#the kind of show that will make you scream at your tv during key moments

[weaver-z]

Your severance posting has gotten me to watch it wish me luck

Oh you're going to LOVE IT

[httpsghostie]

Beneath the Surface

Part one

Part two

A/N: First post! English isn't my first language so I'm sorry in advance if there's anything wrong with the writing.

Can't stop thinking about this man, it's unhealthy at this point

Brought you something filthy, hope you enjoy

Requests are open and appreciated!

Summary: Simon, your father's best friend, shows up in the middle of the night to give you a shoulder to put your legs head on.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: smut, Simon 'Ghost' Riley x female!reader, unprotected sex (don't b silly wrap your weenie), p in v, implied age gap, choking, breeding kink (?

masterlist

NSFW below the cut

It had been an exhausting day and you felt like everything just decided to go wrong, all in one day. It started small, your sleeve getting caught in the door handle when you were cleaning the house, then it became a snowball. Accidentally hitting your foot on the corner of the bed, stumbling on the bucket and falling over it, spilling the dirty water all over the floor. At the end of the day you were overwhelmed, even the shower decided not to work properly, and you couldn't stand being near anything that could breathe. 

But there you were, endlessly trying to achieve the perfect eyeliner look because your college friends wanted to party. Failed attempts and sore eyelids lead you to a breakdown, and your attempts were soon washed away by your tears. Everything was too much and you just wanted a good night of sleep on a simple friday night. You sobbed in the bathroom as you tried to calm down, but your eyes were puffy and your face was swollen. The makeup was left on the bathroom sink and you went straight to your room to put on something more comfortable. 

Your parents weren't home, somehow when your dad was around he'd take your mom on late night dates. Simon, on the other hand, didn't have a wife or kids to come home to, and being your father's best friend, you probably saw the man even more than you saw your dad. He was almost always around when he was deployed, he had the keys to your parents house and he'd just show up. 

That wasn't exactly the best moment for him to appear in your living room when he realized the scream you let out. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare 'ya" he said. The room was lit by the TV screen and hopefully he wouldn't see your crying face. You sigh and walk to the kitchen, looking for something to eat, you end up making some popcorn and when you sneakily try to go straight back to your room, a cold hand grabs your arm. 

"Spit it out" he said. He knew you, usually you were happy and outgoing around him, and now you were just irritated and, of course, he couldn't comprehend. Your father didn't know but you were really close to Simon, he was kinda the cool uncle while your actual dad was strict and kind of annoying sometimes, Simon really made your high school years better just by being around when he could. 

"Not your business" you said, storming out. He followed your steps to your room, where you sat down on the bed and pulled a blanket over your legs, the bag of popcorn on your lap. He stood by the door frame, leaning against it, arms crossed as he eyed you. 

"Someone's grumpy" he tsked. "Come on, love, tell me what's wrong" he said as he came into the room and closed the door behind him. Something about him calling you love always caught you off guard, but now that you were in fact an adult with full knowledge of your feelings and needs, it made your stomach flip. 

"Nothing, Simon" you rolled your eyes at him as he sat in front of you on the bed. He made you a confused frown and laid a gentle hand on your knee. You could never keep things from him, his gaze burned you inside whenever he felt you were lying. "Just.. bad day, ok?" You sigh. 

"Bad day, huh?" You felt him mocking, but you couldn't care. "Elaborate." It felt so stupid to be angry because all the small things went wrong during the day, when you knew he had bigger problems to deal with in whatever army life he signed up for. 

"Everything went wrong today," you start, "I don't know, everything was either irritating me or hurting me, I even spilled the dirty water on me and the clean floor-" he cuts you off, laughing, you give him a killing stare. He holds the bridge of his nose and makes a disgusted face. 

"Have you showered?" His mood lightens you up and you chuckle, pushing him playfully. 

"Yes, I've showered." You say. "Cold shower, by the way." 

"What's wrong with the shower?" He asks and you shrug. "Aye I'll take a look at it later, 'k?" You nod. "Anything else that's bothering you?" God, it's like he could see through you. 

"I was going out with my friends," you explain shyly, "I couldn't finish my makeup and got frustrated, so I texted them saying I was sick." 

"And are you?" He tilts his head at you, you shake your head. "Why did you lie then, huh?" 

"Look I don't need a lecture on what to do, alright, Si? I just need to rest." The bag of popcorn on your lap became cold when you first took a handful to eat. 

"Want a massage?" He smirked. Of course you wanted a massage from those big, calloused hands of his that would fit perfectly around your neck. You stared at his hand and bit your lower lip, nodding. 

He gently pulled the blanket down from your legs and adjusted himself. You turned the TV on and he started to massage your feet. You let out a soft whimper as he ran his fingers against your skin, just now noticing how he shifted uncomfortably under your calves. 

Of course there was one more thing your dad didn't know: how touchy his best friend was with his daughter. You could say it was because he was a skirt chaser, or probably just touch starved, but the explanation didn't matter when his hand was traveling up your thigh under a blanket when you and your family were trying to watch a movie together. It was never more than this though, occasional touches that left you aching for him, hot and bothered. 

A movie played on the screen as he continued to massage your feet. There was something so sexual about him, the flexing muscles on his arm, his chest going up and down with his breathing, the growing bulge on his pants you could feel with your ankle and made a pool of arousal on your panties. 

Your shorts were... well, short, and he couldn't help but stare at you while you closed your eyes and imagined that monster of a man pinning you down and fucking you rough. More hums and soft whimpers escaped from your throat and they were going straight to Simon's dick. A malicious hand caressed your inner thigh and you opened your eyes with a confused, but hopeful look. He wasn't looking at you, and your stomach dropped when you saw a sex scene playing on the screen. You close your legs unsubconsciously and he looks at you. 

"'M sorry, love" he takes his hand off your thigh and chuckles. The nickname sent you over the edge, something snapping inside of you. He feels the way you shiver and how tense you seem, so he takes that bag of barely touched popcorn and places it by the bedside table and then land a warm hand on your waist. "What's on your mind, princess?" 

Well, nothing besides him naked, wasn't it obvious? But you couldn't say that, your mind was racing back and forth, and when you were unable to form a believable sentence, he caught you staring for too long. 

"Cat got your tongue?" He chuckled as his fingers traced circles on your waist. You can't remember the last time he tried doing this to you, but you know damn right you should've taken the chance to get laid, but God was it hard to understand this man. He'd tease you and pretend it was nothing, he'd leave you begging for him and say he couldn't touch you. Sometimes you just wanted to punch him for that. 

And yes, you found other ways to get satisfied. Got yourself a boyfriend during recess when neither Simon or your dad were around to pester the poor guy. But eventually they came home from wherever they were, and your father wasn't exactly happy about it, nor Simon, in fact, Simon was even more pissed than your dad. 

You couldn't say how many minutes you spent eyeing the man in front of you, but he grew impatient. The hand on your waist was gone and now spreading your legs to his liking, his body now towering over you. 

"If you don't tell me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours I'm gonna have to find out for myself." He said in a low, seductive voice. 

You gave in. Your hands grabbed the back of his neck and you kissed him feverly, a sloppy, wet kiss, he pressed his body onto yours and you could feel how hard he was on your lower body. But Simon was eager, he couldn't wait for it anymore, he needed to be inside of you. 

He yanked your shorts off, throwing it somewhere across the room, you also took his shirt off, revealing his perfect toned muscles and the scars that adorned it. He unbuckled his belt with one hand as the other one successfully removed your shirt. He didn't even bother taking his pants off, he just pushed them and his boxers down enough to let his dick free. He aligned it with your wet cunt, smearing your arousal all around your folds. 

"'S fucking wet already, huh?" He rubbed two fingers on your clit as he jerked himself off with his spare hand. "Can't imagine what you were thinking 'bout" he smirked. 

He put his tip on your entrance, looking at you for a sign of approval. You nod. He slowly pushed his length inside of you until it bottomed out. You clenched around him as you moaned. His body started moving faster as you adjusted to his size. He was big, you've felt it before with your hands, but you've never actually seen it. 

"Fuck, Si," you moan, "faster." You sounded like a desperate whore and he enjoyed it. You weren't exactly used to him not teasing you until you were on the verge of tears, so when he started to pound into you, you couldn't hold your moans. 

"Needy little slut." He grabbed your hips in place, almost using you like a fleshlight. He groaned, his chest rising with the heavy breathing. Fuck, that man was hot. 

His hands let go of your hips and held the back of your knees, so you were spreading even more. He watched as his dick abused your swollen and wet cunt, and he could cum just at the sight of his pretty princess getting ruined by his fat cock. You felt the cold metal on his belt hit the back of your thighs as he gave you deep thrusts. 

One of his hands traveled to your folds, his thumb drawing circles on your sensitive clit. As he was fucking your brains out, you dig your nails on his shoulders and earned a few moans along with a smirk. 

You were both really close when you heard a car park in the driveway, your eyes widened at Simon as he didn't seem to have listened to the sound of your parents getting home. 

"Fuck, Simon, my parents" you tried to push him away but his grip on you got stronger. He placed both of his hands on your neck and squeezed it. 

"Shut up" he whispered, not altering his pace. "Cum f' me, love" he demanded. Your hand rubbed your clit as he fucked you even harder. It was impossible to hold it back anymore and you reached your climax under him, your legs shaking from the overstimulation of his non-stopping thrusts. You heard the front door getting open. "'M gonna fill this pretty cunt of yours, huh? 'S that what you want?" He whispered in your ear. You could only slightly nod. "Good girl." He gave you a few more deep, shaky thrusts as he spilled his load into you and pulled out. 

"Y/n? We're home" you heard your mom shout from downstairs. Simon quickly pulled his pants up and put his shirt back on, throwing you your shorts that were across the room, tossed on the ground. He quickly got out and went to the bathroom, pretending he was fixing the shower. 

"Simon?" Your dad shouted in a worried and anxious tone, he obviously saw his friend's car in the driveway, and what was his friend doing here in the night when his daughter was alone? 

"Here" he shouted back from the bathroom, your dad ran upstairs to check if everything was alright and found Simon trying to fix the shower. 

"Everything alright? Heard noises" your dad asked. 

"Y/n gave me a call, she wanted to shower but apparently the shower wasn't working" you overheard Simon explain. He stepped out, turned it on and let the water run for a bit. "It's working now." 

You have absolutely no clue what the fuck he did with the shower in such a short period of time, but the effort was well appreciated. He tried to excuse himself out, but your dad insisted for him to stay the night. You waited in your room until your parents went to bed to get out, the back of your thighs were marked from his belt and your neck was red from his grip, not to mention the oozing cum on your thighs that your panties and shorts weren't able to hold. 

Simon was in the guest room when he heard you walk to the bathroom to get yourself cleaned, and of fucking course he wouldn't let you do it alone, he's finally got a taste of you after all these years holding back and he won't stop until he's fucking his cum inside you again as the running water muffles the sounds of how good he makes you feel.

[dangerousstrawberryshark]

Day 28: Size Kink

A/N: Hello, my 🍓Little Strawberries🍓! Welcome to day 28 of kinktober! Steve with a beard is daddy-

WELCOME TO DAY 28 OF KINKTOBER

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Male reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1681

Summary: You and Steve like each other but couldn’t confess. One night, no one is at the compound, so you and Steve decide to watch a movie. A certain scene came on, and you two had some fun.

I hope you enjoy it! Sorry if it’s bad, and for any errors that are discovered. Many errors.

If you like this and wanna read more, you can check out my masterlist.

Keys:

M/N: Male name

R/M: Romantic movie (with a sex scene-)

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MINORS DNI and FEMALE READERS… I’ll ALLOW YOU TO READ MY FICS BUT DO NOT FETISHIZE ANY OF MY STORIES

Not sure if this is good. I have never watched any romantic movies, so if you know a movie with a smexy scene, then use that.

Netflix and Chill with Steve- and this is short. And, you’re 5’5-

TAGS: @gayhopefullove @softboy5393 @spnfanboy777 @pietroshusband

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Currently, no one was at the tower, leaving only you and Steve. Bored, you decide to ask Steve if he would like to watch a movie. “Hey, Steve! You wanna watch a movie?” you said, entering into the living room to see Steve reading a book. (Or scrolling on his phone)

“Mmm, sure? I have nothing else to do.” Steve said, putting down the book he was reading (or phone). You smiled, Steve blushes but looked away before you could notice. You noticed but didn’t speak of it.

You placed yourself next to Steve, who was freaking massive. He was so tall that you’re a dwarf compared to him and more muscular. That serum really did give him a massive kick.

“What about Netflix? They have some good movies,” you suggested turning on the TV, Steve agreed with you cause he didn’t have any suggestions either.

“Also, what kind of movie genre? Action, romance, horror?” you said. Steve thought about it, wanting to make things romantic between you two, he picked romance.

Once on Netflix, you went to the romance section and began to scroll through countless movies/TV shows. “Mmm, what about this one? R/M?” you said, clicking on the movie. Steve read the description of the movie and decided to watch it.

During the movie, you decided to lay your head on Steve’s lap. He couldn’t process what was happening and was blushing so hard that his white skin looked like a tomato. Then, a certain scene appeared.

By the time the scene came on, you have fallen asleep, but Steve was still wide awake. He watched as the two on the screen were getting it on. Moans and groans screamed from the TV as they were having adult fun.

Steve blushed and tried to get you off his lap without waking you up. ‘NO! NOT NOW!’ Steve screamed in his head as his cock was growing hard. Steve was trying to calm down but was failing horribly.

You slowly opened your eyes to the commotion. You felt something hard and thick pressing against your head. “Huh?” you looked up to see a sex scene playing on the screen. You blushed and looked down at Steve’s lap to see a thick bulge.

“Steve?” you said in a whisper, moaning can still be heard in the background. Steve had his hands on his head as his cock grew harder. “I-I’m so sorry! M/n! I didn’t mean for this to happen! It just-”

Steve was cut off by your lips pressing against his. His eyes widen in shock at the feeling of your soft, plump lips against his. “It’s okay, Steve. You don’t have to be embarrassed. If you like me… well, just know that I like you back!”

Steve felt like doing backflips at your confession. His eyes shined with happiness and he immediately smashed his lips against you. You both engaged in a heated make-out as your tongues entered each other’s mouths. Steve’s beard against your chin.

You positioned yourself on Steve’s lap, you could feel his hard cock pressing through the clothing. “I’m glad you feel the same, M/N! You don’t know how long I wanted for this moment to happen!” Steve said, pulling back with a string of saliva.

You smiled with some tears threatening to pour out. “Mmm.” you buried your head into the crook of his neck. You liked the size difference, it made you feel small. “Now, how about we deal with your little friend down here? Or should I say, big friend,” you said, grinding against Steve’s clothed cock.

Well, now that things are no longer awkward, Steve decided to get a little rough. “Yeah, my big friend down here wants to play. It wants to play with something tight and wet.” Steve growled, pressing his clothed cock against your ass.

“I don’t mind helping. I fit the description your big friend needs,” you said, latching your lips onto his again. Steve turned off the TV and carried you to his room. You wrapped your legs around his waist for support. This was the time you both have been waiting for.

Steve kicked the door open and placed you on the bed. He pulled back and began to undress. You stared at his muscular body, your cock was twitching from anticipation. Steve had big muscles, biceps, and pecs that made your mouth water.

Then came his pants. Steve was packing a lot down there. “You like what you see, baby boy? Don’t worry, you’ll be getting it soon.” Steve said, getting on the bed and putting his hands on his head.

You began to remove your clothes with your underwear. The cold air makes your cock which made it twitch. You hopped on the bed and crawled towards Steve, getting between his legs. “Your treat is waiting, M/n.”

You slowly removed the layer of clothing. Then, Steve’s cock popped out, slapping you in the face. “Oh my God…” you were absolutely shocked by the girth and size. Heat was radiating from the thing.

Steve smirks as he saw you drooling for his meaty cock. “I see you like my cock? Magnificent 15-inches.” Steve says, grabbing his cock and slapping it on your right cheek. You whined at the feeling of his cock hitting your face.

You grabbed his cock by the base and slowly began to jerk him off. Steve groans in approval. “Come on, baby boy. I need that wet mouth of yours.” Steve says, grabbing your head and shoving it down your throat.

You gagged and choked until you regained control. Whatever you couldn’t take into your mouth, you jerked off. Tongue licking the sides and tip. Tracing a sensitive vein that had Steve shivering.

This was the first real pleasure, Steve had seen in 7 decades besides him fucking a fleshlight and jerking off to the thought of you. Steve moans and groans in pleasure as you begin to massage his large baseballs.

“You’re -fuck- so good, baby boy!” Steve said, entangling his fingers in your hair. It felt like you sucking the life out of him. You could feel his cock twitch in your mouth. “I’m gonna cum!”

Ropes of cum shot down your throat. His ball throbs as it pumps out more cum. Your cock came at the same time.

You pulled back from his cock to see it glistening in saliva and some cum on the sides. “Fuck, that was amazing, baby boy. That was the greatest load that I ever had.” Steve said, chest heaving up and down.

But you wanted more.

You began to jerk Steve’s cock off, it instantly grew hard again. “W-what are you doing?” Steve said, feeling exhausted after the first load. “I know, but my ass is twitching for this piece of meat to be inside.”

Steve was about to respond before you directed his tip to the entrance of your tight ass. “Don’t worry, I was playing with myself earlier.” you imagined the dildo to be his cock but nothing would prepare you for Steve’s cock.

You slowly tried to ease your way onto his cock but you accidentally slipped. “A-ahh! Ngh!” you moaned as his cock hit your prostate directly. Steve groans at the tightness and warmth of your velvet walls.

“You’re so tight!” Steve’s eyes rolled back as he grabbed your hips and began to thrust into you. The sounds of skin-slapping, moans, and groans bounced off the walls. You looked down at your stomach to see a bulge.

Just from the sight of the bulge, your cock was ready to blow. “Mmm, d-daddy!” you collapsed onto Steve’s chest and began to play with his nipples. Twisting and rubbing them. Steve felt his cock on the brink.

You left small kisses along his neck. Steve got up and gave you more of a good fucking. The bulge was becoming more prominent. “F-fuck… I think I’m gonna cum again!” Steve says, pushing his cock deeper into you.

“Y-you’re… so deep in me!” you moaned as his cock was fucking you dumb. “At this rate, I’ll get pregnant!” Steve’s cock throbbed at the thought of breeding you, but he knew it wasn’t possible to get you pregnant since you were both males.

“Yeah? You want to carry my kids? You’ll look so beautiful carrying my kids. So, TAKING MY FUCKING LOAD!” Steve yells. Smashing his lips on yours. He gave one final thrust before filling you to the brim.

Your cock came at the same time from the amazing feeling. You pulled back and looked down to see a bulge had formed. “Come lay down with me,” Steve says, pulling cock out of your abused hole, some cum pouring out.

“I love you, Steve,” you said, cuddling yourself into his muscular arms, resting a hand on his chest. “I love you too, M/n,” Steve says, pulling you closer to him and squeezing your cheek.

THE END!

A/N: I hope you enjoy this day! Bye, my 🍓Little Strawberries🍓!

[princessofprocrastination]

Neglected (Dream)

MASTERLIST 

summary : it had became a habit that you’d show up at his house, but as time goes by, your efforts go to waste (angst) (fluff)

it didn’t matter if you were pretty busy or exhausted that day, you’d still show up at your boyfriend’s house no matter what. 

it used to be a ‘sometimes, only if you weren’t busy’ thing, just coming to make sure he has eaten, checking on sapnap as well and hanging out with them. but as the clock ticks, and your relationship prolonged, you seemed to always be at his house. 

sapnap never thought you were a bother. yeah, you asked. you didn’t want any of the two to feel uncomfortable at the fact that you were there often. but, sapnap reassured you that the both of them loved you being there. 

and also because you cooked for them all the time. 

being done with school for a while, you started working and starting your career, making you extremely busy, just like the two boys. sometimes, you don’t even show up until late. 

not that they were sleeping anyways. those two seemed to stay up late all the time. 

you enjoyed making food for them, trying new recipes, sending their plate of food to their rooms as they stream or are in a discord call with their friends. it made you happy seeing their eyes light up from seeing a hot and steaming plate of food delivered to them.

especially if it was homecooked. yum. 

but, as months go by, you start to notice a barrier between you and your boyfriend. now, you weren’t going to lie and say the both of you had been together for a long time, being long time partners, but you thought the honeymoon phase was going to last a little while longer. 

of course, you tried asking sapnap about it, texting him from time to time, making sure he didn’t get upset over a game or an argument online. 

nevertheless, sapnap himself didn’t know what was going on with his bestfriend. he thought dream was just doing fine, not knowing you felt that way. 

you told him not to worry about it, let alone talk to dream about it. you didn’t want it to be a big deal.

it wasn’t a big deal anyways, you just noticed the change of atmosphere. 

you still came over everyday, though. making food, making sure to make extra for leftovers just in case they woke up and got hungry and you weren’t there to make food. 

though it had become a routine at this point, the only person who seemed to appreciate it was sapnap. your boyfriend, however, seemed cold. 

“hey, i have food” you walked in the room after knocking at your boyfriend’s door. you had sent the other plate to sapnap’s just minutes ago. 

he barely gave you a glance, just only clicking the mute button after hearing you come in. that was how you knew he heard you. 

you set down the plate on his desk, where you had always made sure to clear out for him to eat while on his pc. you set down a cup right next to the plate with his drink, full. 

after which, you sat down on his bed, like you usually would to do some catching up on your laptop. usually it would be work since that was the only time you had during the day to finish it.

a couple hours later you finished you work and decided it was time to watch a couple youtube videos to reward yourself after a long day. 

you made sure you had on your airpods before watching anything so that it didn’t disrupt dream working. 

as you were watching the new mrbeast video, the one where he runs from a  bounty hunter, you start to catch a cold. 

not thinking of it, a small sneeze came out of you. and then another one came right after that. 

it was the type of sneeze that irritated the back of your throat, which usually meant that there was more sneezes to come and you were sure that you were falling ill. 

your eyes closed, as you tried to recover from your sneezes. you heard clicking from your boyfriend’s side. as you opened your eyes, you weren’t expecting him to be staring at you. 

thinking he was going to say ‘bless you’, you gave him a small smile. that was until he shouted at you. 

“can you shut up, karl’s entire stream literally heard you.” he raised his voice at you. you froze. 

sure, you’ve heard him scream from time to time, being mad or frustrated on his game but never to you. he had always seemed so kind and sweet to you. 

“fuck, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to.” you apologised. you genuinely didn’t mean for anyone to hear you, not especially if it was obvious to people that someone was accompanying dream in his room.

“just get out before you make another noise.” he reprimanded you. 

you stared at his figure as he went back to his game before picking up your laptop and leaving the room. 

you sat on the couch in his living room, trying to process what had just happened in that room. 

you calmed yourself before you started crying. you were expecting the day to end well, with you cuddling your boyfriend at the end of the night. 

things don’t usually go your way, do they? 

you were thinking of leaving. it was getting late, anyway. but you hadn’t cooked the next meal for the boys. 

so you did just that. you cooked a simple meal, putting it on the counter, leaving a note to tell them to put the plate into the microwave before eating. 

and off you go, back to your house. 

you weren’t offended, you’d say. you were sure he was mad at a game before getting off on you. you didn’t take any of his screaming to heart. 

what sucked at that moment was that you got a fever on top of your cold and no one to cuddle you. 

you didn’t get sick often, but when you did, you always had dream there for you. 

what you did have this time was sapnap texting you, thanking you for the food that you left on the table. 

the next day came and lucky you, it had been a weekend, and you planned to stay home all day, trying to fight off this stupid cold. 

you got on your phone to order food for the boys, trying to make sure they had food today. though it’s only the afternoon and they’ve probably just woken up, you wanted them to wake up to food waiting. 

after you ordered some mcdonalds for them, making sure to text sapnap about it. shockingly enough, he was awake and already showered. he thanked you for the food but questioned when you were going to come, noticing that there was only two meals. 

sick, can’t get out of bed. you texted him. 

what have you done today? he asked.

showered, and then back to bed. you told him truthfully.

eat and then take your meds. he advised you. you told him you’d do it later when you have the energy to. he didn’t try to go against you knowing how damn stubborn you are. 

also, he knew that you needed the extra rest and getting up while you’re still tired may result you to get into an accident or faint. 

so, he trusted you to remember to eat your medicine later. 

dream honestly didn’t bother asking why you were missing from his house that day. sure, he did notice, since the one who always giving him food while working had been you, and you didn’t do that. 

at some point during the day, dream became exhausted, or hungry, but was frustrated that he had no longer you to rely on for energy that day. 

that day wasn’t the only day you were absent from his house, it dragged out to days. 

the weird thing was, he didn’t get a single text from you all week, and that made his question if you were okay or not. 

“dude, get out of your cave and let’s watch a movie.” sapnap came in dream’s room in attempt to get him to accompany him in watching a movie with him in the living room. 

after some time, dream gave in and turned off his pc, finally getting up to stretch and leave his room. 

“there’s food for you on the table.” sapnap told dream. it must’ve been you who ordered it. but to be honest, he was missing the home cooked meals you always made for him. 

so he asked sapnap where you had been all week. 

“you’re not serious, are you?” sapnap asked dream. dream gave him a confused look back. 

“it took you this long to ask?” sapnap ranted about you being sick all week and not allowing him to visit in case you accidentally gave him the illness. 

he ranted about the fact dream didn’t bother to ask until now, when he selfishly said he missed your cooking, like you weren’t good for anything else but to feed him like a parent would. 

sure, sapnap and him had been friends for years, but that didn’t excuse him for being an idiot and making stupid decisions, especially about you. and for what? your sneezed being too distracting for the man. 

“fuck.” dream said. 

“yeah, fuck.” sapnap spat out, out of breath from ranting and not stopping to pull a breath. 

dream and him sat in silence, the weird kind of silence. the one where it’s obvious they were thinking of what to do next. 

sapnap sighed. “dude, seriously? go.” he told dream to go to your house to take care of you. 

dream ran to his room, grabbing his keys, wallet and phone and went straight to his car to drive to your place. 

on the way, he grabbed some of your favourite comfort food and flowers. he needed to make it up to you. 

he seriously got mad at you for sneezing? what a fucker. 

he opened your door with the spare key you gave him, making sure  he was quiet so he didn’t disrupt you if you were sleeping on the couch like you tend to do. 

he say the top of your head poking out slightly from the side of the couch. you were laying down on it, snuggled in one of your favourite blankets, watching tv.

“hey.” he slowly said, walking slowly to you, not really wanting to do anything abruptly in case you were mad. 

he saw your head move to tilt towards the voice. obviously you knew who was in your living room at the moment, you just weren’t expecting him to bring stuff. 

you sat up on the couch, bringing the blanket with you, making sure you were fully covered, not in the mood for the cold air to hit your feet. 

“i come bearing gifts.” dream said. 

“i see that.” you told him. why was he stating the obvious? 

“look, i know this doesn’t make up for basically neglecting yo- no, not basically, totally neglecting you, but i thought this was a good way to start?” dream. 

you sat and stared at him for a while, thinking about what to do. 

who were you kidding, you were soft for him. he could literally break your bones and you’d forgive him, especially when he came with flowers. 

“you know flowers are my weak spot.” you pouted at him, after a while of silence. 

dream sighs in relief. “and that’s exactly why i bought them.” he said before bring you in for a hug. 

you pushed him away, telling him that you still had a fever and you didn’t want it to go to him. 

“if i do get it, then you’ll have to take care of me next time. for now, i’m taking care of you.” he told you, giving you a kiss on the forehead. 

“tell me what you want, i’ll do anything for you.” he told you. you smiled at him before hugging him close to you, pulling him into a comfortable position to continue watching the show you had on your tv.

[forcefully-awoken]

This is for the BNHArem’s villain AU collab!

Gang Orca x Reader

Rated: Teen? Mature? This is new territory for me.

CW: Sex work, kidnapping, idk stockholm syndrome?

The corruption of Kugo Sakamata is not the prolonged, drawn out affair the news has portrayed it to be. It wasn’t quietly brewing under his skin, needled at by the whispers and stares that plagued him. He was a good man, up until the point where he wasn’t. He was a kind man, until something inside of him snapped. It was as fast as the moment the first domino falls. The goodness is there.

Until it isn’t.

There’s a car alarm blaring outside your apartment.

It’s been like this for weeks now. There’s nothing else to do but get up, to go about your life as though nothing has changed when everything is different. It’s almost time for your stream, you note as you walk by your kitchen, ignoring your grumbling stomach to turn on the tv first. It’s still on the news station, just like when you turned it off last night.

If you can’t save the world, you might as well listen to it crumble.

You move back to the kitchen, trying to figure out what you have that will make an even half way satisfying dinner. Fuck, it’s been weeks since you were able to get to the shops. You settle for some ramen with an egg and some questionable vegetables on top. Waiting for the water to boil you can hear the news trickling in.

**Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before.**

**One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.**

The heroes? You can’t decide if the anchor is optimistically naive or just plain stupid. You snort, stirring the noodles into the boiling water. The heroes haven’t been seen in ages, the top ten falling one by one to more and more villains. You’ve even heard talk of heroes becoming the villains.

**Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary.**

**One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.**

“Yeah, no shit,” You talk back to the tv, preparing your dinner before walking carefully over to the couch with it. You want to turn it to a different channel, see if anything happier is on but you don’t. Can’t. You tell yourself it’s plain need, that you have to check to make sure it’s not your apartment in the path of destruction.

Lies.

You can’t turn it off because you don’t want to. You don’t want to because it’s become an addiction, like watching videos of disasters on the internet. Your food burns the roof of your mouth when you shovel it in but you can hardly tell. Ugh. You’ll need to go shopping this week.

Setting the dishes in the sink for later you turn the tv off, resigning yourself to an excursion this week. It’s not apocalyptic outside yet, but you don’t want to turn the risk of getting mugged, or worse. Whatever you need can wait until tomorrow though, you think, stepping into your bathroom to shower, put on some makeup for your stream.

Streaming isn’t exactly how you thought you would make money but it pays and it keeps you inside, keeps you safe. Once you deem yourself pretty enough you get the show on the road. Easy, light stream today.

You don’t even think you’ll need to take off your underwear.

“Would I ever fuck a villain?” You laugh as you read the question, absentmindedly tweaking a nipple as you do. You can hear the ping of donations stream in when you give a little shudder of pleasure. “Sure, some of them are pretty hot. You ever seen that Gang Orca? I bet he’s packing.”

It ends with little fanfare after that, and soon enough you're back in bed, staring at the ceiling as sleep eludes you. There’s noises outside, loud shouting, what sounds like glass breaking. Just one more stream, just enough to save up to move into a different neighborhood, a safer one. Then maybe you can rest.

Morning comes before you want it to.

You pick plain clothes, a little form fitting so people can’t grab you, but loose enough to move in if you have to run. You keep your head down as you lock your door behind you, moving with quick, sure steps. The store is out of a few things but you manage to stock up on essentials for another few weeks. You did it, thank fuck, nobody even hassled you that much.

Right when you slip your key into the door is where it all goes wrong.

“Don’t scream,” the voice behind you is low, and despite your better instincts you listen. “Open the door and I won’t hurt you.”

Yet, you think but obey anyways. There’s a presence behind you, large and overly looming. A large hand drops onto your shoulder right when you hear the door shut. There’s something digging into your shoulder and a quick, darting glance reveals- claws?

Oh, no.

It can’t be.

You stumble forward in an attempt to get away, twisting your body around. It’s a nightmare come true- not just a villain in your home but one of the worst ones. He’s so much larger in real life than you thought he would be. So much more intimidating when you finally meet his red eyes.

Kugo Sakamata.

Gang Orca.

Standing in your living room.

The last thing you see before you faint is his hands coming towards you.

It’s too quiet when you wake up now.

Your room is too dark, save for the open laptop on your desk. Your arms are tied to your desk chair, legs as well. You can see him in the room, but you know he has to be there. Nothing appears to have been taken. You have no idea what’s going on, until he steps back into view.

“Hello there,” His voice is smoother than you would have imagined from before. God, he looks even taller from this angle. Your neck strains to look up at him all the way. His hand comes up to cup your cheek lightly, some sort of parody of a lover’s touch.

You only barely manage to hold back your shudder of revulsion.

He can see it in your eyes though, and his hand jerks back as if he’s been burned. Good, you hope something has hurt him. He’s already shattered your limited sense of security- hostage, in your own home. If you make it out of this alive you won’t even be able to move. He turns away from you, stepping to your computer. You can’t see around him, he blocks out all the light as he stands between the screen and you.

“Do you know why I’m here, little one?” You had the way the diminutive name sounds as it falls from his mouth, almost soft and bordering on sweet. You remain silent, fear locking your jaw shut tight. He continues on without you anyways, “You should. It was only last night when you said what you want from me.” He steps to the side, allowing you to see what’s on your computer now.

He’s started a stream.

Shit, you knew your dumb mouth would come back to haunt you one day. You just didn’t think it would be like this. Your mouth drops open but no words come out. Vaguely, you can read the chat- lots of concern but those messages are being drowned out by people asking, no telling, Gang Orca to do all sorts of depraved things to you. The fucking perverts.

“You could tell them where you are,” He sits behind you on the bed now, arms coming up to wrap around you, caging you in. “Or you can watch how quickly the average man turns when there’s something he thinks he wants.”

You’re still clothed, but you can feel the heat of him through it. How is he so warm? He shifts forwards even more, a hand coming up to hold your jaw, showing you off to the screen. You feel even more naked than during your actual streams. You feel exposed, every nerve like a livewire beneath your skin.

“I could kill you, you know,” His voice sounds almost detached, like he’s bored with the situation, “I think they would like that.” The grip on your jaw tightens. “You can already see what they want me to do to you, how they want me to defile you. There’s almost nobody concerned with your safety now.”

Your eyes strain as you take in the chat, blinking back tears as you realize he’s right. There’s nobody asking you if you’re alright now- only demands, promises to pay whatever the cost is if Gang Orca will only get the show on the road. You wonder why the site hasn’t automatically shut down your stream, after all one of the most notorious villains is right there, begging to be caught.

Until you catch sight of how many people are watching.

“You’re too popular to turn off,” There’s a hint of something sad in his voice, regret mixed with a fondness you can’t place. It’s like he expected this, like this is all going according to plan. “They don’t want to shut down what’s making them money hand over fist.”

You hate to acknowledge that he’s right. The stupid fish fuck is exactly on the mark. The site takes a portion of your donations, and the amount it’s at right now isn’t just your own personal record, it’s a sitewide one. There’s no way they’ll shut you down, try to get you help. Not when there’s still money to be made.

“Don’t you see?” His voice tickles your ear as he whispers into it. You don’t want to see. It’s like you can predict what he will say next. You don’t want him to confirm it, to confirm the worst fears inside of you.

“It’s not just the villains that are bad,” Between his arms and his voice you can almost forget that it feels like the whole world is watching you now, watching this corruption. “I’m evil, but at least I’m honest. I won’t touch you unless you ask me to. How many of them can say that?”

He’s right, of course he is. How else could the world get this bad? Someone along the way stopped caring, and then another, until there were more eyes looking away than could be helped. Easier to ignore the wrong and look out for number one, after all isn’t that what you had been doing?

“Join me,” he breathes, “Be free.”

You don’t hesitate, not now. You let the next two words slip from your mouth not without thought, but free from it. The last tether of your sanity snaps.

“Kiss me.” It’s a plea, one he obeys with a vicious grin. His mouth presses to yours.

The next domino falls.

[shhh-no-ones-home]

the boy next door bucky barnes x reader

+++++++++

i know he has like an actual new york apartment in the show but i thought this idea was cute and kinda ran with it. in this they live in the same building rather than like his town house in the show.

also this might be the only one shot out for a little bit but ill be back soon i hope!

Song: Superman by loaded (duff mckagan)

tag list: @cynic-spirit +++++++++

Another day another dollar, right? One more day of work before a long holiday weekend away from the office and away from the stresses of life. It was almost worth the salary in more ways than one. Yes I was comfortable now that I'd been promoted but it also allowed me to move into a new apartment over the last two months. Apartment 25, right next door to a very handsome neighbor who id only ever had the pleasure of seeing once.

It was no more than a passing in the hall when I was still moving in. He had nodded his head followed by a soft hello as I was coming up the stairs. My door was propped open and half my furniture was sitting around the kitchen inside the door. I had noticed him glance in, a small smile coming to his face as he dug his gloved hand into his jeans for his house key. The only reason I knew he existed outside of that was the fact that he left his TV on at night. But I knew how that was. Some type of noise to make a lonely apartment seem less empty.

I wanted so badly to go introduce myself, to say hello or invite him over for dinner but it never felt right. I was the new neighbor after all and no one else had made an attempt at introducing themselves either. Besides, I wasn't even completely moved in yet. Two months and I still had boxes strewn about, some filled with books, some filled with kitchen utensils I hadn't needed quite yet. In all actuality it was a mess still but I was working on it. Something I would be fixing during this long holiday weekend.

This is what was on my mind as I buzzed into the main door. Then his smile flashing behind my eyes as I walked up the flight of stairs to stand in front of my apartment. Then the thought faded for a moment. It was one sigh after another as I dug into my bag for my key, a grumble under my breath as they shifted under my wallet. It was already a long day, and now this?

"For fucks sake."

I complained, finally grabbing them in my hand but stabbing myself in the finger rather than retrieving them. I pulled my hand out quickly, hissing at the feeling as I shook my hand out.

"Damnit!"

I furrowed my brow before putting my mouth to my finger. Then I heard his door click. I breathed deeply before shaking my head and reaching back in my bag for my keys. When he stepped out of his door I offered a disingenuous smile.

"Hey 25."

He said and I stood upright, confusion across my features as I stared at the number plate on my door.

"Hey, 23...?"

I said back, looking over my shoulder as he made his way quickly down the stairs. I watched as he opened the main door at the bottom, looking at him like a deer in headlights as he smiled and nodded before disappearing down the street. I just stood there for a moment, perplexed, arm still in my bag but no longer focused on the task at hand. What a strange interaction. Then the door across the hall made a noise, shaking me from my thoughts. I got to work getting my keys out properly this time, without hurting myself, and unlocking my door before they made it outside. Time to get to work.

°°°°°°°°°

When I woke up this morning I knew I should've immediately gone back to bed. Who knew Saturdays could actually be shit. It started with me ripping the collar of one of my favorite shirts while trying to get dressed. Then it was me spraying myself in the face with water trying to do the dishes. And amongst every other little thing like dropping books and trinkets and tripping over boxes on the floor, the air conditioner went out. I had promptly called the landlord but he said he couldn't get anyone to replace it until Tuesday given the holiday weekend. Just my luck.

I had almost thought about giving up but I wasn't that kind of person. Instead I dug out a box fan, propped the front door open and kept it on high for the majority of the afternoon. Yeah I was sweaty trying to unpack and fix my living room but it was worth it. I was gonna make this day better if it killed me. Now I was stood on a bar stool, couch pushed into the middle of the room, trying to hang a few pictures. It was a struggle getting the one on the far part of the wall but I was making it work. One grunt and complain at a time.

"Need a hand with that 25?"

I heard from the door, scaring me and making the stool wobble. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I steadied myself against the wall. I closed my eyes and sighed out in relief.

"No thanks 23 I got this."

I called back, recognizing his voice before reaching back over and trying to hang it again. I could hear soft footsteps behind me for a moment but it didn't really matter, the door was open, if he wanted to come in he was more than welcome. Maybe he could give me a hand. And maybe I was overestimating myself. The next second I was losing my footing and on my way to the floor. I screamed as the stool came out from under me, the picture smashing to the floor. I expected to hit the floor after it but instead I had landed in someone's arms, looking up to a smirking neighbor, wide eyes and scared

"Sure you don't need some help there 25?"

He asked again, a little cocky. I just stared at him. My heart was knocking at my rib cage trying to escape and I was still trying to come to terms with the fact that I could've just hurt myself severely or even died. But I didn't. Because 25 saved me.

"I guess not anymore."

I blurted out in a panic, realizing that my interior design dreams had just been crunched into pieces against the hardwood. He let out a soft laugh before walking out from behind the couch and placing me flat on my feet.

"You okay?"

He asked and I nodded, frowning at my less than handy work on the ground. The stool was laid on top of the frame, glass everywhere, and the picture itself torn in two.

"Body yes, ambitions no."

I sent him a defeated look and we both laughed. I shook my head, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Thanks for saving me 23. Without you I definitely would have had to take a trip to the ER."

I said through a nervous laugh. He looked taken aback for a second before placing his hand gently at my back.

"You look like you've had one hell of a day."

He noted and I looked down at myself before rolling my eyes.

"So it's obvious?"

I asked and he smiled, nodding slowly.

"Just a little bit."

My gaze followed his hand as he tucked some of the hair that had fallen out of my ponytail behind my ear.

"Well I guess for an official first impression I chose to big or go home."

I joked

"You always this charismatic?"

He quipped back and I sent him a look.

"You mean in terms of needing assistance?"

He shook his head in amusement.

"If that's how you wanna take it, sure."

I rolled my eyes playfully.

"No actually. Normally I am very poised and carefully thought out. Today is just not my day."

He looked at me for a moment like he was trying to figure me out or come up with something to say.

"Well I think I'd like to meet poised and carefully thought out."

He said and I sighed out a laugh.

"Is that an offer for a date 23?"

He smiled widely at me.

"James."

"Bucky!"

"Yes!"

He said quickly, getting progressively louder. My eyes went wide as he closed his, shaking his head and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Jesus I'm not usually this awkward."

I smiled at him, placing my hand at his shoulder, him looking at me in a lost puppy kind of way. Then I noticed the chain tucked under his shirt, looking down the the two outlines pressed against his chest. I drew my brows as I tugged it out, the warm metal laying in my hand as I ran my thumb over the dog tags. He just watched me intently.

"Sargent James Buchanan Barnes."

I nodded, looking up to him innocently. He had a small smile tugging at the corner of his lip but you'd miss it if you weren't looking for it.

"Well 23, I'd love to go on a date with you."

In a second his smile got bigger, tucking his tags back in his shirt after I let go of them.

"Guess we both made pretty good first impressions."

He said and I nodded, rubbing my hands together as we started walking towards the door.

"Oh, 25, I didn't catch your name."

He mentioned, stepping over the box fan and back into the hall. I smirked at him.

"You buy me a drink, 23, and it's yours."

He let out a short laugh, nodding as he turned his body towards his own apartment.

"Deal."

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 31

First time reader click here

it's a mental breakdown *off-key kazoo*. One (1) incident of physical abuse from a parent. And Stephen Strange arc begins opening. Kind of angsty, but more of a filler chapter to resolve the parents-suck thing.

A couple of days was all it took for me to get back on my feet... Figuratively speaking. Neither Bruce nor Tony was particularly excited about me being up and about, I was carried to my desired destination point by one or the other on most occasions. Physically, my body grew tired very easily - I took a lot of sporadic naps throughout the day, more often than not falling asleep in someone's arms. Nobody minded, really - even Loki, who wasn't a touchy-feely person by any means, relented and acted as a body pillow for me when we crashed on the common room couch to catch up with the TV show episodes I'd missed.

Tony was very obviously on the verge of a nervous breakdown. During the few hours I had spent being chased by the Cursed Box Demon in my nightmares, all the leads towards the contractor proved to be cold. Natasha was the most irritated of them all - a late-night talk with Clint through the vent above my room revealed that she took it as a personal insult, unprepared for a simple merc to be so good at evading the world's most notorious spy.

Hulk kept taking over Bruce's body - eyes shining fluorescent green - at the times we were together, periodically clutching me to his chest with clumsy but careful movements. I pitied the mercenary should he encounter my gentle scientist - I didn't think Bruce would even attempt to hold back Mean Green. They seemed to have achieved some sort of symbiosis those days, switching between the two personalities in one body almost effortlessly. Circumstances aside, I was very happy that the tension and the persistent internal conflict inside Bruce had almost disappeared.

What made me upset was Strange. The sorcerer was behaving, well, strangely. He began avoiding all of us - his excuses of helping the search for the merc were flimsy, and Wong's long, deep sigh, when asked about the sorcerer's state of mind, spoke volumes. I suspected Stephen was either seething with anger or drowning himself in the sea of guilt; I had a hunch he was similar to Tony in a way that he hid his vulnerability behind an impenetrable wall of malice and sarcasm and dry wit.

Perhaps I was wrong. But the pent up frustration resulting from the conflict between my overactive brain and my uncooperative body had to blow - and my mother was the fire to my already short fuse. Somehow, she got ahold of the information that I was hurt indirectly because of the actions of the Avengers - and she had called the first available phone she found, which meant Pepper Potts got an earful of vitriol regarding Stark Industries, SHIELD, Tony, and everyone else, including my father. Stoic as she was, Pepper took it all with grace, replying politely to my mother until she hung up on the redhead.

Pepper placed an urgent call to Coulson immediately after that, making the already uncomfortable situation spiral into something truly disgraceful. It ended with strict orders for me to return home - not that anyone besides me and Coulson knew about it. I was a legal adult, I could choose to stay in the tower and my mother was told so on numerous occasions... Knowing her, I was well aware she wouldn't be above storming Tony's home with a small army of her lawyer friends.

Inwardly seething, melting with the anger sitting in the pit of my stomach like a sharp piece of ice, I managed to convince Tony to have Happy escort me home at the guise of gathering more necessities. Tony, being Tony, offered me to buy anything and everything I needed, but relented under my puppy-eyed pleading. It was getting harder and harder to lie to any of my men, the weight of it settling unpleasantly bitter on top of my already foul mood.

Happy grumbled in displeasure at being tailed by a nondescript black SUV - I knew SHIELD would have eyes on me 24/7 now, at least until they catch the rogue mercenary - but seemed to be happy at my general state of relative wellness in his own... Happy... way. Five-second side-grin and "Glad you're up and about, Princess," was probably the most I was going to get from the man who's nickname contradicted his personality. In my humble opinion, he should've been called Brick instead. He was built like a shit house, too.

The moment I stepped into the living room, wearing Wanda's spare sweats and Tony's hoodie, I took a slow look around the room and immediately knew this was it. Most of my anger had receded, courtesy of finally being able to get out of the tower and do something, but the ice in my stomach persisted. The smell of whiskey and cigarettes hit me like a wall, news playing on the TV doing very little to dissolve the viscid, tense silence.

"Sit down," My mother instructed me in the tone of voice she used on people in the courtroom - convicts, people who knowingly broke NDAs.

"I don't think so," I replied, refusing to give in to her bullying. I was being absolutely reckless, I knew it, and still it didn't stop me from standing up for my men. Logically speaking, it could have happened to me anyway, Avengers or not. The cursed box came along long before I'd even met Peter Parker or any of his rag-tag superhero friends.

"Fine," She turned around, steely eyes leveled on me. I was but a speck of dirt under her nails - for the first time in my life, I felt terrified of my mother. I knew what she was capable of. "Listen well, daughter of mine. I'm going to only repeat myself once," She started in that deceptively calm tone of hers. "You are to stop mingling with Stark and his... Company. Immediately. I do not want to hear any more of that Parker boy, either. You will not destroy your future and our family's legacy over some fling with a man twice your age. This little game has gone long enough and it's time for you to get back to reality."

The more she spoke, the higher my eyebrows rose. I was supposed to take orders from my own mother now? Something thin, something thin and crackling with electricity within me just snapped - like a live wire. The hairs on my nape stood up, goosebumps appearing all over my skin. "And what if I do not?" I asked, just as quietly.

I was not prepared for her reaction. One second, she was sitting on the couch and the other - my cheek was burning and my mother was standing over me, breathing the stench of alcohol and tobacco right in my face. I saw the whites of her eyes. "Then you are no daughter of mine. I did not raise you to be someone's cumrag and all this play-pretend scientist shit had to have ended in middle school. I hoped you'd grow up but apparently, you insist on being a baby," She was full-on screaming in my face, so rabid she was shaking.

All I could think of was... How wrong she was. How wrong she would be, her sad little world broken when she finds out just exactly how much I'm capable of. Long gone were the days where I timidly questioned my scientific contributions; thanks to my men - the same men she'd hated so much - I knew my value. I knew I could achieve the things that I wanted.

"If that is your choice, you have thirty minutes to get your shit and get lost. I will not have a whore of a daughter living under my roof," I had missed a good part of her rant; most likely, it consisted of nothing but meaningless insults anyway. After she'd finished, she gave me a shove towards the stairs.

It didn't bother me as much as it should, I think. My cheek smarted and somewhere deep inside, I knew that the eerie calm that had settled over me wasn't normal - on the surface, I felt only relief. The things I suspected all along, finally came to light - she didn't even perceive me as a human being, I was no more than a means to her end. A tool. A thing.

The waterworks started when I frantically shoved most of the shit I could fit in my three suitcases. Upset as I was, my scatterbrain did me a favor that time and I gathered most of the important things. Notebooks full of my research - projects that my mother had called a child's game, projects that could be patented in a week, add a tweak or two. With sudden clarity, I realized I needed none of her money. None of her... At all. In short, I was emotionally all over the place and at the end of it... None of it made sense.

I threw the credit cards with her name on them on the coffee table as I hauled out my suitcases, not sparing the bitch a glance. She was equally quiet, boring into my back with those steely eyes of hers. I felt my skin peel under her stare. In my distraught state, hauling and dumping the suitcases in my car was quick work. Detaching the house key and tossing the last things that connected me to her house on the floor at her feet was a spur of the moment decision; my mother was right, to some extent, and I still had childish tendencies. "You had no right to call yourself my mother in the first place. All you were was an egg donor with more money than you could make sense of. Enjoy your hoard, you damned dragon," I seethed, seeing her frozen in place with her arms crossed and chin held high.

Some part of me hoped she would apologize. That naïve, childish part - I knew my mother and I knew myself, and the trait that we shared was stubbornness. I sped out of the estate without ever looking back, driving aimlessly for a while until the honking coming from drivers around me began reaching alarming levels of volume; tears began flowing down my face at some point, all but obscuring my vision. I parked in the nearest place I could find, in front of a Waffle House out of all places.

Crying in a Waffle House parking lot, how pathetic was that. Logically, I knew at least five people had my back: Tony and Bruce, who surprisingly loved me back; Loki, who had become strangely clingy after my declaration - clingy in the best way. Together with Wanda and Peter, they made my heart warm and my eternally racing brain feel calm and safe.

I called my dad, he didn't pick up. I don't know what I expected of the man, but any and all remnants of my respect for him shattered, breaking into tiny little pieces as I helplessly banged my fists against the steering wheel in a fit of desperate rage. One look in the mirror and my already ashen complexion was made worse by red, puffy eyes and the blooming bruise on my cheek where my mother had slapped me. It was the first time she'd laid a hand on me; I wanted to throw up.

I sat in the car until my breathing slowed; completely and utterly clueless as to what to do. I had no home of my own, three suitcases worth of clothes and research that was useless without a lab to run experiments in, my car, and a small trust fund in my name. The recent incident with the curse box had left me mentally drained as it was, now, I could surely say that my head was empty: no thoughts.

And throughout it all, Stephen's avoidance crossed my mind. As if the self-loathing wasn't enough, as if my own blood, the people who were supposed to care for me, rejecting and ignoring me wasn't strong enough of a blow... The sorcerer's avoidance raised more anger within me. I didn't know why but the thought of him made me want to cry and seethe once again.

Logic gone out of the window, I typed in the Sanctum's address into my GPS with shaking fingers, figuring that if he wasn't willing to do the legwork, I will come to him myself and clarify things for all at once. The mixed signals were just a cherry on top of my sky-high problem sundae.

I banged on the door and it flew open immediately, a surprised sorcerer quickly turning concerned and panicky, noticing my general state of appearance. I was still wearing the same clothes and my hair was in disarray, my face looking somewhere between a coke bender and a manic episode.

"You," I stated darkly, taking a deep breath. "You need to tell me what the fuck is wrong with me and reject me, so I can move on already. And you," I poked the man in the chest, right above the fancy eye-shaped necklace, "Need to stop it with the mixed signals. Stop wallowing in self-pity. Whatever you are doing, STOP IT," My voice involuntarily raised in pitch from all those emotional rollercoasters I've been on that day. "Get back to being normal. Let me fucking live," I finished my tirade as the man stared at me, frozen and open-mouthed.

"I..." He stammered, eyeing me with concern. "What in the multiverse happened to you? What..?" He was so confused, pulling out his phone the moment I bailed my fists.

"My mother threw me out, my father doesn't give a fuck about me, apparently I'm a cheap whore with delusions of grandeur. You're avoiding me and everybody is waiting for me to blow up," I screeched, all but vibrating in my spot. "This is me blowing up. I want answers!" I demanded.

Strange recoiled from me, frowning and pocketing his phone. A deep sigh left him, the kind that made his whole body sag. He ran a careful hand through his hair before looking away and slowly pulling me against his chest, the door shutting behind me and keeping the cold out. I hadn't even noticed I was freezing; my feet were wet from the NYC winter slush and mud.

Stephen's embrace was warm and tender; I wanted to lean into it and push him away at the same time. I was so messed up, it was embarrassing. There was nothing acceptable about this situation - I felt guilty as soon as his face fell.

"Jesus Christ, baby," He mumbled quietly. "Sounds like you had one hell of a day. Let's go, I'll put on some tea," He rubbed soothing circles on my back, something that confused me - I just had stormed in and dumped a bucket of bile right on top of his head.

"I should go," I mumbled, yet had no real strength to move away from him.

"You're not going anywhere. I suppose I need to explain myself, too," He sighed, and despite his obvious discomfort, picked me up, letting my limbs to wrap around his torso like a monkey. I was careful to keep my weight off his hands, even if the trip to the fireplace room was short. As soon as I was placed onto the couch and my shoes were removed, Cloaky drifted over from a dark corner, urging me to take off my soggy hoodie, and wrapped itself tightly around me.

Turns out, semi-sentient cloaks were quite warm.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95

[hookedonapirate]

Book Update

If anyone is wondering when Hard To Handle will be coming out, I have some news! So, for those who don't know, Hard To Handle is an original A Helping Hand rewrite featuring Harper and Owen (Killian and Emma) and will be part 2 of the series. And if you haven't guessed yet, part 1 features Audrey and Brady (Elsa and Liam from A Helping Hand) with a Harper and Brady friendship. For those interested in their story, I have a little treat for you below. However, this Sneak peek doesn't show Audrey and Brady meeting yet because I haven't gotten that far.

This is sort of an enemies to lovers story (I say sort of because their "enemy" status in the beginning is too complicated to slap a label on it) that starts off with Harper and Audrey butting heads with their new neighbor, Brady, and him and Audrey exchanging love hate letters. 😉 Then Brady and Audrey form an alliance and break up Harper and Bryce. I promise it's not evil like it sounds because Brady discovers Bryce is cheating on Harper. Remember, Bryce is the Neal of AHH.

This book is a bit darker than book 2 because of the toxic nature of Harper's relationship with Bryce, and because Audrey often pays the price for his shenanigans, but there's still humor and fun in this one.

Anyway, here are the first few chapters. I may post more if anyone's interested ❤️

Chapter One

Brady

There are strange sounds coming from the unit next door.

Laughter maybe?

Yes, definitely laughter.

More like Cackling. From one—make that two—females.

Two loud, annoying females.

Just great.

I take pride in being a fairly simple man who doesn’t need much to be happy. A few things like fishing, enjoying an ice-cold beer and having a few moments of quiet time usually does the trick. Even the sound the can makes whenever I crack open the pull tab of Coors Light is music to my ears. I finally have time to relax after sweating my ass off from all the unpacking I did. I just moved in today and couldn’t stand the idea of tripping over boxes or searching through them every time I needed to use something. I was unable to stop unpacking until every single item in those boxes had a home.

Now I’m able to sit back in my patio chair, prop my feet up on the plastic stool and breathe in the pleasantly cool evening air, enjoy a refreshing, ice-cold beer and some quiet time.

Or at least I was able to until my air of tranquil serenity was so rudely disturbed by my cackling neighbors.

They could at least close their balcony doors, so the entire building doesn’t have to hear them.

I’m already in a foul mood, and the two laughing hyenas aren’t helping. If anything, my mood is worse than it was when I was packing.

They, however, sound like they’re having a grand old time. Doing what exactly, I’m not sure, but it sounds like one of them needed a break from studying and the other one is encouraging her to get drunk and let loose. Which means they’re college students.

Just fucking perfect.

This is exactly why I moved off campus, even though it meant paying rent and enduring a much longer commute to work.

It’s just my luck to get stuck living next to two loud teenagers or early twenty-something-year-olds. I’m around college students all the time, considering I’m an instructor; I don't need to live next to them, too. I learned that very quickly.

Young adults, my ass. More like impudent children.

I feel like the property management should’ve included that minor detail in the apartment listing. Or that not everyone is required to follow their uniform policies.

A peaceful, friendly community? Ha!

The management will definitely be hearing from me about their false advertising.

“Dude, I’m sorry to tell you this, Harp, but your boyfriend’s a fucking loser! Even Elisa said so!”

“He’s just misunderstood!”

“Misunderstood?! Bryce is such a creep!”

“Is not!”

I take a swig of my beer through gritted teeth. I really wish I had a TV right now.

It won’t be delivered until tomorrow, though. Which is very unfortunate and inconvenient at the moment because I need a distraction from reality. Listening to their conversation makes me furious and sad at the same time because it reminds me of me and my brother arguing about his girlfriend. I kept trying to tell Owen she was no good for him, but he wouldn’t listen. I bet this Bryce guy isn’t married, though.

Or maybe he is; I really don’t know.

I need something to take my mind off the overwhelming urge I feel to hop on a plane, fly to Chicago and kick my brother’s ass for being the fucking moron he is. And let me tell you, the urge is very strong right now. Earlier today, Owen told me the woman he’s been seeing is married. They’ve been dating for six months, during which she was lying to him the entire time. I already didn’t like her very much to begin with because she was a controlling bitch—I’m the only one who’s allowed to be a controlling bitch to my brother—and because ever since he started seeing her, I haven't been able to hang out with him very much. Whenever we made plans, he canceled them because Naomi wanted to spend time with him instead. And he was my best friend. Now he tells me she’s married and that he’s still staying with her.

What the actual fuck?

He’s so brainwashed by her, I couldn’t talk a lick sense into that goddamn head of his. Now he wants me to be okay with them staying together while she’s still with her husband?

Fuck that shit.

“Okay listen, if you’re going to talk shit about my boyfriend, we’re going to need more wine.”

“Agreed.”

It becomes silent next door for a few minutes, which makes me sigh in relief. Soon I hear, “Son of a fucking bitch!”

There’s a litany of curses and then, “We need a new corkscrew!”

“But we’re too drunk to drive anywhere!”

Damn, if only I had a corkscrew so they could drink more wine, get drunker and become even louder and more annoying than they already are.

That’s actually not a bad idea, though. If they’re anything like my ex-girlfriend, the quicker they get drunk, the quicker they’ll be ready to sleep. The quicker I’ll finally have my peace and quiet.

I contemplate driving down to the corner store, but what would I even say if I showed up at their door with a corkscrew they didn’t ask for? Oh, hi, I was eavesdropping on your conversation and took it upon myself to go to the store and buy you this corkscrew so you could both drink yourselves into an alcohol-induced coma and I could finally have some peace and quiet?

Nope, I definitely can’t say that.

Chapter Two

Audrey

“Son of a fucking bitch!”

When I rush into the kitchen to see why my roommate’s cussing up a storm, I’m expecting the counter and floor to be covered in wine and shattered glass, even though I didn’t hear any glass break, but Harper’s just holding the corkscrew and staring at the top of the bottle.

“What’s wrong?”

“We need a new corkscrew!” Harper grabs the bottle of wine and points the top of it at me. The cork is still jammed into the neck of the bottle, and the worm of the corkscrew is stuck inside it.

Which is very unfortunate.

She’s been studying her ass off, except for the occasional interruptions from her asshat of a boyfriend, Bryce. She had a really tough time getting him to finally leave so she could study, and she had to literally push him out the door. So I thought Harper could use a break and I could feel saner again by indulging in some wine. But one bottle of wine quickly turned into two. Or rather, it would’ve if not for the end of the corkscrew inside the cork.

Fuck.

“But we can’t drive anywhere,” I point out, considering how tipsy we both are, even though we only went through one bottle between us. But we’re both lightweights.

“Hold on,” she says, picking up her phone from the counter.

I cock my brow. “You do realize Amazon Prime takes two days to ship, right?”

“Yeah, I know, Aud. I’m not that drunk.” After looking at something on her phone for a minute, she leaves the kitchen, returns with one of her tennis shoes and sets the phone down to pick up the wine bottle. She places the bottom of the bottle inside the heel of the shoe, raises her hands above her head and goes to one of the walls in a striking pose.

I rush over and put my hand on her arm to stop her. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“This will push the cork out.”

“But won’t the wine spill all over?”

“Not if I can only push the cork part of the way out and then pull it off the rest of the way.” She hits the shoe against the wall a few times, but the cork doesn’t budge.

“Why don’t we see if any of the neighbors have a corkscrew,” I suggest. “This method doesn’t seem to be working.”

She sighs and drops her arms. “Who do you think would have one?”

“What about Mandy? She’s a wine drinker.”

Harper shakes her head. “She doesn’t get home from the office until late on Mondays. And there’s no way I’m trying mister grumpy pants across the hall. It always seems like he’ll snap at any moment. Plus, once his dog starts yapping, she never shuts up.”

“What about the new guy who just moved in next door?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. What if he’s an ax murderer?”

“I saw him earlier when he was moving in. He seems harmless enough, and is kind of cute, actually.”

“Yeah, well so was Ted Bundy. And I’d like to stay alive with my head intact, thank you very much.” I haven’t seen the new neighbor yet, but I don’t think going over to a stranger's place while we’re both a little tipsy is the best idea, for several reasons.

She flicks her hand. “Well, you don’t have to go. I will.” She grabs her keys, removes her pepper spray from the attached chain and throws her keys back on the counter before heading toward the door.

“Harp, wait…”

Ignoring my pleas as I follow behind her, she slips into her Nike slides. “I’ll be fine. I got my handy dandy pepper spray,” she says, holding it up.

Before I can talk some sense into her, she’s already dashing out the door and calling out over her shoulder, “If I’m not back in five minutes, call 911!”

I sigh and lean against the door, pressing my ear against it so I can listen for Harper’s screams or any signs of a struggle.

Chapter Three

Brady

When I head inside from the balcony, there’s a knock on the front door. I scratch my head and stride over to answer it, wondering who it could be. I just moved into this apartment today, so I literally don’t know any of my neighbors yet.

I open the door to a skinny blonde with green eyes, long, shimmering hair and soft pink lips. She’s easy on the eyes, but I have a feeling she’s one of the laughing hyenas next door. She’s not as young as I thought she’d be, though. She looks to be around my brother’s age. When I give her a once-over, I notice the pepper spray she’s trying to hide in her fist.

I wince at the sight of it. She doesn’t even have the safety lock on.

I offer a tight-lipped smile. “Hello.”

“HiI’myournextdoorneighbor,” she mumbles, her words slurred together. She’s a little tipsy and has to lean against the doorframe so she doesn’t fall over.

“How can I help you, next-door neighbor?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the pepper spray. The sight of it brings back too many painful memories. Memories I’d rather keep locked away.

“I was wondering if you had a corkscrew my roommate and I could borrow?”

On the balcony, I wanted to strangle the two neighbors who were interrupting my quiet time, but now I feel very protective. She’s obviously drunk, yet stumbling over to a neighbor she doesn’t even know. I mean, I like to consider myself an overall decent human being, or as I’ve been called before, “one of the good guys,” but this woman doesn’t know that. She knows nothing about me, yet she’s over here asking to borrow a corkscrew. And yes, she’s carrying a weapon, but I doubt she knows how to use it properly, and with how tipsy she is, I doubt she’d even be fast enough to use it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t.”

Her smile fades, but she looks determined, so I’m hoping she doesn’t go knocking on all her neighbors' doors asking for a corkscrew.

“I could buy you one,” I offer, trying to sound as polite as possible. Which is difficult when I’m irritated.

Her eyes widen in surprise. “Really? You’d do that?”

I cross my arms and give her a stern look. “On one condition.”

She nods excitedly. “Of course, anything.”

I’m so glad I’m a nice guy because this woman seems far too trusting, and I’m afraid of what would’ve happened if I were anything less than a decent human being. “I’ll go and get you a corkscrew if you return to your apartment and keep the noise down for the rest of the night. And maybe close your balcony doors so the entire building can’t overhear your childish conversation.”

I’m thinking this is a very reasonable request. I’m willing to leave the comfort of my apartment to get in my car and go to the corner store to get some women I don’t know a corkscrew, and all they have to do is put a cap on the noise.

But the scowl on her face tells me she doesn’t agree. “First of all,” she raises her index finger, “ruu-uuuuuuude!” She raises another finger. “Secondly, my roommate and I aren’t children. We’re having a stressful week and were finally able to relax and drink some wine when the corkscrew broke. But that’s okay, we’ll figure out how to get the cork off ourselves!” She turns on her heels and starts to head toward her apartment, but spins around again and gets in my space, jabbing a finger at my chest. “And thirdly, we weren’t being that loud!”

I clench my jaw as she storms away and slams the door shut after disappearing inside her apartment. I throw my own door shut, huffing in frustration.

Why couldn’t my neighbors all be sweet old ladies?

So much for having a relaxing evening!

I head back to my balcony when there’s another knock on the door.

“Son of bitch,” I curse under my breath as I march over to the door and yank it open. “What, now?” I ask angrily when I see her standing at my door again.

“I need to borrow a dress shoe.”

I furrow my brows, growing more agitated. “A what?”

She sighs as though I’m the one inconveniencing her. “A dress shoe,” she says impatiently. “Surely you’ve been to a wedding or funeral. You must have one.”

“I do, but why do you—” Before I get the chance to answer, she shoves past me and heads toward my bedroom.

I follow her in there and cross my arms over my chest in the doorway as I watch her go to my closet. “What in the ever-loving hell are you doing?”

“I told you, I need to borrow a dress shoe.”

Seriously?!

The audacity of this woman waltzing into my apartment and taking one of my shoes! “That’s funny because I never said you could borrow one.”

“Wow, your closet is super organized,” she comments as she looks around, easily finding one of my brown dress shoes and grabbing it from the shoe rack.

I’m still standing in the bedroom doorway when she tries to get through. I reach for my shoe, but she steps back and aims her pepper spray at me. I instinctively duck out of the line of fire and lunge forward, grabbing the pepper spray from her hand and twisting the safety lock.

“Wait, please don’t kill me! My roommate’s calling 911 if I’m not back in two minutes!” she cries, shielding herself with her hands.

I sigh in exasperation and extend the pepper spray to her. “I’m not trying to murder you, I was trying to get my shoe back.”

She slowly drops her arms and narrows her eyes as she snatches the spray from my hand. “Then why did you take away my weapon?”

I scoff. “It was a reflex so I didn’t get sprayed in the face since I wasn’t actually attacking you. Do you know how many times I’ve been pepper-sprayed in the face?”

“Why, because you’re a rapist?!” she accuses, stepping away from me and aiming her pepper spray at me again, even though the safety is still on. She probably doesn’t even know that, though.

I sigh in exasperation and raise my hands in surrender. “No, because I was in the Marines. Getting pepper-sprayed was part of my training. It taught me how to use my weapons and equipment.”

She lowers the spray, guilt etched in her features. “Oh, sorry. My roommate said you might be another Ted Bundy, and I don’t want to be raped and murdered.”

“Yeah, because breaking into your neighbor’s apartment and stealing their shoe is a good way to prevent that from happening,” I say, my words laden with sarcasm.

“Well, no, but that’s what the pepper spray was for.”

“It won’t do you any good if you don’t use it properly. You need to have a firm grip and use your thumb to activate it so it can’t be taken out of your hand like I just took it out of yours.”

“Thanks for the tip.” She raises the pepper spray at me again and presses the button to activate it. But it’s still disarmed. Once she realizes her mistake, her eyes widen.

I cock my head to the side and plant my hands on my hips. “Really?”

She offers an apologetic smile, then scurries toward me, ducks under my arm and squeezes past me, darting for the front door. “I’ll bring it right back, I promise!”

I let her go and exhale another deep sigh. What could she possibly need my shoe for anyway? To squash a spider or something? Can’t she use her own Goddamn shoe for that?

Right, she probably doesn’t want to get her precious shoe all gross, so she’s using mine instead. Which means my shoe will be returned with spider guts on the bottom.

Just great.

I go to the balcony and curtly grab my beer so I can head inside and not have to hear every goddamn word of their conversation again.

Pound, pound, pound.

What the hell?

It sounds like they’re banging something against the wall.

My shoe, perhaps?

Pound, pound, pound.

Then I hear a loud pop!

“Yessssss!”

They got the cork out.

“Holy shit, you made a mess!”

“Sorry, but at least we can keep drinking!”

“Woohoo!”

I head inside and close the sliding doors, hoping to go to bed and get some rest. But then there’s another knock on the front door.

“Fucking hell,” I groan as I go over to answer it. It’s probably the blonde neighbor with my shoe, but I’m not sure I want it back.

Sure enough, it’s her.

“Thanks for letting me borrow it.” She hands over my shoe with a small smile and heads back to her apartment.

“You didn’t borrow it, you stole it!” I call after her. But she completely ignores me.

“And sorry I tried to spray you...twice!” Before I can respond, she’s already inside her unit.

I bring the shoe to my nose to get a closer whiff of it. I noticed the smell as soon as she handed it to me. “Hey, why does my shoe smell like wine?!”

But I’m talking to the door at this point.

I shake my head and go back inside, trying to decide if I should try to get the smell out or just toss the pair into the trash. For now, I set it aside and go to the bathroom to get ready for bed, hoping my neighbors will down the bottle, get tired and pass out so I can have a quiet evening.

No such luck.

They turn on the music, and I can hear the pounding bass through the wall and also, “Yeeeeesssss, this is my jam!”

The walls are actually shaking.

Why do the other neighbors put up with this! It’s absurd, really.

They should be evicted.

I contemplate calling the police to make a complaint, but this is New York City; the police have better things to do than respond to non-emergency noise complaints. So I return to my bedroom, strip down to my boxers and toss my clothes into the hamper before slipping into bed. I can still hear the noises coming from the unit next door, but thankfully, I’m a patient man. I’m sure they’ll get tired soon and go to bed. Or at least I hope so.

But an hour passes, and the music still doesn’t cease. I groan and roll over on my stomach, pulling the pillow over my head, wishing I had noise-canceling headphones right now. I’m normally against the idea of something that cancels all sounds, because it also cancels sounds that alert danger. Like if a burglar broke into the apartment or there’s an explosion or gunshot. But right now, I’d do anything to get a good night’s sleep. Between arguing with my brother over the phone into the wee hours of the night yesterday and spending all day moving into my new place and unpacking, I’m completely exhausted. Not to mention I always start my day at five in the morning. My classes don’t start until eight a.m., but I like to get an early start to my day. I got up that early when I was in the Marines, and some habits just never die.

I’m about to get up and go down the hall to ask them to turn down the noise, but I’ve already asked her once and she got offended, so I doubt it will do any good.

Chapter Four

Audrey

I’m immediately regretting the two bottles of Barefoot Harper and imbibed last night. My head is pounding, I’m dehydrated, and I have to be at work in an hour. I take some aspirin, drink a full glass of water before jumping into the shower.

When I leave my bedroom, dressed and ready to go, Harper is shuffling out of her room.

“Morning,” she says groggily, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

“Morning, Harp.” I head to the kitchen to make her some coffee. I’m not a coffee drinker myself, I prefer tea, but I know Harper can’t function in the morning without a fresh cup of hot Folgers.

“Why did we drink on a weeknight again?” she groans, taking a seat at the table.

“That’s an excellent question.” I pour water into the pot and place it in the coffeemaker, turning it on.

Harper buries her face in the cradle of her arms on the table as I grab some aspirin and a tall glass, filling it with water. She doesn’t have to work today, but she does have classes. She’s already a registered nurse like me, but she’s going for her master’s degree to open up more job opportunities. And also because she’s an overachiever, when it comes to her career at least. I just wish she were an overachiever when it came to other aspects of her life, like the kind of men she dates. Or maybe Harper was purposefully aiming for Class-A levels of douchebaggery when she started dating Bryce. If that’s the case, then she definitely went above and beyond expectations. And while she is my best friend and roommate, there’s only so much sense I can talk into her. And I'm not willing to let some lowlife scumbag get in between our friendship.

“Here, these will help.”

Harper lifts her head and takes the aspirin and glass. When she pops the pills in her mouth, swallowing them down with a big gulp of water, she already appears to be more human again.

I grab my keys and strap my purse over my shoulder, heading toward the front door.

“Speaking of drinking, are you going to be here Friday night?”

I snort-laugh and turn to look at her, placing my free hand on my hip, knowing exactly where this is going. She’s still recovering from her hangover and already has booze on the brain. “That depends. Is Bryce going to be here?”

When she takes a slow sip of her water, I know what her answer is before she says it out loud. “Well, considering he’s the one who invited a few people over, yes, he’ll be here.”

“Then no, I definitely won’t.” I head for the door, trying to leave again.

“That’s a shame because Bryce has a good-looking friend who thinks you’re gorgeous.”

I spin around, cocking a brow. “Which friend?”

“Treyton. You haven’t met him before, but he saw your pics on Instagram.”

I walk to the table, placing my hands on top of the chair, my key ring dangling from my finger. “How did he find my Instagram account if we’ve never met?”

“Bryce showed it to him.”

What the fuck?

I furrow my brows in confusion. “Okay, why is Bryce showing his friends my Instagram account?”

She smirks. “Because Treyton was asking him if I had any cute, single friends.”

I sigh, not liking the idea of Bryce trying to set his friends up with me. I’ve met some of his guy friends, and neither is one I’d kiss if he were the last man on earth. “Sorry, not interested.”

I remove my hand from the chair and try to leave again.

“Oh, come on, Aud. Give the guy a chance. I mean, I don’t know him that well, but he’s fucking hot.” She picks up her phone from the table and pulls up something before handing it to me across the table. “See for yourself.”

I reluctantly take the device, a heavy sigh leaving my lips. I highly doubt his looks will sway me. Even if is hot, he’s still Bryce’s—

Holy crap.

He’s got those smokey grey eyes, a chiseled jaw and a little smirk on his beautiful face that makes me melt.

Well, fuck.

“So, what do you think?” Harper asks curiously, trying to stifle a smirk as she perches her chin on the back of her joined hands, her elbows resting on the table.

I try not to show how attracted I am to a freaking photo of a guy I’ve never met before, but damn, those eyes are spellbinding, and I’m pretty sure I’m blushing. “Okay, he’s a little cute.”

“A little? Honey, you and I have similar tastes in men, so I know you don’t think he’s just cute.”

“Yeah, that’s true. We usually do, which is why I have no idea how Bryce got your attention. He must have a big dick or something.” I narrow my eyes. “Does he have a big dick? Because that would explain a lot.”

Harper bursts out laughing. “Oh my God, Aud, you know it’s not all about the size! And no, he doesn’t, he’s average, but as much as you hate him, you can’t deny he’s good-looking.”

“Yes, maybe on the outside he’s cute but personality-wise he’s ugly as fuck.”

She sighs in defeat as I hand over her phone. This is just an argument neither of us will ever be able to agree on. Well, until she finally decides to take off those damn rose-colored glasses and sees Bryce as he truly is. But I know it would make Harper happy if I agreed to stay for the party. I know that sometimes she feels out of place considering most of Bryce’s friends are college kids. Normally, she’s the oldest one there, but you could never tell, because she has a baby face and looks at least five years younger than she actually is, so to the other college kids, she's one of them.

“Fine, I’ll be here for the party.”

Harper’s eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes, but if any of his friends grab my ass, I’m leaving.”

She laughs. “Okay.”

The coffee machine beeps, so she gets up from her seat, grabs a mug and creamer and pours the steaming, hot liquid into her cup. She returns to her seat and sips her coffee as I once again try to leave. “Thanks for starting the coffee, Aud.”

“No problem. See you tonight.” I unlock the door, and when I pull it open, I notice a folded up crisp piece of copy paper taped to the outside. I cock my brow and peel it off, unfolding it. I’m expecting it to be from the building management.

But then I read the first line...

To the two hoity-toity princesses,

I immediately suspect it’s from mister grumpy pants across the hall, but the letter is in fancy cursive writing. Who even writes in cursive anymore? Maybe an old lady or mister grumpy pants, I suppose. But he normally doesn’t leave letters. He’ll just knock on the door with his cane and chew us out in person. Harper said the first time he knocked on her door to complain about the noise, he made her cry.

When he tries that shit with me, I give it right back to him and threaten to call the cops on his dog and have her taken to the pound. He tends to leave us alone now. So, I’m surprised he’s resorted to leaving us notes.

Can you kindly tone down your loud music and obnoxious woohooing, laughter and overall commotion that kept me up until 2 a.m.? Some people actually have to work on a Tuesday morning. I, myself, wake at 5 a.m. every single day and am now forced to go to work on three hours of sleep. Luckily the students I teach possess much more class and are at maturity levels you both obviously could never achieve if you actually tried. I know neither of you could possibly understand waking up early for a job or getting your hands dirty, as you’re city girls who probably live on mommy and daddy’s income and never worked a day in your lives, but some people actually have responsibilities and obligations, not just classes they can skip whenever they feel like it. So have a little respect and lower the volume a few notches.

This time you get a warning, but if the noise persists, I will be forced to contact law enforcement. Have a lovely day drinking your Starbucks lattes and trying to get rid of what I hope are nasty hangovers.

Sincerely,

The tired and cranky guy from 8C, thanks to his loud, annoying neighbors

P.S. The blonde who took my brown dress shoe owes me a new pair seeing as it now reeks of Pinot Grigio, thank you very much.

My nostrils flare before I even finish reading the letter. The audacity of this asshole! He doesn’t even know us, hell he hasn’t even met me in person, yet he makes all kinds of false assumptions about us.

I know neither of you could possibly understand waking up early for a job or getting your hands dirty.

What the actual fuck?! Harper and I both wake up at the crack of dawn to go to work at the hospital, and we’re constantly on our feet for at least twelve hours. We only work three days a week, but our jobs are emotionally and physically draining; I mostly use the other four days to sleep, recover, clean the apartment and run errands. So, for someone to say we don’t work or ever get our hands dirty is a blow to the gut. We’re nurses for crying out loud! Getting our hands dirty is part of the job!

Another remark of his that irks me: We’re city girls who probably live on mommy and daddy’s income. My parents would actually laugh out loud if they read this comment. They always tell me how independent I am. Hell, I wouldn’t even allow them to pay for my schooling even though they wanted to; I wanted to do it all on my own, so I had two jobs while I went to college. They also weren’t too happy when I took a job in New York, but they told me if anyone could handle herself in a big city, it was me. Not to mention, Harper had it way worse than me, growing up.

But the fact that this douchebag is so ridiculously wrong about us makes me smile a little. It will feel so goddamn good to make him see the error of his ways.

I’m still carrying the letter with me as I go to my bedroom closet and grab my stationary from the top shelf. I take out a sheet of paper and a pen from the box, replace it on the shelf and return to the kitchen. I hate the idea of using my good paper on this asshole, but if I’m going to stoop to his level and leave a note on his door, I might as well do it with class.

“What’s the note about?” Harper asks with furrowed brows. “I paid the rent just in the nick of time.”

“It’s not from management.” I take the pen and paper to the table and start writing out a letter. “It’s from our friendly neighbor in 8C,” I say sarcastically.

Her eyes widen as she reaches for the letter. “What did he say?”

I look up and hand it to her.

When she reads it over, the sleepiness in her eyes morphs into anger. “What the hell?! Who does he think he is? He doesn’t even know us!”

“Exactly.” I look down again at the paper and continue the sentence I was working on.

I can feel her staring at me as I write. “What are you doing?”

“Replying to him,” I say without taking my eyes off the page.

“What, are we in elementary school?”

“According to him, we are.”

“He’s just a douchebag, you can’t take anything he says seriously.”

I almost laugh. Normally she’s the one wanting revenge when someone wrongs her, and I’m the one having to talk her out of it. “Maybe, but this will teach him not to make assumptions about people.”

After I’m finished, I let her read it before I tape it to his door. I head to work with a smile on my face. This should teach him not to be such a dickhead.

Chapter Five

Brady

Dear self-righteous butthole in 8C,

~~~

Stay tuned for more...

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[themadauthorshatter]

I'm starting to really love this series, so I just have to keep going.

If you haven't read Parts One and Two, go catch up on them and come back for this part, Part 3

Quick recap time: Charles has gotten better with his day off and got wind of the plan to stop the Toppat's heist on the Aztec sapphire, a gem Henry was very keen on getting despite it not being his main target. Despite some salt from Captain Canterbury, the mission was a success. Regardless, Henry was victorious against Charles in their second encounter, leaving him with a challenge to his philosophy of being in the government while Charles left him withoit the gem he'd tried to steal.

Got that? Great!

... LET'S GO CHECK BACK INTO OUR PROGRAM!!!!

This time, we start off with Henry as he rocks back at forth in the chair at his desk, very much brooding over how he got dooped by Charles, even when the pilot was literally right under him and almost completely helpless.

He focuses on this, eyes narrow and hands together and against his lips, kind of looking like he's praying or pretending to be Benedict Cumberbatch's Sherlock Holmes, as he rocks more his his chair.

Looking back on it now, he REALLY should've put that sapphire in his pocket, not his hat.

Henry just shakes his head and takes one leg off the other so he can lean his elbows on his knees and lace his fingers together, tight enough to make his knuckles white.

Charles is not stupid. Somewhat gullible, guven how he trusted Henry to actually take down the Toppats, but not stupid, if what he said is any indication.

Rather than be blissfully ignorant, Charles is fully aware that there is an evil in being good and, in some sick, twisted incidents, vice versa.

But rather than see the world the way Henry does, that if the world takes something from you, what's stopping you from takimg it back, Charles sees the world as essentially the opposite: if the world takes something from you, instead try to give to others what it is you lost in hopes of some sort of alternative to what you lost in the first place.

It's convoluted, it's messy, and it makes Henry roll his eyes, snicker, and shake his head.

Poor Charles, he thinks. That just isn't how the world works, and he can't see it.

That stops Henry and makes his eyes shoot open.

THAT is wrong, which Henry realizes as he stands-and fights a grunt from a sore spot where Charles punched him- and checks his corkboard for the snippets of Charles's file.

And sees that he's registered as an orphan at nine years old.

It's not that he CAN'T see it, he WON'T see it.

It's this knowledge in Charles's resolve that makes Henry put a hand on his forehead and chuckle to himself.

Maybe he is stupid after all.

Still, Henry locks his eyes on to a picture of Charles, his mind circling back to the fact Charles stole the sapphire LITERALLY from underneath him, but is entranced by the new knowledge he has on Charles.

How long will fool's courage keep you safe, Charles? Henry asks in his mind.

SPEAKING OF CHARLES!!!!

Our pilot friend is sore and injured from last night's fight with Henry, feeling that pain even from where he lies in a medic bed.

For context, he and Henry left some significant damage on each other, but it's especially significant with Charles.

Henry got away with a graze on his cheek from where Charles nearly shot him, a slightly sprained ankle, some loose teeth, and a split lip.

Charles got out with bruises, ESPECIALLY under his jaw, sore knuckles, and, what got him in the medic ward at all, two broken ribs and three cracked ribs.

I digress, Charles is glaring at the ceiling and trying to ignore the pain as he rests his head on one arm and lets the other rest on his bandaged chest.

He can't exactly take a lot of pain relief because, contrary to what he thought, Galeforce noticed Charles take an extra ADD pill and didn't want Charles to overdo it, in case there were any negative side effects. Not only has the pain somewhat kept him from sleeping, but his conversation with Henry is what really keeps him up, and the fact that Henry literally could have killed him at any point during that confrontation, but we'll focus on the conversation.

He's mostly caught on Henry's resolve to take back from the world, something that can be childish and wrong, if done the wrong way.

And maybe the idea that the world should give back to you after it takes something from you.

But that's not how it is, Charles thinks as he sighs and closes his eyes. Things happen and there's hardly any point in changing them.

With his eyes closed, Charles only feels there's someone with him when said person moves his hand off his chest and seemingly sits next to him on the bed, feeling the lower part of his ribs and stomach.

Charles groans and forces his eyes open to a squint, seeing who he thinks is a medic coming to check on him.

"Unless the General gave you the 'all clear' to let me have some pain relief, please leave me alone," he grunbles.

The person stops and gets up from the bed, Chatles sighing at FINALLY getting a chance to sleep.

That is until a knee drops into his stomach and hands snatch his throat, when he sits up coughs out of instict, and hold him down, snapping Charles awake and getting him into panic mode as he tries kicking, thrashing, and yelling to break free.

His attacker only keeps his grip, tightening it as he smiles down at him.

And who is his attacker? None other than Henry Stickmin, who drives his other knee into Charles's stomach and makes him wheeze at the loss of air.

THANK GOODNESS CHARLES SHOUTS AS HE JOLTS AWAKE, KICKING, SCRAMBLING TO THE HEADBOARD OF HIS BED, AND IGNORING THE SUDDEN PAIN OF HIS RIBS.

He pants heavily, covered in sweat, and looks all around his room in his house. After a moment of silence and some deep breaths, Charles calms down and holds his knees close to his chest as he rubs his neck.

He also has a mini 'Oh, shit, how did I get here?' moment, because he only remembers passing out in the helicopter, and gets out of bed to both make sure he's not dreaming and figure out how he got home; at least he's still in his clothes from the night before, save for his coat, sweatshirt, and headset.

Speaking of headset, Charles finds it on the island in his kitchen, next to his phone and a note.

The note reads, 'Rest again. You have the week off, General's orders. You're not allowed to come in. You're too good at you're job. We'll stop by later before the General gets there, though. Calvin and Konrad Bukowski. P.S. You drool a lot when you sleep and you're really loud.'

Charles checks his phone and has the sudden urge to punch someone in the face:

His lock screen shows a selfie of Rupert and the twins striking poses next to a sleeping, somewhat drooling, Charles as Galeforce yells at them; the lock is a thumbprint and Rupert HAD to get him back for that landing fake-out.

Charles shakes his head and chuckles at such juvenile delinquency, but groans at the fact he's suspended.

He tries to do some sort of physical activity á la push ups, but only ends up making the pain in his ribs worse.

When all else fails, Charles gives up on life and lies flat on his back on the floor.

"Damn it."

He lies there, just zoning out as he stares at the ceiling for a few hours until he hears a knock on his door.

"Come in," he calls.

Since he was given a key, in case he wanted to stop by, Galeforce enters and finds Charles on the floor, behind the side of his couch but in front of the kitchen/dining area, having a second of mini panic before seeing the pilot turn his head to him.

"How're you feeling?" Galeforce asks as he kneels down, his back to the couch.

Charles turns his eyes back to the ceiling.

"And if you say you're fine, I'm extending your suspension to three weeks. Tell me the truth, Charlie."

With as little attitude as possible, Charles explains exactly how he feels:

"My body hurts, my head hurts, I'm tired, I need to take my medicine, but I don't want to, I want to do some sort of workout, but I can't, I need to take a shower, Rupert messed with my phone, the twins said I drool in my sleep, Henry was too close to killing me last night and he's gonna come back for the sapphire, I'm not watching TV because all they talk about is the Toppat's orbital station and there's nothing new they have to say, and I really need to take my medicine. And eat breakfast. And take a shower."

Galeforce ruffles his hair and offers a stiff, sympathetic smile. "Is that everything?"

Charles, very carefully, turns and lies in his right side facing Galeforce, who is not joining him on the floor because tough love.

"Bad dream."

Galeforce softens at this. "Which one? Was it that one again?"

"No. It... It was a new one."

Galeforce is about to ask what happened, but stops himself when he notices Charles trembling from his place on the floot; probably doesn't help he hasn't taken his medicine and is laying right on top of his ribs.

And it's no wonder what the dream was about, now that he thinks about it.

"General?" Charles asks, "Is it because he got away again?"

Galeforce shakes his head. "Charlie, you got the sapphire. And you can't keep throwing yourself into a fight, if this is how you'll end up." He gestures toward Charles's chest. "Look, I get that you want Henry behind bars, but getting yourself killed won't help."

Charles nods after a second.

"I'll try to have you back in the air on more missions, but right now rest up for now. Getting that sapphire was more than enough."

Charles nods again, giving a small smile.

"And I'm not leaving until you get up and take your medicine."

With a sigh/groan, Charles holds his hand up and lets Galeforce pull him to his feet, taking his pills out of his pockets and taking two in front of him; he has to take two, three is too much and one isn't enough to keep him focused.

Galeforce hugs him and leaves, and Charles, used to a schedule to follow, flops onto the couch and groans into the cushions, before he screams at the top of his lungs.

I will repeat this somewhere, but I think it's obvious to say Charles does not like days off, even when it's a holiday.

CUT TO THE ORBITAL STATION!!

Henry struts in, back in his tech coat and normal suit, which is stylish as hell, and approaches Burt, who's busy with listening in on news reports and radio transmissions.

The Aztec sapphire is still in the government's hands, and everyone talks about how Charles hid the sapphire somewhere.

Bit of 'we the audience know more than the characters' here, Charles, of course, did not hide it. All he did was hand it over to Galeforce, but the word going around is that since Charles found it, he was the one to be responsible for hiding it.

That information doesn't sit well with Henry or the other Toppats, who each volunteer to go down to Earth for a manhunt.

Carol is one of the strongest members, so she thinks she should go.

Sven is extremely capable with a weapon, so he thinks he should go.

Right's a cyborg and wants to get Charles back for the premature start of the fight with the government, so he thinks he should go.

Reginald is one of the top members, and doesn't want Right getting hurt, so he thinks he should go.

Ellie, tired of all the noise, cuts in, "Everyone, zip it and wait for any new orders!"

They all shut up and Ellie pulls Henry aside.

"You don't have any plans on this, do you?"

Henry shakes his head and gives a '50/50' gesture with his hand.

Ellie gives him a withering scowl. "We were lucky enough to get out of there, last night. What're we gonna do? Steal from ARMED GOVERNMENT SOLDIERS?"

Henry purses his lips as he puts on his thinking cap(yeah, this is big brain time). Like I said in that break, as far as he knows, Charles hid the sapphire, seeing as how he stole it from Henry in the first place.

'We don't need to get there and search aimlessly,' he signs, though for Ellie to understand, it's, 'No search in base.'

Cue some confusion from Ellie, and Henry spins a finger over his head and holds his hands over his ears.

'Pilot.'

Ellie's confused frown turns into a smirk. "You cannot drop this guy, can you?"

Henry gives her a gesture that she understands clearly as he walks back to the other toppats:

'If I see something I like, something I want, I make sure I get it.'

TIME TO GO CHECK ON CHARLES!

He's sitting upside down on the couch with the Bukowski twins on either side of him as they watch a comedy show similar to The Office. It's dusk out, the twins arrived an hour after Galeforce left, and the three have been mostly quiet, save for some small talk.

But there's still one question on Charles's mind.

"How're things going at the base?"

"Boring," Calvin replies. "We can't decide what we should do with the sapphire. Give it back to the museum and the Toppats will steal it again. Hide it somewhere and we'll eventually forget and lose it, maybe even risk the Toppats finding it first."

"So far, we have it hunkered away in part of the armort," Konrad explians. "As in, it's IN THERE. As in, it's going to take a while to get it out. There's no way to get it out without someone or a group of people there to help, and it STILL won't be easy!"

Charles contemplates those words and rubs his ribs through his shirt, a habit he's been picking up lately in spite of himself.

"Can I ask you two... a really weird question?"

"What's up?" The twins ask as they crouch forward to meet his eyes.

Charles bites his lip before asking, "Why'd you two join?"

Both their faces drop and they glance at each other before looking back at Charles, who realizes what he just said.

"You-You don't have to tell me. I was just wondering."

Calvin shakes his head and smiles. "Don't worry about it. If anything-" Calvin sits back, his brother mirroring him as he watches. "-joining the military wasn't really at the top of our list of things to do. Two college dropouts at 19 with a record of causing mischief? No one wants THAT working for them."

"Calvin was the one who talked about it the most," Konrad continues. "I tried steering him to the police instead, but we need school for that. He signed up and I just tagged along. Didn't want anything to happen to him."

Charles looks between the two of them and is both glad amd jealous of the fact he doesn't have a brother; glad because he wouldn't be able to handle the fear of losing him, and jealous because he doesn't really like being alone.

Either way, Charles stands up and waters his plants, which the twins don't get, but don't jusge him for, and is distracted when his phone rings, from where it is on the island.

He stands as far into the kitchen as he can when he answeres, and the voice at the receiving end isn't who he was looking forward to talking to, in fact Charles literally pales and almost drops the small watering jug in his hand.

"Hey, Charles," Henry says, very coy and very warm.

AND THIS WAS PART 3! What are the Toppats planning? What is going to happen to Charles?

Hope he comes out okay😈

Would be a shame if something happened to him😈

ANYWAY, I hope you all enjoyed this, and thanks for reading!!!!!

[doberbutts]

I think it's wild we live in a world where being triggered by torture is considered unusual or weird. I absolutely am despite not having any real traumatic experience regarding it in my life that I'm aware of. I've been made fun of endlessly for my inability to watch movies like Saw or even popular TV shows like Game of Thrones/The Witcher despite loving the novels.

I didn't meant to imply that it's unusual, just that I have a pure trauma response to it due to an event that left me literally physically scarred that I'll remember for the rest of my life.

I know why I have this reaction and why it can verge on the extreme. Most people I would say are made uncomfortable by scenes displaying torture- that's a pretty typical reaction and in fairness I know enough about the franchise to know that those scenes are INTENDED to be uncomfortable to watch.

At the same time I would say that most people don't have a full on vomiting fainting panic attack the second the screaming starts. Otherwise movie theaters would probably not be so keen on playing these types of films. Some I would say, potentially you included, are more sensitive than others and it's not a great thing for them to be exposed to. And that's okay! And others may have a reaction like mine despite no prior trauma, but I'd guess that a significant number of people having an extreme reaction DO have something unresolved preventing them from calming themselves down.

GoT is another- I watched the show up until Viserys got his 'crown' and then I promptly threw up on the floor and ran out of the room still spewing. That was the moment the show went over the line for me. Supernatural achieved that during the zombie doctor episode in season 4 (4? 5? Dean hadn't died yet). Ironically the Witcher toed the line pretty hard with Yennifer's ritual but never crossed it, we'll see what happens in season two. I do skip that whole bit now during rewatches for that reason. I lost interest in a lot of cop shows years ago when they started introducing the Hannibal-like murder replays (except it was before Hannibal came out, so perhaps more accurate to assume the showrunners took a page out of SVU's book there). Any horror anything needs to be carefully reviewed before I can feel comfortable interacting with that media. I love del Toro but my first watch of Pan's Labrynth must remain my ONLY watch because that movie was Bad For Me.

And that's kind of the point. I can list off a good number of fantasy worlds that contain something that really does a number on my mental health. I can even go as far as to say I LIKE some of these fantasy worlds- some I just turned to the books when it became obvious that the show was not going to do well for me (GoT, Animorphs), some I stopped watching completely (Supernatural, various cop shows), others I'm still hesitantly able to enjoy but with the knowledge I'll need to skip scenes (Witcher, various horror games). But I know where that line is and I know how to avoid it, provided I'm given warning ahead of time that this will occur and I'll need to make a decision. Those that I felt were not giving me enough warning were simply crossed off the list.

That's the HEALTHY way to interact with things that make you uncomfortable. Acknowledging that different people have different comfort levels while still taking care of your own mental health. At no point do I think any of these franchises need to be destroyed simply because they bother my trauma. I just stop interacting with them and move on.

And that's what I think of whenever anyone's like 'this kink bothers me trauma, it's gross and bad and disgusting and you're a bad person that probably wants to do those things to innocent people'. I really don't think the creators of the Saw franchise actually want people to dig keys out of their own eyes or have their heads exploded by reverse bear traps or cut their own feet off with a bone saw. But they did want to tell a story that was dark and more than a little uncomfortable, and they had a good time doing it, and clearly with how much money they've made and how many of these films exist, plenty of people wanted them to tell this story and paid good money for it. If you don't like it, and it's clearly marked as what it is, then don't interact with it. Easy as that.

[hockey-hoe-24-7]

“You’re not doing anything, right?” feat. Brock Boeser

Warnings: Rough-ish smut, rude people, self-depreciation, cursing, 

Word Count: 2,250 (whoopsie)

“I think he could do a lot better.”

“That’s really mean, Sarah.”

“Doesn’t make it not true.”

“Oh, c’mon, she’s actually super pretty.”

“Still...”

If you clenched your hand around your cup any tighter, you were going to crush it and get iced coffee all over your favorite white sundress.

They were talking about you. More specifically, they were talking about how you weren’t attractive enough for your boyfriend, NHL player Brock Boeser.  Sure, you had seen comments on the internet, maybe one of two from a spiteful troll on an instagram post of you and Brock, but this was the first time you were sitting next to someone in a public place.  Amazing how small Vancouver was that you could be sitting right next to someone talking shit about you.

It wasn’t like you haven’t thought about it yourself before.  You weren’t by any means ugly.  You used to think you were, but as you grew older, you had grown more confident in your beauty, learned how to wear that confidence as an accentuation.  But, yeah, there were times--particularly on bad days--you reminded yourself that your boyfriend could do better. 

You were by no means the model material that found their way into his DMs, and as one of the best players in the league, right now, you knew he could snap his fingers and have them lined up on their knees for him. But he had chosen you, and for the past five months, had continued to choose you.

Your meeting had been what NHL imagines had been made of: he had spotted you in the stands during warm ups at a game.  It had been your second week in Vancouver after your job transferred there. Thankfully, you knew a few people in the city and were quick to make friends with your coworkers. It was them who had dragged you to front row seats at a game, using tickets from a family member that worked for the team.

When you had first seem Brock, you thought about how much he looked like a Disney prince. A sexy Disney prince. It must have been the hair. The hair, the jaw, the height, the body, the everything had you leaning forward in your seat before the game even started. Throughout warmups, you kept making eye contact, and the two times you had left your seat to talk to people you knew in the crowd, you found that his eyes had followed you. Once the game had started he had immediately buckled down into work mode, scoring three goals and throwing himself at the glass in front of you each time as you screamed along with everyone else. From then on, you knew you would be hooked on hockey.

That Monday, one of the coworker who had taken you to the game practically kicked in the door to your office.  Once he had regained his composure, he told you that Brock Boeser himself had texted him, asking for your name and number.  “He says you might be his new good luck charm.” After you had put his number in your phone, the only way to get your coworker out of your office was to text Brock at that moment and show proof that you had pressed send.  His reply text two minutes later had unleashed an entire zoo in your belly.

Somehow, he had convinced you to get a drink on a Monday night and you had been inseparable ever since. It still amazed you that, seeing him nearly every day, he could still make your stomach flip and your heart dance.  It also amazed you that he could make you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world when he so much as looked at you. Your first date, your first kiss, the first time you had slept together, watching a movie together, he made you feel like the sun rose and set with you.

Now, sitting at a coffeeshop listening to two women talk about you, you felt felt insecurities gather like a storm cloud. You were suddenly aware of how your dress fit you tightly in some areas, how the summer heat was causing you to break out along your back, how much it had hurt the first time you had seen a mean comment on Brock’s first instagram post of the two of you.

“You could do better, man.” 😂😂😂

“I’m not trying to be mean, and yeah she’s pretty. All I’m saying is that he could do better.” You were jerked out of your self-deprecation by the two women next to you. Were they not down with this conversation?

“How would you feel if someone said that about you?” You wanted to kiss the girl who was defending you, wanted to thank you for standing up for you, a complete stranger.

Your phone ringing drew away your attention and your mood lifted marginally when you saw that it was from Brock.

How’s studying going, beautiful?

Instead of the usual blast of sunshine you got in your blood when he called you beautiful, it was a violent wave of possessiveness that shocked you. And on the tail of that wave was something deeper, hotter, something with teeth.

Good. What are you doing right now?

At home. Watching highlights.

Busy at all later?

Nope. 

Good. I’m on my way.

Ok. You good?

You ignored that last message and packed up your stuff quickly. Your pettiness getting the best of you, you slammed your now empty cup down hard on the table. The two girls next to you jumped and turned to look at you. It took them a few seconds, but the look of shock and embarrassment on both of their faces fueled the something deep that continued to rise in you. Without a word, you stormed out to your car.

The drive home did nothing to ease your anger or the unexpected heat that was building in your chest, between your legs.  You clenched them together, but inhaled sharply when that did nothing but trigger a sudden shot of pleasure. By the time you were at Brock’s place, you were a panting, angry mess of a woman. Using the key he had given you, you all but bulldozed inside, dropping your bag and throwing your shoes off much too aggressively. You saw Brock’s blonde head over the couch where he was watching Ovechkin deliver a slapshot on the TV.

“Hey, baby.” He called out distractedly.

You didn’t answer as you walked over over to him, too busy unbuttoning the buttons on the bust of your dress.  “You said you had nothing to do today, right?” You repeated your earlier question. 

“Yeah, what...”

He trailed off, a look of confusion on his face as you rounded the couch, your dress nearly halfway unbuttoned.  Abandoning it and the answer to his question, you palmed his shoulders, shoved him back against the couch, and straddled him in one motion. He opened his mouth, possibly to speak, but you took it with your own before he could get any words out.  There was nothing gentle or seductive about the kiss.  It was more of a claim, a stamp of possession.  Perhaps instinctively, his hands went to your back and pulled your even closer as you licked your way deeper into his mouth, grabbing fistfuls of his hair to pull his head to suit your mouth. His hands ran up your back to your shoulders, his fingers curling into the loose waves of your hair. The familiar sting as he pulled was another shot of heat that had your own fingers digging sharply into his scalp. Rearing forward, you bit his lip. Hard. He made a surprised sound of pain, but didn’t pull away, instead jerking his hips beneath yours.  You could feel him hardening beneath the cradle of your thighs, and you were already soaking for him.  Pulling his head back, you kissed down his throat until you felt his pulse beneath your mouth.

“Y/N...” His voice was breathless. Not interested in conversation, you bit hard on his throat. “”Fuck!” His entire body jerked, but you felt his cock the most as you felt him through his shorts and your panties.  Desperate for the familiar pleasure, you rolled your hips against him. His hands now on your hips, his fingers dug in as he began to meet your aggression with his own.  One hand flew to your hair and he roughly pulled you back up to his mouth for another deep kiss that was a struggle for dominance. His other hand ran down your thigh, then shoved your dress up, his thumb landing on your clit.  Gasping into his mouth, you responded with a small growl before biting his lip again. You whined when he took his hand from your pussy, but felt a different kind of relief when he grabbed the front of your dress and tore the buttons the rest of the way, leaving you completely exposed. A hand still in your hair, he pulled you back for better access to your breasts, taking one pebbled nipple in his mouth through the thin fabric covering it. You tried to pull against his grip, but you both knew there was no match between your strength and his. In a bid to get some control back, you reached between you and grabbed what you could of his cock. He cursed again and bit down hard on your nipple. 

You had never really been the aggressor in bed, but right now you were angry and desperate and needed him.

Brock had yanked your bra from your shoulders and had his mouth at your other nipple, pinching the other one with his hand. Your own hands were busy pulling him free of his shorts and pulling your own panties aside.  His mouth now at your throat, you felt his body begin to shift, his muscles contracting beneath your grip. Knowing he was about to flip you onto your back, your hand left his cock and you gripped the back of the couch, stopping him from taking the control he wanted. Your name was a growl against your neck, followed by a punishing bite. But your hands were already back between you and try to guide him inside you. You were so desperate you were shaking. Losing grip of your panties, you whimpered in frustration. But Brock’s hands were there almost immediately. There was a loud rip and he was lifting you up off him. You both groaned long and loud as he guided himself inside of you. When he was at the hilt, you both stilled, panting wildly as you relished the feeling.

Impatience got the best of you and you grabbed his jaw in your hands, tilting his head back for another claiming kiss.  Shifting your hips back slowly, you jerked them forward. As you settled on a quick, rough pace, Brock groaned into your mouth. In the next second, his hands were on your hips and you could tell he was trying to restrain himself from taking control back, his body a hard cut of muscle beneath your own. He had always seemed to sense what you needed, and right now he seemed to know that you needed brutal kind of control. Burying your face in his neck, a hand to his shoulder and the other in his hair, you chased the release that couldn’t seem to come fast enough. Brock’s arms had come tight around your back, crushing you to him. “C’mon, baby,” he murmured. “Almost there. Fuck. So fucking good.”

As you felt the familiar tension build inside you, you reached between your bodies.  Brock took immediate advantage of your loss in balance. Surging up with a strength that had never failed to baffle you, he flipped you onto your back.  Landing with a grunt, you couldn’t even gather yourself together before he had both your hands in his grip, pinned above your head.  The pace he took up was brutal, completely out of your control. Your head falling back, you gave yourself up to it, your mouth open on silent cries. Both your wrists now in one hand, he reached down with the other and rubbed the heel of his hand hard against your clit.  Your mouth found sound and you screamed as your climax took you over and dragged you under, your hips thrusting wildly into his. He was right behind you, finding his own finish with one last deep, hard thrust that lifted your body up off the couch.

When he collapsed on top of you, it was a wonderful welcome weight.  Wiggling beneath him, you pulled your wrists from his now lax grip and wrapped your arms languidly around his broad shoulders, scratching his scalp and peppering kisses onto his temple. 

“That was...” He trailed off and you smiled, your pride swelling in your chest.

“Sorry I came on a little rough,” you apologized. He huffed out a laugh. “Are you kidding? Now I know you can handle that? Fuck, baby.” You shivered when you felt him jerk inside of you in renewed arousal.  Pulling his face from your neck, he rested his forehead against yours. “Want to talk about whatever happened?”

Running your hands through his hair, you pressed a soft, tender kiss to his mouth. “We will. Later...” You flexed around him and he shuddered in response. Smiling, you kissed your way up until you were at his ear. “Couldn’t think of anything else you might need to do today, right?”

[arthurflecksgirl]

Hi sweety❤️ Can I have a fic where Arthur helps x reader who's having a panick attack? him calming her down, cuddling her... thank you so much 😘

My dear friend. Thank you sooooo much for your request. I really really hope you like the result.

Summary: You`re greateful for how far you and Arthur had come in your relationship, how much progress he made to experience true happiness. But then you discover one of his journal entries. Is he still in the same dark place he was before? Just the thought of him suffering is giving you a panic attack. But Arthur is right there with you...

The dim light from the tv screen was the only light that filled the living room. Murray Franklin was talking to a well known comedian. You watched Arthur resting on the couch. He was falling asleep during the live show, even though he was looking forward to this episode all day, he was so tired, his eyes got heavy when Ellis Draine and his Jazz Orchestra started playing already.

"One day" you thought watching him breathe in and out like it was the easierest thing to do when you suffered from waht he had been through. One day he will be sitting on Murrays couch and telling his own jokes. And his idol will be proud of him like a father. Because he deserved it. He deserved the world.

Arthur seemed at peace with himself sleeping. That was new. Which made you proud of how far you two have come in your relationship. He was getting better.You felt it every morning waking up, receiving your good morning kiss from his coffee stained lips and cigarette tasting breath. He was making baby steps but looking at it now, over a year later it was a total different world he was living in. The one you created together. Ever since you met him you wanted to cure him. To support and comfort him through everyday life. To help him out of his mindset which was all that he had known since he was little.

People kept telling you that it was impossible to heal wounds like his. To heal someone that experienced his kind of trauma. That all he needed was proffessional help. But you knew that they missed out at something. Just because he needed his meds didnt mean that love wasnt the key for his cure.  You knew that there were some scars hidden inside of him, buried so deep that it would take years to get through and be able to work on that. But you also knew that being  loved was the only thing in this world that could ease Arthurs pain and make him the man he always wanted to be. He was destined to be.

And every single day  spent together was proof that he was making progress. His smile became more and more genuine. His laughing fits didnt happen as often anymore and if so they wouldnt last that long because you would hold him and help him breathe until it was over. He also told you about his journal entries and how they changed. His therapist was also seeing the changes. He was talking about how much more poetry and beautiful thoughts filled the pages.

You gently stroke his hair. Watching him sleep always felt pretty intimate to you. He was so vulnerable and unaware of his beauty. But you knew that even in his sleep he was aware of another thing- your love. Thats why he was even able to get some sleep.

You took another close look at his face. You could never get enough of him. It was risky to give him a kiss on his closed eyelids. Arthur had a very light sleep and could wake up any second but there was no way to fight the urge to do so. His eyelid fluttered under the soft touch of your bottom lip, but he didnt wake. You let your index finger travel over his dark eyebrows. They were shaped so perfectly, matching his piercing eyes and the slight circles underneath them. His body was still stressed out from work. His fragile body which was trying so hard not to break down while starving.

His stomach problems caused by his meds was another thing you had to work through. You looked at the bowl on the table. he almost finished his soup today, which was a good sign. You smiled, got up from your knees and walked to his desk to get the empty cups of coffee from the morning. It was time to make the dishes.

But the moment you grabbed the cups his journal distracted you. It was opened. You wondered about his last entries, the ones he wanted to show you because he wrote some new poems lately.

It took you a moment to think about if it was even okay to have a look at the opened page but it was already too late. One sententence was marked, the letters thicker than the rest of the written words. It caught your eye without a warning. And when you read it, your heart stopped for a second.

"I just hope my death makes more cents than my life"

Why?

Why the hell would he write something cruel like that?

The letters started to blurr through your tears. One tear was falling upon the page. Right on the word HOPE.

Shit. Now he would notice that you came near this page. You nerveausly grabbed a handkerchief and pressed it on the spot where the tear was soaking through the page. It was too late, making it look even worse.

You started to cry , throwing the handkerchief on the floor.

Why?

Yo thought he was getting better. There was so much proof.

Did he felt like his life was worthless?

Didnt make any sense?

Was he feeling like all of this wasnt making sense?

You thought you helped him.

Was it al in your mind? His proress? Him becoming a happier version of himself? Was it all a lie you told yourself?

The possibility of Arthurstill being the same tortured soul as when you met him simply broke your heart.

Why was a beautiful and gentle soul like him suffering so much? How cruel can the world be to him?

Was he still wishing he was dead? Was he still lying in bed at night, fantasizing about ending his own life?  Would he ever hurt himself again? Risking to being locked up at Arkham, so there was no chance to share a bed together? Just visits with him being handcuffed on the other side of the table? Was there still a chance he was that unhappy inside?

Tears fell like rain.

The pain inside your heart grew with every thought that crossed your mind. If life was still torture to him, why wouldnt he talk about this to you? Didnt he trusted you enough? Was he embarrassed about how he felt? Or was it simply because he didnt wanted you to get worried about his condition?

It was all too much.

You started to feel like your throath was getting tighter. Like the walls were closing in. Everything inside of you screamed. There was this nameless fear inside of your guts. Possesing you, hurting you. It was getting harder and harder to breathe.

Dizzyness overcame you with all its power. Cold sweat. All of the sudden the happiness you felt while watching him sleep was being sucked out of your body. And now all you knew was fear.  Liek it was the only emotion left in the world. Pure, naked fear in its rawest form.

A panic attack.

You had experienced this before but never this intense.

You sat down on the chair, trying not to look at the opened journal again.  It hurt so much. All of it did. Your body. Your heart. Mostly your heart. And your head. Both heavy from tears and the thought of Arthur being suicidal.

Your breathing got heavier as you started to sobb.

And then you heard Arthurs footsteps. His naked feet on the floor. You woke him up. He was finally resting and you woke him. This made you feel even worse.

"Oh my god Y/N, darling. What happened?" He noticed your tears and heavy breathing.

"Dont worry....Arhur....please....just go back to sleep okay? You need your sleep.  You`ve been working hard today...."

Arthur checked your pulse "Oh shit, your heart is racing. Did you took any medication? "

"No..."

"Did something else happen?" He checked your forehead, noticed your shaking hands. "Looks like you`re having a panic attack. I know the symptoms very well. I had so many in the past when I woke up from nightmares."

You nodded. Still sobbing like a baby. Arthur gave you one of his handkerchiefes and started to stroke your hair "Oh darling, I kow this feels terrible. But it will pass. Just try to breathe. Breathe with me okay. Remember when you helped me breathe during my laughing fits? I will do the same with you now okay?"

"Okay"

Arthur lifted you up and carried you to the couch.

"Is that okay? Is it comfortable?" you nodded. He was so caring it broke your heart. He cared so much about you, while inside he was suffering from so much pain.

He positioned himself behind you, resting both of his hands on your tummy and told you to breathe in and out like he did. Until you felt your breath becoming one with his. Just as calm and deep.

"Good" he whispered, his gentle fingers under your shirt. He knew that skin on skin contact helped calming you down.

"You`re doing great" his voice was everything you needed to hear.

"Oh Arthur....I feel like I cant breathe...."

"Shhhhhhtt.....baby I know. I know how it feels. Your body is telling you lies. You can breathe. Just do it with me."

"You felt Arthurs chest lifting up and down, his warm breath in your neck. He was everything to you. You needed him to be happy.

Arthur placed thoughtful kisses all over your neck. As soft as a butterflies wings. You tried to concentrate on the details. His long , dark eyelashes crossing the spot behind your ears. The tip of his nose tickeling you. His muffled "I love you`s".

"I`m sorry I woke you up"

"Dont be!"

"There was this sudden fear coming over me. It was like....I thought I was dying."

"I´m right here with you Y/N. Nothing bad is going to happen to you, I promise!"

You nodded. Knowing he was right. Nothing could harm you with Arthurs arms around you. You just wished it was the same the other way around. Wasnt it the same?

His journal said it wasnt.  His written words hitting you like a knife.

"Do you know what triggered this?" He asked you, while his hand was caressing your chest.

Should you tell him? He would notice the wet spot on his journal page anyway.

"Arthur I am so scared to tell you this but...I was ...oh god....I was looking at your opened diary  page. It was lying on teh table when I was getting the coffee cups and there was this sentence that caught my eyes......" you started to sobb uncontrolable.

"What page?" he asked "Please dont cry. Ohhhhhh please ...." he pulled you closer to his chest so his heartbeat was pressed against you.

"You wrote....."I just hope my death makes more cents than my life...." Arthur. This hit me so hard. I didnt knew you still felt like this. I dont know.....what to say....I`m just.......oh Arthur....." you pressed yourself against him as if your life depended on it. Arthurs white shirt was now soaked with tears.

"Ohhh nooo darling. That was my old journal. My therapist wanted to bring it back to her to proof how much progress I made since I met you!"

You loosened your embrace to look him in the eyes "W-What?"

"Yeah" he shrugged "I just marked the darkest pages to see how far we have come and stopped at this one before going to sleep."

The weight of the world was falling off your shoulders "Really?"

"Yes.....oh  Y/N I am so sorry you had to go through these emotions just because I was so stupid to leave my old journal lying on the table. "

"You are not stupid Arthur!"

"Well this time I was"

"It was my fault....I shouldnt have looked at the page in the first place".

The air was finally coming back. Your body was starting to relax again.

Arthur held you close in his arms "That was the old me. And yes sometimes I´m still having dark thoughts but its just.....echoes from the past. Its not part of our reality anymore. Its just ghosts. They`re not real. Just trying to tell me lies. So I am not listening to them . I´m listening to you. To your words of love and comfort. I`m save with you. And you are save with me. Remember?"

"I remember Arthur. I love you so much!"

"I love you more"

"Thats impossible" you smiled, kissing his upper lip.

Arthur rested his head in the crook of your neck whispering "If I`ve learned one thing from being loved, its this: Nothing`s impossible - with you in my arms".

@impulsiveclown @will-you-be-there @jokerownsmysoul @missjoker96 @arthurskitten @lynnesm @nonnymousse @gwynplaine89 @ajokeformur-ray@damnrightobsessedwithim @sgtsavoytruffle  @duhliriouss  @flowerglitterwoman @thirstforfleck @spookyhome @iartsometimes  @you-cant-cry-in-here @bustafatclownnut @jokerismyhubbie  @check-out-this-joker @darknessisafriend  @arthurhappyclown    @neon-umbrella-for-stella    @call-me-harley-quinn  @arthurjokersgirl

@aarthurfleckk @mylovelycrazyworld @clownalog @ajokerfangirl  @the-one-who-is-chaos @sabrinaeileensnape @raven-romanoff

[aion-rsa]

How Final Destination Went From Real-Life Premonition to Horror Phenomenon

https://ift.tt/30jSLcc

The year 2000 was a scary one for horror films and not always in a good way.  

While American Psycho and The Cell offered up visually striking nihilistic thrills to genre fans, the majority of horror movies released at the dawn of the new millennium were at best forgettable and, at worst, lamentable – yes, we’re looking at you, Leprechaun in the Hood.  

This was the year of duff sequels like Book of Shadows: Blair Witch 2, Urban Legends: Final Cut and, though it is painful to admit, Scream 3. Horror fans were screaming out for something different, something exciting. They found it with Final Destination.  

Discarding the stalk-and-slash thrills that had enjoyed a revival in the years following the release of Scream, Final Destination centered on a group of high schoolers who end up avoiding a fatal plane crash thanks to a premonition, only to discover there is no escaping death’s plan as one by one they are offed in a variety of brilliantly inventive “accidents”.  

Released in March of that year, Final Destination was a sleeper hit with word-of-mouth helping the film to clean up at the box office, earning $112 million off a $23 million budget with more than half of that coming internationally.  

To date, it has spawned four sequels as well as a variety of novelisations and comic book spin-offs while a franchise reboot is also on the horizon.  

Read more

Movies

The Final Destination Movies, Ranked

By Sarah Dobbs

Jeffrey Reddick has worked on several films during his career to date but he’s probably best known as the creator of Final Destination. It’s something he has come to terms with.  

“It’s probably going to end up on my gravestone, it’s such an ironic title,” he tells Den of Geek.  

“Sometimes I’ll be out and I will hear someone say ‘you just had a Final Destination moment’ and it will make me smile. The whole thing just took on a life of its own.”  

Nightmarish Origins  

A screenwriter and director, Reddick recalls how his neighbors in rural Jackson, Kentucky, would laugh when his six-year-old self would tell them about his plans to work in the movie business.   

An avid writer and reader of Greek and Roman mythology, he recalls spending his formative years watching horror movies with his friends. His mother was only too happy to indulge his burgeoning interest too, knowing it kept him out of trouble elsewhere.  

Reddick’s life began to change after he saw A Nightmare on Elm Street.   

“That film cemented my love of horror. I was this 14-year-old hillbilly from Kentucky but I decided I was going to write a prequel. I went home, banged it out on my typewriter and sent it to Bob Shaye.”  

The legendary head of New Line Cinema initially dismissed Reddick’s draft out of hand, returning it with a note explaining the studio did not “accept unsolicited material.”  

Undaunted, Reddick sent the script back with a note telling him “Look mister, I spent three dollars on your movie and I think you could take five minutes on my story.”  

Shaye was impressed and struck up a bond with the youngster that saw him sending everything from scripts to posters to Reddick during his teenage years.  

When Reddick moved to New York to study acting, age 19, he was offered an internship with New Line, which would become a full-time role despite acting being his “main passion.”  

“Diversity in casting was not a thing at that time,” he recalls.  

“My agent was like ‘I don’t know what to do with you as an actor. We can’t put you up for gangsters or pimps and you don’t rap and you don’t play basketball.”  

“So  I figured, screw it, I will just write stuff and put myself in it.”  

Reddick was present at New Line during their company’s early 90s creative heyday and credits the experience with helping him get Final Destination off the ground.  

“I learned a lot about how to get a movie made. I knew that to make a movie that connected with an audience you had to tap into something that was universal. Death is the ultimate fear.”  

As luck would have it, the idea actually came to Reddick while on a flight back to Kentucky.  

“I read about a woman who was on vacation and her mother told her not to take the flight she was planning to take home as she had a bad feeling about it. The woman changed it and the plane she was supposed to be on crashed.”  

At that point however the idea wasn’t Final Destination. It wasn’t a film either. It was an episode of The X Files.  

The Truth Is Out There  

“I was trying to get a TV agent at the time and they recommended I write a spec script for something already on the air. I was a huge fan of The X Files and thought about a scene where somebody has a premonition and gets off the plane and then it crashes and used that as the plot.”  

“It was going to be Scully’s brother Charles who had the premonition. He gets off the plane with a few other people but they start dying and Charles blacks out every time there is a murder so people suspect he is doing it.   

Read more

TV

I Still Want to Believe: Revisiting The X-Files Pilot

By Chris Longo

“The twist at the end was that the sheriff who had been investigating alongside Mulder and Scully the whole time had actually been shot and flatlined at the same time as the plane crash.  Death brought him back to kill off all the survivors, including Charles.”  

It would have made for a great episode except it was never submitted to The X Files. Reddick showed his spec script to some friends at New Line who were so impressed, they told him to develop it into a treatment for a feature, which was eventually purchased by the studio.  

Producers Craig Perry and Warren Zide were brought onboard to develop the story and set about tweaking his idea.  

“Originally the cast of survivors were adults because I wanted to explore more adult themes but Scream had come out and teenagers were hot again so New Line got me to change it”  

In a twist of fate, two established writers from The X Files, James Wong and Glen Morgan, were brought onboard to rejig Reddick’s script.   

“My version was definitely darker and more like A Nightmare on Elm Street,” he says.  

“In my script, death would torment the kids about some kind of past sin they felt guilty about. They would then die in these accidents that ended up looking like suicides.”  

For example, Todd’s death saw him chased into the family garage by an unseen specter where he accidentally ended up rigged in a noose triggered when his dad opens the automatic garage door.   

Death is all around us  

Ultimately that death scene and several others were ultimately scrapped in favour of what would prove to be the franchise’s calling card.  

Reddick credits Wong and Morgan with coming up with the idea of having the film’s key death scenes kicked off by a Rube Goldberg machine-like chain-reaction that would see everyday things colliding to create a lethal scenario. It was nothing short of a masterstroke.   

“It created this notion that death is all around us,” Reddick says.  

“Death would use everyday things around us. It made it more universal and allowed us to set the deaths in places where people go all the time. The payoff would be fun but it was the build-up that had you on the edge of your seat.”  

There was one major sticking point for the studio though: the presence of death, or rather the lack of.  

“I fought really hard to make sure we never showed death because for me, if you didn’t show it, it could be something someone, no matter their belief system, could project onto our villain. That was a tough sell for the studio. They would be like ‘this doesn’t make any sense, you can’t see it and you can’t fight it’ but that’s the point, it’s death.”  

“Luckily both James Wong and Glen Morgan were very insistent we never show it and tie it in to a specific belief system.”  

Reddick credits the move with helping Final Destination become “an international phenomenon”.  

“It struck a chord with people around the world. It broke out beyond the horror audience.”  

Casting dreams   

When it came to casting, Reddick had a clear idea of who he wanted in the lead roles, even if the studio’s opinion differed drastically.  

“I had a wish list with Tobey Maguire and Kirsten Dunst as my two leads but New Line was like ‘well…’”  

He might not have got his first pick but Final Destination boasted an impressive cast of up-and-comers who had already made waves among teen audiences.   

Devon Sawa had starred in Idle Hands, while Ali Larter was known for Varsity Blues and Kerr Smith was a regular on Dawson’s Creek. There was even room for Seann William Scott, fresh from his breakout turn in American Pie who was drafted in on the recommendation of producer Craig Perry, who told Reddick “you’ve got to get this kid, he’s going to be huge.”  

Even so, Reddick was left a little unhappy.  

“One of the conversations we had early on was like ‘Just remember this is set in New York, which is one of the most diverse cities in the world so let’s make sure we have some diversity in the cast’ and they were like ‘oh we will’ and then there wasn’t anyone who wasn’t white in it.”  

New Line chief Bob Shaye did find a way to make amends on some level at least, casting Candyman horror icon Tony Todd in a cameo role as a mysteriously foreboding mortician.  

“He called me up and said they had got Tony Todd and I flipped out. He is an icon. Such a talented, serious actor.”  

As well as co-write the film, Wong took on directorial duties while each of the film’s death sequences would require careful planning, his first aim was to have the film start with a bang by creating as terrifyingly realistic a plane crash as possible.  

“We want to do for planes and air travel what Jaws did for sharks and swimming,” he declared in one interview.  

Yet the film would later garner criticism for its eerie similarities to the explosion and crash of TWA Flight 800 off East Moriches, Long Island, New York in 1996 where 16 students and five adults died.  

“There was some criticism that the movie was written to exploit this real-life crash,” Reddick recalls.  

“I even realised later they used footage from one real-life crash which I wasn’t particularly happy about.”  

Indeed, much of the news footage shown in the film actually came from the 1996 crash.  

That didn’t stop the film becoming a major hit and spawning a sequel within three years.   

Final Destination meets Game of Thrones  

Reddick returned to write the treatment for Final Destination 2, determined to move the franchise away from its teen Scream origins.   

“We had tapped into that zeitgeist and didn’t have to do that again. I wanted to expand the universe and subvert it, so I had it open by following a bunch of teens who are then killed off.”  

Once again, divine intervention led to divine inspiration for the opening set piece.  

“Originally, I was going to have it open with some kids going to spring break and they stop off at this hotel and there is a fire but the producers were not sure. Writers always say you should go out and live life – life informs you and a lot of inspiration comes out when I go out for a walk.  

“I was driving back to Kentucky to see my family and I got stuck behind a log truck and the idea just came to me. I pulled off the highway and called Craig and was flipping out with this idea for a log truck on a freeway.”  

The resulting freeway pile-up that leads to multiple deaths is one Reddick ranks as his “favourite scene in the entire franchise.”  

“The second film is my favourite. I wanted to create a sequel that didn’t feel like a remake of the first. It went in a more fun direction – but it’s still scary.”  

That first sequel also represented the last of which Reddick was formally involved in, though he remained very much in the loop as the Godfather of the franchise, revealing that producers had been “looking at scripts before Covid hit.” 

He also revealed that, at one point, things looked to be heading in an altogether different and thoroughly fascinating direction.  

“There was talk about setting a Final Destination back in Medieval times. Like Game of Thrones in Final Destination. Craig Perry worked with a writer and they talked about the idea and put a teaser trailer together [which has leaked online].   

“I would go and see that movie in a heartbeat but the studio said that the reason Final Destination was so popular was that element of deaths in normal, everyday situations.”  

Future Destinations  

Reddick hasn’t given up on a return to the franchise though, hinting at a “unique” idea he has for a new film that is simply too good to reveal yet.   

In the meantime, he has been busy writing and directing Don’t Look Back, a film that shares some surface similarities with Final Destination and is painfully relevant to society today.  

“It’s a mystery thriller about a group of people who witness someone getting fatally assaulted in a park and don’t help the person and somebody films them and puts it online. The public turns on the witnesses and someone or something is coming after them.”  

Eager to make more horror films and celebrate diversity in his work, Reddick remains immensely proud of Final Destination and the impact it has had on audiences.  

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“It’s cool. To have one movie that is going to be talked about after you die is a life goal. If that’s what I leave behind as a legacy that’s enough – but I still want more.” 

Don’t Look Back is available on DVD & Digital from 14th June

The post How Final Destination Went From Real-Life Premonition to Horror Phenomenon appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3oUb1UD

[starswayv]

forever (jung jaehyun)

forever (jung jaehyun)

pairing jung jaehyun x reader

themes soft angst (depression), fluff end, drabble

word count 1.496, does it still count as a drabble?

author’s note I’ve been dealing with depression for years now, so I tried to stay truly to what I experience and feel, knowing that depression hits differently for everyone. read only if you’re comfortable, I tried to make it as soft and fluff as I could, so it has a happy ending! also, I wrote this listening to this song by jeremy zucker, so if you want, listen while reading. enjoy <3

You were used to this kind of feeling. It comes and goes every couple of months, sometimes during whole weeks of you feeling useless, down and without energy to do the things you love the most. It sucks, but you were used to it.

Eventually the feeling goes by, and you go back to the happy version of yourself. It was all normal again, you were the good student, worker, friend and girlfriend you loved to be.

Everything was fine, but the bad part always made a comeback. And here you were again.

12:04 pm and you’re still in bed, scrolling down your social media, hoping to find something to distract yourself from the aching heart inside your chest. When you had one of this days, you’d almost never text or call your friends and loved ones, wanting to be left alone, and with Jaehyun, your boyfriend, busy with recording the whole week, you weren’t worried about someone wanting to talk or meet with you, so the plan was really to stay the entire day in bed.

It was ok. It was the very best you could do that moment, and every single feeling about it were still and always valid.

You lock your phone, looking for the TV remote with your eyes to turn the TV on, when you phone buzzed and the scream turned back on.

hey princess, just met with the producer and found out I’m done for the day.

coming over to see if u want to do something today. love u ;)

Your heart dropped a little. Of course you were happy you were going to see him, but he sounded so sweet in the text and you didn’t feel like meeting him in the feeling right now.

You get up to brush you hair and teeth, jumping back to bed the second your done. You know you don’t have to lie to him, get dressed and pretend the entire day you’re ok... He knows you like the back of his hand, and you trust him completely. He knows every bit of you, the pretty and the ugly. And he loved you entirely.

The sound of keys on the door echoes through the apartment, and you sit in bed waiting for him to come inside. Your heart races in your chest, missing him already, even tho he was right there coming for you.

The weather was warm outside, so Jaehyun comes in, wearing shorts and t-shirt, the big smile on his face brightening up the entire dark room. He leans in to you, taking your face in his hands and slowly kissing you hello.

“Hi, princess. How are you?”

He takes a sit in front of you in bed, waiting for your response and intertwining his fingers on yours.

“I’m good”, you lie a little.

“So, what do you want to do today?”, he asks, calmly. “The sky is so pretty and clear, maybe we could go to a park, play with some dogs…”

You look down, not wanting to see his face at the moment. It wasn’t fair to him you not wanting to do anything today, but It was worse to lie to him, and even more worse to lie yourself.

“I’m really sorry, Jae. I really don’t feel like going outside today.”

One look at you in the right moment, when the mask fails to do it’s job and hide what you’re truly felling, and he know. No words needed, his eyes meet yours, and he know what’s all about. You’re having one of those days.

He looks to you, face filled with understanding, and nods almost unnoticeably.

Jaehyun proceeds to take the place in bed next to you. You avoid eye contact, knowing that you’d feel guilty for tuning down all the pretty things you were sure he had planned for your day, but you just wasn’t feeling it, and you both had finally entered that place in your relationship were the fake outs and play pretends weren’t needed anymore. You were true to each other, in the beautiful parts and in the dark ones.

Jaehyun take his shirt off and sits with his back facing the wall, indicating for you to sit between his legs and be hugged, him being ready to cuddle you in bed for as longs as you needed him to.

“Do you want me to get you something? Some water, food, maybe a movie?”

You move to be in front of him, his arms instantly wrapping your waist and bringing you close, his warmness spreading to you whole body like a warm fire pit. You take his hands in yours, thumbs caressing the back of his hands, and calm and peace of mind slowly beings to fulfill your mind. If only he knew the soothing effect he has on you. Even in the baddest days, when the troubles and worryings and the anxiety seems to never quiet down, or like today, when even getting out of bed it’s too much, Jaehyun was always there and he always knew what to do to make you feel a little better. Even when you are apart, he never fails to let you know you are not alone in this. Not now, nor ever.

“I’m good. I’m gonna be good. Just stay here with me for a while.” you say, so quietly it comes out as a whistle.

His grip around you gets tighter, his face coming closer to yous to leave a soft and long kiss on the cheek, eyes closing with the feeling of his lips against your skin.

“I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere. Not now, nor ever. I’ll stay here, holding you forever.”

You smile a little, your mood lifting up piece by piece.

“But what if we have to eat?” you ask, and he hums behind you.

“We order in and give a bigger tip for the inconvenience of bringing the food to us in bed.”

“And what if we have to work and stuff?”

“Video calls exist for a reason, princess.”

You laugh out loud, and Jaehyun smiles big at the sound he loved so much. No music in the word, no orchestra, singer or string quartet compares to the sound of his loved one laughing, genuinely happy, even more knowing he had a share of the happiness, he being the reason to it.

An idea popped up in your head, and you wiggle in enthusiasm of the answer he was going to made up for this one.

“And what if we had to pee?”

He dramatically freezes behind you, fingers widening in the air, leaving yours alone in your lap, and you keep laughing.

“Okay princess, I’m sorry but I’m leaving you for that. Pee is important.” you nod, and his right hand meets you cheek, turning your face to meet his, noses almost touching with the approximation. “But I promise it’s just to do that. Nothing else is going to keep me apart from you.”

You smile a little, not having time to think his words for he brings you closer to a kiss. His lips meets your vaguely, trying to not be too harsh or intense, just a brush of lips to show calm and endearment, but long enough so you feel how much you were being loved in that moment. Because he loved you a lot, he really did.

Lips parts, but he keep both foreheads connected, eyes far lost into yours, unable to break the moment.

“I love you so much.” you whisper, so low and so to yourself, the kind of ‘I love you’ you’re not even expecting anything in return. Just pure realization, when you’re hit by the new feeling you never knew.

Only you know you love him for years now, but it never gets old. Every ‘I love you’ it’s just as exciting and new as the first one.

You said it in the lowest voice, but he still hears and smile. His nose brush against yours in a butterfly kiss, and his lips meet yours again, this time putting in every passion and intimacy you share together, deep and long.

Every kiss too was as exciting and amazing as the first one. The butterflies, the rush, your hands wondering and tucking his hair, him traveling all the way from the end of your back to your neck, lips always together. His tongue meets yours, moving so slowly if feels like caressing it. So light and so intense at the same time, erupting all the love he have for you inside of him and bringing pure adoration to the surface.

You slow down the kiss, needing a bit of air and close your eyes, wanting to record everything about this moment in your head, wanting every touch to stay forever marked in your skin. For you to remember in those kind of days, that you’re okay. You’re fine. You love and you are loved. And you don’t need nothing else than this is the world.

“I love you more. Forever.”

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 212 prt 1

212

Matt and Rieva returned in the morning. Seeing Lance hadn’t come down with a fever, or bled during the night, Keith let his fiancé sleep. The vampire had been up a couple of times in the morning to use the bathroom, collapsing back into bed as if he’d been sleep walking each time. Rieva was of the opinion Lance should rest, Matt backing up with his fiancé said, both of them leaving within the hour of arriving back home to go to work.

Flicking the TV on for company, Keith woke Lance up with the noise. Shuffling into the room, his fiancé climbed onto the sofa next to him, an arm snaking around Keith’s waist for comfort. He got a very sleepy “I love you”, before Lance fell back to sleep again him. His scent was still off. It was still off and it still filled Keith with nervous energy. Managing half an hour sleep, Lance woke up, mumbling about needing the bathroom. His lover barely gone a few moments before he was back, gripping the doorframe with one hand, and his stomach with the other

“K-Keith... I think there’s something wrong with me”

Jumping over the side of the sofa, Keith caught Lance as his knees gave out. The crotch of Lance’s underwear wet and bloodied. Fuck. Fuck... no. This couldn’t be happening, fluid spilling down the inside of Lance’s shaking legs

“Lance!”

“Nnngh... I dun feel good... I think the twins are coming”

Lifting Lance off his feet, Keith carried his fiancé over to the sofa. Squatting down between Lance’s knees, Keith was far far into panic mode

“Are you sure?”

“Mhmm... it... hurts...”

“Okay. Okay, let me get the keys and we’ll head to Platt. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay, baby. Just hang on for me”

Grabbing his phone up, Keith called Coran, yelling at him to be prepared because Lance was in labour. Finding Lance’s car keys up, he rushed out to the bronco, climbing in before realising he’d left Lance sitting in the living room. He didn’t know what the plan was. Why didn’t they have a birth plan?! Rieva said they needed a birth plan. So why hadn’t they made a birth plan!? Looking to assure Lance it would be okay, that was when he realised he’d forgotten the main component of this nonexistent plan.

Running back into the house, Lance was now sobbing on the sofa, both hands on his stomach, clearly in pain. False contractions had been bad enough, Keith sympathised over the amount of pain Lance must be in. Placing his hand on his mate’s arm, Lance was freezing, that couldn’t be a good sign. He was wearing a hoodie. Why was he wearing a hoodie? Lance should be wearing the hoodie...

“You’re going to be okay, babe. You’re going to be okay. We’ll get to you Platt”

Lance shook his head, crying harder as he did

“I don’t want to go... don’t make me go”

“Coran’s going to deliver our twins, you’ll be okay”

Snatching up the blanket Lance had come shuffling in with, Keith tried to wrap it around Lance’s shoulders, Lance slapping his hand away

“I don’t want him to take our babies away!”

His ego took that as fact, rather than fear. Anger prickling at the idea of their children being stolen away. Shit. Now was not the time. What was he forgetting?! Lance’s go bag. No. No. That was still in the back of the bronco

“That’s not going to happen”

“Please... please don’t let them take them away from me”

“They won’t. They won’t take them away. Can you stand?”

Lance whimpered at him, drawing back on the sofa. He didn’t want to leave his home. They’d come too damn far to lose the twins now.

Forcing Lance up to stand, between his legs was wet with red tinged fluid. The pain leaving Lance hunched. Lifting him off his feet, Keith rushed from the living room, fighting his own ego that screamed at him as he forced himself out the front door. Fuck. Fuck. This was not the plan. This was the plan, but Lance wasn’t okay so this wasn’t the plan. Shit. He needed to call Shiro... and Krolia... and the others... fuck... Clutching his shirt, Lance gazed up at him with glassy eyes

“I don’t want to lose the twins”

“You’re not about to. You’ll be okay, baby. You’ll be okay”

Getting Lance into the bronco, Keith skipped the seatbelt, covering Lance with the blanket before leaning over to crank the heating knob to full heat. Slamming the door closed, he rounded the bronco, climbing in beside Lance, who whined softly for him

“I’m here, baby. I’m here. It’ll be okay”

Shifting closer to him, Lance buried his face against Keith’s shoulder

“I don’t feel very good... it hurts”

“I know, sweetheart. You hold on for me...”

“I love you... I dun wanna leave you...”

“You’re not going to. You’re not going anywhere”

Kicking gravel as he pulled a U-turn in Lance’s drive, Keith’s heart wouldn’t stop hammering. Labour seemed so sudden. Lance hadn’t said anything about his water breaking. Wasn’t that a thing? In the movies it was a sudden gush... Where was the sudden gush? He might have no idea about this, but these things were supposed to happen in order! Lance was supposed to come tell him his waters had broken, then he’d soothe him, and they’d go to Platt, where Coran would be waiting happily to deliver their twins. This was not how it went!

Speeding through Garrison, Keith took a few turns wide as he tried to reach his phone to call his brother. The device sliding along the dash and deciding to stay on the opposite end. The last thing he needed was the red and blue flashing lights in the rear view mirror that were accompanied by a burst of siren just after Balmera. Shit. Lance was in labour. He was on edge. He didn’t need this shit right now. He could make a run for it... but the cops would follow... he really didn’t need a high speed chase. Fuck. Fuck... fuck. Slowing the bronco, the stop was less than gentle as he pulled onto the gravel shoulder, jolting Lance. Moaning at the sudden stop, Lance blinked at him, trying to focus

“Ke-Keith?”

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay”

Watching the officer climb out of the patrol car, Keith nearly gunned the engine. He could put a fair bit of distance between them and police if he left right now... but Lance would be mad if he did that. His lover’s hand finding his and gripping hard as let out a long groan

“You’re okay. You’re okay... fuck...”

Squeezing his hand, Keith felt something break. For being so weak, his fiancé’s strength was there when they didn’t need it. Lance had a death grip on his hand, Keith not sure it’d ever not have his impression printed on it forever.

“Sir, are you aware of how recklessly you were driving?”

Keith had rolled the window down as the officer got closer. He could do this. Nothing was wrong... just his fiancé in labour... nothing to see here

“I...”

“I trust you have some good reason for how fast you were going”

Lance let out a cry, the police officer looking alarmed

“Sir, is there something wrong with your passenger there?!”

“K-Keith...?”

The less Lance had to do with the police officer, the better

“It’s my fiancé. They’re in labour. There’s been so many complications with the pregnancy...”

“Sir, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to step out of the car”

No. Nope. On the other side of the car, the man’s college opened the passenger side door. Keith’s heart beat so loud it was echoing in his head. Lifting the blanket, the officer drew back, talking past the pair of them

“We need an ambulance. There’s blood”

Keith snarled, sorely sorry for having dropped

“We don’t need an ambulance. You need to let me get him to his doctor!”

“Sir, if you’re going to continue to be aggressive...”

Nope. They weren’t taking him and they weren’t waiting for ambulance to come all the way from Platt when he could get Lance to VOLTRON faster and safer for everyone involved

“Oh, fuck this. I’m sorry”

Turning on the engine, the officer at his door tried to stick his arm inside to open the driver door from the inside. Keith tearing his hand off the handle and shoving him back so hard the man fell on his arse. Sticking his head out the window, Keith threw a blanket apology in the man’s direction

“I’m sorry, but you have no idea what’s happening and I like him better than I like the pair of you”

Shit. Fuck. He’d gone and done it now. He heard the police fussing as he pulled off the gravel shoulder, hopefully Coran would deal with the fall out. The Garrison police kind of too shocked to get their shit together in a hurry...

“Babe?”

“It’s okay. I didn’t hurt him...”

“You like me more than them...”

Swerving the bronco, the still open passenger door swung closed as he’d hoped it would

“I do, baby. I love you”

“I dun feel good... it hurts and I’m tired. You said your were worry”

Keith groaned at himself. He made a terrible criminal

“I know. You’ve got stay awake for me. You can do that for me”

“Wanna... push... ‘m scared”

“No! No pushing. You’re okay, it’s not that far”

“Bud my body says...”

All colour left Keith’s face. Nope. No. He didn’t know how to deliver a baby. Plus... Lance wasn’t equipped for things to be coming out of there... that’d hurt...

“You have to keep those legs of yours closed a little longer...”

“I dun know... they’re coming too soon... nigh...”

Squeezing Lance’s hand with his busted hand, there was no pushing happening in the bronco, Lance’s groan was too long not be him struggling

“Don’t you dare push!”

“I...”

“Our babies are going to be born at VOLTRON. Remember the drugs? Think of the drugs...”

Lance nodded sluggishly

“I wan’ the drugs”

“See. You can’t push without the drugs...”

Lance went silent for a long moment, Keith taking his eyes off the road to look at him. Blood trickled from Lance’s mouth

“Babe? Babe, talk to me”

Covering his mouth, Lance coughed wetly, the vampire lowering his hand to show a gloop of blood in his palm. Fucking fuck fuck

“You’re okay. We’re nearly there...”

“I... love you...”

“I love you too, baby...”

The cops caught up with them just outside Platt, Keith had given up on all road rules by then. Entirely selfish and reckless, though he had made sure not cause any accident. Parking in front of VOLTRON, the cops were maybe 10 seconds behind him. Flying out the car, he ran around the front of the bronco, throwing open the passenger door to pull Lance out. The officers had to be confused as hell as to why he’d brought Lance to a twenty-four hour bookstore. Moaning in his arms, his fiancé still felt icy to the touch, Coran opening the bookstore door for him as he carried his precious fiancé inside

“Coran, something’s wrong with him...”

Striding towards the elevator, Coran kept up with him, casting a glance at the officers that’d followed him inside. Mashing the button, the doors opened, closing behind them as the lady behind the store counter moved to talk to the police. They were her problem now

“Keith? Are they with you?”

“I kind of drove off and upset them...”

“Ah. Well... we’ll deal with that later. I’ve got a bed prepared for him...”

Lance moaned in his arms

“Wanna push...”

“I know, my boy. I know, you’re being very brave”

“Hurds”

Coran placed his hand on Lance’s forehead, Keith not stupid as he knew Coran had to be manipulating Lance’s quintessence or something

“I’m sure it does... How long has he been in labour?”

“I’m not sure... He was up and down a bit this morning and very lethargic, then he went to use the bathroom and came back saying he thought something was wrong. Something has to be wrong, he wants to push already”

“Not necessarily. His body is a tad peculiar. It maybe be a survival trait of breeder vampires. A long labour would put them in danger of capture or death... Or he’s simply interpreting the messages his brain is sending out in the wrong way”

Keith had clearly heard what Lance said and Lance clearly knew what he was feeling better than him and Coran

“No offence, Coran, but I’m second away from attacking you for being this close. I don’t want to hear “maybes””

“Right. Here we go, straight through and onto the bed if you please”

Lance clung to him as Keith laid him down on the waiting hospital gurney. Curled around his stomach, his fiancé looked so broken Keith found himself crying as kissed his forehead

“Don’t leave me”

As if he would. His ego was now going wild at the amount of people around his mate

“I’m not. I’m right here with you, baby. I’m here”

“I’m scared”

“I know... I know, but we’re going to meet our twins soon”

Looking up to Coran, Coran nodded

“Number two is absolutely right, my boy. Let’s take him straight through”

Coran was taking no chances it seemed. The amount of blood obviously overruled any standard way of going about this. Holding both of Lance’s hands, his fiancé panted through another contraction

“You’re being so brave”

“I dun like this at all”

“You won’t be giving VOLTRON a good Yelp review?”

“No offence, Coran, but id sucks”

Coran chuckled at Lance’s slurring

“I’m sure it does, my boy. I’ve got things ready, your Keith here has a lead foot”

“He apologised to the cops... and said he liked me more than them”

Keith let out a snort of laughter, taking himself by surprise with the noise. Lance grinned at him around his pain

“Yeah, yeah, I did. And I do like you more”

“I know...”

Wheeled into the room, staff were gathered waiting. Keith thought they’d be staying, but once the bed was positioned, the slowly filtered out

“For staff safety, it’ll be you and me in here, with a nurse for support”

“He’s too delirious with pain to hurt anyone”

“It’s because he’s delirious that we need to take caution. I assume you’re going to stay up that end”

Visions of finding Lance covered in blood came back to haunt him. Though Coran would be in control, he couldn’t face the blood

“I’m good”

“Excellent. Now, Lance my boy, I know it hurts. I need to clean you up and have a little look at your tummy”

“It hurds”

“I’m sure you’re if far more pain than you’re letting on. Let’s get you comfortable, then we’ll proceed. When’s the last time he had blood?”

“This early this morning...”

“Excellent. How much would say he consumed”

“Um... 10 bags”

Coran’s eyes widened, yeah. He got it. He should have called Coran instead of waiting

“That is impressive. Right, not to worry...”

“Telling me not to worry is making me worry”

“Oh, don’t worry. This isn’t the first baby I’ve delivered”

“There’s two of them in there. We’d like both of them, thanks”

Lance missed half the conversation

“Don’t let him take our babies away... I don’t want him to take them away”

“He won’t. We’re going to be the first to meet them”

Lance strained, trying to sit up

“I wanna see them”

“They have to be born first”

“Oh...”

“It’s okay...”

Keith’s job was to keep Lance’s focus on him. When Coran had gone to run an IV line, Lance had tried to escape him, snarling at the fae as he tried to cover his stomach. Sitting with his back toward Coran, the werewolf rubbed Lance’s leg, a blanket placed across to protect his fiancé’s dignity as Coran examined him. Lance not loving being touched, and Keith not loving that Coran was seeing Lance so intimately. Covering Lance’s legs back up with the blanket, Coran was the only one smiling

“Excellent. He’s already started dilating, amazingly fast really. The muscle ring is much softer more pliant than normal. His body is fascinating”

Coran did not just disrespect his mate

“He’s not an experiment. He’s in pain”

“Yes. Well, his waters have broken, perhaps with time he would have been able to deliver naturally, but the blood loss is alarming. You keep him preoccupied while I prep for surgery”

This all felt way too fucking real now that they’d come to a stop. He and Lance were going to be parents. After months and months and months of waiting. After their macaroons had turned to cupcakes, then foot and a half long subs, they’d soon be in the world as actual living people. Leaning in, Keith kissed Lance on the forehead, nuzzling the spot that was still too cold

“I love you so much. I couldn’t be prouder to be your mate”

“I love you, too... I’m sorry...”

“Shhh, there’s no need to be sorry. We’re going to be parents soon”

“You’re going to be the best dad”

“I don’t know, you’re really fucking amazing”

“I’m... it hurts...”

“I know, baby. I know. It’ll all be over soon”

“You won’t leave, will you?”

“Nope. I’m here. I’m here with you”

“Mmmm... best secret fiancé ever”

“Hey, you’re not too bad yourself”

Lance bit his lip as another contraction hit, snorting his breath out through his nose through the wave. Keith repeating himself, as he’d done over and over again in the longest half hour of his life

“You’re doing so good. So good for me...”

“It hurts... I feel gross”

“You look better than you feel””

“You’re beautiful. Our babies are going to be beautiful... Coran’s going to make the pain go away real soon, you just keep holding my hand until it does”

Setting a small curtain up to prevent Lance from seeing his stomach, Coran fetched Keith a chair as he let the drugs seep into Lance’s system. Coming back to them, the fae was far too enthused, followed by a nurse who wore a very tight polite smile. The fae had been gone long enough that Keith wondered if he’d run off to leave them alone to deliver the twins alone. Lance was still fighting the urge to push, Keith trying to remember how to coach him through breathing

“I’ve rung everyone, let them know what’s happening. They’ll be forced to wait upstairs until after the delivery, purely for safety reasons. Don’t want someone losing a limb because they can’t wait to see our babies. Now, this procedure is major surgery, don’t be alarmed if Lance passes out, he’s under quite a lot strain. Keith, did you manage to remember Lance’s bag?”

“It’s in the car”

“Excellent. Now, Lance, you may feel the need to struggle. I want you to keep your attention on Keith. I’m not going to harm you or the twins. Please try to keep that in mind”

Keith didn’t think Lance would fight Coran, not in his weakened state. The moment the vampire saw Coran holding a scalpel as he checked his instrument kit, Lance wanted out of there, promising this was a false alarm and he’d come back tomorrow if Coran took the knife away. The drugs had kicked in, Lance was high as a kite if he thought anyone in the room believed it. Keith didn’t want his scary his face to be the first thing their baby saw, but the poor werewolf’s ego was mad. They wanted to see the twins already, but they wanted to see them without Lance being hurt or cut open to deliver them. His ego was a stupid animal. Coran hadn’t even started the incision and Keith felt faint from the scent in the room.

Growling through another contraction, Keith’s hand was crushed all over again, Lance throwing his head back, sobbing out a “fuck” as the wave passed. Ooooh fuck... he’d grown used to Lance crushing his hand, but that was definitely Lance pushing. He wasn’t supposed to be pushing... Drugged up Lance probably couldn’t stop himself from how badly he wanted the twins out and the pain to be over

“Uhh, Coran... I don’t think he’s waiting for you”

Placing down the scalpel, Coran moved back to table. Lance was naked beneath the sheet, the fae letting panic was over his face before composing himself in the same moment

“He’s started crowning...”

Nope. They may not have had a birth plan, but Lance was clear about “not pooping out a baby”! Keith snapping at Coran

“He’s not supposed to be!”

Coran snapping back at him

[cordonian-literature]

The Aftermath - Ch. 17

From Lovers to Strangers

SUMMARY: Liam rushes to Ramsford after hearing about Riley

Word Count: ~4.9k

Warnings: Mention of character death, language

*All characters belong to Pixelberry, except those that are unique to my story (I’ve also used some characters and fictional instances from Donna Tartt’s “The Goldfinch”)*

Catch up here

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I’m so sorry, I don’t know if the tags are working or not... but I hope I got everyone down! If I missed someone, or anyone wants to be added/removed, let me know!

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

...Present Day...

- Liam - 

Gripping the steering wheel as tightly as he could, Liam swerves in between other vehicles on the highway, doing everything he could to get to Riley faster. I should have made driving too slow illegal, Liam thinks after getting trapped momentarily between drivers going at their own comfortable pace. They block him from all sides until he loses his nerve and punches the horn, scaring other drivers to move out of Liam’s way. 

Almost twice he bumps into another car when trying to change lanes at the same time. Then, he gets stuck in traffic, where Liam forced himself to wait for a total of seventeen seconds — during which the cars around him didn’t move a centimeter — until he drives the car into the grass next to the roadway and continues. 

Thankfully the dirt wasn’t muddy or bumpy, so Liam reaches Ramsford thirty minutes sooner than he would have if he’d continued on the roadway. 

He doesn’t even take the keys out of the ignition before racing across the driveway and knocking furiously on the front door. Liam tries to push it open to no avail, then screams for Maxwell to open the door. 

Drake is the one who allows him to enter. When Liam tries to push past him, Drake blocks his path and puts a hand on his friend’s shoulder. 

“Wait a sec, Liam,” Drake tries to stop Liam from rushing into the estate. 

“Where is she? What happened? Is she alright?” Liam begins to push forward, but Drake shoves him back. 

“Calm the fuck down, Liam!” Drake says in a low voice through barred teeth. “The kids saw us bringing her upstairs and started crying.”

Liam feels his heart clench.

“Rowan started fussing over where to put her and Gabriel looked like he was about to pass out. Maxwell thought to distract them with some TV, but they’re still unsettled. Don’t make it worse.”

“Where are they?” Liam tries to walk away from Drake again. 

“We put them in their own room next to Riley’s. East wing.” 

Before Drake can say anything else, Liam races up the stairs and down the hall. He turns his head to look into each room as he passes.

Liam slows once he hears strange voices. Nearing a room with an open door, he sees Gabriel and Eleanor’s tear-streaked faces illuminated by a television in front of Ella, while Gabe stares down at a laptop. Ella watches a group of teenagers and a talking dog lead an investigation, while Gabriel furiously types. Neither of them look up when Liam’s figure blocks the doorway. 

He wonders if the light from the electronics strain their eyes, so he moves his hand along the wall to turn on the ceiling light. When it turns on, both children squint in Liam’s direction, blinking rapidly. 

Once their vision clears again, Ella gives a tired wave and says, “Hi, Liam.” 

“Hello, Ella.” He’s about to move forward to wrap the exhausted child in his arms, but his heart is still racing. “Do you know where your mother is?” 

Eleanor points behind her. “In that room with Aunt Rowan.” 

Liam leaves the doorway and goes to the door next to it, which is closed. He reaches to open it, but notices a dim light coming from the space at the bottom. If she’s still unconscious, perhaps I could spend time with the children? Liam goes back into the children’s room.

There are two couches, and each of them sit on a separate one. Noticing that Gabriel has his eyes locked on the laptop screen, Liam takes a seat next to Eleanor instead. 

He leans back against the cushions, and she leans her head against his arm. Liam contemplates putting a fatherly arm around her, but decides that he shouldn’t test his luck; it was enough that she allowed him to sit next to her. He didn’t want to move a lot to make her change her mind. 

“What are you watching?” he asks her quietly, mindful of Gabriel focusing on his device. 

Eleanor yawns before she answers: “Scooby Doo.” 

“Oh. What is it about?” 

“It’s about this dog who talks and helps his human friends solve mysteries.” 

“Really?” Liam tries to sound enthusiastic to keep the conversation going. “What kind of mysteries?” 

He feels her shrug against his arm. “All kinds. Daddy said that this one is a newer series. There’s an evil owl who wants to end the world.”

“An evil owl?” Liam thinks to himself, What on Earth do they make children watch nowadays?

“Uh huh. And he has a German accent and—” she breaks off her sentence to yawn again “—and he was also in a mystery solving group.”

“Really?” Liam continues watching the show with her, uncertain of what was happening. “Do you have a favorite character?”

“I like Scooby. That’s the dog’s name.” She lifts her head from his arm to look up at Liam. “Do you have a favorite character yet?”

“Well... uh.” Liam stutters while glancing rapidly between the characters on the screen. “What about that blond one in the white shirt? He seems like a leader.”

“That’s Fred,” she tells Liam. “Mama used to say that he was obsessive.” 

Liam tries to laugh at Eleanor’s insight, Leo’s words vibrating through his head. She gives a sleepy chuckle, then puts her head back on his arm. 

After a few minutes, Drake silently knocks on the doorframe. Only Liam looks up, and Drake asks him if he had a chance to call Olivia and Hana yet. 

“No, I was occupied.” He remembers Leo having the nerve to visit him, and Liam’s jaw clenches. 

“You gonna do it in the morning?” Drake asks. 

“Yes, I will make sure to.” 

Drake nods and then walks off. 

For the next few hours, Liam sits silently next to Eleanor watching the show, occasionally pressing buttons on the remote next to him to get to the next episode. Eventually, he hears her loudly breathing, and when Liam glances down he can see that she fell asleep leaning against him. 

He cradles her head and neck in his other arm, then grabs a couch cushion to put under her head as he lies her down. Liam considers putting her on the bed, but doesn’t want to wake her. Instead, he grabs the blanket off of the bed and places it on her. 

Gabriel is still on the laptop. Liam takes out his phone to find that it was almost midnight. 

He takes a seat next to his son. Gabriel doesn’t look up at his father, and keeps scrolling through some articles. 

“What are you looking at?” Liam asks. 

The boy doesn’t glance up when he responds, “News articles. About the bombing.”

Liam frowns, wondering why Gabriel was researching an event that brought him so much emotional pain. “What have you found?”

He sits up straight and turns to look at Liam. Gabriel gazes at his father with a controlled intensity. The boy knew what he was talking about. “They think the bombers were foreigners ‘cause there’s some evidence towards one of them having come on a plane from Europe. And there are also a couple missing paintings from French, Austrian, and Cordonian painters. But from the eighteen hundreds.”

“Ah.” Liam leans closer to try and see what the article says. “Do you know which pieces?” 

“One was The Dance Class and another one is... uh... Bain à la G- Gren?” Gabriel turns the computer screen towards Liam. He sees an oil painting of people on a boat and on what seemed to be a man-made island or platform in the middle of a lake. 

On the bottom of the image was the title, “Bain à la Grenouillère,” which Liam pronounces for Gabriel. 

“Yeah, that,” he says. “And there are some others, too, but I can’t find that much information on them. There are two more that they think were stolen and another few they think might have burned.”

Liam allows Gabriel to continue scrolling and typing for a few more moments. He regards his son’s features. The slight upward curve of his chin and nose are the same as Liam’s, but the curve of his ears and the vague eyebrow arch scream Riley. Gabriel’s eyelashes are longer compared to Liam’s when he was a child, and they brush against his pale cheek. While he gazes down onto the laptop screen — as the ceiling light slightly flickers and the field outside the window seemed like a dark canvas — Gabriel looks almost otherworldly, like he’s not real. Maybe it was the sleep in Liam’s eyes, but for a moment he feels like he’s hallucinating, but he turns his head to see Eleanor still sleeping on the other couch, and Gabriel began to fiercely type something. It’s like they were born from a dream.

Both Liam and Gabriel turn their heads when there’s a loud noise from the television. The characters are being chased, and while running, they are accidentally separated from each other. 

Gabriel chuckles and tells Liam, “I hate the way Scooby talks.” 

“Why?” Liam asks. 

“Because he starts every word with the ‘r’ sound. This one time—” he laughs to himself “—Ella had this phase where she would talk like Scooby. It was only for like, two months, but it was the most annoying thing ever.” 

Liam laughs, imagining younger and chubbier versions of his children annoyed with each other. 

“My brother and I were like that, too,” Liam tells his son. He doesn’t expect Gabriel to listen, but when he turns to look at Liam, his heart stops for a moment. 

“Really? Did you annoy him or was it the other way around?” There’s a true excitement in Gabriel’s voice, and Liam could tell that he was trying to suppress a laugh. 

“Both, actually. There was this show that we used to watch when we were children. The Andy Griffith Show.”

“Oh. I’ve never heard of it.” 

Afraid that Gabriel would lose interest, Liam sits forward and continues, “For a long time I used to whistle the tune for the show, like this.” He proceeds to whistle a lively tune while snapping his fingers. 

“That’s... actually really good!” Gabriel comments. The amused look on his face sends a spark of joy through Liam. “It’s not annoying! Well... maybe if you did it too loud.” 

“It wasn’t my volume that annoyed my brother,” Liam explains. “I used to be terrible at whistling, but I refused to stop playing the tune.” 

“Oh.” Gabriel chuckles. “I whistle a little too loud, and Ella hates it. She says it hurts the inside of her ears so I stopped doing it around her.”

“Perhaps I can... teach you the song in the morning?” Liam hesitates. He wanted to take this opportunity of Gabriel’s friendliness, but didn’t want to do anything that might make Gabriel wish to avoid such conversations in the future. 

“Y- Yeah,” Gabriel says. The boy’s lips twitch upwards, and Liam smiles warmly. 

Liam takes out his phone to check the time again. “Well, it’s getting late.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Gabriel closes the tabs he had open, and turns the laptop off. Putting it on the coffee table, he takes a cushion and puts it under his head. Once Liam understands that he wanted to sleep on the couch, he goes into a closet to grab another blanket. Gabriel gives a tight smile when Liam drapes it over him. “Thanks.” 

Liam moves a lock of hair out of Gabriel’s eyes, then goes to check on Ella. She was on her stomach, turned away from Liam. He goes to turn off the light, and through the light in the hallway, he sees Gabriel lift a hand in farewell. Liam raises his hand as well, then closes the door.

He walks back towards the foyer, hoping to see someone who could lead Liam to a room he could stay in, when he remembers the car. Only Drake knew that he had arrived, but he was unsure if Drake knew to take the keys out of the ignition. 

Liam quickly goes down the stairs and slowly opens the door to peer out. He can’t see the car, and instead hears sniffling. 

Someone is crying. 

Liam freezes, focusing in on the sound. There’s an immense pain in the person’s huffing. It seems like they’re having difficulty breathing through the tears, and Liam’s breath catches in his throat. 

Sure he had cried very often himself when he was younger, he had heard Olivia weep as a child, and Liam had also seen Hana cry when she announced that she was leaving Cordonia to get married. But this sound was different; the person whimpers for a few moments, as if they’re trying to calm themself. 

It’s a painful noise, and has gripped Liam’s heart. He turns his head, almost involuntarily, and sees Riley sitting on the couch on the patio, her back facing him. Her shoulders are hunched, though they shake with the force of her tears. He wonders how she got downstairs.

Liam forces his legs to stay in place. Running to her while she was crying didn’t seem like the best idea. He softly closes the door behind him, expecting her to turn at the sound of the click, but she doesn’t move. His heart begs him to run towards her, wrap her in his arms. He doesn’t even realize that he’s moving in her direction. 

Liam sits on the couch towards her left. He wants to say something. His heart aches — this was the moment he had been waiting forever for. His mind rehearses what he wanted say to her; though he had been practicing the past ten years, he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

I love you, Riley. I’ve missed you, Riley. Why did you leave me, Riley? Are you upset to be back, Riley? I still love you, Riley. Do you remember me, Riley? 

I’m sorry, my love. 

Grief stops him from saying anything. He allows her to cry, though the sound pushes him deeper into sadness. The moment feels like eternity, but Liam still says nothing. She seemed to be crying for both of them. Perhaps for Theodore, too. Watching her cry squeezed Liam’s heart so ferociously that for a moment he believed death would cause less pain.  

Her crying slows to just sniffles. Riley lifts her head but stares out into nothingness. Liam knows she can see him from the corner of her eyes, but he still doesn’t wish to speak. If he did, who was to say that she wouldn’t run away again? 

Perhaps I shouldn’t have come here. I am the one who brings her so much pain. For her sake I should have let her be. 

She turns to look at him, and they lock eyes. Riley’s face is red and puffy, but she’s still the most beautiful and purest thing he’s ever seen. 

They sit like that for a while, Liam’s heart alight. For him, the moment was sore: painful, with the fear that doing anything more could ruin this action of reserved love. 

They have everything to say to each other, they have nothing to say to each other.

Finally, she breaks his gaze and stares down at her knees, running her hands up and down her legs. “Are the kids asleep?” 

Once the words register in Liam’s mind, he answers, “Yes.” Out of fear that those words would be the only she would say to him, he continues, “The flight must have exhausted them.” 

She lets out a breath that sounds like a laugh. She looks up at the dark landscape again, this time a nostalgic look in her eyes. “Theo used to stay up all night with them before we traveled, just so they would sleep on the plane.” Her lips twisted, and she puts her head in her hands. 

Hearing moments of their family together sent a jolt of anger through Liam’s body. He wanted to erase that man from Riley’s life and replace it with himself. There was no doubt in his heart that he would have treated Riley better, he would have loved her better.

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” Riley says through tears, her voice breaking. “I can’t believe I spent the last few weeks oblivious to the fact that he died. Alone. And I let it happen.”

She remembers?

Liam jumps up from his seat to sit next to her. “Riley, none of that was your fault.” He puts an arm around her, and she leans into his chest, shaking. Their knees collide, and it feels like second nature when he puts a hand under her cast and brings her legs over his thighs. Her head falls under his chin, and he leans down to kiss her temple. 

But then she takes in an unstable breath and shuffles to the opposite side of the couch. 

She remembers.

He’s surprised, but also embarrassed that he let his feelings overtake him. “I’m sorry, my love,” he blurts out. 

“Don’t—” Riley begins, but stops herself. She puts her head in her hands again. 

Liam blinks the pain away. He feels small, suddenly. Alone. Adrift. Lost.

Her voice is broken when she says, “Ten years. More than a decade... before it felt like we would last forever. We had to. But now look at us. We’re practically strangers.”

He wants to scream, But I still love you. Perhaps I love you more now than before. Do not for a moment think that a day went by during which you did not occupy my heart and mind entirely. Instead he manages, “That’s not true.”

She looks at him with a face that screams “you can’t be serious?” Shaking her head, Riley states, “Liam, ten years is a long time. Longer than either of us have realized.”

He sits confused for a moment, thinking about how the time went by in slow motion for him. “I feel like I’ve lived and eternity within those ten years.” 

She chuckles, the melody warming Liam’s heart. “I think having kids does the opposite. One minute they’re saying their first words, the next—” She stops, her eyes going wide. “Liam, I didn’t mean—”

He puts up a hand, “Please, we don’t have to discuss that right now.” 

Her eyes brim with tears when she says, “You have no reason to believe me when I say that I wanted to tell you more than anything. I was about to fight Theo while he was bringing me to the hospital.” Her voice breaks again when she says, “I didn’t want to have the baby without you.”

Anger shoots through his veins when Liam hears the man’s name. But that was Riley’s husband. She was now Theo’s widow. He didn’t want to upset her more than she already was. “At least you weren’t alone.” 

She leans her head backwards, her features now numb. Riley stares at the sky and says, “And then I let him die alone. All he wanted to do was help.”

Liam feels his skin boil, momentarily glad that man was dead and out of his way. 

When they slip into silence, Liam leans his head back as well, staring at the stars that glittered behind the clouds, listening to the crickets and the music of night. Neither of them move, but after a while, Liam’s eyes become heavy with sleep. He turns to look at Riley.

“It’s late,” Liam says. 

“You’re right.” She stands, and Liam notices the crutches against the wall. He hands them to her, and goes to open the door. When they reach the stairs, she carefully pulls herself up a few steps. 

“Please, don’t hurt yourself,” Liam says. He holds her hand to help her stand, then takes the crutches from her, balancing them against the railing. He puts an arm under her knees and lifts her. To his surprise, she snuggles into his chest. 

On the top of the stairs, she says that she can continue by herself, but Liam mentions that her crutches are still at the bottom of the stairs. 

She looks up at him. “You can go get them. I’ll wait. I don’t want to strain you.” 

“It’s nothing,” he says. “Really.” He would carry her to the ends of the Earth if it meant that she would go through less pain.

Liam carries Riley to her room, gently placing her on the bed. He pulls the blanket over her. She doesn’t meet his eyes, and turns away from him. 

“Good night, Riley,” he says, turning off the lights. 

Liam found Bertrand in the study, and the Duke gave Liam a room for the night. Sitting on the bed, Liam began to cry. It was only tears falling down his face. His breathing was still even but his eyes burned. Holding Riley against himself had felt like a blessing. Bring able to press his lips against her head. Not the Riley who didn’t know who he was, but the Riley who knew the weight of their shared past. For the last ten years he had been a drowning man, and Riley was his air. 

He knew she was the only woman he would ever love, and now, with the relief that had filled his soul after he knew she remembered him, it was beyond confirmed. Even though he was not the only man Riley had loved, he was determined to show her that his love for her was greater than any other metaphorical or physical thing in existence.

He promised himself that he would take the next opportunity to talk to her. There are so many things he needs to ask her, so many things that need to happen for them to be together again. 

She has her memory back. She remembered. The next few steps shouldn’t be too difficult.

...

The next morning when Liam sits at the table for breakfast with everyone, he wants to ask Riley’s whereabouts, since she’s the only person not at the table. But Drake talks with Savannah and Bertrand, while Maxwell and Rowan have talk quietly between themselves. 

“Did you sleep well?” Liam asks Gabriel. 

The boy’s mouth is filled with pancakes, so he just nods. 

“I wanted to tell you that I had someone create a lesson plan for you.” That wasn’t completely a lie. “I think it would be best for you to start as soon as possible, seeing that the social season is quickly approaching.” 

“Considering the social season,” Bertrand jumps in. “I think now is the time to send an announcement out to the people.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t push Gabriel into the spotlight too soon?” Savannah suggests. 

“True,” Liam comments. “But he has been kept from the people’s knowledge long enough. It’ll take a while for us to convince them that it was for good reason.”

“Perhaps it would be best to schedule a press conference as well?” Bertrand asks. 

Liam chews thoughtfully. “Yes, but it would be better to have it a few days before the social season starts. Just to give Gabriel some time to get accustomed to courtly life.”

“Li, two weeks isn’t enough,” Drake states.

Liam sighs. “You’re right.” He turns to look at the children, who stare back at him. “I will call Duchess Olivia and Countess Hana. They can help the children in their lessons and give them some tips. And of course I will always be nearby.”

The children smile, then turn back to their food. 

After the plates are cleared, Liam suggests that Bartie bring Eleanor and Gabriel to the ballroom to teach them the Cordonian Waltz. Liam promises to help them, but first decides to go talk to Riley about the announcement.

He knocks on her door, and hears a faint, “Come in.”

When Liam walks in, she seems shocked. 

“Sorry,” he says. “Is... this a bad time?” Her hair is wet and her skin glistens. Liam can tell she just came out of the shower. 

“No, it’s fine.” She laughs. “I thought it would be Maxwell.” 

Liam chuckles. “He always woke you during the social season, didn’t he?” 

Riley smiles to herself. “Yeah.”

“I wish I could have been the one to greet you every morning, but I’m glad you were always met by a friendly face.” 

Her smile falters. After a moment, she says, “Liam, we need to talk. About everything.” 

He holds up a hand. “I know, love.” He clears his throat, wondering if she was still comfortable with him calling her that. “We have a lot to discuss, but I wanted to let you know that I’ve hold Bertrand to help send out an announcement about Gabriel.” 

Her eyebrows crease. “What about Gabriel?” 

He pauses, wondering what her expression meant. “That he will be anointed as the heir at the end of the social season.” 

“Liam, are you serious?” She shakes her head. “You’re just going to push him into courtly life? With no knowledge of how anything works, of how people act? I felt stressed during my social season, and I was just a suitor. As the heir there’s going to be so many things he needs to learn—”

“Yes, and he’s already ten years late,” Liam interrupts her, trying to be convincing. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel stressed. “Riley, trust me, this is in his best interest.” 

“Excuse you?” Riley’s face hardens, and Liam regrets his words. 

He knew she was in a delicate position, perhaps it would have been best to let her speak. 

She continues, “It’s not in his best interest, it’s in your best interest, because you need an heir.” 

Liam takes a step back, offended. “I meant to say that it’s in his best interests because as Crown Prince, there are such things due to him which he hasn’t received—”

“Oh, God, Liam. You haven’t changed, have you?” Riley frowns and looks Liam up and down, seemingly disappointed. 

Liam regards her, too, wondering where these thoughts were coming from. Did she not trust him anymore? Who poisoned her mind against him?

“You’re the same,” she states. “Willing to throw people you ‘care about’ under stress and anxiety so you look good in front of your people. Is that why you brought my family here when I was suffering from memory loss? So you could put him through whatever you wanted while I would be oblivious to it?” 

Liam’s face falls. Did she think he was being selfish? “Of course not, Riley. And I’ll be there to help him with whatever he needs, and I will do the same for you.” 

“Just like you were there to help me during the social season?” 

“Riley, that was different.” 

“How so?” 

“I told you, Riley, I had to be fair to the other suitors, I had to—”

“How is his first social season going to be any different than mine? Considering all the pain and humiliation I was put through? Not only will I be badmouthed again, but Gabe will, too.” 

“I won’t allow that to happen.” 

“Really?” Her eyes redden. “Just like you didn’t allow the court to shame, bully, and taunt me during your Engagement Tour?” 

Liam felt like he was being backed into a corner, and he didn’t like it. He was doing everything in his power not to lash out at Riley. Liam knew she was in a delicate position. It was his job to make her feel better, not worse. 

He walks up to her, holding her hands in his, the softness of her skin a fresh feeling, but she yanks her hands away. 

They stand inches from each other, Riley staring defiantly up at him, while Liam looked down at her in pity and heartbreak. 

Neither of us have changed, have we? 

That’s not right. She’s changed. 

"Riley,” Liam says in a soft voice, staring deep into her eyes, quietly begging her to be on his side. “I know there is a lot we have to discuss, and you know I have a duty to my country, to my people. It’s not my choice whether or not to introduce Gabriel to everyone, it’s my obligation. But, Riley, I promise you, I won’t let anything or anyone hurt you or our son.” 

She sighs, about to respond to his declaration, but Eleanor walks through the door, crying, “Mama! I learned the Cordonian Waltz!”

Liam turns, noticing Bartie and Gabe in the doorway. He turns to Ella and says, “That quickly?” 

“Yup! Look!” 

She proceeds to hold up her arms around an invisible partner, then takes a few calculated steps and spins. Finally, she strikes a pose facing away from Liam and Riley, both of who begin to applaud. 

“That was great, baby!” Riley says, reaching to hug her daughter. 

Liam turns to ask Gabriel if he’s had the same luck as his sister, but Rowan appears. “Hey, Riley,” she says. “Have you had breakfast yet?” 

“No. I was going to come down in a minute.” Riley glances in Liam’s direction. 

He puts a hand on her shoulder and tells her, “I’ll be in the Duke’s office, helping the announcement and press conference.” 

Liam stands next to her for a few more moments, his heart aching for her to look up at him. He turns to leave, and Eleanor waves at him, while Gabriel gives the most genuine smile Liam has seen.