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queenshelby · 11 months ago

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An Illicit Affair

Part Two: Jazz Bar

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

The jazz concert took place in a small bar, downtown Soho. It was a Thursday evening, at around 9 o'clock, when you arrived at the establishment with the view to meet your best friend and fellow student Lucy there. Lucy was two years older than you and you shared a dorm room with her on campus.

Just like you, Lucy was nerdy and focused on her studies, telling you years ago that you should not have gotten involved with Max but, of course, you did not listen to her at the time.

That evening, Lucy stood you down, not intentionally but out of necessity. She had an assignment due the following day and recognized that she had not spent enough time on its content.

So, at around nine that evening, you received a message from her saying that she had to bail on you, leaving you alone in the quirky bar which, by now, was filled with art students, middle aged men and women and a few musicians.

Still, you were determined to make the most of the night. After all, your favorite band was playing, and this alone encouraged you to order yourself a drink and take a seat close to the stage.

A few minutes later, the band started a lively tune, and soon everyone began dancing.

You found yourself swaying to the rhythm, feeling the energy of the crowd enveloping you and, just as you were starting to get lost in the music, you spotted a familiar face.

It was Cillian, Max's father, who was standing near the bar, nursing a glass of red wine.

The sight of him jolted you, sending a wave of mixed emotions coursing through your veins. You hadn't seen him since that fateful weekend in Dublin over fifteen months ago, and the memory of his captivating blue eyes and mesmerizing voice lingered within you. You watched him from afar, unable to tear your gaze away.

Cillian appeared to be engrossed in a conversation with a group of people, but every once in a while, he would glance around the room, scanning the faces of the attendees.

That's when his gaze landed on you and he excused himself from the group of people he was with.

Approaching you with purpose, he smiled warmly. "Y/N, hey...it's nice to see you again," he greeted you. "How have you been?" he wanted to know and, immediately, his deep voice resonated through your body, stirring a familiar spark within you.

"I'm doing well, thank you," you responded, trying to remain composed. "How about you?" you asked before asking "what brings you here tonight?" with some surprise.

"Oh, I saw that this band was performing and thought I'd check them out," Cillian explained casually with his thick Irish accent.

"Are you in London for work or to see Max?" you asked Cillian, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I am here for work, shooting a commercial, but I did catch up with Max yesterday for dinner," Cillian answered. "He seems to be doing well, even though he dropped out of medical school," he explained, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness knowing that you may have been the reason he quit his studies.

"I am sorry Cillian, I feel like I caused this," you admitted hesitantly, remembering the countless arguments you had with him about his lackadaisical attitude towards academics right before the break-up.

"No, you didn't. If anything, he hung in there as long as he did because of you," Cillian reassured you. "He is a good kid, but he lacks the discipline and commitment for such a difficult field of studies, and I must admit that, so did I, when I was his age," he chuckled before telling you that, at the age of twenty, he dropped out of law school.

"Well, fortunately for you, you discovered acting and that clearly turned out to be your calling," you said with a wink and Cillian laughed heartily, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"That's right, I guess," he agreed, sipping on his wine. "So, no doubt Max will find his way too, at least once he gets over you," he then added calmly before gesturing towards the chair next to yours, wanting to take a seat.

"I am sure he is over me. It's been a year already and I see him quite often on campus these days. He may have transferred to the Arts Faculty, but he is still chatting up and flirting with the medical students," you joked before indicating to Cillian to take the seat.

"He's a charmer, that's for sure," Cillian said with a hint of pride in his voice. "So, tell me," he leaned in closer, his scent intoxicating, "have you narrowed down your field of practice yet? Are you still interested in pediatrics?" Cillian asked you, his eyes sparkling with interest. "I mean, you mentioned it the last time we saw each other, but have you decided on anything yet?" Cillian pressed further, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I suppose that's accurate," you replied, feeling a surge of nervousness wash over you. "Pediatrics is definitely the direction I'm leaning towards, particularly oncology research."

"Oncology? That's fascinating," Cillian remarked, his eyes widening.

"Why oncology specifically?" he pressed, genuinely curious. "Is it because of your friend who battled leukemia? I remember you talking that," he went on to say and you were impressed by the fact that he remembered. Unlike Max, Cillian appeared to be a good listener and you appreciated that.

"Yes, that's right. Ever since visiting my friend in the hospital, I've been fascinated by the idea of using science to combat diseases. Research gives me the opportunity to contribute to the advancement of healthcare," you explained earnestly.

Cillian tilted his head, studying you closely. "Your dedication is admirable," he complimented, admiration glimmering in his eyes, and you blushed faintly, feeling flattered by his praise.

"Thank you, Cillian," you mumbled shyly before downing the rest of your drink.

"Would you like another drink?" Cillian thus asked, being observant, as he settled into the chair, his scent wafted over you, a mix of expensive cologne and freshly laundered linen. "My shout," he then went on to say as he noticed you hesitating and, immediately, you suppressed a shiver, suddenly aware of the intimate setting you'd created.

"Okay," you muttered nervously, gazing down at your empty glass. "Thank you," went on to say and, not long after that, Cillian walked off and instructed the bartender, handing over his credit card.

When he returned to the table, you both fell quiet again, awkwardly staring at the dance floor. The band played a slow, bluesy number, and couples danced intimately beneath the dim glow of the stage lights.

Feeling increasingly uneasy, you attempted to change the subject. "How is Danielle?" you asked, swirling the wine in your glass.

Cillian hesitated, his expression clouding over. "Alright, I suppose," he muttered, a hint of melancholy creeping into his voice.

"Alright, you suppose?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. The way he answered your question seemed absurd.

"Yeah, well, things aren't exactly smooth sailing with us," he admitted reluctantly. "We have been having problems for years," he confided in you, causing your heart to skip a beat.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," you sympathized, genuine concern etching your features. "Max did mentioned about you fighting a lot," you commented cautiously, careful not to cross any boundaries.

Cillian exhaled deeply, his shoulders drooping slightly. "We've been trying to work things out but it hasn't been easy," he confessed, his voice laced with sorrow. "Sometimes it feels like we're stuck in a cycle of misunderstandings, accusations and resentment," he admitted.

"I may have heard about certain rumors, in the tabloids, concerning you and other actresses," you ventured delicately, "but I know that these gossip magazines tend to blow things out of proportion," you quickly added just as Cillian chuckled and interrupted you.

"I didn't take you to be the kind of person who reads these kinds of magazines Y/N. I am really disappointed in you," he mocked, giving you a sideways glance, which made you blush.

"I don't, unless I am at the hairdressers and my phone is running low on battery," you admitted, meeting his gaze. "And I know the press loves to feed on drama," you added defensively, trying to cover up the embarrassment.

"Well then, for what it's worth, I can assure you that I have never cheated on my wife," Cillian stated plainly, his eyes locked on yours. "Not that I haven't had the opportunity though," he admitted without hesitation, his honesty striking you speechless.

"I am sure you have had many opportunities," you commented lightly, shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

"Maybe not many, but I had some," Cillian laughed before changing the topic to something lighter.

"What about you?" he asked. "Have you met anyone new since you broke up with Max?" he wanted to know before apologizing for his question, telling you that you did not have to answer it if it made you uncomfortable.

You swallowed nervously, your pulse quickening at the mention of your former lover. "No, it's okay," you told him. "I haven't had much time for dating," you lied, fiddling with your napkin. "Med school takes up most of my time," you added, not wanting to reveal the truth that no one had caught your attention since Max, at least not yet.

Cillian nodded sympathetically. "I can imagine," he said, before pausing briefly, watching you sip your drink before continuing with caution. "So, besides med school, what keeps you busy?" he questioned, curiosity burning in his eyes.

You sighed softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Not much, honestly," you confessed, shrugging nonchalantly. "I mean, there's the occasional date with friends, dinners with family, and that's pretty much it," you admitted. "I can't lie though, it does get lonely sometimes," you revealed, peering down at your lap.

"I get like this when I am away filming for weeks," Cillian shared, nodding sympathetically. "When the loneliness creeps in, it makes you feel so isolated, doesn't it?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, absolutely," you agreed, your voice barely audible. "I've learned to appreciate moments like these, though, because they remind me how precious human connection truly is," you confided in him, reaching to clasp your hands together.

Cillian gazed at you, his gaze softening. "It must be tough, being so dedicated to your studies. How do you manage to balance everything?" he pondered aloud.

"I've developed strategies to cope. For instance, I set aside time for myself each day, whether it's going for a run or reading a book," you admitted, your voice trailing off and it was at this point that you learned that you shared even more common interests with Cillian.

He, too, liked to go for runs and read, and not just scripts for upcoming projects. He enjoyed historical fiction as well as thrillers, and his literary horizons were broad. You found this refreshing, considering how insular and self-involved actors could be.

After ordering more drinks, you and Cillian talked some more and shared some laughs. Your conversations flowed effortlessly, covering various subjects ranging from books you both loved to visit places you hoped to travel to someday. Cillian spoke passionately about the beauty of Ireland and its rich history, while you eagerly described your fascination with Italy, having taken a trip there during your gap year.

You exchanged stories, sharing experiences both past and present, discovering more similarities between the two of you. Cillian was intrigued by your intelligence and wit, while you admired his charm and charisma. The chemistry between you intensified, growing stronger with each passing moment.

By the time it was midnight, the group of people he had talked to earlier left and the music had stopped, which is when Cillian reached across the table to refill your glass from the bottle of wine he had ordered thirty minutes ago and, just as he did, his fingers brushed against yours, igniting a spark that neither of you could ignore.

An awkward silence ensued, but instead of dissipating quickly, it grew thicker with tension.

Cillian's intense gaze bore into you, leaving a trail of goosebumps along your arms. You glanced at the stage, searching for a distraction, but the band had packed up their instruments and left.

Cillian cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Well, time flies when you' are having fun," he murmured, his voice husky and seductive. "It is nice talking to you, but it is getting late," he added, checking his watch conspicuously. "And I should probably head back to the hotel," he concluded and you blinked twice.

"Where are you staying?" you blurted out impulsively, catching yourself off guard by your sudden curiosity.

"At the Hilton," Cillian replied simply, adjusting his posture in his seat. "It's not far from here, actually," he added, his voice drifting into a contemplative tone.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, contemplating your next move. "That's convenient," you murmured, attempting to sound casual. "I have heard that they have a decent bar downstairs," you stammered, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

Cillian chuckled softly, his eyes glinting mischievously. "They do. So, perhaps we should grab a nightcap before you are heading home," he offered you almost nervously, causing your heart to race.

"I would like that," you said softly, offering him a gentle smile, hoping that he would interpret it correctly.

With a nod, Cillian rose from his seat, his frame casting a shadow over you. He extended his hand, helping you to your feet. You felt the warmth of his touch and the strength of his grip, and your knees weakened slightly.

As you followed him towards the exit, the crowd parted, making way for you two as if silently acknowledging the magnetic pull between you two.

Once outside, the cool air hit you, a stark contrast to the heat inside the bar.

The neon signs cast a hazy glow on the cobblestone streets, and the distant hum of traffic blended seamlessly with the whispers of passersby. A sense of excitement pulsed through you as you allowed your senses to heighten, embracing the intoxicating atmosphere.

You and Cillian headed for the Hilton, which was a five-minute walk from the jazz club.

As you approached the hotel lobby, the ambient lighting and plush furnishings provided a cozy refuge from the chilly night air but, much to your disappointment, you noticed that their bar was already closed.

"I suppose we won't be having that nightcap after all," you lamented, pouting your lips while Cillian contemplated whether or not to ask you to join him in his room.

He bit his lip, looking up at the ceiling before making a decision.

"We could always go to my room and order a bottle of wine," he then suggested, his voice trembling slightly. "If you want to, that is," he added hastily, turning his gaze onto you and, immediately, your heart skipped a beat, your breath hitching as you stared into his deep blue eyes.

"Okay, yeah, why not," you managed to utter, feeling a rush of nerves wash over you. "Just for one drink though," you insisted, hoping to ease your mounting anxiety while Cillian's piercing blue eyes lighted up.

"Sounds perfect," he agreed, leading you towards the elevator bank with a pang of guilt flooding his mind as he thought about the possibility of taking this further than his vows would permit. "Just one drink then," he thus reminded himself as he pushed the button for the top floor, hoping that his loyalty to Max and Danielle would prevail over the desire for you.

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fic

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wonysugar · 7 months ago

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https://x.com/luvwy04/status/1772133576533815443?s=46

OMG DID U SEE THIS? ITS GIVING SUGAR MOMMY VIBES

NOW WAIT CAUSE WHY DIDN’T I SEE THIS BEFOREE??:&4&2’

she’s RICH. like i’m talking LOADEDD, it’s only natural she would wanna spend all of her money on her adorable girlfriend, even if you feel incredibly shy when it comes to anything financial. it’s her love language, she can’t help it aheheheh

“heyy wony i didn’t expect you to stop b— what is that.”

“it’s a cute little bag i saw while shopping!” and she’s smiling so innocently, “it reminded me of you, so i got it. do you like it?”

already aware of her compulsive buying tendencies, (and having acknowledged the very flamboyant, very visible chanel logo on the bag) you automatically ask, “wonyoung.. i love it i really do but— please.. how much was that..”

she stands there, trying to recall the estimate amount she spent on it (since she doesn’t even look at the pricetag before buying something lawl). “hm. around 5k i think? i would’ve gotten you something more expensive, but it was just so cute—“

“you spent five thousand dollars on me????”

oh please save me sugarmommy!wony i’m giggling… the way she would call her driver mid-date for you just so she can take you out to dinner in some expensive ass 5 star restaurant?? IT SOUNDS SO SPECIFIC BUT BARE WITH MEE

“i’m a bit hungry, aren’t you?” you asked, walking in the streets of downtown, holding onto her arm. “i know this burger place not far from here, we could g— wonyoung?” you ask.

“huh? oh sorry, i was just calling my driver to come get us.”

“isn’t he on break— why are you even calling him?”

and she looks at you puzzled, “??i thought you were hungry? also i’ll just pay him extra, his break can wait..”

“yeahh…? and where exactly are you planning to take us?”

her expression changes to a warm smile, “oh not that far.. do you remember that one restaurant i brought you to on our first date?”

you’re practically screaming at this point, “???the one that charged you 300 dollars for each of our meals???”

also kinda completely unrelated not really BUTTTT…. she’d buy you certain articles of clothing just because she thinks it looks good enough to rip it off of you later.. AHEHEH

heavy on lingerie btw. she’ll DRAGGG you to a random victoria’s secret just so you can try on the ones you think look nice! her evaluation criteria; ‘hmmm that one has free space on the sides so like if my calculations are correct i SHOULD be able to settle my hands on there and rip it off if i want to—‘

plus, who cares if she actually rips the lingerie apart? she can always buy you new ones :]

do i need her? yes. yes i do.

#anon asks #anon #wonyoung #wonyoung thoughts #jang wonyoung x y/n #jang wonyoung ive #jang wonyoung #jang wonyoung x female reader

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pendarling · 9 months ago

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List

• Part 2 > End >>

The villains in the city thought it would be hilarious to rank every hero by the level of beauty.

That’s right.

Not by skill or power, intelligence, speed, or strength at all, but beauty.

First place obviously went to Charisma. Their hero name was literally Charisma. There wasn’t anything more blatantly attractive than that. To top it off, Charisma was naturally photogenetic. Every angle captured of them was another magazine cover. Everyone downtown knew Charisma was certainly God’s favourite creation.

‘Fair enough.’ Hero thought as they stared at the screen in front of them. Their computer hummed quietly as they looked into the comments of civilians discussing their thoughts on the subject as well.

[I fucking love Charisma.]

[Congrats on first place!!😍]

[My favourite hero]

Moving on to the next one was Saturn Dust. Another gorgeous and close second place; it seemed like the villains knew what they were doing. They must’ve taken weeks or even months to prepare a list this detailed. Below each hero was a rating out of five for their other attributes like fighting style and general costume design. Saturn Dust even had a cute catchphrase, which earned them extra marks.

Hero shook their head grimly, “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Yet, all Hero was interested in was finding their position on the list. Their eyes wandered as the page scrolled for what seemed like forever.

Were they really that bad?

Before they could fully comprehend it, they’d reached the end of the page. Surely, they must’ve missed it.

Again, Hero scrolled up the page. Eyes now focused and leaning forward on their chair. Their finger paused every few seconds to count the numbers beside each name.

“43, 44, 45, 46…”

However, nothing came about. Bewildered, Hero rubbed their eyes and looked around at their empty apartment. The window let in a cool breeze from the night. Maybe they were tired, but the aching feeling of being forgotten was too painful.

Their fingers tapped on the keyboard.

Ctrl+F

A search bar popped up on the top right corner of the page. Hero quickly typed in their name, desperation getting to them.

Two results appeared, and they hurriedly pressed enter. The first that appeared was a comment mentioning them, equally as baffled at where Hero belonged on the list—the second displayed a small note underneath hero #33, citing Hero as a close friend but nothing more.

Frustration clawed at them after being left out. How hard was it for those villains to give up some recognition here? Should they throw fireworks next time? Or was someone purposely messing with them?

Hero crossed their arms as they thought about their next step. It was impossible that they could’ve gone so unnoticed for this long. Their contributions weren’t like the others, but it wasn’t as if they didn’t do anything at all.

Looking at the page in its entirety, Hero noticed a small grey font underneath the title page.

Each hero listed was ranked based on villains who fought them in battle. This meant all information was first-hand account to keep it as accurate as possible.

Hero slapped their forehead.

It made so much more sense now. Hero only ever fought Villain. They never or hardly ever interacted with the rest of the villains in the city as frequently as they ran into Villain.

They pressed their lips together.

“But that doesn’t make any sense.” They grumbled. Unlike them, Villain did fight multiple heroes at a time. Why would they purposely leave them out? Unless they forgot about them.

Their stomach turned as an aching grew within them. There’s no way Villain could’ve forgotten them but given so much valuable input to the other heroes. Hero scratched their head and glanced at the clock, their thoughts tumbling out of them by the second in search of answers. Then again, they could’ve just never approached the list and dismissed it entirely. It’s not like Villain was the only one asked for their opinion.

Hero tapped their foot, their eyes still blankly staring at the computer screen and then back at the clock. The depths of their consciousness begged them to go out and make a fuss to catch some attention. The other half of their mind demanded that they quit immediately. If not even their enemy could notice them, they might as well not participate at all.

They sighed and shut down the computer.

All this nonsense was getting to their head. It was best to be left in the dark about it anyway. What was that saying again?

Ignorance is bliss.

Hero settled into bed and tucked themselves in. Their eyes closed. ‘Besides, what am I even going to confront Villain with? You don’t think I’m attractive enough to get on the list?’ Hero blushed. Maybe they wouldn’t say it like that. Or— did Villain find them attractive?

Their memories passed them in their past interactions. Hero’s face grew warm. What if Villain was very protective of them and didn’t appreciate the chances Hero might have at getting admirers? What if they got jealous easily?

No. That’s all too ridiculous. Realistically, Villain was unlike that at all. They were manipulative and sadistic. That’s why they had those underlings of theirs always kissing at their feet. Hero frowned as their brows furrowed. No one as self-centred as them could care about some low-level hero.

That didn’t matter to them, though, because Hero didn’t need this. It was below them. A stupid list running around the internet wouldn’t affect them for life. If anything, it was pathetic that anyone would want to be on there. They should be happy that it didn’t get to them.

For about 20 minutes, the reassurance did the trick, but even Hero couldn’t be fooled for too long.

They shot up in bed, fist slamming onto the headboard, “Dammit! Why aren’t I on that list!?”

~~~

MASTERLIST

•

Part 2 >

End >>

#writing prompt #enemies to lovers #villain x hero #hero x villain #writing #heroxvillain snippet #pining prompts #unrequited pining #unrequited love #wrtblr

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theyenvyhi3 · 3 months ago

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Answering questions in my DR SELF

1. tokyo debunker dr

2. marylin beaufort

3. mary

4. 17

5. 165cm

6. black

7. i don even know I just search in pinterest 😫

8. 25/09

9. a young cheerful girl who can be unpredictable

10. yes with my twin brother

11. she/her

12. brown

13. long

14. often have scars since im quite clumsy

15. no

16. strawberry

17. i can enhance others power

18. i live in an old church that the academy provided me

19. no

20. just being everyone’s slave… (aether syndrome ☹️)

21. yes

22. 1M

23. caleb, yoosung and kazuya

24. caleb (same age) + yoosung/kazuya (younger)

25. maybe 👀

26. at school :p

27. dancing/listening to music/watching cartoons/shopping/photography,filming

28. tbh just joking around but most of the time im arguing with kazuya

29. hamburgers and i love coke/juice

30. pink

31. downtown girl aesthetic

32. chilling outside 🤷‍♀️

33. dance

34. rainy

35. night

36. spring

37. …clowns….

38. dishonest

39. food and clothes! (and my friends but first those things)

40. nope

41. yes

42. YES

43. i have so many favorites on my playlist though 😅 but my top 3 will be :

1. dark red

2. lagtrain

3. i want to XXXX with you

44. i can dance

45. taking risks 😎

46. scrolling on tiktok, or listening to music

47. people tend to rely on my so I guess yea 🤷‍♀️

48. it’s just normal, I woke up, get up, get dressed, prepare my school bag and just go to school with my friend kaito 🫶

49. rain

50. i have a book where I know everyone’s secrets 🤫

Thank you so reading !

#shifting dr #shifting antis dni #shifting blog #shifters #shifting community #shiftblr #reality shifting #shifting #shifting motivation

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vintagelasvegas · 7 months ago

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Las Vegas 1910s-1920s - Facing east over South Main & Bonneville in a series of photo-postcards each taken from the ice house.

In 1912 a group of Las Vegas women rallied to plant 2,000 mesquite trees in downtown Las Vegas to offer shade and beauty to the city's newly oiled trees. The Mesquite Club grew from that event.

1. Early-20s. The large building on the far left is the Clark County Courthouse, built in ‘14. Postcard from the George Wharton James Papers, UNR.

2. Early-20s. Postcard from Elbert Edwards Photograph Collection (PH-00214), UNLV Special Collections.

3. Wharton Drug store postcard 1910s, c. ‘11-‘15. Two blocks in the distance are the company houses, aka Railroad Cottages, east of 2nd St (Casino Center) between Clark and Garces. Back of postcard.

4. 1910s, “before the shade trees were all planet and grown up.” The far-right in the row of railroad cottages in the distance is 629 S Casino Center Blvd.

Mesquite Club. Las Vegas Age, 1/13/12 p1, p6; Florence Lee Jones. Mesquite Club Planted Trees, First Shade for Vegas. Review-Journal, 7/1/46.

#1910s #1920s #Railroad Cottages

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mariacallous · 4 months ago

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The first gay couple to take advantage of a new law in Latvia entered into a legally recognized civil union partnership shortly after midnight on July 1, when the rules came into force.

Maksims Ringo and Jānis Locs “tied the knot” at a law office in historic downtown Riga on Monday, exchanging silver rings at a party afterward. They hope to get gold rings if or when gay marriage becomes legal in Latvia. Ringo said the arrangement was mostly for practical reasons as the two have been together for over five years. He cited improved rights in the event of his partner having medical treatment as one motivation for legally formalizing their relationship. Kaspars Zālītis, leader of the ‘Dzīvesbiedri’ (Life Partners) equality movement, said in a press release: “The introduction of partnership in Latvia is an important step towards a more equal, inclusive and empathetic society, in which each person feels valued and can realize his or her potential both in personal and professional life.” “The introduction of the Institute of Partnership Law is an important signal that all families in Latvia are protected, valued, and recognized. This is extremely important for people who have remained invisible to the state, not only in practical matters of everyday life but also emotionally. This long-awaited moment will positively change the lives of many people.” A civil union does not have the same status as a marriage in Latvian law, but the new form of partnership entitles the parties to certain rights, including to be informed of and decide on medical treatment, as well as having tax and pension advantages. Homosexuality remains a politically and socially divisive issue in Latvia, and in 2005 the country’s lawmakers introduced a constitutional amendment defining marriage as being a union between a man and a woman. The new law recognizing same-sex partnerships was enacted by the Latvian parliament last November in the wake of 46 same-sex couples petitioning the country’s courts to be recognized as family units, public broadcaster LSM reported. Neighboring Estonia legalized same-sex marriage in June.

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lex-the-flex · 2 years ago

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hihihi sophie!!! i hope ur well!!🫶🏻 i saw requests were open and i wanted to shoot u the idea thats been hangin in my head for a few days. its an angsty one i hope thats okay🫡 6Leon gets called out on a mission, not knowing that his shared apartment with his partner had somehow been tracked and found by his target. when he arrives home from what he thought was a failed mission, having been unable to locate his target, he finds his partner in extremely rough shape on the floor after being interrogated by his target for info on Leons mission and whereabouts.

One Last Night

Leon S. Kennedy x reader

Word Count: 859

Warning(s): HEAVY ANGST, descriptions of injuries, action and violence, slight cursing, mentions of mission failure, mentions of nudity, MEGA FLUFF, reassurance, and lots of tlc.

A/N: It’s about time I get to my inbox after so long! Thank you for requesting my love and I hope you enjoy!

The bright purple neon lights slowly poured in from the aftermath of the flash grenade’s intensity. Regaining his bearings, Leon suddenly remembered where he was: downtown Ontario, and the street was completely torn apart. Staggering from his place on the cobblestone street, the smoke began to clear – along with the target.

Ada Wong.

Only it didn’t seem like her. It couldn’t have been her. Ada never wore blue, but people become desperate on the run.

****

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as Leon finally made it back to the shared private apartment that you and him call home. Checking the tiny mailbox, he fetched a few envelopes and a small package wrapped in paper before thanking the doorman. Adjusting his bags strap around his shoulder, Leon practically bolted for the elevator, wanting nothing more than to take a shower and to fall asleep in your arms.

Walking down the long hallway to your front door, Leon’s cellphone buzzed in his back pocket, alerting him of the time. 2:46 A.M. It was a Thursday, so Leon knew you’d be in bed as you had Friday’s off. Silently smirking to himself, a feeling of relief started to wash over his exhausted frame, but that was quickly taken away by the sight of a light beaming from underneath the back front door.

Silently pressing the keys into the lock, Leon slowly turned the piece of metal against the doorknob, and hesitantly opened the door. Coming face to face with an empty medium sized kitchen, he carefully put down his duffel bag by the counter, and reached for his trusty Matilda hidden in a secret cabinet.

Leaning towards the the brick wall that separated the kitchen from the large living room, one of the various vases shattered against the floor, breaking into multiple pieces. Hearing you scream, Leon bolted into action, and announced himself from his hiding spot. Within seconds he couldn’t believe what he was witnessing: you were on the floor, clutching your stomach, and bleeding from your nose.

Jabbing a taser into your side, Leon’s very target, the woman he was assigned to track down from his “failed” mission had infiltrated your home.

“Stop!” He ordered, stepping forward to Wong in blue.

“Leon, no don’t…! Don’t come any closer!” You warned, extending your hand to him.

Stopping in his tracks, Ada straightened from her towering form over you, and gazed at Leon with her black locks covering her barely sweaty face.

“Hmm, I take it that mission didn’t go well, Leon? Poor boy.” She mocked the man before you.

“How do you know about that?” Leon questioned, and his grip only tightened around his pistol.

“You really want to know? I thought I’d ask your lovey-dovey partner while she was out at the farmer’s market. It’s a shame, Y/N is really good at keeping secrets. Too bad her ribs are too bruised from being tased for two whole hours.” Ada explained, twirling the plastic device in her hands.

Writhing on the floor, you quietly reached for a spare butterfly knife tucked in your jeans, and Leon caught on once he realized this wasn’t the real Ada.

“Well, what can I say: as much as our relationship has been a thrilling chase, I’m happy with the lady I’ve got.” Leon declared, dodging the path of your blade.

Grazing the assassin in the shoulder, she winced in pain before zipping out the open window within seconds. Rushing to your side, Leon wrapped his leather jacket around your cold frame, and refused to leave your side.

****

5:21 A.M.

The police finally left the studio apartment after two hours of their seemingly useless questioning. Crossing the doorway into your shared bedroom, you were sitting in the edge of the bed, carefully tending to the bruises on your ribcage.

“You alright?” Leon asked, squatting to his knees, wanting to get a closer look.

“Just another day in the office.” You replied with a half smile.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve been here for you, Y/N. I knew I shouldn’t have gone to Ontario.” He apologized, hesitantly touching your black and blue skin.

Taking his face in your hands, you cupped Leon’s cheeks in between your palms, allowing his worried blue eyes to meet yours.

“Leon, I’m okay. I promise. This is nothing a heat pad and painkillers won’t fix. I’m sorry about your mission.” You replied, reassuring him with your gentle touch.

“Okay…” He said with an understanding nod.

Rubbing your shoulder, he stood from his spot on the floor.

“Why don’t I make us some tea, and you get in a nice warm bath? It’ll make you feel better.” He advised, shrugging off his leather jacket.

****

Slipping out of his set of dirty jeans, Leon carefully stepped over the edge of the clawfoot tub, careful not to sting your skin. Sitting behind you, he extended his legs around you, and pulled you into his chest.

Surrendering yourself to the warm water, a deep sigh escaped your chest, and Leon wrapped his muscular arms around your body, finally enjoying a moment of comfort after one last night of pure chaos.

re taglist ~

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#resident evil #resident evil writing #resident evil 6 #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy oneshot #leon kennedy fluff #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #capcom resident evil #capcom #nick apostolides #matt mercer

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clubdionysus · 4 months ago

Text

[BAD DECISION #46] Forgetting the Friendship

warnings: progress!! seven mv inspo!! fluffy goodness <33 a treat! (1) reference to 'ur so mean ting ting ball :('

notes: i love these chapters so much waaa, it makes me excited to write for bd again <3 also these chapters are copied straight from ao3 and the space after italicised words before full stops drives me insaaane but I am too lazy to fix it lol soz

wc: 9K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

Jeongguk sitting across from you at a dining table is not a foreign concept.

Nor is his smile, and the solace it brings; or his inquisitive eyes, and how they're able to make even the most mundane of activities enthralling.

In fact, sitting with Jeongguk in a dark, smokey barbecue place just off the central restaurant district downtown feels entirely comfortable.

Yet it's perhaps the most troubling thing of all: dating Jeongguk is easy .

Easy, like the first sip of an expensive vodka. Easy, like the laughter that comes whenever you're with him. Easy, like you knew it would be. Easy, like it always is.

The restaurant is familiar to you both - somewhere you've frequented for countless late-night dinners. It's a standard joint, nothing technical nor fancy about it. Booth seats, coal pits in the middle of the table, extractor fan above head.

The pipe work is exposed, but it's more for practicality than aesthetics, even if it does lend itself perfectly to the industrial vibe the place has going on. Lights are dim, neons on the walls, overheads shining down on the barbecues only. It's the perfect place to go incognito for a little. Perfect place to test the waters of what a date could be like with Jeongguk. Perfect, because you can hide, if you want.

Hide what you are. Hide how you feel. Hide from your friends, onlookers, judgement. Hide, as if you need to. As if anyone gives a shit. As if you aren't just a couple of besties just sharing some food.

No one understands.

No one realises they're witnessing a cosmic union that'll change the world as we know it. Celestial in the way your energies merge, a once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon is happening with every awkward glance. Every shy smile. Every bite of his lip, and flip of his lip ring. Every sparkle of your glitter beneath the hazy lights.

God, Jeongguk thinks, hands clammy. So fuckin' pretty.

You know exactly why he's chosen this place. 'Best meat in the entire city,' you've whined a few times, mouth full of your favourite cut. Moksal, the neck cut, is your go-to. Jeongguk always prefers samgyeopsal, and actually thinks there's a place across the road that is superior - but you like moksal, and you like the moksal here.

So here is where you are.

When you realise this—as he's asking the waiter for a cut of samgyeopsal and two cuts of moksal—your heart hurts. If it could pout, it would.

You don't realise that you're kind of pouting too, until Jeongguk asks, "Is that alright? Did you want something else? I can change the order."

"No," you insist, a smile settling on your lips, just shy of a giggle.

Attentive as always, you find his drive to keep you happy sweet. Charming, in fact. You know that if he had it his way, he'd have ordered three cuts of samgyeopsal straight off the bat, then maybe ordered moksal for round two.

But he wants this to be easy.

It is easy.

It's not like you had expected a date with Jeongguk to be a particular hardship. Nothing like that at all.

You've known him for long enough now, and experienced enough of life with him, to know what something like this could be like. Hell, you've done this exact thing with him on an easy two dozen occasions. More, maybe.

The ease, the comfortability, the absence of complication; It's all so easy .

You've never known love to be easy.

Never known it without conflict. You don't even know if this is love—but you know it has the potential to be.

It's too soon for such heavy words. The dates barely even started. A bottle of soju and a bottle of beer are brought to your table, and Jeongguk cracks the cap of the beer while you unscrew the soju. Work in tandem. Get the drinks flowing, 'cause neither of you are truly confident enough for this.

Have both tripped over your words already. Both took a little too long to think of responses, in an attempt to make them perfect. Make this perfect. Be perfect.

This is your first fatal error, for perfection has never been what either of you have liked about one another.

It's everything else—flaws, and all— that you like.

He'd proven that as soon as he had shown up at your door that evening.

"I like your hair," he had told you earlier, a little bashful in your apartment hallway, hands stuffed into his trouser pockets.

Half up, it isn't particularly special today.

Danbi had spritzed it with a little glitter hairspray while you'd been doing your makeup, and twisted some plaits back, leaving your grown-out fringe to frame your face. It is a little fancier than your normal half-up go-to, but it's not exactly ground-breaking.

'Smart casual' had been the attire set by Jeongguk after you'd asked for a dress code, which is honestly the worst thing he could have possibly said.

You're good at doing casual. Great at doing cocktail. Mildly okay at doing smart. The combination of smart and casual? Yeah, not so great. Too many things to factor in.

"Like, do I go business-sexy?" you'd considered out loud, spending far too much time whining when you should have been getting ready. "Yanno? Like a hot secretary? Is that what he means?"

"I think he just means a little dressy," Danbi had talked some sense into you. Really didn't understand all the fuss. "Not full Disco Ball, but enough to still turn heads."

Glancing over to the sparkly dress hanging on the back of your door—the same one that Jeongguk had sort of gifted to you over the weekend, but also not spoken to you about at all—you decide that maybe that will be a little too much.

Thankfully, Jeongguk did send you a mirror selfie twenty minutes before he was set to leave.

Black slacks, a blazer, and a graphic white tee beneath it. Smart casual. Captioned it with, 'will you be able to resist me, or should I get changed?'

You have a last minute panic and change to dress accordingly; tight black mini skirt, large white tee hanging loosely off your frame. A tour shirt from one of your favourite bands, it's been through the wash enough times to look almost vintage, even if it's just from a few years ago. Tucking it in a little at the front, you allow for the material to billow and hide the body Jeongguk seems to love so much. Perhaps it's better. Less tempting.

With a smile, you reply, 'no & no.'

Layering on some jewellery, you do a few last minute checks, and tug on your Converse. Totally not because you think he might wear his. Not at all. Decide against a jacket. You know Jeongguk's got one.

If you're gonna date, then you're gonna do the datey things - and that includes stealing his jacket before the end of the night.

Definitely has nothing to do with the fact you know Jiyeong did the same thing. You're definitely not trying to overwrite the memories of her. Not at all. That would be childish and pathetic and silly and exactly what you're doing.

You've had long enough of reducing yourself and making yourself invisible for the sake of men.

Jeongguk has never made you do that. Not once.

You're confident that Jeongguk won't ever make you reduce yourself. In fact, he's the one who frowns whenever you're without glitter. If anything, he seems to want to amplify you. It's a strange feeling. One you're not quite used to, yet.

But it's one that you had welcomed as he turned up at your door. Had dimples digging into his cheeks the second he caught your gaze, desperately fighting a smile.

A million thoughts raced through his head: how gorgeous you always look in the flickering light of your apartment hallway; how happy he is to be at your door, and how it felt like he'd be sick the entire subway ride there; how he'd planned on stopping for flowers on the way, but had been too eager to see you instead.

None of these thoughts escaped his lips.

Instead, the greeting had been awkward . Bashful. Both of you unsure of this new etiquette, even though being together feels like the most natural thing in the world.

He made note of your lack of jacket. Didn't insist you get one. Knew straight off the bat that he'd be draping his blazer over your shoulders by the end of the night. Wrapping you up as his own. Sticking a label on you that distinctly marks you as his.

He also noticed your shoes. Smiled. Looked down at his own pair - that he definitely didn't wear because he thought you might... not at all...

Part of you felt a little cheated as you headed down towards the subway ( where was the hand holding he'd spoken about? ) but you were also thankful he wasn't going in all guns blazing. Were nervous. Unsteady.

Now that you think about it, perhaps a hand would have been useful to hold.

But in a place that is familiar to you both, the nerves settle.

"So, tell me about yourself," you flirt, as if this really is a first date by the standards of normal people. "Pets? Siblings? Hobbies?"

Jeongguk smiles, easing into how natural this all feels. Feels a little odd, too. You know all this. Still, he nods. Cosplays as a stranger to you 'cause maybe he is a bit too acquainted for some guy who isn't even your boyfriend.

"One brother, no pets. Want a dog, but I'm waiting until I have more free time, yanno?"

"More free time?" you enquire, as if you don't know his schedule like the back of your own damn hand.

You're probably more well-versed in Jeongguk's work rota than your own by this point. Know which days to end up in Dionysus with no purpose other than to have his eyes on you the entire night. Know that he gyms at ass o'clock in the morning because of his work schedule. Know that he'll cancel that particular schedule if it gives him the excuse to stay in bed with you. Bonus point if he gets his cardio done in other ways.

You still might not be a gym girlie, but your core strength has never been better. You're getting pretty good at yoga, too. The Cobra is a particular favourite. Cow, too. And fish pose. In fact, now you think about it, you're getting real good at yoga. Danbi would be proud.

"More free time," he nods, before pausing to take the utensils from the waiter, insisting he's fine to grill his own meat. It's no different to usual—Jeongguk often happily cooks his own meat—but something about it this time around gets you smiling. A little flustered. You do love it when a man takes charge (mainly so you can fight with him), but it's entirely different now.

He just seems... capable. Dependable.

"Work enough hours at a part-time job for it to be full-time," he begins to explain. "But I'm also in the process of setting up my own business. Restaurant business."

Absolutely none of this is new to you, and yet you find yourself asking questions. So many questions. Rehash old conversations, and go off on new ones. Have Jeongguk smiling and enthusing, talking about his dreams like they're coming to life in little vapours dancing around his head. You can picture it all; his successes, his meticulously planned interior, the wind-down after a busy night, sitting with him around his favourite table and eating for yourselves.

He rambles on about staff uniforms, and whether or not he wants shirts or just aprons when he stops himself. Smiles, Says, "Sorry, I'm like the worst date. Just talking about myself non-stop."

Date . Jeongguk is your date. Fuck . You could squeal. You won't—but you could .

Shaking your head, you disagree. "I like hearing about your plans. It's fun. Your eyes get so sparkly whenever you talk about your dreams."

"Shut up," he cringes, a little embarrassed by himself, and also aware that you're totally wrong.

His eyes don't sparkle 'cause he's talking about his dreams.

His eyes sparkle cause he's looking at you as he speaks about them.

Nonethewiser, you raise your shot glass. It's filled to the brim with soju, hastily poured by him, and grin, "to your future."

He raises his glass, and knocks it against yours, tiny droplets of alcohol trickling over the lip of the glass and onto your fingers, so minimal it's almost unnoticeable. "To the future."

The , not his . A collective. A future he hopes you'll share together.

"Anyways," he says as he swallows down the soju and chases it with a little beer. "Tell me about you. Gimmie your life story, Disco Ball."

The smile on his face as he calls you that is sweet. Kind. His dark eyes twinkle in the dimly lit restaurant, a little smoke from the coals beneath the barbecue obscuring him for a brief moment.

Your ability to talk with Jeongguk about anything and everything for hours upon end is nothing new.

As you laugh and joke your way through dinner, there really is nothing remarkably hard about spending time with him. You never thought there would be.

Part of it worries you. Concerns you that 'nothing remarkably hard' could lead to you being simply 'nothing remarkable' altogether.

See, comfortable has been used upwards of a thousand times to describe your relationship. Now is no exception to that.

You talk with him like an old friend, not a new lover - and while this is fine, and safe, and necessary for a successful foundation, you fear that such security will prevent you from building something truly great.

Hours are lost in conversation.

The tables around you come and go. Fill up with new punters, then filter out. At one point, a server spends a little too long looking at your table. Jeongguk notices. Says, "I think we gotta order more or fuck off."

It's been three hours.

And so Jeongguk orders budae-jjigae to keep you going. Knows you won't eat all that much of it, but also knows he can demolish the stew off if needs be. It's cheaper than more meat, and easier to pretend like you're taking your time to eat it. Gives you more time.

Soju bottles empty out rapidly. New bottles are brought over every now and again, the table never running entirely dry. More meat is eventually ordered, because Jeongguk is Jeongguk, and the mere scent of the table next to you grilling up meat gets him hungry again.

Again, he grills for you for the most part, but when you take the tongs from him to turn the meat and give him a little break, he almost crumbles .

His gaze is centred on you. Flicks down your arm, to your wrist. Your hands. Watches as they work. Says nothing, just slowly wets his lips as you continue talking, then presses them together. His lip ring does the thing . Posture reclines a little into his chair.

"What?" you ask as you notice the way he's not paying attention to what you're saying at all. "You good?"

He just shrugs. Absent-mindedly toys with his lip ring a little. Is contemplative as he says, "Why are we putting ourselves through this, B?"

And while you could act dumb, and pretend like you don't know what he means, the relief that washes over is too damn obvious. Your shoulders fucking ease. He knows what you look like at ease, and now that you've sunk into it, he can't believe he didn't realise you were so tense before.

"Oh," he laughs, now, realising that you've been deliberating the exact same thing that's been running through his head. "Am I that much of a terrible date?"

"Date?" you tease. "This is a date?"

"Oh, fuck off," he laughs. "Course it's a date. I wore a blazer."

"You looked hot," you tell him, 'cause you've had a few too many shots to be making good decisions. Tucked into the base of the seating booth to protect it from the smoke, Jeongguk's in just a t-shirt now.

Arms out. Tattoos on display. Muscles tensing just right.

It's a miracle you've been able to form coherent sentences at all this evening.

Truthfully, you've not been focusing on them.

Can't help but let your mind jump back into its memories. Fractures of heated moments in his shower keep coming to mind. The grip you'd have on his arms as you came undone. Memories so potent they almost make you whine.

So yeah, you've been avoiding looking at his arms.

"Should I put it back on?" He raises a brow.

"No," you hum. Bit down on your lip. Sparkle underneath the lights of the restaurant. The taking of Jeongguk's breath is accidental. The way you shrug, and playfully raise your eyebrows as you recline into your chair, is not. "You're hot now, too."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were flirting with me, Byeol."

"Am I not?"

"Are you?"

He's so pedantic you could scream. Instead, you giggle. Shrug as you lean forward to slide your chopsticks beneath one of the fermented perilla leaves. Say, "Give me a hand?"

Of all the things Jeongguk wants to give you right now, a hand is definitely one of them. Maybe not in the way you're requesting, but fuck . He's insatiable whenever you're like this. Impatient .

Yet, he does as he's asked. Splits the leaves for you. Wonders how out of pocket a marriage proposal would be, even if he is just joking.

Instead, he asks, "If we go somewhere else after this, can it count as date two?"

"No."

"Byeol," he whines.

"No," you laugh, knowing exactly why he's asking. "You can't get me into bed that easily. Can't speed up the process. You gotta earn it."

He has earned it. You know it, he knows it. Everyone who looks your way knows it. Your want for him is written all over your face, cosmic eyes shooting up like stars every time you glance his way.

"The process is dumb," he pouts.

"The process is necessary," you insist, though you really are doubting it now.

"The process has already been done," he assures you, though you're not sure his maths is adding up. This is still just date one of five.

Thing is, Jeongguk sees eating together as more of a daily routine thing. It's not special enough - but it's what he said he'd do in the midst of a fuck that felt like a whole lot more, so he had to see it through. Had to make sure your expectations were met. Didn't want you to be disappointed if he didn't follow through.

"We've basically been ' together ' for fuckin' ages, now," he continues, lips a hell of a lot looser now that he's got soju swarming through his veins. Cares not to hide how he views things between you. "The rules are redundant 'cause we already know each other like the back of our hands."

"So?" You toy, enjoying this slightly desperate side to Jeongguk. You normally only get to see it in bed. Nice to witness it fully clothed, even if it does make you wanna disregard the rules you're so desperately trying to enforce. "Think about how good it will be when you finally get me how you want me."

"It'll just be embarrassing," he assures you, thankful that the chatter around you drowns out the conversation you're having. "I'll finish, in like, 2 seconds."

"No different to usual, then."

"Fuck you."

"No," you smirk. "That's the whole issue, remember? We're not allowed to."

"Swear you get off on my pain," he grumbles, topping up both of your glasses with the dregs of the beer left in the bottle. Pours you both water, too. Definitely hasn't had enough, so he doubts you have, either. "Is this what our relationship is gonna look like, huh? You torturing me for the fun of it?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself," you tease him with a playful smile. "I'm not your girlfriend."

He just shrugs again. "Yet."

Your lips purse. Smile hides. Eyes sparkle.

Yet , you think.

As if he can read your mind, he just nods slowly. Yet .

No time is given to dwell on such a small word, for Jeongguk gets already on his feet and heads over to pay. Doesn't even give you the option of offering to go halves, because it is a date, and he does want to tick all the boxes. Make you happy.

And he does. You are.

The restaurant you're in is a few floors up from the street. A skincare shop is on the bottom floor and a kitchen on the next one up. The staircase is themed, adjacent to the restaurant. Has a vibe about it that just begs to be photographed - which is obviously an intentional, marketing ploy, given by the sheer amount of mirrors available on the descent. All branded with a small tag in the corner, you know if you searched it on insta, heaps of selfies would pop up.

Grabbing his blazer from the booth, Jeongguk ushers you towards the staircase, Drapes his blazer over your shoulders, even if you aren't complaining about the cold yet. He knows you will.

Even though he's not been wearing it, there's a warmth about his blazer. His aftershave is stuck in the fibres. Divine. Fresh. Dreamy.

"Wait," you hum as you get to the biggest mirror of the staircase. It's full length. Dimly lit, with neons in the background to give it a vibe that you know girls on the gram will just eat up.

Jeongguk pulls you to stand in front of him ever so slightly. Takes your phone from your hand and slides the screen across to auto-unlock the camera.

Pictures taken together are a rarity, normally always with your other friends. Never just you two. Not since the photobooth in Busan.

He thinks about it often, mainly 'cause every time he sits at his computer desk, he can see them poking out from behind another poster. He keeps them up, a little obscured so that Jimin never notices them, but so he can always feel their presence.

"Should document it," he narrates the choices he's making. "Evidence of our little dating experiment."

It's not what he wants to say. Not what he's thinking. If he were being honest, he'd say 'evidence to show our grandchildren.'

"You're such a romantic," you tease with a roll of your eyes, but naturally find yourself leaning into a pose.

Though Jeongguk once told Yoongi he wouldn't want his relationships plastered all over instagram, he's positioning himself in the perfect soft launch pose. Hangs his arm over your shoulder, tattoos on full display now that his blazer is draped over your shoulders. Covers his face with the phone, and lets you take centre stage.

He thinks he'd quite like to end up on your feed. Not just your story.

The refracted light of a disco ball in the corner of the staircase glitters down on you both, dappling you in pockets of luminance.

"Well, what do you want me to say?" He replies with a smile, tone matching yours as your fingers reach up to link with his. He takes another photo. Switches the camera to record. Looks down towards you. Says, "That I wanna preserve this? That I want to keep this moment forever? That I want something to show future generations?"

None-the-wiser of your rolling camera, you shrug. Smile, looking at you both in the mirror. Look up to him.

"Are you this forward with all your first dates?"

"Only the ones I know I have a future with."

"Oh?" You question, turning your body to face his. The hand that had been slung over your shoulder comes to rub tenderly up and down your back. "You're pretty confident."

He nods, smile soft as his dark eyes just drink you in. There's a giddy feeling in his stomach, and it's not just the alcohol. "Should I not be?"

The familiarity of Jeongguk is only exacerbated as his nose nudges up against yours.

It's tender, and tepid, and he knows better than to be so affectionate with another person in such a public space, but he doesn't care. Felt distant from you when he was across the table; like the supply to his oxygen was being stifled, but now he can breathe again.

You don't resist as he steals a kiss. It's small. Tepid. A punctuation mark for a question that really shouldn't make you feel as head over heels as it does.

"I never said that," you smile, his nose resting against yours as he locks your phone. Will let you find that video some other time. Wishes he was still recording when you say, "I think it's something worth preserving. Think I'll wanna look back on it too."

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm," you mumble into his lips, sinking into another forbidden kiss. "For when we're old and grey and I'm reminiscing over my former lovers."

You're deliberately downplaying how you feel; how you know that there'll never be another lover after him.

If Jeongguk chooses not to see this through, then that's it.

At the ripe old age of twenty-seven, you've determined that no man nor woman could ever compare to him.

His particular cluster of cells is just the right one for you; the right combination of stardust.

If you ever find yourself trapped between sheets with someone else, they'd be nothing more than a misplaced life experience. Not one for the history books. Names wouldn't be remembered, the feeling long-forgotten by the time you're reminiscing.

But not Jeongguk. Never Jeongguk.

It's terrifying to look at another human and know the course of your life is forever changed because of them.

But it's comforting—so, so comforting—when replies, "Former? B, if I'm not covered in your fuckin' glitter on my death bed then I'll... I don't know," he laughs. "Haunt you? I don't fuckin' know. Just take fuckin' former outta your mouth when you talk about us."

"You're so lucky we're in public right now," you sigh a little dreamily.

"Why's that?"

"You're, like, one right sentence away from me getting to my knees."

"Don't say that," Jeongguk groans with a smile. Shakes his head. His nose strokes against yours like it so often does, even closer than before. In fact, he's so close that you can feel his lips as he husks, "Lets get outta here, B."

Shaking your head, you smile. "Ask nicely."

Jeongguk pulls away, and tugs on your hand to have him following you. "You gotta stop being so..."

"So?"

"So you ," he laughs, as you head down the stairs. "Swear you live to wind me up."

"I do," you assure him. "Is it working?"

Leading you down the stairs and onto the bustling city street, Jeongguk likes how much of a menace you insist on being.

Drunk revellers line the pavements, so his grip is tight. He's keeping you close. Smiling with every innocuous statement said by you, then glaring at every fucker who looks your way. You never notice. Are too busy knocking into his chest with every step, glitter no doubt embedding itself in the cotton of his shirt.

He won't complain. Will never complain.

Too late for the subway, and with his car parked up still at his place, a taxi is your only solution to get back to your place. A little too far from town, the walk would take just over an hour, and honestly, neither of you fancy it.

Issue is, getting a taxi at this time of night is hellish, too.

"Just stay at mine," Jeongguk insists as you wait by the taxi rank. Thinks it's a no-brainer. He and Jimin live in the city centre. It's the perfect compromise. "We've done it a hundred times over. Are perfectly capable of—"

"No we're not," you laugh. "All I have to do is look at you in the right way and you get hard."

"So don't look at me," he laughs right back, not even caring to protest it, pulling you in for a hug to stop you from jittering around. It's still cold, May yet to greet you both the bloom of a new season. The blossoms of spring wilted away at the start of the month, but it's still not summer quite yet.

"Or maybe you shouldn't look at me ."

"How can I not?" He whines into your hair, pressing a kiss down on the top of your head. "You're so pretty tonight. So pretty all the time."

Pretty, he thinks when you look at him like that.

Pretty, when you do eventually start walking home with him, and the lights of noraebang entryways shinedown on you, colourful and contrasting your silvery shine. Pretty when you giggle. Pretty when he tugs on your hand and pulls you into a sidestreet for a moment or two whenever your teasing gets a little too much.

He'll always say something like, "If I can't kiss you in the next three minutes, I'll die," or, "Is that what you want? My death on your hands?"

And you'll always reply with something like, "You're lucky I don't fancy going to jail tonight."

Sometimes you don't reply at all. Sometimes, you just kiss him. No games.

Just him, and you, and the physical manifestation of the way you feel about him.

The walk back to his place is made far longer than it needs to be. Detours are taken, and wrong turns are deliberately walked down just to give you both more time together. More, more, more is all you ever seem to want from one another.

And yet as you get back to his place, Jeongguk is the one to start arranging the bedding that separates you. Gets all the pillows he can find in his apartment, and begins to make a little nest beside his bed. Keeps the good pillows on his bed, 'cause that's where you'll be, and he wants you comfy.

A boundary was set by you, so as much as he can whine or complain, he'll always respect it.

In fact, if you were to turn around now and say 'fuck it', he'd be the one to reinforce it. Knows you've both had a little too much to drink. Doesn't want you doing anything you'll regret.

"C'mon," he says fondly, coming to stand in front of you at the end of his bed. Cups your jaw and presses a kiss to your forehead. "Let's get washed up, B. Teeth, then bed."

The way Jeongguk feels the need to always take care of you is sweet. Tender. Careful. He fears doing the wrong thing so often, that his default is to be overwhelmingly good.

Comfort is found in this routine of yours.

Domestic, it's sort of devastating when you realise how well-acquainted you are with one another's habits.

He finishes his teeth brushing just before you, 'cause he knows you always like to be the last to finish for some weird, competitive reason.

Knows you sleep with your hair up, cause you hate the way it feels around your neck, so gently slides out the pin keeping half of it up. Lets it tumble down as you come to the end of your brushing, but scoops it back before you go to rid your mouth of toothpaste. Says nothing, still, as he ties your hair up with the thin band around his wrist.

Teeth clean, you turn to face him. Let his body press against yours. Encourage it, in fact, then give no resistance as he drags you to the left of the sink, nor when he hooks his arm beneath your ass and lifts you to perch on the counter.

"So pretty," he whispers, tucking back some loose strands he missed. Just you and him, Jimin's already asleep in the room next door. The apartment is silent save for the thudding of your beating hearts, that carry the weight of an orchestra on their base notes. You'll be a symphony, one day. "You know that right? Prettiest thing I've ever seen. Sparkliest, too."

If Jeongguk were to sit down and think about it, he could probably write a fuckin' sonnet.

But he's drunk, and he's sleepy, and you're just so pretty.

Forehead resting against yours, there's no desire for him to take this further. No need for him to elevate this. All he wants— truly —is for you to know he means it. Not just on a superficial level. On a deeply human, richly complex level.

You make him—his heart —feel pretty, too.

And so even though his nose nudges against yours, lips trembling, he doesn't kiss you. Won't sully his words with overwhelming physical passion. Instead, he lifts you. Carries you to his room. Sets you down on his bed without a single word.

Crazy, how a touch so tender can send you reeling; wanting. His silence is maddening.

It scares you. Worries you that maybe he isn't saying anything because anything he does say will upset you.

It prevails as you turn away from one another to get changed. He strips to his boxers, and you adopt a shirt of his that's been tossed over the back of his desk chair. No different to usual.

But as you settle into bed, and listen to him do the same, it's his voice that breaks the barrier. Bulldozes the wall you had begun to put up around yourself in an act of self-preservation.

"What do you even like about me, B?"

Barely a whisper, it's almost like he's scared of being heard; as if whatever answer you give will devastate him.

So fixated on everything he likes about you, he's beginning to realise that he can't really work out why someone like you would ever go for someone like him.

He's unestablished. Unstable in his career. Has barely finished school. Has no money, or at least not enough to provide you with any of the good stuff in life. Not yet, at least.

You had to spend an eternity listening to him whine about an ex that has proven herself to be pretty fuckin' awful. You live with the knowledge of all that he's done in pursuit of her. How desperate and pathetic he was.

The monsters that go bump in the night in Jeongguk's room live inside his head. They lie to him; tell him he's unworthy of the things he earned. Whether it be the business he's setting up, or the girl he's been fawning over for months, everything just appears a little out of grasp.

Like a donkey chasing a carrot, he runs and runs. Pursues his desires but can never reach them. He's asking for a lifeline, now. Is desperate.

"In what way?" you ask.

You'll give him a list as long as Jimin's Dionysus bar tab, if he wants. Can think of a million little things you adore—but you're scared, too. Vulnerability has never come easy to either of you.

It's a little ridiculous by now, how you both manage to let the devils on your shoulders worm their way into your ears and corrupt your brains. In the dark of night, it's easier for them to creep in. Less light to reflect upon the glitter that would typically keep them at bay.

"You know what way."

It's true. You do. Of course, you do.

Talk is cheap, you always think. Actions speak louder than words, or so has been the case for Jeon Jeongguk since the moment you met him - but it's words he needs now. Words that will soothe his brain. Words that will wrap around his insecurities.

Insecurities that are exacerbated by the fact you don't want to share a bed with him anymore, and the way your touch has become something that's withheld until he proves himself.

He doesn't even realise the way his mind is chalking up this new rearrangement. Doesn't understand that the slightly sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach is anxiety.

Change is never easy, but he knows it's often good. Even with this in mind, Jeongguk feels pretty awful. Maybe it's just the alcohol wearing thin. Maybe he just needs to sleep.

He never wanted things to change. Wanted things to stay exactly how they were. He told you this. All he wanted was the security that you wanted him, too—but now there are rules, and boxes to tick, and a change in a dynamic that he quite frankly thought was perfect before.

With these changes comes a physical distance, of course, yet it's manifesting itself emotionally in a way that you really should have predicted.

He's clingy . Always has been. Always keeps you close.

And now that he can't, he needs something to fill the space left by your prohibited touch.

A similar pang of discomfort washes over you; matches his dis-ease.

"So many things," you start, because it's hard to pick just one.

He stays silent. Knows you're working through your thoughts. Feels embarrassed to be asking for such attention, but he just needs something, anything , to remedy his brain.

The distance between you seems to grow in the silence, much like it did in your apartment when he showed up with his last birds.

Together, you're like an elastic band that just stretches and stretches and—

"Can I come down there, Gguk?"

You're stretching, still. The silence is empty around you as he tries to find the right response.

He gives up. Begs, "Please."

And so— ping .

You snap right back.

Pulling his bedding to the floor, you build an even bigger nest. Snuggle up beside him. Give no resistance, as he pulls you closer. Gets you beneath the same duvet. Shirtless, Jeongguk remains warm to the touch, and your hands remain gentle on his skin.

Both of you take a second to indulge in the closeness. Your leg hooks over his hip, his hand stroking up the back of your thigh as you do so, but it's not taken beyond the simplicity of what it is.

This isn't about sex.

It's about intimacy; about his heart, and how he foolishly felt like glitter had been replaced with shards of glass.

Remedied, Jeongguk can breathe again.

"I like your work ethic," you eventually whisper, brushing back a few strands of his hair, the darkness of the room not obscuring your star boy entirely. He adjusts slightly. Strokes your hip. Nudges his nose up against yours—not for anything other than for the fact he can. Doesn't kiss you. Lets you talk. "You work so hard, Gguk. So hard."

He stays silent. Asked for compliments, but doesn't really know how to respond to them.

So you give him more. Slide your hand up his throat, until his ear rests between your thumb and index finger, nails softly scratching his scalp.

"I also like your hair," you admit, because you're touching it, and it comes to mind, and because you don't think you tell him enough.

"Wanna grow it again," he mumbles, ever critical of himself.

"If you want to, you should," you tell him. "But it always reminds me of when we met when it's like this. I like it both ways."

"Your memory is good," he sort of derails the conversation.

"I remember 'cause it's important," you tell him—then decide to put the carriage of whatever fuck this is back on course. "I remember 'cause you're important, Gguk."

"Even back then?"

"God, especially back then," you insist. "You were so kind. So kind. Kind when you didn't have to be. Barely knew me and yet you made me feel so safe."

"Anyone would have—"

"No," you firmly interject. "Not just anyone. I went to a lot of bars last spring and not a single barman was making sure their punters were getting water. Only you. You go above and beyond for people. It's admirable. I like that. I like how kind you are. God, Gguk, the list is endless."

"Endless?"

"Endless. I like so much about you. So much." And you're not sure if you should continue listing out things, because you fear saying a little too much. Worry that the true nature of your feelings is a little too much for the freshness of this new endeavour. "I just... you're the best person I know. Truly."

He takes a second to fully digest your words. Appreciates them. You. The way you're willing to meet him halfway, and stop him from going off the deep end.

"Will you stay down here?" He whispers against your lips. The delicacy of such a touch leaves you a little breathless, even if it's not his intention. "No funny business. Just wanna be with you, B."

If anything, the lack of Jeongguk's desire for anything physical only makes you want him more. It's bizarre to be in such a state of yearning for someone right in front of you.

It's not like you're particularly in the mood, or deprived, or anything like that - it's just the perfect example of why cultivating intimacy is such a disaster for you. Makes you realise why it's always so impossible to stay away from one another. Sex is never just sex. Not with Jeongguk.

Cut from the same cloth, it's a shared language; one that you only ever speak together.

Nodding, you say, "I'll stay."

Together, you curl into a position more suitable for sleep. He takes the position of the little spoon, 'cause facing one another is dangerous, and so is having his dick to your back. Neither of you are stupid.

At least, you like to pretend you're not.

In the night, you twist and turn regardless. Change positions half a dozen times. Wake up with his arm wrapped over your waist, your body tucked up against his. He's the big spoon now.

"Ignore it," he grumbles into your hair when he feels you begin to stir.

"Impossible," you sleepily hum into the pillows, needing absolutely no confirmation of what he's talking about. Can feel him digging into your back. "Too big."

"Oh yeah?" he smirks, and presses a kiss to the back of your hair. Tightens his grip around, to say a silent morning.

"Mhmm," you confirm. "You can add it to the list of things I like about you."

"Fuck off," he scolds, but you can hear the smile in his tone.

"In fact, put it at the top of the list."

"The top?!" He protests—yet he's holding you ever tighter, still.

"Mmm, maybe just behind the free drinks at Dionysus."

"Don't remind me of work," he whines.

"You in tonight?"

"Mhmm," he regretfully mumbles. "Got a meeting with the bank first, though. Busy day."

"Want me to get going?" you ask, reaching up to grab your phone from the bedside table. Checking the time, you ignore all the texts from Danbi wondering how it went. Will just tell her later. Truthfully, you're not even sure how it went. "It's just gone nine. Want me to get outta your hair?"

"Meeting isn't until one," he tells you, but does add, "I've got some things I need to sort out beforehand."

"Say no more," you offer, stretching yourself out and away from his grasp. He whines and he moans, because he's Jeongguk, and of course he does. You tease him, and tell him not to miss you too much, because you're you, and of course you do.

But all Jeongguk does in your absence is miss you.

Spends most of his time in his bank meeting ignoring the clerk. Will read the paperwork later. Is still frustrated with the situation at hand, still yet to find a solution to his problem. Still yet to tell you about, 'cause he doesn't realise a problem shared is a problem halved. Will keep the bank issue tucked away. Nothing for you to worry about.

When work rolls by, he's checking his phone every few minutes. Earns himself some not-so-subtle side-eyes from Yeonjun. Loses 50k in a bet with him over how long he could go without checking his phone. Jeongguk is adamant he hit the fifteen-minute mark. Yeonjun was timing it. Was eight.

As the week progresses, your schedules aren't aligning. Alongside work, you're prepping Tae's next art show, and becoming painfully aware of how unsustainable it is—especially because the new curator is just as shit as you were warned they would be.

You're not just burning the candle at both ends; it's been dumped in a wax burner. Wick intact, it's the wax that's melting away.

Something's gotta give, and regretfully, it kinda feels like Jeongguk has been the sacrifice.

Stress is becoming well acquainted with you both.

He tries filling his empty space with the gym. It always used to work. Jiyeong still ignores him whenever he turns up, and it suits him just fine, but she has started at least looking ambivalent. The daggers he used to get never cut him particularly deep, but he didn't like the scratches on his skin for merely existing.

Still, his head is full of you—what you're doing, how work is, how he wishes you'd show up at the end of his sessions like you used to do, coffee in hand. Doesn't get why going on dates now means that you don't just hang out like normal.

So he hits personal bests, and has no one to tell when he leaves, shirt sticking to his back, eyes dark. There's a near-permanent ridge between his brows, testosterone up but his drive to do anything about it way down.

He gets coffee by himself, and smiles when the girl at the counter flirts with him like she always, but internally spends the entire interaction telling her to get fucked. She's a nice girl. Jeongguk's sure she's really nice, in fact, but he's so frustrated with everything that he can't even take pleasure from the acknowledgement that he's desired.

Doesn't want it.

Just wants you.

But you're busy, and so is he, and the one evening he thought you might be free to hang out, you had pole with Danbi, so he even finds himself resenting that. It's at that point he knows he's going mad, because what lover of the female anatomy would ever hate that?

He sends you pictures from his bed, and you send him pictures right back, just as innocent as they are illicit. Just shoulders. Lips. Rumpled duvets, that are only really disturbed on one side. Allusions to that fact you'd rather be with one another. Declarations of your yearning without anything tangible.

It's just under a week until Yoongi and Seoyeon's big day, and he worries that you guys will be in an awkward state of limbo. Doesn't want to have to face all your friends and act all normal while you're still in this clumsy stage.

There's a very real fear within Jeongguk that the first date just wasn't... right . That you've had time to think, and know that he isn't suited to you. That his insecurities or neediness have somehow made him unattractive, to you. That you're biding your time until you can figure out a way to let him gently.

And yet come Saturday—

"Thought I was gonna die," Jeongguk desperately husks into your lips, hips pressed to your tummy, your back to your apartment door. He's not even taken his shoes off yet, and for some reason, you're stripping him of his jacket. "Swear my brain doesn't work without you."

"That's, like—" His kisses never let you get more than a word or two out. "—probably not—" God, he's insatiable. "—healthy, babe."

And then he's groaning. Telling you not to call him that. Kissing you even harder just to get his desire out of his system—but it never fuckin' eases. Never does with you.

Just like you'll never stop calling him by the names that make him weak. You like him like this. Like his neediness. He never needs to worry. You know exactly who he is. None of this comes as a surprise.

For now, though, you've gotta reel it in. You've a date to have. One planned by you, this time. One that'll strip you back to who you are—no external pressure to perform, no big need to get it right.

Just you, and him, and little paint (but, sadly, a lot less boobs).

"C'mon," you smile, pulling away, realising maybe you shouldn't have taken his jacket off him (even if it did mean you could get your hands up his shirt in the midst of your makeout session). "Let's go."

The hold that Jeongguk has on your hand as you lead him up the stairs of your apartment block rooftop is loose. Barely there. Just enough. A whisper of a touch; everything that needs to be said.

It tightens in the small enclosure just in front of the door that leads to your roof.

Just you and him, the winding flight of stairs beneath you is empty. Mid-afternoon, it won't be long until the sun sets.

You love this time of year for that very purpose. The setting sun is always far brighter, far bolder, far keener to welcome in your favourite time of day. The longer the stars are in the sky, the more at home you feel.

Jeongguk's always been a bit of a night owl, too. It's fated, perhaps, that he should find himself in a permanent state of yearning for the brightest star he's ever known. It's always the middle of the night when he's with you. Always his favourite time of the day.

Could be seven in the morning, but as long as you're beside him? Favourite time. Could be midday sunshine, but if you're there? Favourite time . Could be a time like right now, mid-afternoon, not a star in the sky, and yet? Favourite time.

You're midnight.

Not in a way that invokes fear or suspicion, like the midnight streets of a busy city, but in a way that invites mystery and intrigue. You're midnight in the same way that Dionysus is; fun, a little ridiculous, and always a good time. Midnight, in how you shine. Sparkle. Midnight, in the way that Jeongguk thinks you must be a dream.

It's the only way to explain how he's stumbled across another human so perfectly out of key. So perfect for him. Immaculate in how you radiate everything Jeongguk desires; flawless in the way you align with him. Body, mind, spirit. All of the cliche things, with none of the cliche.

Though still gentle with his touch, Jeongguk becomes a little more domineering than he had been. Takes control of the position, knowing that the plans beyond the weighty steel door are all yours.

It's not like he minds giving up control. Gladly does it. Just doesn't want you thinking that he takes any of this for granted. Doesn't want you to think he's just going along with what you want, because it's easy. Wants to prove to you that all of his choices right now are deliberate.

That he's intentional. That he's choosing you , not just the path of least resistance.

He pulls you back, and your body naturally turns to face his, like a tide rolling in or the sun setting beyond it. There's silence as you're dragged towards Jeongguk, with only shy giggles to accent your movements when he gets your back pressed to the door.

"No funny business," you remind him as his nose nudges against yours. "We haven't even started date number two. It's the rules, Gguk."

He simply shrugs. Nudges your nose one last time before sinking his lips down into yours—and the way you accept him so willingly would suggest you really don't care all too much about that damn rule.

"Rules are made to be broken," he assures you, lips brushing yours with every mumbled word.

"I'm gonna think you only care about the sex," you warn him softly.

You won't think that at all. You've known him for long enough now to understand how he works; why he doesn't sleep around much. Sex, for Jeongguk, is an extension of himself; how he feels.

So yeah, while Jeongguk might chase his own pleasure during sex, it's never the goal. Not really. It's a nice by-product, sure, but it's not the reason he fucks.

Just like kissing is a declaration for you, the way he gives himself up is a declaration for him. A way to speak his words without having to say anything at all.

He shakes his head against you, lips still pressing down into yours. Groans a little as he pulls away. Rests his forehead on yours, and says, "I fuck you because I care about you. Stupid."

"Calling me stupid isn't gonna make me believe you," you tease him, rolling away from his grasp. Quite like it when he calls you dumb names like that. Makes everything feel so much simpler, like a childhood romance, or something dumb like that. Lowers the stakes. Still, you're pedantic, and he knows this. You'll be bratty, always. "Was working in your favour until you said that. Shame."

Jeongguk just rolls his eyes. Smirks. Relents. Isn't holding your hand anymore and misses it, but knows you need to unlock the door. Says, "You didn't let me finish."

"Finish?" you laugh, twisting the door handle and pushing the door open. Jeongguk's hand comes to press against the metal above your head, helping with the weight of the door.

"Mhmm," he says as natural light pours into the small enclosure, following you as you step out onto the rooftop. "Was gonna say stupid hot . You're stupid hot ."

"You are so full of shit."

Maybe he is bullshitting you. Maybe he's the stupid one. Maybe none of it matters, because the way his hands come to settle on your waist as he follows you in the open space makes you feel all silly inside. Goofy. Stupid .

Oh, how you hate it when he's right.

And when Jeongguk sees what you've got set up on the rooftop for the pair of you—paint, and canvases, and the promise of something sweet blossoming beneath clementine skies—he has to stop himself from blurting out something equally stupid, like 'you're so perfect, ' or, 'I'm so in love with you.'

Instead, he just smiles. Presses a kiss to the curve of your neck. Husks, "We both know how this ends, B."

"Different this time," you tell him, walking in tandem with him over the blanket and cushions that he recognises from your apartment. "Last time you were in denial about how much you like boobs."

"True."

"And so now I don't need to convince you they're the greatest thing on planet Earth."

"What if I just look?" he chances, flopping down onto the surprisingly comfortable surface. "Promise I won't touch?"

"Nope."

"You're so mean, Disco Ball."

"You love it," you tease, coming to lounge by him.

He doesn't say it. Doesn't need to. You both know his little laugh, and the silence that follows means one thing and one thing only.

Yeah, he thinks to himself. Suppose I do.

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secretlythepits · 2 months ago

Text

Bracing for Tomorrow

I took a beat and that was healthy for me.

Tomorrow is a big day I am dreading. It’s my husband’s last chemo, plus immunotherapy, plus an extra visit with his original oncologist to check on his throat. We have to do it at the bigger downtown treatment center which is just a lot less nice and a lot more stressful, but it makes sense because of his oncology appointment.

He is still coughing a lot and sounds awful, but he is back at work. His doctor said if his pretreatment labs are fine, he can get treatment. No doubt it is going to freak out every other patient and caregiver because he sounds infectious, though he’s not. His oncologist has to put a camera down his throat, which he always hates, but this time with his spasmodic coughing, it doesn’t seem possible. We shall see.

Things will die down after this. He will get a PET scan and that will let us know how effective treatment was. He will continue immunotherapy and that should be much easier, so maybe life will level off.

That is him.

Next week is my youngest son’s birthday. Not great timing because it should be pretty hard around here with his dad wiped out from chemo and pertussis, but that’s when it is. He wants nothing. Sounds good but it has the effect of putting more pressure on me to come up with something. I told him my abilities peaked last year and it will be downhill from there. He agrees. Last year I surprised him with the best dog that has ever existed. Nothing can come remotely close to that. Oh, that means we have a doggy birthday too.

That’s him.

I have made serious progress on my curriculum. It is more work than I expected but it’s also much better than I expected (and I had high expectations!). There is still much to do, but it feels good to hit a benchmark. My brain gets tired from this task. It’s pretty much the hardest thing I could make my brain do: organize many, many different pieces of information into calendars. I have to take breaks. I can literally feel my brain fatigue, like you would if you were doing bicep curls and pushed too hard. It’s not a headache, but I feel this slushy sensation and I know I am about to lose my ability to walk and talk if I keep going. However, I can often come back after an hour break. Still, there can be a cumulative effect and that’s annoying.

I’ve also been regularly exercising. Not much progress but it feels good to get moving and I know it’s the first step to getting a good program going again. I wish I could do more but I am maxed out. I feel not just like I’m taking baby steps, but Thumbalina baby steps.

When I was freaking out last week I called my soul sister. I am so lucky to have her. I can say the most terrible thing I’m thinking and she thinks I’m still marvelous. We have known each other 46 years and been extremely close for much of that time. On the phone I fell apart and then suddenly we were deep belly laughing. Neither of us saw it coming. Love can be truly magical sometimes.

I feel more settled in my heart. I’m focusing on my life. I am really stressed out about tomorrow and the the wake it will create, but the big picture things I wrote about last week are ok. They are forgotten but the changes I made in my mind have brought me peace. Also I’ve received some support from some friends and I really needed that.

When I watched the Olympics I was amazed at the hurdlers. How do those women jump do high so fast, so relentlessly? It boggles the mind. Tomorrow is a big hurdle. I am an ostrich so I’m afraid to look at it.

But don’t ostriches also run very, very fast? I have to remind myself.

Anyway, that’s me.

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brb-on-a-quest · 26 days ago

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2 3 14 33 46

2 - matches > long lighters > short lighters

3- I wish it's too hot in here but it makes my roommate ill like a victorian child so not really

14- i can't place this smell off the top of my head. So like I assume so but idk what it smells like if that makes sense

33- last proper adventure was probably going downtown with friends for the community festival they do once a month and being like yooo we should go to the gyro place and we got gyros and life was good :) also we got to see a lot of the folk dancing my friend does and she flew it was fantastic. Also there were a bunch of guys in the dance right after who had those like pop rockets and were beating them on an anvil as part of a folk dance (I need to ask which one) and like we were apparently *just close enough* that part of it flew inside my mouth so now I can say I've eaten fireworks :) :) BIRB LORE

46- ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh OH! The He-man and She-ra Christmas Special from like the 80s or something. I remember really liking that the first time I watched it. Also Charlie Brown holiday specials were iconic parts of my childhood.

#brb-reports

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craftypeaceturtle · 10 months ago

Text

Something stupid...

I recently rewatched tmnt 2012 and thought... wow, there's loads of fully rendered and designed shops in the background. Has anyone ever listed them all for reference?

I didn't even check the fandom wikia so maybe someone has. But hey ho. I've done it now.

So here's all the shops and comics shown in the TMNT 2012 series, for your reference fellow writers and other insane people.

Comic books seen throughout the series:

'From the Sewer' (S1 E1, 08:09)

'Martial Pain' (S1 E4, 09:00)

'Famous Creatures of […] Town' (S1 E7, 22:49) **couldn't make out one of the words, sorry!

'Corps Cadares: The Dead Will Save the Earth' (S1 E11, 04:08)

'The Timely Times' (S1 E20, 09:43)

'Diabolical Dead' (S1 E20, 09:43)

'Barbarian' (S1 E20, 09:43)

'Space Heroes' (S1 E23, 10:08) -- Leo collects.

'Tales from the Cosmos' (S2 E2, 00:46)

'Dude' (S2 E4, 10:04)

'Modern Ninja Magazine' (S2 E7, 00:50) --Raph collects.

'Shock Techno' (S2 E10, 00:19)

'Weekly Weird News' (S2 E14, 28:17)

'Green with Envy' (S2 E16, 10:17)

'Split' (S3 E5, 05:45)

'Wingnut' (S4 E19, 00:12)

'Arachnid Man' (S4 E19, 00:27)

'Superb Man' (verbal, not physically shown- S4 E19, 00:29)

'Fantastic Four Food Groups' (S4 E19, 00:31) --heavily associated with Raph.

'Dracula's Castle' (S5 E17, 07:19) -- heavily associated with Mikey.

'Vampire Hunter' (S5 E17, 07:18) --heavily associated with Mikey.

Shops seen throughout the series: Book Store (S1 E1, 10:28)

Second Time About (S1 E1, 13:21) -- April stayed with her Aunt above this shop.

Vlad's Repo Depot (S1 E1, 19:31)

Kingfisher Antique/Rare Buy.Sell Jewelry (S1 E1, 21:30)

Fortune Cookie (S1 E3, 14:32) --Purple Dragon base

Rock Bottom Boxing Club (S1 E4, 10:27)

Old Chinatown Tattoo Company (S1 E4, 10:27)

Downtown Athletic Club (S1 E4, 16:08)

Futua-noid Electronics (S1 E5, 17:38)

Pet Supplies (S1 E5, 17:38) -- right next to an alleyway, so I would guess that this the pet store the turtles were bought from.

Mad Wax Records (S1 E5, 17:46)

Everything Store (S1 E5, 17:47)

Dim Sum Then Sum (S1 E7, 12:24)

Laundromat (S1 E7, 13:03)

The Olympia Diner (S1 E8, 02:35)

Tidal Wave Fresh Fish (S1 E8 09:24)

Balzac Chateau du Beuf (S1 E9, 00:32)

Pocket full of Rosies (S1 E9, 00:43)

Wolf Hotel (S1 E9, 13:48) --first met Shredder.

Chinese Herbs and Health (S1 E10, 15:28)

Antonio's Pizza-Rama (S1 E13, 04:53)

Produce City (S1 E16)

(Closed down) Maramba … Shop (S1 E14, 00:35)

Chilly Chillkins Refrigeration company (S1 E14, 21:03)

Roosevelt High School (S1 E15, 09:05)

Comics (S1 E15, 09:05)

Worldwide Genome Project (WGP) (S1 E15, 15:13) --used as Kraang base.

Sweet Dreams Ice Cream (S1 E17 00:27)

Madam Alahazam Fortune Teller (S1 E17 00:27)

Wam-Bam-Pow Comics (S1 E17 00:25)

D.W Yatt Apothecary Est.1875 (S1 E16)

Magic Middleton's Tricks and Costumes (S1 E21, 13:09)

Ziga's Transmission Allignment Collision Tune-Up Autobody (S1 E24, 11:46) --used as Kraang base.

Argosy Theatre (S2 E1, 01:19)

Newstand (S2 E4, 10:04)

Midtown Ice Rink (S2 E6, 06:29)

Barber Shop (S2 E8, 00:11)

Lox Schmear & Java (S2 E19, 17:21)

Bernie's General (S3 E5, 04:44)

Comet Cleaners (S3 E11, 03:29)

Play Pier (S3 E11, 09:03)

Auman Chemicals (S3 E14, 14:53)

Channel 6 (S4 E10, 07:40)

AMAS: Allied Martial Arts Supply (S4 E15, 13:24) -- Used to hold Shredder/Foot Clan's weapons.

Cowabunga Skates (S4 E17, 05:20)

Run Jump Kick (S4 E17, 05:20)

Dell Abate Ristorante (S4 E18, 06:25) -- Don Vizioso's restaurant.

Felipe's (S4 E18, 16:27)

Hicnight Hotel (S4 E18, 17:16) --Don Vizioso's base.

Mini Mart (S5 E3, 16:19)

Friendly Jack's Loans (S5 E3, 17:43)

Wan Dingo's House of Curiosities and Oddities (S5 E5, 13:28)

Shanghai Sternn's Stir Fry (S5 E10, 12:04)

Notes:

The episode timestamps might not be totally accurate since I was watching this on a... ahem... legal website.

The timestamps are from when you could clearly and obviously see the shop signs. Like, Ziga's is visible from like episode one but couldn't be clearly read.

Some of the comics were just in shop windows and not really associated with a character so be careful. That is not a list of every comic the turtles have read. Like the Timely Times has only been in the background, not read by a particular turtle.

There were LOADS of shops where the shop name was in Chinese (or Japanese, I don't know) and so I couldn't list. Most of the shops by the Chinatown arch weren't in english. That's why even Murakami's shop isn't listed here. Because the actual shop name wasn't in english.

Thanks for reading through this. Hopefully this was useful for... anyone out there.

#tmnt 2012 #rambling #tmnt #2012 leo #2012 mikey #2012 raph #2012 donnie #fanfic

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eisfee · 2 years ago

Text

North Bend lots list

The main reason why I did not share the assembled version of the world is that I am not a great builder, and I take most of the lots from other worlds or download from MTS or the exchange. I decided that it's not okay if I just put it in the download along with the world. But I know how frustrating it can be when you start the game with an empty world, so here it is: the full list of NB lots and the link on the creator's page. The post will be filled and updated. Also I`ll be happy if someone wants to share their creations or finds for NB!

* - means that I am working on this lot by myself.

Empty

The Strike Zone Bowling Alley

Flora2 Old Hand Car Wash

SimValley Community School or Tedhi`s School

Sportfield from Brookwoods

*Train Station

BrightFalls Police

*Bookshop

*Stores

BrightFalls Oh Deer Diner

Flora2 Bernie's Liquor

Flora2`s Globe Bakery

*NorthBend Theater

Flora2`s Boxing Gym

Flora2`s Downtown Apartments

*Medical Center

BrightFalls Garage

*General Store

*Antique Store Museum

*Flowers and Scissors

BrightFalls Administration

Flora2 Reggie's Diner

Empty

Flora2`s Fire Station

Empty

*Park Riverveiw

28. Norn Regtag Resales 29. *Park 30. *Gas Farm 31. *Old Mansion 32. Empty 33. Empty 34. Empty 35. Empty 36. Flora2`s Small Duplex 37. Flora2`s White Cottage 38. Flora2`s Small Modular Home 39. Empty 40. Empty 41. *Park 42. Empty 43. Empty 44. Empty 45. Empty 46. Empty 47. Empty 48. Empty 49. *Graveyard 50. Church for Aurora Skies 51.*Park 52. Empty 53. Empty 54. Flora2 Cherrypan Diner

55. Empty (Radio Station) 56. Empty (Park) 57. Empty (Junkyard) 58. *Sawmill 59. Empty 60. Empty

61. Great Bear Big Dan`s Cabin 62. Empty 63. Empty 64. Empty 65. *Salis Lodge 66. Empty

67. Empty 68. Empty (Park) 69. Empty 70. Empty (Rangeedr station) 71. *One Eyed Jacks

72. *Park 73. Addenbrooke Clastonberry Festival 74. Flora2 Inventing workbench 75. Flora2 Hippie Camp 76. Retro Trailer 4 by IngridIngersoll 77. Retro Trailer 5 by IngridIngersoll 78. Retro Trailer 6 by IngridIngersoll 79. Tedhi`s Hogan Diner 80. Retro Trailer 1 by IngridIngersoll 81. Retro Trailer 2 by IngridIngersoll 82. Retro Trailer 3 by IngridIngersoll 83. Empty 84. Empty

85. *Pick-up berries 86. Empty 87. Empty 88. Westwood Wildflower Farm 89. Empty 90. Delilah's Dairy Farm 91. Empty 92. Norn Up and Down Stables 93. *Pasture 94. Empty 95. Empty 96. The Exchange Flea Market 97. (no pictured) Point View 98. (no pictured) View from mountain

#ts3 #list #letsbuild #ts3 north bend

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snelbz · 2 years ago

Text

Better Or Worse {Chapter One}

Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

A/N: We are so excited to share this one with you guys! As you know, angst is sort of our specialty and while this one will be pretty heavy, we’ve tried to sprinkle a good amount of fluff as well. We hope you love it and always, please let us what you think!

Chapter Warning: Language.

Nesta -

“I'm going to bed.”

My fingers come to a pause on my keyboard. I glance up and find Cassian leaning against the door frame of my office.

The clock in the corner of the computer screen tells me it’s 10:46. I know he’s not telling me to try and entice me to join him. No, he’d given up on that weeks ago.

My fingers go back to flying over the plastic keys, clicking as I try to pick back up the stream of consciousness I was working on when Cassian interrupted. “I want to get this draft finalized tonight. I only have a few chapters left. The publishing company will have my ass if it isn’t submitted before tomorrow afternoon.”

Excuse.

That’s all I’m full of anymore. Excuses.

Excuses as to why I’m always at my office downtown late or don’t ever want to go to dinner. Why I’m distant or never try to touch him.

“Can you at least try to make it home by six tomorrow night? Please?”

My gaze leaves the screen and lands on him again. “I’ll try. You know I’ve got deadlines I have to hit.”

He’s as handsome as always, even more so with the shadow of stubble across his jaw. He must not have shaved this morning, if the dusting of hair was any indicator. That wasn’t like him. Shaving was a part of his daily routine, quickly followed by his morning shower. My husband may be brash and blunt, but he’s a man who has and loves his routines.

Routines that often feel like they are smothering me, stifling any spark of spontaneity in my soul.

His arms are crossed over his muscular chest, his tattoos just barely peeking out over the neckline of his t-shirt. I know those tattoos intimately, can trace them with my eyes closed.

It’s been far too long since I’ve done that.

His voice pulls me from my thoughts of the ink adorning his skin. “I’ll cook. Get a bottle of your favorite wine. We don’t have to go anywhere.”

He sounds like he’s negotiating a hostage situation, not asking me to dinner. I hate it.

I stop typing, trying my best not to show my annoyance. “I don’t know. I’ll have to see.”

Cassian's reaction does not reflect any sort of satisfaction. “Come on, Nesta. We haven’t had a date night in months. I will literally bring date night to you—”

“I said I’ll have to see.” The moment the words come out of my mouth, I feel guilty. My tone is embarrassing, but I can’t control it, the snap.

Cassian's mouth shuts and his jaw locks. “Fine.”

“Good.”

A beat passes between us before I start typing again. I can feel Cassian’s eyes blazing into the back of my head for a minute, then he’s turning around. “Night.”

“Goodnight,” I say, trying to sound as genuine as possible, but mostly I just sound stressed.

Which I am.

So damn stressed.

I hear him walk down the hall and close our bedroom door. I stop typing yet again, my eyes shutting as I rub my temples.

At least I’m honest. I could tell Cassian that I’d be home by dinner tomorrow, but then I would be late and he would just be disappointed and get pissed. It’s better to let him down up front rather than too late.

Being a best selling author isn’t all I was expecting it to be. Sure, seeing my book on shelves next to some of my all time favorites is awesome, but it’s daunting. My first book was self published, coming to life out of my own blood, sweat, and tears. So once it took off and I started working with a publishing company, I thought I’d made it. Things were going to get easier. All I had to do was get my words down onto paper and they’d do the rest.

Wrong.

Someone is always demanding something. Whether that’s a finalized draft, an update on an outline, or approval for cover artwork, I never have a moment to breathe.

As if the universe is laughing at me, a new text chimes on my phone, lying face down on my desk. I recognize the sound, immediately knowing it’s my agent, Eris.

I sigh, telling myself to ignore the notification. I’m already editing hours after I should be, but my eyes keep bouncing up to my phone. After reading the same sentence four times, not comprehending a single word, I snatch my phone up.

Got a phone call from the Velaris Times. They have an opening for an interview tomorrow afternoon.

An opportunity I can’t pass up.

Sounds like a plan. My office or theirs?

If I thought I would be able to focus back on my edits, I was wrong. Eris is typing back as soon as my text is received.

Over dinner, actually. Viviane Whittaker will meet you at Rita’s at 5:30.

My thumbs hover over the screen.

Can you at least try to make it home by six tomorrow night? Please?

Swallowing, I type out my reply.

I’ll be there fifteen minutes early.

I should go tell Cassian that there will be no date night tomorrow, but I think better of it. I’m already so tired and that is not a fight that I want to start so late at night. I’ll just text him about tomorrow.

I look back up at my screen and try to reset my mind, call back my concentration. Just as I begin reading, a jingling bell comes closer and a ball of fluff settles on my feet.

I look down at the chubby black cat and reach down to scratch him between the ears. “Hi, Greg.”

Greg shoots me a look full of judgment.

“Don’t try to guilt me,” I say, straightening back up in my chair. “I already feel guilty enough.”

With a huff, Greg lays his head against the carpet and closes his eyes. I’m officially the only one in the house not fast asleep.

Cassian -

I haven’t gotten mind-numbingly drunk since college, but all I want to do once I get out of work is drink to forget. I’ve never been good at handling my anger, and I was already on edge, so when Nesta texted me saying that she had dinner plans and would be home late, I was automatically seeing red.

I just want one night with my wife but I should have known that was too much to ask for. It usually is.

Already finding Rhys’ number in my phone, I hop in my truck and start the engine as he answers.

“We’re going out tonight. Drinks are on me,” I say, before he can even say hello.

“It’s a Thursday,” he replies with a laugh, but I know he’d be there regardless. Out of all of us, Rhys was the one who had ended up with a real “big boy” job. He’s one of the most respected lawyers in Velaris, and having his own practice, he basically gets to make his own hours if he isn’t in court.

“Glad you can read a calendar.” I sound like a dick but I can’t bring myself to care. “I’ll be at Windhaven in fifteen.”

“Should I call Az or is he already on the way?”

“I texted him first. Didn’t want him to leave work and have to turn around.”

Azriel works in a tattoo parlor two blocks down from our favorite spot, but lives outside of town. With Elain being pregnant, there’s only so much time we get with our brother.

I look over at the empty spot in the garage next to mine and sigh.

A hole in my chest that has been progressively growing larger aches. I’ve always been proud of Nesta. She’s always wanted to be an author since the day I met her, and she’s living her dream. And she’s really damn good at it. She has a way with words that I could never understand, that I couldn’t even come close to matching. She was meant to be a writer.

But ever since she’s found success, I’ve come in second.

It’s not that I always have to be her first priority. I want her to live for more than me, but it would be nice to be a priority sometimes. It would be nice for her to put our marriage first, to make time for me, for us. I barely even see her, and when I do, her eyes are glued to her laptop screen. She didn’t come to bed until four, then was up again at seven, barely uttering a word to me before she left for her office.

“Cass?”

I haven’t even realized that Rhys has been talking to me. “Sorry.”

“I’ll be there in half an hour,” he says, and his tone has softened, fully aware of where my mind has gone. “Get a booth.”

“Alright.” I hang up, reading Azriel’s text on my screen once I pull the phone away from my ear.

Perfect. Had to tattoo a flower on an 80 year old woman’s ass today. I need a drink.

Despite my current mood, I chuckle and pull out of the driveway. Keeping the radio off, I drive, wondering if I should send Nesta a good luck text. In all reality, she probably won’t reply, so I toss my phone in the passenger seat and let it be.

If Nesta wants to talk to me, wants to spend time with me, she would be home for dinner for once. I know I’m being petty, but after a while, being neglected by the woman you married becomes exhausting.

And I’m so damn tired. I need booze and bad food and my brothers. I’m man enough to admit when I need to get something off my chest, but not enough to do it sober.

Rhys’s instructions to get a booth were unnecessary. Azriel unsurprisingly beat me here and is sitting in our normal booth, the one with a direct line of sight to the bartender. A pitcher of beer sits in the middle of the table as well as three glasses. I appreciate my brother’s propensity to think ahead, but I need something harder than beer tonight.

Nodding to Az, I make a beeline to the bar. Breathing a sigh of relief, I see Ace is the one behind the bar tonight, not Devlon. The old man owns the bar and has never been a fan of me, Rhys or Az.

“You look like you need a free drink,” Ace says, as I make it to the bar and lean against the cool wooden top.

“I always need a free drink.” The words sound pitiful coming out of my mouth. Ace just winks and pours me a glass of whiskey without even having to ask me what I want. “Thanks.”

“Always,” she says, patting my hand before I turn to walk to the booth. I’ll see her again shortly. I don’t expect the glass of whiskey to last too long before I need another.

Azriel watches me approach, his glass already halfway gone. I nod to it as I sit across from him. “Has the image of elderly ass been erased from your mind yet?”

“No,” Azriel says, taking another drink. “But the memory looks better and better with every drink.”

I huff a laugh as I sip from my glass of whiskey, enjoying the burn as it slides down my throat and I pour a glass from the pitcher in the middle of the table.

Rhysand appears beside me and slides onto the bench. I hadn’t even realized that he’d walked in, but in my defense, I’m hardly present.

After pleasant hellos and Rhysand pouring his own glass, he asks, “So, is this when you tell us the reason you want to get plastered on a Thursday?”

Swirling my glass, I watch as the whiskey moves through the ice cubes, the color diluting as they melt slowly. Bringing my drink to my lips, I drink deeply and set the glass down, staring at the table top.

“My marriage is falling apart.”

Neither of them speak.

Neither of them do anything.

I wasn’t expecting them to fall over themselves to comfort me, but I was at least expecting a back pat or an I’m sorry, man. Glancing up from the table, they both just stare at me.

The look in their eyes tells me they knew. Everyone knows. We haven’t been ourselves in months. I can’t think of the last time we were both at a family dinner.

“I don’t know what to do,” I go on, when neither of them say a word. “I’ve been trying…but every time I try, no matter what I try, I feel like I’m pushing her further away.” I take a drink. “I’m exhausted.”

I down what’s in my glass and motion for Ace to make me another.

“I tried to give her a date night tonight,” I go on, working on my beer that’s quickly disappearing. My brothers simply watch me as I babble. “We haven’t had a date night in months. She never seems interested, so I stopped asking. Last night, I asked, for the first time in a long damn time.” I gesture around the table. “As you can see, I’m not with my wife.”

“Where is she?” Azriel asks, when it’s clear I’d paused my rambling, at last.

Another glass of whiskey is set in front of me. I give Ace a grateful look before shrugging. “With some reporter. Not sure where. They’re out to dinner and will probably be there until some ridiculous hour.”

Azriel looks away from me, his eyes locking with Rhys and then I feel both of their gazes on me. I turn to Rhys, who is usually the one who takes the lead in awkward situations. Tonight is apparently no different.

“She won’t have dinner with you, but she’ll meet some skeezy reporter for dinner?” He asks, an eyebrow raised.

Shrugging my shoulders, I start on my second drink. “So it seems.”

He folds his arms atop the table and leans towards me. “And you didn’t ask where they were going? Or when she would be home?”

“I stopped asking what time she’d be home months ago.” My voice sounds hollow, empty. I wonder how long it’s sounded like that. “And begging for answers seemed pathetic.”

They make eye contact again and Azriel clears his throat. “You don’t…think she’s having an affair, do you?”

“Absolutely not.”

He sighs. “Cass—”

“She isn’t sleeping with anyone else.”

“Cass,” Rhys begins, his tone as placating as possible, slipping into the voice of the man who can convince anyone of anything. It’s what makes him such a good defense lawyer. It makes me want to break something. Makes me feel weak. “We know you love Nesta and that she loves you.”

“She wouldn’t cheat on me,” I snap, and I mean it. We might not be on great terms right now, but Nesta is loyal to those she loves.

And despite the distance between us, I have to believe she still loves me.

“Sorry,” I say, trying to calm myself down once the silence between us stretches on for too long. The air is thick. They know they had struck a chord and are surely deciding if they want to keep the conversation going. “I just…don’t think that’s the case.”

“If she’s not cheating, then what’s the issue?” Azriel asks, tentatively. “Her work?”

“Yeah, she’s busy,” I say, staring at my empty glass. “But…I don’t know. Honestly, I have no fucking clue how we got here. We barely talk. Most nights, she doesn’t even come to bed. I can’t even tell you the last time we had sex.” That was a lie. I remember it, and it was way too long ago for me to admit. “Every time we do talk, it ends in a fight. I’m just…at the end of my rope. I don’t know what to do.”

The table is quiet for another minute before Rhys asks, “Are you saying that you want to leave her?”

It’s not that the thought has never crossed my mind. Lately, I think about it often, filing for divorce, giving up, but hearing the words out loud make me feel sick to my stomach.

I don’t answer.

I wave to Ace for another whiskey.

The table is silent until she brings the drink and returns to the bar.

“I don’t see what other options I have.” My words are whispered, as if I can’t hear them, they aren't coming out. My words are starting to slur a bit, a good sign I should probably slow down.

I ignore that sign and take a drink.

“You two fought like cats and dogs when you first met,” Rhys reminds me, as if I could somehow forget. “What’s different now?”

“Those weren’t fights, that was sexual tension,” I admit, shaking my head. “Gotta have sex for there to be sexual tension.”

Azriel refills his beer. “She hasn’t said anything to Elain, as far as I know.”

“Or Feyre,” Rhys adds.

“You both know Nesta,” I start, looking between the two of them. “She doesn’t talk about her feelings with anyone, much less me or her sisters.”

They both frown, watching me with concern, seemingly at a loss for words.

“Do you still love her?” Azriel asks.

“Of course I do,” I say, my anger fading as the alcohol calms me, consumes me. “But just because I love her doesn’t mean that it’s working anymore.”

“Don’t make any rash decisions,” Rhys says, calmly, refilling my beer for me before motioning to Ace for another pitcher. Seems I’m done with whiskey for the night. “I know you, don’t act out of anger. You have to tell Nesta how frustrated you are. You have to communicate.”

I know he’s right, know that communication has become a weakness in our marriage. I don’t want to communicate, I don’t want to work for it, I just want my marriage to right itself, to return to the way it used to be.

And I want to fucking drink.

So that’s what I do, alongside my brothers, until I’m not thinking about my crumbling marriage at all.

#better or worse #nessian better or worse #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #snelbz x theladyofdeath collab #snacmc collabs

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