when things were simpler. I’ll always be a thief at heart.”

 The shop suddenly began to shiver and quake. Miscellaneous merchandise began to fall off the shelves around us. I felt an icy cold hand grab my shoulder and before I realized I’m being turned around, I’m met with a brick wall of immense pain and darkness.

[mylifeasevelyn]

Orphan

Hello dear stranger, it’s me, Evelyn. Yeah, it’s been a long time... I’ve written a lot of drafts throughout the past couple of months, but I could never finish them or wrap my thoughts properly... until today.

The past 15 months have all been about rediscovering myself after breaking free from my abuser. I truly thought it was going to be an easy transition, but fuck no, it wasn’t. The first six months were shit ‘cause she kept trying to contact me and trying fuck me up psychologically, and the following months were confusing, to say the least. Too much shit went down and thanks to the few years of free therapy I got from my shitty university, I’ve been processing everything without resorting to self destruction in the process. Ever since I broke contact with my abusive mother/the demon who cannot be named/former wife to my dad, my father and I have been sort of trying to bond as father-daughter. We have never been truly close and I truly can’t remember why ‘cause I cannot remember my childhood or teenage years. My memory is hazy from back then due to all the abuse and trauma I endured at such a young age. Anyways, overall, my life was going from ugh to meh (depression much? Lol)

Shit started to hit the fan on October 30th, 2019. I remember that day clearly because of what happened the following day... anyways, I remember asking my shrink to give a call asap. Within 30 minutes she gave me a call. I was studying at the library at the time. I exited the place and made my way to the closest place where I could speak privately. Long story short, I told her my depression was making a huge return. I was slowly but surely losing interest in the things I was doing, regardless of my feeble attempts to keep myself sane in the process. After she hang up, I kept thinking about how I no longer had anything to fight for. No real sense of family, no real sense of friends, nada. Not even a fucking a pet to come back home and take care of or something (although having a pet while being in this mental state is not my kinda thing to do tbh.) It was in that moment that I remembered that over ten years ago, I used to work as a waitress to grab some cash to eventually travel to Buenos Aires and see My Chemical Romance live, which I did (hell yeah.) Fuck, but that shitty dream of seeing them live again had ended there when the band broke up. October 31st came and well, y’all know what happened already. Having them back shook my world and gave me another reason to keep fighting this mental illness and all the other bullshit I’m still going through. The following weeks became more bearable, but still, something wasn’t right. Another month went by. It was a Wednesday midnight, I was about to get to bed when I got a text from my father, back at it again with the suicidal thoughts. He’s done this for the last couple of years, the first time affecting me so bad that I had a panic attack (fyi, we live in different cities, I can’t just go and see him right away.) Again, thanks to therapy, I’ve learnt how to take a step back and see things with a better perspective. After reading his text, I once again took the role of parentified child and tried my best to comfort him, and insisting on him getting therapy. And as stubborn as he is, he said no and started making excuses and me, as patient and comforting as I know I can be, I kept telling him that I couldn’t always be there for him and it would make me feel more at ease if he would just freaking go and see a professional. I gave him links to read and find the right therapist for him and all that jazz. I also told him that if he wasn’t gonna do it for him, then he should at least do it for his daughter. The following day he sent me pictures of him having a great fucking time with his friends while I was here, back home, fucking worried. So yeah, damn right I got angry at him. I didn’t reach back to him until the following Monday ‘cause he kept texting me and I was getting annoyed by the endless I’m okay pictures he was sending me. I gently told him to back off and give me space. More months went by and we kept being in touch and seeing each other, pretending like it was all freaking peachy, as always. Believe the lie. Remember?

January 2020 came by and a friend told me she was going to see a Queen tribute band with his dad and I thought it would be a great opportunity for my dad and I to properly bond, since we’re both passionate about music. I invited him to the show and he said yes. Another month went by and we met again. I could tell something was off about him the moment he walked through my door, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I was doing my make up while he waited for me to be done. Mind you, we don’t talk much because he is a really quiet man when he is around me, my brother and his ex-wife. The moment he started talking I could tell he was venting, and I was carefully listening and responding when necessary. And that’s when he admitted to me that he was back to doing shady businesses with criminals. Since he knows I’m not a judgy person, he told me everything in detail. The more he told me, the more my body was becoming tense, to the point where I pulled a neck muscle. But my stomach truly turned when he told me, casually, that he had given my security number to a thug as “insurance”. The moment he said that, I remembered when he, a few weeks back, had asked for my security number and I asked why he needed it, and he said it was because he’d forgotten it. I was stupid and naîve enough to trust him and he straight up lied to me, yet again. Whenever fucked up shit like this happened, child me would become paralysed or mute. Hell, I used to stutter and mumble till age 13. My teachers were always nice to me about it ‘cause I was a good, responsible student. That’s all I can remember. So, it’s safe to say that I was in shock. He kept on talking and I could see my reflection in the mirror starting to change. Shit. Not a panic attack. Not now. I don’t know how, but I managed to keep my shit together. We left my apartment. I wasn’t feeling well. Something was wrong. I couldn’t process what had just happened. I was back to being a child. I couldn’t talk. I texted my shrink. It was an SOS moment. She couldn’t call me. Fuck. My mind kept telling me what happened is wrong, this is wrong... but what exactly_ is_ wrong? Why am I feeling this way? A couple of hours went by and I was able to block those thoughts from disrupting me. I slowly started chatting again. My father was unaware of what was happening. I’m pretty sure he thought I was grumpy or something. Besides, it’s not like he hasn’t seen me this way before, lol.Either way, he never asks about me, my life. It’s always been about him since we’ve officially “reconnected.” Well, the more I think about it, since forever.

Night time had finally come and it was time for the show. Things were still awkward between my father and me, but I was somehow more relaxed ‘cause I knew I was meeting my friend and her dad. They were late and my father and I were barely talking to one another, so I said fuck it, grabbed my phone and started checking my social media to make time go by faster. And alas, my friend and her dad finally made it. What a relief. I started feeling my usual self coming back. I was back to talking and being my usual goofy self. Unfortunately, my father was being an asshole, I cracked jokes and tried my best to include him in the conversation but he wouldn’t even laugh. He would just look away, so I retreated a bit and I went back to just being awkward with him. Right before the show started, there were two empty seats with a better view right next to were my friend was sitting, so my father suggested we should go and sit there instead. I gladly agreed. I changed seats right away. I looked back, he didn’t move an inch. Instead, he was signalling me what I think meant something like “yeah, yeah, go ahead” and at this point I was looking at him, confused. I was thinking: “dude, really? We’re supposed to be here and bond. Not sit three seats away from each other. Pff” My friend’s father was cool enough to change seats with my friend so that we could sit next to each other. So, there we were, from left to right: me, my friend, her father, and my father. At the moment, I remember telling my friend: “oh good, I hope they bond and have fun since they are almost the same age and wearing the same coloured t-shirts! Bahaha” The show went on smoothly. 10/10. But part of me was still keeping an eye on my father, making sure he was having a good time. My friend would check on him and tell me if he was having fun. As I predicted, he cried while singing his lungs out to Bohemian Rhapsody. Both him and I miss her deeply. His mother, my grandmother. Anyways, the show was over and I had to get back to my dad. The moment the lights were back on and I looked at him, I could tell he had been crying, so my stupid heart and empathic soul gave him a break and tried their best to get back on more friendly terms. Unfortunately, he was back to being unfriendly with the rest of us. So much so, that he grabbed my shoulder and moved me away from my friend and her dad. Again, it didn’t feel right when he did that. That feeling felt so familiar, but I couldn’t remember why... I eventually lost sight of my friend and we got lost in the crowd that was exiting the stadium. For a moment I stopped somewhere where there wouldn’t be a shit ton of people walking all over me and I turned around to see if I see if I could find them to at least say goodbye. My father was vocal again and told me to just keep going and I insisted on trying to find them. As you can guess, I had no luck finding them. Now it was time for me and him to go to each other’s home. At this point it was almost midnight and I had to get on a bus to go back. He insisted on taking me back home (40km away.) Had I found my friend, we would’ve gone back home together, as intended. The ride back home was filled by John Williams’ score of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. I chose the music ‘cause at this point I had a headache and since I suffer from motion sickness and I was out of dramamine, I had to listen to my music. I tried making conversation and all I got back from him was “really”, “oh”, “yeah”, “oh, really?” and “oh, yes.” I was trying my best not to cry. The moment the score started playing A window to the past’s part in Mischief Managed! A memory came back. I used to lock myself up in my bedroom and play that song on loop while crying to drown out the sound of me sobbing. I also remember that whenever I cried too hard at night, the following day I’d had to wear make up on my eyes to cover my puffy eyes. I was fourteen years old back then. That was the year my father cheated on my mother and moved to my grandmother’s house, who had just passed away months prior to all that toxic drama that they always had. I didn’t cry because I wanted my mommy and daddy back together, fuck them. I cried because I had to go back to my dead friend’s house and have my happy memories turn to shit after seeing her house lifeless too. Remembering that fucked up memory puts me back on the brink of tears as I’m typing it now. Man, that’s the reason why I don’t enjoy listening to_ A window to the past _anymore. Anyways, I was back home safe and sound, him too. I was feeling mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted.  

I abruptly woke up, found myself lost in my own bed, my own bedroom, my own apartment. I shook my head as an attempt to get my shit together and that was when I heard a voice in my head say: “he was abusive yesterday. He’s abusive too, just like her.” And_ fuck_. Yes. That was it. That’s why I felt weird. That’s why I almost had a panic attack. That’s why I almost cried twice throughout the day. He’s always been this way with me. He doesn’t know shit about me. Whenever I tell him something about me, he doesn’t even remember having that conversation at all. Hell, he can’t even remember my friends names! He never asks about how I’m doing, not that I care since we’re not close whatsoever, but you know, he should at least know that since, well, he’s my fucking father. Whenever he bought me a present growing up, it was always something he liked, something he wanted me to wear. Hell, I can’t even tell how many pink pieces of clothing I’ve gotten rid of because I fucking_ hate that colour, or maybe the reason why I fucking hate that colour so much is because of how much he forced me into wearing it. He’s always been a distant father, but at least he never beat the shit out of me or told me I was fat or ugly, or that he preferred my brother over me (like my abusive mother used to do.) Then again, that doesn’t make him any less abusive. Abuse is abuse. His motto’s always been “here, have this money, do whatever.” I used to appreciate that because I thought “cool, thank you for not being nosy.” Truth is, the reason why we can’t connect, bond or whatever is because he doesn’t give a shit about me. He’s been rejoicing on the fact that I’m “on his side” now because I no longer talk to abuser n° 1. On one of my sessions, my therapist told me that the reason why abuser 1 always did her best to crush my self-steem was because she considered me competition. And I dumbfoundedly asked “competition?”. And she replied: “yes, she feels like she was to compete with you for your father’s attention.” My head exploded after that statement. Right now I can’t help but think of what she told me that way. My father has kinda well more like really, been doing kinda the same shit to me, trying to keep me as close as possible to him, to the point where he texts every other day, which he never did until now. The suicide drama, the criminal activity, and a lot more shit that I’m sick of having to deal with. Like I said before, I’ve always been on the role of a parentified child. I always had to deal with this shit _and on my own. I’ve always been the punching bag. I always had to deal with all their drama when all I wanted was to have a normal childhood. All I got instead is a suicide attempt, a decade of self-harm and a long ass history of drug and alcohol abuse, which they know nothing about because I always kept it to myself. I always felt like a burden. I always felt guilty. I was always a “crybaby” because abuser 1 used to tell me that as a kid and whenever she used to see me cry about something as an adult.

So yeah, I’m fucking done with my family. Oh, and my brother? In case you haven’t read any of my previous posts, he’s just as an asshole as the other two are. He’s violent like abuser 1, so fuck you very much, I’m okay this way. He won’t talk to me and he won’t even tell me why. The rest of my family don’t know shit about me because I was always the “quiet one” so I know for a fact that I’m most likely the black sheep for not returning to my hometown in the past year or so. Abuser 1 is very into deceiving appearances and wearing a public mask, so I know for a fact that she’s playing the victim because she can’t reach me anymore, bahaha. fml.

With this post, I can officially say that I’m done grieving the family I always wanted to have but never did. I’ve been meaning to legally change my name because my middle name is abuser’s name 1 and now that abuser 2 has used my personal information against my will to do criminal activity, I have more than enough reasons to reinvent myself in every fucking way I want and need. With that being said, if you’ve got some last name suggestions, feel free to send me suggestions. This is only the beginning of the new chapter of my life. Hopefully your new chapter is starting now or soon too, dear stranger.

                                                                                                                Never give up, always fight

                                                                                                                        Love, Evelyn