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lalalenii · 10 months ago

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For the past year and a half, I really struggled taking care of myself, especially when it came to cooking. I used to live with an elderly roommate who unfortunately was hospiced due to her COPD about two years ago and died shortly after. I lived with her for over five years, and from the beginning, we had a very close relationship that felt more like family than anything. I cooked almost every night. After coming home from work, I used the time in the kitchen to unwind, I loved trying out new recipes and navigating my vegetarianism and her weirdly specific food preferences. I liked the physical work of it and the act of service it let me provide, especially during covid and when she kept getting sicker.

After she died, and I moved to my own place I stopped cooking. It was probably for a multitude of reasons. Grief I didn't recognise as such, my relationship hanging on a thread and all the energy it took from me. Me having to navigate living on my own for the first time, navigating a household on top of my 40hr week + 5ish hours for my side job, but sadly probably also that I tend to feel more motivation when I perform tasks for anyone other than myself. Even though I knew that I enjoyed cooking, I just rarely did it. Instant noodles and ready meals, ordering takeout... it just all felt so much easier. I was also away from home a lot so buying groceries would often result in them going bad.

So for the past 1.5 years, I frequented the pretzel stand at my local train station a lot. I got breakfast and/or lunch there multiple times a week. So often, that the people working the stand would recognise me. There was this elder Turkish woman, who had a really kind face and was always nice, even though she probably gets paid jack and has to get up at 5 or something. But seeing her always kind of made my day. I always walked away with a smile, feeling a little bit better about everything. She was so unpretentiously optimistic, a hard worker and as far as I could tell always nice to her colleagues. She always greeted me and wished me a nice day. Until one day, she told me that tomorrow would be her last day.

I was really touched that she considered to let me know. Let me know that she wouldn't be part of my routine anymore, despite us never exchanging more words than "one spiced pretzel please" "that would be 1.50" "with card please" "thank you have a nice day" "you too!"

I hadn't actually planned to go get pretzels again the next day, but I just had to, and I also took the opportunity to tell her how much her kindness meant to me. That I saw her kindness and that I appreciated it and that her smiles made my day better.

That was that. The following week she was gone and I went about my life, buying pretzels, struggling through my job and my relationship. I saw her every once in a while helping out at the stand – I was so elated every time and even if I didn't buy pretzels I made sure to at least wave at her in passing.

Months later, things changed. I gathered the courage to quit my job, to uproot my life. It was a risk but it paid off. My commute changed. From one hour to 25 minutes – what a luxury. My commute also now runs in a completely different direction. I take the underground to the town over and then get onto the bus. The added free time from the shortened commute is such a relief and while at least I manage to pack lunch every day now I'm still not very settled in, so I hit up the local bakery for some breakfast. I always get the same thing and after the salesperson stopped asking whether she can snap the cheese pastry in half to make it fit into the bag when I came in for the fourth time this week I decided I needed to change it up. I didn't want to become the cheese pastry girl. So on Friday, instead of the bakery I went to the local pretzel shop. I didn't even think about it too much. It's really the only other option near the station I switch to the bus. I was in a hurry to catch the bus, hoping that the woman and her child before me wouldn't also go into the shop, because if I missed the bus I'd have to walk and I'd be later than intended.

So I walked in. And what happened next honestly felt like the most stupid and clichéd movie scene. I did an actual double take. Because there behind the counter was my lovely, elder Turkish pretzel sales woman. I didn't even consider she just switched to another shop, I assumed she retired or did something out and only helped at the other stand occasionally to cover shifts or help out during rushes. But there she was, in all her glory. And when she saw me, we both laughed. It felt so ridiculous. We have no connection besides her selling me pretzels but the familiarity she brings into my life and into my morning routine was such a comfort. I don't know how she sees me, if she has a lot of customers like me but I do know she recognises me.

"I work in the neighbourhood now" I said as I stop laughing and she bags my regular order. "I'm stationed here now" she says and I tell her I'm happy to see her. I genuinely mean it.

"See you on Monday then," she says cheekily and although I was planning to cut the habit of getting breakfast at the bakery I make a promise to myself to stop by at least once a week. For the god-awful addicting spiced pretzel and for the kind woman who makes my day brighter without even meaning to.

#story time with leni #my coffee is cold now

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apexart-journal · 23 days ago

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The 230 Bus, Friend or Foe?

Mention to an Athenian that you would like to take the bus and you will get a wistful, sort of darkly comical warning to avoid buses at all costs. This is too bad because I like taking the city bus when I'm traveling - it helps me to orient myself while the metro keeps everything so mysterious. It's also a bit of a hike from my place to the nearest metro station while the bus routes on the map apps tantalize me with near door to door service. But alas, of my many attempts to catch the specific bus I want, which just so happens to be the 230 bus, I've only gotten lucky once so far.

Today I hopped on the 230 and went to hike the Philopappos Hill. I was treated to sunny weather and a gorgeous view of Athens.

I learned what it means to "get lost on the hill" as Tind had encouraged me to do. While there are specific landmarks that one is encouraged to visit, like the "Prison of Socrates" (which is the misleading name of some ancient rooms carved into the rock of the hill), it's equally as gratifying to follow the many footpaths and meanderings that trace around the landscape. One pops up and down into vistas and little valleys carpeted in bright green clover. I navigated as much by the sound of a musician practicing on some kind of horn instrument (I never managed to see them) as my own sense of direction. There were a lot of big land turtles crawling around through the grass.

When I was ready to go back, I saw a 230 bus parked right outside the exit of the park. At first I assumed the driver was on break because he was smoking a cigarette, but after seeing other people try to board the bus and get turned away, I asked if the bus was running. He said "Yes, but not now because the politician is visiting... the buses will start again after 5 or 6, we don't know." I walked to the metro station.

Tonight I decided to walk to the therapist's office because it was in a different direction from where I've mostly been traveling so far and because all the map apps insisted on bus only routes, which seemed risky. I gave myself an hour for what google said would be a 35 minute walk, and it was good I did because I ended up climbing practically half way up the Likavitou Hill to get there. My therapist and I had a very nice conversation, and then being a little horrified that I'd walked there, asked to give me transit directions back. Even she was a bit stymied but made a suggestion, which I then fumbled, then somehow ended up on a bus going in the wrong direction. Nevermind though, because it would have just taken me to a 230 stop which my new bus app informed me had almost no vehicles in service. I decided it was enough for one night and took a 5 euro taxi home. I have an early day tomorrow and am contemplating yet again the bus question. Something in me keeps wanting to try! I feel like I'm learning something meaningful about the culture here via this transportation quest. Let's see.

#Alison Kuo #Outbound to Athens

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mystery-star · 2 years ago

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Disguise – Ben Wade (Part 2 / 3)

Pairing: Ben Wade x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of past prostitution and rape, molesting, implied smut

Words: 3561

Series Navigation: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

A/N: Please, please tell me you get the reference!

Please do not repost my work on other sites or platforms!

“Your brother?”

“Half-brother actually. Same father. My parents weren’t married so he lived with his mother. Smuggled out food for me. Well, he couldn’t do that after Herod had taken him under his wing. So I had to fend for myself. Was bound to gone wrong at some point” he didn’t elaborate but you thought it was his decision if he didn’t want to share. It had never really occurred to you that sometimes men didn’t choose to become outlaws in the first place but that they had no choice. Once men were outcast, they could only get by through robberies or stealing, by being outlaws. Women, however, most likely ended up like you; in a brothel. “What about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, why’d you end up in such a life? As a whore?” you swallowed.

“I came from a renowned family. My father set up everything for a marriage with a good match for me” you felt your voice die down “Two days before the wedding a friend of my fiancé… I think he might have liked me” you gulped “He-he…” you shook your head

“He raped you” you barely managed a nod and felt tears in your eyes. The outlaw moved over to you and pulled you to his chest “’t’s alright. You don’t need to continue. I’m sorry for asking” he started to wipe your tears away with the back of his hand but more followed. For a while you silently cried, almost wanting to laugh about the fact that you were crying in the arms of an outlaw, clinging to him as if your life depended on it.

“No one believed me” you whispered “They thought I had wanted it. My fiancé was furious and cancelled the wedding. That made my family angry and they threw me out. I never understood what I did wrong”

“You did nothing wrong. What your family did was wrong. What that guy did was wrong”

“Either way it can’t be changed now. What happened has happened” you wiped the tears away

“Yeah. You now took matters into your own hands. What kind of life are you hoping for in Tubac?”

“I don’t know” you lied “Something better. To make money in a better way” that actually was true. You had quite a bit on the side now and maybe one day, you could settle down at some place and live a quiet life. Who knew, maybe you even found love at some point.

“To find someone maybe?”

“Maybe” he pressed a kiss to your forehead and squeezed your hand.

“It will work out somehow. I know it will” when he continued to hold you in silence you figured you’d better move away or he might get ideas. To your surprise he removed his arms so you could easily get away “You alright?”

“Yes” you assured him

“Sorry if I crossed a boundary with the hug”

“I’d have stopped you if you had” you replied and it was the truth. You could have pushed him away. But you didn’t want to. In fact, you actually wanted to be back in the hug.

“You should get some sleep” you shook your head

“I can’t. In a couple of hours your watch will be over and how do I know if the one after you will leave me alone? Or others?”

“Then I either keep watch all night or come to sleep next to you so in case anyone gets too close for your liking I’ll kill him”

“You would kill your own men?”

“I told them to stay away from you. If they don’t listen I gotta teach ‘em a lesson” you shrugged

“I see. But I could not ask you to keep awake all night just because of me” he chuckled

“Then you’ll have to bear me lying next to you for the rest of the night” obviously you must have made a grimace because he continued “Of course nothing will happen unless you want it”

“Okay”

“But well… in case you’d agree… it’d be the same like yesterday. I’ll promise to take care of you first”

“Why do you do that? Wouldn’t it be easier if you just… looked after yourself? After all you’re the one paying”

“Would be quicker, yeah. But why the rush? Ain’t the same if the woman’s only faking interest or pleasure in you or your touch.” yeah you understood what he meant. You had to pretend you liked what the men did and that they did a good job. Worst were the ones that wanted you to show it or actually praise them. Needless to say this usually were the men that were most egoistic and deserved your praise least of all. “Or if she’s scared and you’ll start to feel like you’re doing something wrong. Then you better just do it yourself and save the money. ‘Cause if it’s just about finding release, there another way. I don’t know about other men but when I want a woman I want her ‘cause I want something I can’t have when I’m doing it myself”

“You want to bond with them” you guessed. Yes, you knew that type of men as well. Some men just felt lonely and what they enjoyed most was to cuddle you afterwards. Sometimes they became regulars, visiting every once in a while. They were the most pleasant kind of customers because they never were rough or mean and sometimes would even strike a basic conversation. It was this type of men that didn’t make you feel like you were an object or a soulless shell of flesh.

“Yeah. Guess I do”

“Maybe you could… I mean… have you never met someone special? Some woman you liked? Why-why don’t you try to start over somewhere where they don’t know you? Or a state you’re not wanted in?”

“There was a girl… in San Francisco. I was very smitten with her and when I left, I asked her to come with me but she said no. ‘Sides, what could I offer a woman? Danger? This? Me?” he gestured around with his hand “That ain’t a life you want to offer the woman you love”

“You don’t want or don’t think you deserve a woman because you think you couldn’t give her what she deserves?” he tilted his head as if he had to think about it, then nodded “But she would have you. And you could treat her right. I mean being there for her. Show her how much you love her. And maybe… I don’t know, maybe there’s someone who would take this above what she currently has or doesn’t have. Who’d just be glad to be out of a bad situation. Or a female outlaw. They are used to this kind of life” he gave you a smile

“Thank you. You might be right”

Your conversation had died down after your talk about relationships and shortly after, you fell asleep. When you felt someone lying down next to you, you woke up again but it only turned out to be Wade who kept his promise to stay with you after someone else had taken over the watch.

“Hey. You” someone woke you the next morning and when you didn’t react, he kicked your thigh. In an instant you shot up

“What?” you spat with a glare

“I want breakfast” of course you knew what he tried to imply but decided to play dumb

“Oh yeah, sounds great. If you’re already at it, I’d like some eggs with ham. And oh, do you have coffee? With a shot of whiskey?” next to you, Ben Wade chuckled.

“You are supposed to make breakfast, woman”

“Well, just seconds ago you said you want breakfast. Why should I prepare it, it was your idea?”

“She’s a whore. Whores don’t cook. They got other talents” another man piped up. You only smiled and picked up a small stone next to you.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll show you” with a grin the man came closer and you flung the stone right in his face. “See, I got a pretty good aim. Wouldn’t you call that a talent?” holding the spot you’d hit him, the man came closer but now his boss interfered.

“That’s enough”

“She threw a stone at me!”

“Oh, I know, I saw. Guess everyone did. You did have it coming though”

“Tell her to make breakfast”

“The lady’s our guest. And we should treat her as such” he too got up and glared at the man until he scowled, spat on the ground and turned around. “Great shot” he then told you, making you smile.

As you were riding during the day, some of the men tried to talk to you, better said try to convince you to ‘offer them service’. Then Ben Wade got wind of it and shooed them away, riding next to you and you spent most of the day talking. With each hour it grew harder and harder to remember that he was your victim; that you were supposed to deliver him in Tubac.

This evening, you could fall asleep much easier because Ben (he had insisted you called him by his first name) taught you some self-defense (not shooting because he thought you’d better able to defend yourself if a man came too close for your liking). Although you knew quite a deal already you agreed, knowing it wouldn’t hurt to know more. During the lesson you had played dumb and clumsy but you actually could profit from it and were exhausted afterwards. So much, you didn’t even feel like protesting when he lay down behind you and pulled you closer, so your back was resting against his chest and he started stroking your hair. No, you corrected yourself. You didn’t feel like protesting because you didn’t mind him holding you.

The following day it became even worse; your training session was almost abruptly ended when you landed under him and his initial mocking kiss to your cheek had turned into a making-out session. You had enjoyed it almost too much and you even were disappointed when he ended it, saying it was better to stop now while he still had himself under control. Later you excused yourself and once you were out of sight and earshot of the men, you slapped yourself across the face and told yourself to get a grip on yourself and stay professional. That it couldn’t be so hard to resist a wanted criminal and deliver him to his deserved fate. From now on you just had to stay away from him!

That, however, was much harder than you thought because you had not even been back for three seconds when Ben joined you and wanted to know if you were fine.

“Yes” you replied

“I just wanted to say… if what happened before wasn’t what you wanted or I went too far… I’m sorry. Or if you think I should pay you for it, I will” his hand already went for his purse and you sighed. Now was your chance to tell him he scared you and that you wanted him to stay away from you. But that wasn’t what you wanted. In contrary.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to pay” you replied. Giving a nod, he sat down a feet away from you. “But I’d like to be alone now”

“Sure” he got up and after throwing a last glance at you he left, walking towards his horse.

This night, he didn’t join you as you went to sleep and the next morning you learnt that he had kept watch the whole night. During the ride, he tried to talk to you again but obviously he noticed you were trying to ignore him. “(Y/N)” his voice suddenly sounded hurt “What’s wrong with you? Is it because of me? I done something you dislike? Or is it something I didn’t do? Talk to me. Please”

“I’m fine” you replied coolly. “There’s nothing wrong” you let out a snort “In two days we’ll have reached Tubac, then you’ll be rid of me and won’t need to bother about me anyways”

“Something ‘bout that is bothering you. About Tubac.” not knowing what to say you let yourself fall back but unfortunately, he did the same. “Tell me. I’ll help if I can” you gave him a look and had to keep back your laughter. You could hardly tell him what you had to do in Tubac, lest you wanted to be shot. “At least let me know how I can help. Or what I could do to cheer you up or I don’t know. I can’t stand seeing you like that”

“Then don’t look at me” you snapped. Moving away from him, you urged your horse on faster and went to the front of the line of riders. You were glad that Ben didn’t follow you that time. Maybe he had finally gotten the message.

“(Y/N), we gotta talk” you hadn’t even dismounted properly as you stopped for the night when Ben approached you. Well, obviously he hadn’t given up just yet.

“Talk about what?” you growled and froze when he grabbed you by your shoulders.

“All of this. You suddenly talk to me like this… like you hate me or try to avoid me. I know there’s something you ain’t telling me”

“Let me go” you hissed and were glad he listened. You only turned around to your horse and patted her neck.

“I’m in no hurry” he said “I can wait here all night”

“Fine by me. But I won’t” you replied and tried to push past him. When he grabbed you by the wrist you let out a shriek. To your dismay, he pulled you away from the others.

“Look” he said, releasing you again “I know there is something wrong and I want to know what it is” you crossed your arms and didn’t reply “(Y/N)” he continued in a softer voice and stepped a little closer “If I did something wrong I want you to know that I didn’t want that. Maybe I interpreted something wrong and thought we were starting to become friends. And suddenly… you treat me like this” for a long time you remained silent. At first you tried to find something to say but decided it was better to remain quiet. You didn’t even know what you should say. Or do. Letting out a sigh, he came closer and he took your hands in his “(Y/N)… no matter what it is, I promise I won’t judge you for it. If you want me to stay away that’s okay. Just tell me, (Y/N). Tell me you want me to leave me alone and I’ll promise I will stay away from you ‘til we reach Tubac and then you’ll never have to see me again” well shit, now you had to say something. You had to make sure he came into Tubac with you, so you could deliver him. At the thought you felt a pain in your chest and a wave of sickness. Damn. You didn’t even want to deliver him anymore. Feeling tears in your eyes you pulled away and then started crying. He placed a hand on your back.

“I don’t know what I should do” you replied truthfully.

“How so? Does it have to do with Tubac? Or what’s awaiting you there?” you simply gave a nod “What is it, (Y/N)? Anything I can do?” you let out a sob, whirled around and flung your arms around his neck. You took him by surprise, so he had to take a step back and find his balance again before he gently hugged you hack, making shushing sounds.

“I can’t do it. I just can’t do it” you kept muttering

“What can’t you do?” you let out a grunt. After all you couldn’t tell him. Maybe you should think about what you were supposed to do now and then talk to him. But somehow you already knew it. You just wanted to go to Tubac to grab your belongings and then stay with Ben. He made you feel alive, appreciated and made you laugh. You couldn’t remember when you had last laughed so freely or if you ever had. “Or tell me what you want to do instead” well, you wanted him. But then he might not bring you to Tubac. And that was where you had all your money. About $5,000 and you didn’t want to leave it behind since you had worked for it. And perhaps you should also tell your client that Ben escaped and return the money he had paid in advance. That had been agreed after all, that you would return whatever he had given you and you hadn’t needed as expenses.

“I need some time” you said “To think about it all” you pulled away and dried your tears

“Will you talk to me then?” his voice sounded hopeful and you gave a nod

“I will” you promised. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then let go of you. After you had collected your thoughts and tried to figure out what to do or what to tell Ben, you approached him later that evening.

“Feeling better?”

“Yes” you replied and gave him a smile. He got up and held out his hands. When you took them, he pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to each of them. You decided to start with the big news first “I won’t be going to Tubac”

“No?”

“I mean I’ll have to pick up my stuff there. I’ve lived there before and thought about going back that’s why we’re here”

“So you want to go somewhere else? There something or someone in Tubac you don’t like?”

“No” you smiled “But there is something, someone, outside Tubac I like” he too smiled and moved closer, so your chests touched.

“Is that so? And who might be that someone?” oh you could tell he already knew what you wanted to say.

“He’s an outlaw” you started “Really seems to like the color black. He’s handsome, witty, gentle and caring. Plus, he’s got the most complicated eye color ever”

“What makes you think I like black?”

“Well,” you took his shirt between your fingers “this is the only thing that isn’t black. Also your horse’s black. And your gun”

“Alright, fair point. But what are you criticizing ‘bout my eyes?”

“Well, have you looked at them? What color is that? I first thought it’s grey. But then I realized it’s actually more of a blue. And it has green in it. And somehow also brown. It’s like your eyes have every single color in them! In different lights they always look different!” you let out a frustrated sigh. Chuckling, he pulled you closer, resting his chin on top of your head.

“You know, perhaps you could ask that guy if you can stay with him so you could further determine his eye color”

“I think the man should ask the woman” letting go of you, he lifted your chin instead, pecking your lips.

“In that case, (Y/N), do you think you’re in such a bad situation that you will choose this” he made a roaming hand movement “and choose me over your current situation?”

“My situation could be worse. But yes, I would gladly exchange it for this” you mirrored his movement “And you” he nuzzled your nose with his.

“So if I kissed you now, you wouldn’t charge me for it?”

“There also have been a few other occasions these past days I could have charged you for”

“You know what?” he just kissed you “Even if you did charge me” he kissed you again “that is totally worth it” and another kiss. He leaned his forehead against yours and you placed your hands on the back of his neck. “You have any boundaries?”

“What boundaries do you mean?”

“Something you don’t want me to do. ‘cause you’re not ready for it. I mean… I know the business you worked in and you’re probably used to it but I don’t want you to feel obliged to do anything. Or make you uncomfortable with something you’ve not done before. Or that you’d feel like I’m treating you as a whore. And you told me why you landed there in the first place, so maybe you’ve never come to good terms with all of it and need time. I want you to want me because you want it”

“That’s sweet” you stroked his cheek, smiling when he leant into your touch “but you don’t need to worry about my past. All these men over the years… they made me forget about that. Well, not forget but… made it more bearable. I’ve just… never slept with someone because I wanted to. Only because I had to. I don’t even know what it feels like to want someone” he chuckled

“Give me a couple of days and I’ll have you understand. I’ll let you know why men think they always need it so bad. ‘course you can always stop me if you don’t like it or gets too much, yeah?” to your surprise he didn’t do anything and you realized he wanted you to say something first.

“Okay” you breathed, slowly kissing him “Show me”

Taglist: @woman-with-no-name

#310 to yuma #3:10 to yuma #ben wade #ben wade imagine #ben wade x reader #ben wade x you

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aching-tummies · 3 years ago

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(Not exactly sure if I'm really doing this right but here we go.) If I was your partner... I'd take you someplace nice and encourage you to eat whatever you want. After a large meal I'd be the one to drive home, as your complaining of an upset stomach. Wanting a reaction, I'd take you down the secluded, bumpy road to see what happens.

A/N: Thanks for the lovely ask! I kind of deviated a little, incorporating some of what's been going on in my life lately (new job, stresses causing me to skip meals, the craving for pasta, etc.) The beginnings of this do delve into spiraling about weight(loss) and body image stuff a little...so if that's a trigger for people then this is your warning.

It’s been more than two years since we indulged in dine-in service at a place with non-disposable cutlery. I’ve been craving pasta for even longer than that. Creamy, garlic-y, non-reheated pasta served on a plate and twirled around a metal fork.

We haven’t taken any opportunities to celebrate for the last two years. Birthdays, holidays, promotions at work or major advancements in our career adventures—we’ve barely done anything more than acknowledge them as we both go to pick up extra shifts wherever it is that we have been working. Honestly, we’ve seen so little of each other that it wouldn’t surprise either of us if the other snuck in a job-change in the last two years. That all changes tonight.

A nearby pasta place is offering dine-in service. We booked a reservation for tonight—all you have to do is pick me up from work and we can head on over.

I’m the one that managed to sneak in a job-change in the craziness. Fast-food to office intern. I’m barely handling things. I’ve been beyond exhausted because the change happened suddenly. The office place demanded that I start with them on a whim (despite my only condition on hiring being the time to give my fast-food job the proper two week notice). Due to their abrupt “start now or we will move ahead with other candidates” ultimatum, I’ve been pulling 44+ hour weeks juggling two jobs located on opposite ends of the city.

Tonight is a celebration. Dine-in service by itself is already something to celebrate in my books, but you’re insisting that tonight is for me because I finally finished my dues to the fast-food place. The hellish four weeks of juggling is over. No more calls at midnight from me begging you to pick me up from some random quadrant of the city because I nodded off on the last bus home. No more days where I make it home from my office job only to get an urgent call from the fast-food place begging/demanding that I show up because someone cut work. No more packed weeks with no days off or time to even pack myself lunch. Hopefully no more nights where you have to peel me off of the floor because making it home was all I managed before passing out from exhaustion.

I’ve got an hour before you’re set to come pick me up from my office job. I can’t help but smile as I count down the minutes while working on editing some funding proposal that was shoved at me a couple of minutes ago.

My stomach grumbles at me and I clam up. I blush as I look around to ensure nobody heard it. The office is basically empty. All the other staff seem to have gone off to lunch. That’s something I’m going to have to get used to: the fact that there doesn’t seem to be a set schedule here…people head out to lunch whenever. As a petrified newbie, I haven’t had the guts to just take off whenever. The number of shifts where I’ve stayed here for a full eight hours and then navigated an hour and a half of transit transfers only to come home ravenous is pretty high.

Welp, if a stomach growls and nobody is here to hear it then I guess it doesn’t make a sound. I’ve got an hour left before you come to pick me up and we’re basically just two hours away from satisfying my years long pasta craving. Going out to hunt for food now would only spoil my appetite.

“I AM HERE!”

I giggle at the reference and accompanying gif you’ve sent to announce your arrival. I pack up my area and get up, saying ‘bye’ to Jerry on my way out. The second I walk out that door will mark the start of my days off for the week, something I haven’t had in over a month.

“Hi, sweetie!” I chirp as I open the passenger door and bend over to set down my bag.

As I settle in, folding myself into the car, the movements dislodge a deep rumble from my tummy. I freeze, arm still reaching out to close the door. You snicker at me with your left arm perched on your open window, fingers close to your face and highlighting that charming grin of yours that I love so much.

“Oi, close the door and we can get going.”

I do just that. With the door closed, you carefully back out of the parking space and off we go. We don’t get very far. Ah, the joys of rush hour. No use honking, Karen, you’re not ‘stuck in traffic’—you are traffic and there’s no manager for you to speak to here, moron!

I adjust my seat a little, leaning back and allowing myself to relax. I’ve done it. Tomorrow is a day off. And so is the next day. My first true weekend in over three years and my first days off in over three weeks. I can feel the tension ebbing out of me. My shoulders untense, leaving behind a distinct soreness.

My shoulders aren’t the only thing to stop tensing. Apparently, my abdominals decided to join in as well.

Grrr…RRRR…blr.br…rrr.

I blush and sit up, arms wrapping around my stomach as it continues to snarl at me. The growls come with the sharp pains of hunger pangs and I wince, hugging my tummy and pressing my arms against the pain. The grumbles are quickly drowned out by your laughter.

“Man, no wonder you say your coworkers don’t talk to you here. If I heard that coming from a newbie I’d be scared of ‘em too.”

“S-Shut up!” I don’t want to admit that my tummy has been growling very loudly at the office. I’ve skipped more lunches than I’ve eaten in my time here. I lean back in the seat again, arms crossed over my chest as I look away from you, pouting. I’m hungry enough that my stomach really hurts, I’m a panicking newbie at work that doesn’t know the ropes or what’s expected of them, and here you are teasing me.

Your right hand reaches over but instead of stopping on the shift stick it continues further until your palm finds my stomach. The gentle pressure and the warmth of your palm nudging right over where my stomach joins my intestines aids in the relaxation of my tensed muscles and brings forth another loud grumble from my guts. You move your hand slightly, patting and rubbing my flat tummy absentmindedly as you keep the rest of you focused on traffic.

“You’ve lost weight.”

“Y-Yeah…” I don’t want to admit that I’m happy about it. My waistband was loose enough to fall to my thighs before I put my belt on this morning. I love it but you and I both know weight and eating are sore subjects for me. I bite my tongue to keep from asking whether or not you think the weight loss is a good thing or not. Your tone was flat—it was an observation. The fact that I’ve been too busy and stressed out to have time to eat (or digest properly when I do) has led to the rapid shedding of pounds. Not just in the last three or four weeks, but for a long time yet. The reasons for the weight loss aren’t good…but I really do like the results, so I don’t want to hear it from you…good or bad…I don’t want to hear it. Thankfully, you don’t push the issue. Traffic picks up and you remove your hand from my stomach and put it back on the wheel.

My stomach continues to gripe and snarl as we make our way through the city at a crawl. I no longer have work to distract me and your impromptu massage has definitely woken the beast in my guts. ‘Starving’ doesn’t even begin to cover how my stomach feels. I’m starting to feel the other effects of the lack of food too. Light-headedness, feeling cold, and a limpness in my limbs. I want to press my arms into my stomach to quell some of the ache and the noises but I just can’t seem to summon the strength to put enough pressure on it. I wish you had kept your hand on my tummy. As much as your touch intensified the hunger, the pressure of your hand on my stomach was kind of comforting. Ugh…this is all wrong. We’ve been together long enough to know that both of us are into tummy stuff. Any other opportunity we’d be all over each other right now. Your mention of the weight I’ve lost and the silence that has followed since is filling me with anxiety. Under normal circumstances you’d have parked the car somewhere to tease my hungry tummy into oblivion. The fact that we’re currently driving in silence when there’s a golden kink opportunity in the palm of our hands is worrisome to me. Suddenly I don’t feel so good about the weight I’ve lost. I like it. It made me look totally bomb in my new office clothes. Buttons don’t strain even when I bend over or stretch. I spend the rest of the car ride lost in my anxieties. I’m not at an unhealthy weight. Sure, losing it is a testament of the stress I’ve been under lately…but it’s not like I’ve been intentionally skipping meals or fixating on some unachievable body image or something. This isn’t about the weight or anything, it was just a happy consequence of the hectic times I’ve gone through.

We arrive at the restaurant and you get out, expecting me to follow. I’ve managed to work myself into a ball of anxiety in the passenger seat and I don’t move. You pause on the sidewalk when you see me still strapped inside the car. You walk over and open the passenger door.

“Babe?” You see me petrified and chewing on my lip—a tell-tale sign I’m fighting some internal battle. “What’s wrong?” You cup my cheek with your hand, thumb going to pull my lower lip away from my teeth.

“Huh? Wha?” My gaze sharpens as I’m brought back to reality. I didn’t even realize we’ve arrived.

“What’re you thinking about?”

“Uhm…w-well…y-you said…n-nevermind.” I unbuckle the seatbelt and step out of the car. You frown as you think back on what I meant about you having said something.

“Oh, about the weight loss?” I freeze. Bingo. “Babe—I didn’t mean anything by it, honest. Just an observation.” You scratch at the back of your head. “You’ve been under a lot of stress lately and gosh knows neither of us has had time to cook or pack lunches. I was just thinking that maybe we should work on that together. Going hungry so often sounds like a dream, kink-wise…but neither of us has had time for that lately. I was going to suggest creating a mealplan or something together, maybe bringing out the slow cooker and freezing some stuff so that we can just grab and go for work going forward.” I stumble over and rest my head on your shoulder, giving a slight nod.

I’m overwhelmed. One thing you said sent me spiraling and you just pulled me out of it.

“Ugh…don’t do that again.”

You smirk. “I won’t. Rather than think yourself into a hole over that, you should really think about what it is you want to eat. We’re ordering off the full menu tonight.”

My eyes widen. The full menu has more selection but it’s way more expensive. Every time we’ve come here in the past, we have always ordered off the specials menu—the discounted, half-size portions that they offer. You smile seeing my stunned reaction.

“Birthdays, holidays—and Sweets, you got a job! You got a job where you don’t have to deal with the dreaded ‘customer’. I’m proud of you, Sweets. This…this is supposed to be a celebration…right? For all the celebrating we haven’t been able to do in…damn, how long has it been—” Your rambling is cut off when I seal your lips with mine. I step back with a grin, watching the dumbfounded, wide-eyed expression pass over to you ‘cuz I’m usually the no-kissy-touchy type.

“Chicken parm with garlic, angel-hair pasta in cream sauce.” I know exactly what I want to order. I’ve known it for over two years. That dish has been taunting me in my dreams for over two years. When I chew on my pillow in my sleep ‘cuz I skipped dinner in lieu of sleep I’m dreaming about that dish. The last time I had it from here was with my parents—long before I met you—for a birthday when I was still in grade school. My stomach growls, punctuating my declaration. The sound shocks you out of your reverie and you slide an arm around my waist, resting your palm against my stomach as you feel all the empty rumbles reverberating beneath your palm.

“Alright. Guess we better walk in before they give away our table…or before you decide it’s quicker just to eat me here in the parking lot.”

Ugh…how am I already full? There’s still so much food on the plate. So, so much. Urrgh…

My stomach silently gripes at me. A sickly, sticky feeling is blooming in my guts. I’m sated but there is still far too much food on my plate. The full menu is more expensive, but they fill the plate up more and often use bigger plates. I’ve forgotten just how big, and my tummy is suffering. Two years is a long time to go without something and I’ve gone without fulfilling my craving for pasta in cream sauce for over two years, maybe even three. That’s a long time…long enough for my stomach to forget how to handle cream sauce, apparently.

I’ve only swallowed about a fifth of my plate and my stomach already feels heavy. The warm bread to start and the bites of chicken parmesan cutlet went down alright. They lined my stomach comfortably and my digestive tract knew exactly how to handle them. The first couple of bites of pasta were cushioned by the bread and chicken. When that lining dissolved away and more of the pasta came into contact with my gastric juices, I realized there was a problem.

My stomach pounced on the bites of bread and the water and cola I chased it down with. I could practically feel my duodenum yawning wide to suck in the masticated bread, my intestines just as hungry for it as I have been all day. When it had to contend with the cream sauce things started to slow down. I can feel a backlog of stuff sitting in my stomach, refusing to be broken down further into a form that will comfortably move onto my intestines. I’m chewing a lot more, my mouth creating more saliva. I feel sick. My stomach doesn’t hurt, yet, but it’s definitely going to as it fights with the creamy, oily pasta.

“Ooh…they’ve got tiramisu here.” You’re eyeing the dessert menu. “It’s your favorite, right?”

“Yeah…but it’s expensive and this is a lotta food.”

“We’re supposed to be celebrating, Sweets. We’ll take whatever you don’t finish to-go. Leftovers are a Godsend, remember? C’mon, let’s live a little.”

I feel a weight settle in my stomach as you flag down a passing wait-staff and order a tiramisu. To share, thank God. My stomach churns in vain, serving only to churn up the mess of creamy pasta and chicken without moving it along further in the digestive process. The sphincter to my duodenum is squeezed tight, refusing passage to the foreign cream and oil mix that it doesn’t seem to recognize.

I managed to finish just under half of my plate before the dessert arrived. I decided to throw in the towel and asked for the rest to be packed up to-go. I put on a smile as we share the dessert and hope it’s not as shaky as my guts feel. The dessert is delicious. Rich, flavorful, and perfect. If only I didn’t have to feel it sickeningly sliding down my esophagus, plopping down heavily into a stomach crammed much too full with indigestible pasta. As my stomach clenches and churns things around the creamy tiramisu is going to get incorporated with the rest of the mess. It’s going to make it thicker and creamier…as if it wasn’t already too thick and too creamy for my duodenum to open up and allow it to wreak havoc in my intestines. As sick as my overstuffed stomach feels, I am a little grateful that my duodenum is being a stubborn prick.

If the creamy mess had passed into my intestines, I’d be doubled over in the bathroom right now, rubbing futilely at my revolting intestines. I know what dairy does to my guts. It doesn’t usually happen, just when I’m stressed or it’s close to that time of the month. It’s nasty and it hurts bad enough that I honestly think hell is enduring those cramping intestines for eternity.

We finish the tiramisu. You offer me the lion’s share, but I refuse and push it back to you with a mention on my stomach being really full. I bring my hands to my stomach and I catch the way your eyes smolder at the sight. Good. Yes. Get us home quickly, darling.

You pay for the meal, and we are off. I clutch my tummy behind my bag as we walk out to the car. Every step sends aftershocks into my guts and it’s really upsetting things in my stomach.

As I settle in the passenger seat, I notice the buttons on my blouse are a little bit strained around my stomach. Horror sets in and I quickly fumble to get the buttons undone. I don’t want to ruin my shirt and the sight of the straining buttons triggers something nasty in my mind. I calm down a little once the buttons are undone and I rub my tummy under the cover of my bag, palms running up and down the dark undershirt that is draped snugly over my full belly.

“It’s still early. Want to really paint the town red and see if we can catch a movie somewhere?”

I swallow back a sickly belch to answer your question, my questing hands churning up the mess in my guts and dislodging air pockets.

“Umph…n-no…let’s go home.”

“Sweets, you okay?” Your voice is laced with concern. Surely you can hear the sickly squelching from my guts. Do I have to spell it out for you?

“Hmm? No,” I blush as I fidget and grapple with whether or not to come clean. I’m shy about this kind of stuff—you’re my partner though and have been for a long time—we’re both into tummy stuff—we haven’t done anything on this front in a very long time. Making my decision, I move my back over to the floor, resting it against my shins and I lean back, allowing you full view of my distended tummy with my blouse undone. “I just…uhm…m-my tummy’s kinda…upset…I just really want to get home.” My stomach burbles sickly throughout our conversation. I have both my hands on the rounded curve of it, rubbing at tender spots with my thumbs.

Your eyes widen at the sight of my belly rounding out my undershirt. You start the car and pull out of our stall. Instead of righting the car onto the road you keep backing into a more secluded spot on the far end of the lot. This one is obscured by an overgrown bush or tree on the passenger side.

I haven’t even bothered with getting my seatbelt on. I was too caught up in my indigestion to think of it despite it normally being a habit. To be fair, I don’t think the seatbelt is a good idea with my tummy so bloated and sore.

“What are you—”

You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn in your seat, giving me your full attention. My seat is still reclined a little further than normal from the drive over. Gently, you put a hand on my shoulder, indicating for me not to sit up. Your eyes briefly meet mine and convey your plan before they go back to fixating on my belly.

I relax my arms, letting them rest at my sides as you slide a hand over the crest of my bloated gut. I bite back a groan as the slight pressure of your hand increases the pressure in my intestines. My stomach is packed full with an indigestible mass of creamy pasta. My duodenum is not allowing any of that entry into my intestines so they sit, bloated with air. The ingredients for a very upset tummy are inside of me…they just need a bit of a push to act as a catalyst.

The push comes in the form of a literal push as you place both hands, one on each side of my tummy, and squeeze. I bite back a mewl of pain until the pressure relents and you are sliding your hands all over my taut tummy.

“Oh my…you really are full.”

“Ugh…haven’t…haven’t eaten so much in a long time.” I groan as your hands churn up the mess in my guts. You know what you’re doing. You felt the firmness in my upper left and you know that everything is sitting heavy in my stomach. You focus your massage on my left, on the area where my duodenum is. You rub and nudge and coax at the area, intent on getting the sphincters to unclench and allow my meal to continue to digest.

“Oh…ah!” I can’t help but cry out a little as I feel my duodenum flood with the lumpy mess. A rumbling, wet burble indicates when the sphincter finally gives up and allows the mess in my stomach passage. My stomach acid wasn’t enough to break down the creamy, oily pasta so it’s entering my intestines relatively undigested.

After ten minutes of you massaging my belly, (in)digestion is in full swing. My intestines are filling up with the ache-inducing mass and the straining pressure that started in my stomach has now spread all over my abdomen. You reach over and pull down my seat belt, buckling it before reaching over to get my seat back into an upright position. My stomach cramps sharply with the change in orientation and my mewl of pain is cut off by a harsh belch. You pat my tummy almost teasingly as you right yourself in your seat and start the car.

I don’t bother to keep track of where we are heading. You could be taking me to the movies, intent on letting my indigestion stew for a couple of hours, or you could be driving us home. I don’t care. I can’t care because every ounce of me is focused on the sharp pains exploding all over my guts as the car hits every bump in the road. Damned city not bothering to spend money to fix the thousands of pot-holes in our roads. My stomach is just as vocal as I am about the indigestion.

You brake sharply, causing the seatbelt to dig into my tummy and tear a sharp gasp of pain from me. I see the road ahead of us…it’s not a road at all but literally the worst road in our city. This stretch of road is famous even outside of our city for just how bumpy and nasty it is. People scrape the undercarriage of their cars if they aren’t careful in avoiding the potholes that litter this thing like craters on the moon. People have lost pieces of their cars and done massive damage to their vehicles by driving down this road. People around here know to avoid this road. The alternative is a ten minute detour to take the safer, newer road and everyone agrees that ten minutes more is better than damaging their car on this road so it is always empty.

“Darling, no—”

You floor it, going down the secluded road at a high speed. We hit every bump and hole in the thing (that won’t damage the car)…you used to come down this thing often and you’re a master at navigating it to avoid damage to the vehicle. Damage to my tummy, on the other hand.

My stomach gives off aborted grumbles and gripes, each one interrupted as we hit another bump in the road. My tummy sloshes and churns. Digestion had stalled without your hands pushing everything along, but this new form of “massage” in the form of a very bumpy ride is kick starting things all over again…in the wrong direction. Stuff swirls inside of my stomach and I swear that it’s filling up rather than emptying. The pressure is building in my stomach. I’d like to believe it’s the air from my intestines, but I’m sure we managed to get most of that out with your massage in the parking lot.

"Ugh…ouch…ah—ow! Ungh…my tummy…urp…my tummy…ulp…” I can’t help it. Belches and protests roll through my throat, unchecked. It’s better than the alternative of something solid, I guess. The road has increased the upset tenfold as I clutch my stomach in both hands. The road has dialed the cramping pains up to eleven and many more aches and tender spots have erupted thanks to the bumpy ride. We’re about halfway through the road when I feel something solid tickling at my esophagus.

“Ugh—Babe—STOP!” I reach up and slap a hand over my mouth, fearing that we’re about to see my dinner come back out.

You slam on the brakes and the pressure from the seatbelt is what does it. My mouth fills with the sour mess of barely-digested pasta.

“Ugh…urk…” I swallow back the bile. It’s nasty, but there’s no receptacle and I don’t want to stink up the car. Luckily, this wasn’t a true vomiting session triggered internally—it was basically regurgitation brought on by external factors—like the seatbelt putting too much pressure on my over-packed tummy. My stomach snarls violently at the return of the sickly concoction.

You watch my struggle, fascinated. Reaching over, you put a hand on my palm, a hand that is quickly slapped away as I give you the fiercest glare I can muster.

“None of that until you get me home, darling.”

You grin, exaggerating taking your foot off of the brake pedal. I realize my poor phrasing a moment too late.

“As you command, Sweets.”

“Darling, no—”

#AT Asks #indigestion #tummy kink #tummy ache

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xxxtrouvaillexxx · 4 years ago

Text

Let’s Strike a Deal

A/N: This is late, I know. If you have not realized from before, I’m really bad at meeting deadlines. Well, at least deadlines that I’ve created for myself to follow because I like to procrastinate things and frankly… what am I gonna do to myself? Band myself from tea until I’ve written a chapter? I don’t have the self control for that! And life is hectic. But you know, enough with my excuses and onto the story. Hope you enjoy. I always love feedback so please be sure to leave a comment! ALSO I wanted to give a TRY (key word) to first person. If I don’t like it... I might change it, idk. I should never write anything at 3am as per evidence below, especially without editing lmao

Pair: CEO!Tom x Reader

Synopsis: Y/N, the small town of Hawkshead girl trying to make her way in the big city of Westminster, London. Not as easy as she thought. When things start to take a turn for the worst one afternoon and only one man in the crowd of hundreds decides to help her, she does something rather uncharacteristic and gives her savor her number in case he could ever use help of his own. Course, she never expected for him to actually call her out on it.

Masterlist

Warning(s): none… yet. Cursing?

Word Count:

My time was limited. There was nothing left that had to be done here or anything left to pack. Everything I’ve ever owned sat in a car on the way to my new apartment and last of the suitcases were in the bed of my brothers pickup at this very moment while I sat on the floor of my room. There wasn’t anything left for me here, I knew that, but it was still difficult to say goodbye to the place that carried so many of my favorite memories and the imprints of my childhood that still were splayed around the surrounding room.

There were two dents in the wall right in front of me from when I was ten and hit my head after tripping on one of my toys, thumbtack holes that littered everywhere above the bed from forts that I would make with my brothers and friends, nail polish that was spilled on the carpet from times when I was too distracted with talking than keeping the bottle up straight, my engraved initials on the windowsill. The memories that I had made in this room were countless and they were all absolutely priceless.

“Y/N!” I heard your mother call from the living room, her voice was slightly hoarse from held back emotion and it broke my heart to hear her like that. “You got to get going, dear! You’ll miss your train if you wait much longer to head out.”

Taking a deep breath and slowly standing from the, now old, bed I made my way toward the door, feet dredging behind me and scuffing the floor as I walked out. “I know, Mama. I’m just-” the words caught in my throat and I was at a loss. “I’m really going to miss you guys so much.”

“Oh stop it, you’re gonna make me cry if you keep on like that,” She said giving a tight hug before pushing me out the front door. “You are going to love it in London so much you’re not even gonna be thinking about us here, so get goin’. Your brothers already waiting for you in the car.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at her antics, “I love you Mama! I’ll call you when I get there!”

Jumping into the passenger seat of the truck, I waved final goodbyes from the window, dramatically blowing kisses as the car started to drive away.

“You better!” She exclaimed, watching as we pulled out and down the road.

“She is going to be a mess when I get back home. I can’t believe you’re going to leave me to deal with that alone!” Christian, stuck driving you to the train station much to his dismay, gave you a mocking glare. “After all the things I’ve done for your, this is how you choose to repay me? I’m pretty sure I’m getting the short end of the stick here,” he laughed humorlessly.

“Ahhh~” I cooed and smiled, “You’re only saying that cause you know you guys’ are going to be missing me so much!”

“Miss you?” He scoffed, “Yeah right. What we’re going to be missing is your baking. It’ll be the greatest blow our family has faced since 1824.”

I gave a scathing look, “And what, if I may ask, happened in 1824?”

“Don’t know, but something bad probably.”

»»-——————————————-««

I have never been so sore getting off of a bus in her life. The cheapest route to get to Westminster from Hawkshead was a train and 8 bus stops, totaling up to 10 or so hours in and out of vehicles. I groaned and stretched when my feet planted on hard asphalt for the first time in what seemed like forever. But, for all the soreness, I had made it to my destination with time to spare.

It was louder than I had imagined, crowded with traffic from all directions and people running any which way to get on with their lives. It was bustling and busy. Lively. Not exactly what I was used to which made me smile.

Wide.

I made it.

I only had a suitcase with me, the rest of her belongings would be delivered in a few days to the new apartment.

My apartment.

I was positively giddy at the thought.

It took a lot of self control to keep from skipping down the side walks while I somehow navigated the new scenery, but I managed to keep my excitement under wraps for the time being. Arriving an hour early gave me a bit of time to take in the bigger sites near by, like the Ferris wheel, the clock tower Big Ben, and my personal favorite- Westminster Palace and abbey. It was a dream of mine since I was little to see it in person, and now here I was standing mere blocks away from the grand building, elated and amazed.

Vibrating caught my attention and I barely managed to turn my eyes away from the sites in front of me to my phone, Kyra’s name popping up on the screen. My best friend and now room mate, Kyra Bardou, who was probably wondering where the hell I was now.

“Hey,” I drawled with an obvious grin I couldn’t even hide in my voice.

“Hey yourself! I’ve been waiting at the stop for 15 minutes with no sign of you only to learn you’re already in town and didn’t even bother to tell me!” She spoke so quickly I was shocked she didn’t run out of breath and laughed.

“I’m site seeing, sue me!” I turned and started making the slow walk back, “I’ll be back in a couple minutes, I promise.”

She only grunted in response and let me walk in a comfortable silence, letting me continue to take everything in while simply enjoying her presence on the line. It was the last few moments I’d get now, the last bits of my old life slipping through my fingers like sand in exchange for a new one.

And the chaos that comes with a big city.

Like robbers.

I couldn’t even let out a cry as I was shoved to the ground, my phone forced from my hand and my suitcase caught up in a strange mans arms. It took me a whole 5 seconds to get my bearings enough to yell at the man and give chase, shouting for help though no one so much as looked our way, just moved out of his.

“Stop!” I screamed, running but quickly losing him as he bobbed and weaved through the crowd skillfully. “Stop! Someone stop him!”

And this time, someone moved to action, running past me at an alarming rate and quickly gaining ground on my assailant before they both rounded a corner and I lost sight of them.

My heart dropped and I picked up speed again, hoping that I didn’t let them get far enough away for me to lose them completely, it would have been easy for them to get away from me here.

But when I turned around the block, I found the man on the ground with the track star of a man on top of him, already on the phone with I assume the police. I finally caught up to them and without thinking, hugged the man on the phone, a silent thank you while he spoke to whoever was on the line, before I gathered my things and hugging them close to me.

He smiled kindly, finishing the call and turning to me properly while still pinning the thief to the ground. “Are you alright miss?”

“Yes! Thank you so much, I’d have been completely lost without this,” I gestured to my luggage. “I can’t thank you enough for helping me get it back. I don’t even know how to get around town yet.”

He laughed and nodded. “So new to town then. It was my pleasure to help, though I was really just doing what anyone in my position would do,” he responded kindly.

Furiously I shook my head, “No, you didn’t. I don’t believe I saw a single soul other than you move to help. Unless you did but beat them to it at the last minute. Not that that it implausible, you are seriously fast on your feet.”

He laughed again and I noticed what a nice laugh he had, it was contagious and I couldn’t help but let out a chuckle of my own now that my adrenaline was fading bit by bit. “Yes, well- I do enjoy the sport.”

“Dually noted,” I grinned, jumping a little when my phone started to buzz in my hands. Kyra’s name popping up on the screen again. “Shoot!” I exclaimed and answered. I wasn’t even able to put the phone to my ear before I heard her shouting my name on the line. “Kyra-”

“Oh my god, Y/N! What the heck happened, I heard you shout and then the line went dead! Are you okay? Did something happen? Where are you?” She was speaking so loudly I had to hold the phone away from my ear a safe distance as she spouted one question after another at me without reprieve.

My rescuer across from me chuckled, overhearing my frantic friend. “I’m fine, someone tried to steal my stuff on my way to meet you. Luckily someone came along and helped me catch him, otherwise I’d have lost everything. But everything is okay now, we are-” I looked around and realized I have no idea where we were.

He seemed to catch on to my newest distress and whispered, “Tell them we are on the corner of Tufton and Bennett’s Yard.”

I nodded and mouthed a thank you, “ Tufton and Bennett’s Yard,” I repeated and she said she’d be here in a 10 minutes and to sit and wait before hanging up the phone.

I slouched on the wall of some building, letting myself relax. “Not to be repetitive or anything, but thank you.”

He just shook his head, “No need. You’re friend sounded pretty worried about you, it wouldn’t do well to let her stew in that worry longer than needed.”

“Yeah, it’s been a few years since we last saw each other. She’d be pretty upset if something bad happened before I could even move in,” I laughed, though it didn’t quite sound right even to my ears. “I’m Y/N, by the way,” I introduced and stuck my hand out.

He took it and gave a firm shake, “Tom. It’s a pleasure to meet you Y/N. Even in these less than optimal circumstances.”

“The pleasure is mine, I assure you.”

“Y/N!” Someone yelled, and we both turned our heads to see Kyra sprinting full speed around her car and at me. I stood and braced myself for the collision of her, and fell back against the wall with the force of her body.

“Holy shit, girl! You scared the hell outta me, you could have died! This is why I told you to call me when you first got into town, you always manage to get yourself into trouble like this. What would I have told your parents if something happened, huh? Huh!?”

I grinned and pulled back to get a proper look at her. Her black hair, normally frizzy was sticking out in every direction and her honeyed eyes wide as she scanned me over, running her hands over my arms for injuries. “I’m fine, Kyra. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner, you’re right.”

“I know I’m right!” She shot back with a glare, “That doesn’t make me feel any better!”

“Well, there is a first for everything after all.”

Tom laughed hard at our back and forth, making us both jump a little and look down at him. Before I could even say anything, Kyra was down on his level with the thieves shirt in her fists and a scowl that would scare the devil himself on her face.

“Is this the bastard that did this?”

“Let go!” I shrieked and pulled her off, albeit with a little effort. “Tom called the cops and they’ll deal with this properly. Not you,” I said sternly. She just let out a huff of a response and pushed herself back enough to look at Tom properly.

She gave him a once over and held her scowl in place, “So you’re the one who saved Y/N/N?”

He gave a small, hesitant nod and gave me a nervous glance. I just laughed and stood back up, as Kyra launched forward to give him a hug. “Thank you,” she murmured a few times and pulled back.

“No worries,” he said, and looked far less distressed now that Kyra didn’t look like she wanted to gut him. “I was there at the right time is all.”

“Yes, well- That doesn’t mean what you did was anything less than amazing. My whole life is in that bag and in that phone at the moment. Seriously, if there is anything I can do for you in return it’s yours. Ice cream, some roller skates, a kidney. Just ask.”

Everyone laughed at that and he nodded with an obviously sarcastic “sure”, just as the police arrived to take the culprit and our statements. Kyra mumbled something about them being slow and went to the car for a few minutes to be out of the way.

15 minutes later, everything was settled and they took the man away. Leaving Tom and I alone on the side walk again while I settled everything in my case to be sure I didn’t miss anything and quickly scribbled on a stray notecard.

“I meant it when I said I owe you one,” I said and handed the card with my name and number to him. “Just give me a ring if I can ever be of any help at all and I’ll come running. Though, probably much slower than you did.”

He tried to decline the offer only once, but after some persistence he took it with another smile, “Thank you, Y/N. Hopefully this will not be our last meeting. And hopefully never again under such pressing circumstances,” he held out his hand, and I took it, returning his earlier shake with a firm one of my own and I agreed.

“Until next time then,” he said and left.

I barely was able to take my seat in the car before Kyra grasped my arm with a devious smile, “Y/N/N- Did you just give that guy your number?” My silence was answer enough and she laughed, “Girl! No way!”

No way was right, I thought with a small smile of my own as we pulled away and started home.

»»-——————————————-««

TAGS: open

@drakesfiance @dumbgopher1 @kewlbeans-22

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one-boring-person · 4 years ago

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Would you ever do a part 2 to Six Bodies In An Alley.

I'm gonna be honest, I never really had any intention of carrying on with this, but I went back and read it again and came up with this, so enjoy!😊💛

Six Bodies In An Alley. (Part Two)

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: death, blood, being held captive

Masterlist

"What should we do with her?" Dwayne's question sends yet another bolt of dread through me as he speaks, fear coursing through me like great torrents of ice.

The four...creatures…stand before the sofa, looking down on me as if it's my own fault I'm here. At one time, I might've made a joke about the way they're standing, but now I doubt I'll ever be able to poke fun at them ever again, not after what I've seen, after what they've done. Tears threaten to spill out over my cheeks as I recall the gruesome images of the past hour, grief tearing at my heart at the memory of what happened to my brother. Cold sorrow washes over me and I have to fight back a sob, making a strangled sound that catches their attention. Under their gazes, I cower and feel yet more terror flood my system, as well as a hot flare of disgust: they haven't even cleaned the gore off of themselves.

"Just let me go, please! Please! I won't tell anyone, I swear, just let me go! Don't hurt me, please!" I plead with them, my voice laced with the debilitating fear in my veins.

"No, we can't risk that." David shakes his head, cold blue eyes fixed on me, "You're staying with us either way."

"No, please...I'll do anything! Just let me go!" I beg him, my heart racing as I try to reason with him.

"No, you're staying here." He snaps back firmly, his sharp tone drawing a whimper of fear from me.

Cold fear floods me as I think over what he is saying: I'm basically a prisoner. What're they going to do with me?

I shudder as the answer comes to mind.

"Aw, come on, Doll, it ain't so bad." Paul grins lopsidedly at me, the expression not quite carrying the same warmth I used to love seeing on him.

I look away, my hands clutching at each other in my lap, fingernails digging into my skin enough to break the skin.

"Ok, but how are we gonna keep her here? She'll just escape as soon as the sun comes up." Marko says, gesturing to my trembling form.

The four stare down at me again, seemingly considering the question until Dwayne speaks again.

"Lets just tie her up to something. That should work well enough."

His words send another bolt of ice through me, but there's something in what Marko said that strikes a chord within me - why did he bring up the sun?

Instantly, it hits me, weak hope sparking to life within me at the knowledge. The boys are quite clearly vampires, and so they must have an aversion to the sun, just like the ones in the old books do. A plan starts to form in my head, and I start hoping they can't mind read as well, knowing it will give me away as Marko approaches me with a rope, a smirk on his face. I let him manhandle me into position, watching as he ties my wrist a nearby fallen beam, securing it tightly so I have very little room to move, but not so that my circulation is restricted.

As he finishes the blonde vampire steps back and David comes forward, a stern look on his face.

"You better still be here when we wake up." He growls threateningly at me, before he and the others turn and leave through a nearby tunnel.

An angry ring has appeared around my wrist as I rub at it, wincing from the burning sting of the rope I only just managed to force off of my arm, the area flushed and irritated. It had taken me far too long to work the ties off of me, but I had to be careful not to break the skin or draw blood, in case I woke up the boys. Now, I'm regretting not finding another way of freeing myself as my hand burbs, but I do my best to ignore it, shakily climbing up and out onto the top of the Bluff, glad to feel the strong rays of the sun on my face. I never thought it would be as reassuring as it is now, but the relentless light makes me feel somewhat safer.

Sighing, I look around for a way to get to civilization, chewing my lip as I do so, not coming up with any ideas. That is, until I see the boys' bikes pushed behind a nearby tree. Immediately, I feel a shot of hope go through me, and I rush over to them, picking one out. I can't remember whose it is, but I have to fight back a cry of relief when the engine instantly starts up again, the bike ready to take me back into town.

Kicking it into action, I try to remember how I've been taught this, shakily riding off along the line of the cliff, back to the tree line the boys so often come out of when they're racing along the beach. I instantly regret this as I find myself trying to navigate the tight spaces and convoluted area, practically having to hold back a cheer of relief when the trees break off to reveal the beach, which I quickly speed onto. Sand flies up around me as I thunder along the expanse of land, the motorcycle's tyres struggling to grip as it travels over the loose material. Gritting my teeth, I ride the vehicle right up to the Boardwalk, ignoring the shouts of protest from beach-goers.

Upon reaching the Boardwalk, I gun the engine once more, going along the sidewalk at high-speed, nearly hitting a couple of holiday makers as I do so. Heart pumping, I take the bike directly to my home, breaking about eight different traffic laws as I go, uncaring of the consequences this will bring once I'm out of this mess. As I get to my house, I park the motorbike out the front and race inside, slamming the door behind me.

My mind goes into survival-mode, and I run upstairs, pulling a rucksack from my wardrobe, which I start to stuff with clothes and essential items, throwing in personal items, too. I check the time as I go, panic flaring up in me as I notice that there's only a few hours left before sundown, meaning I don't have much time left to get as far away from here as possible. Taking as much stuff as I need, I swiftly go back downstairs, looking around the place one last time before I duck back outside, going to the bike.

It's only now that I realise I took David's motorbike, a fact I barely register as I climb back onto it, starting up the engine again.

This time, I stick to the laws of the road, not wanting to be pulled over by any traffic police, cursing to myself as I get caught in traffic, my time slowly starting to ebb away. It takes a long while, but eventually I manage to get here so need to be: the Santa Carla Bus and Train Station.

I leave the bike at the front of the large building, uncaring of what happens to it now that I no longer need it, more worried about simply getting away now that the opportunity to do so is so close. People shout in protest as I push past them, but I just go right to the ticket desk, buying passage out of this town. The ticket terminates in Canada, a fact that reassures me, as it means I can get as far away as I like without needing to stop anywhere else.

A couple of hours later, and I'm watching the last rays of sunlight disappear over the horizon, my paranoia creeping up on me again as I watch this happen. The bus never got out as quickly as I wanted it to, and now we're only just leaving Santa Carla, meaning there is ample time for my four captors to catch up to me.

Thankfully, nothing comes for a good hour or so, the bus chuntering away down the highway, the passengers (all five of them) keeping blissfully quiet, none of them aware of the panic I'm in. I can feel myself finally starting to relax again, just as the bus suddenly stops.

Looking out of the window, I notice now that there aren't any other cars on the road outside, and that it's completely dark, making it impossible to see anything. The other passengers start to murmur to themselves, glancing around in as much confusion as I feel, only to cry out in surprise when the lights cut out.

It feels as if I've blacked out, everything going horribly quiet until I hear the first scream of agony. It's the driver, his voice wailing in a blood-curdling manner until it's drowned out by another person's, the cry a definite female sound. Terror explodes inside me, and I immediately know what's happening, though I can't move, the fear freezing me in place as shrieks of pain, followed by sickeningly wet sounds fill the air, my breathing coming hard and fast as I try not to make much of a sound.

The lights eventually come back on, and I have to fight not to throw up into my lap at the grim sight around me. Four figures stand amongst the gore, faces twisted into snarling sneers.

"I thought we told you to stay put?' David growls at me.

#the lost boys #vampire #vampires #lost boys #break writes #the lost boys david #the lost boys paul #dwayne (the lost boys)#the lost boys marko

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koishua · 3 years ago

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HIIII MY LOVEEEEE !!! what have you been up to ?? i need to send more asks to you >:(( i just always and forever want to be talking with you it makes me so happy <333 like talking with you comes so naturally and like I JUST LOVE YOU A LOT and i want to talk to you abt everything and anything

so random questions from me, it seems like you use public transit a lot and i just barely started using it myself, IS IT CONFUSING WHERE YOU LIVE/HAVE LIVED BC IT WAS SO CONFUSING TO ME AT FIRST. the busses tripped me up so much this past monday that it took me almost three hours instead of one to get home LMAO :,) and i mean ig it's not confusing anymore but sTILL i'm curious abt your experience lol

HI RIA!!! so much has changed and developed the past two months, my love idek where to begin 😔😔 currently tho im omw to an amusement park with a bunch of other people!! im excited, bc i had to miss out on the last four opportunities to go there bc of either work or sickness 💀💀 AND STOP YOU'RE MAKING ME CRY 😭😭 YOU'RE THE BEST HAVE I TOLD YOU THAT?? you're always so, so sweet ;-; i can't get enough of your being :')

as for your question, i do! it's my main form of transport. i probably spend like 7 hours on trains and busses every week bc of school and work </3 i get to places by car maybe twice a month. i was like 13 when i first started using public transport and it was to go to school, so i just followed what everyone else on the bus was doing 😭😭 we moved to the cityside two years ago tho so now i have to take three separate busses everyday and the trains during the weekends so it's a lot more complicated, but you get the hang of it after the first two times!

everyone knows i have an absolutely terrible sense of direction, but i don't get lost easily now, so if i can do it, everyone can 💀💀and oml three hours?? 😭😭 i mean it's totally okay tho dw haha it can be daunting at first 🤧🤧 recently i had to get back home from an event all the way on the other border of the country myself, so that was an adventure 😭😭 the trip in total took 8 hours </3 im now extremely confident about my travelling abilities tho lol since i can navigate airports too. ticking off my travel checklist one by one 💀💀

and the thing is even if you do manage to get lost in this country, it's super easy to find your way back. there are maps and services EVERYWHERE and there's a super convenient app that tracks EVERY train and bus in the country, so you know exactly which one to take and all the details and whatnot. also it's relatively affordable and if you can't afford monthly tickets, social services always offer financial aid (from what i know), so pretty much everyone can travel with public transport. it's like, one of the most common way of getting around here 🤧🤧 there's even a special offer for everyone during the summer: the 9 euro ticket that takes you EVERYWHERE in the country. normally your monthly tickets only take you around in certain regions, but the 9€ ticket can get you anywhere you want!! only for these three months of summer tho lol and then the tickets usually range from around 30-60€/month depending on the range of your ticket. i wish they only made the ticket for students tho bc now EVERYONE is taking the trains and it's SO crowded 🥴🥴 one time it was so suffocating and hot that my friend almost fainted in the train ://

oh well </3 anyways. enough of me rambling. what have you been up to? im curious about how you're doing hehe

#ii. ( pt ) —! asks

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seaweedbrain404 · 4 years ago

Text

Wolfstar Au!: Hot and Cold (pt 2 of Parties and Morning Regrets)

@icitlali asked if there was a second part and um- yeah i wrote this, there may be more parts to come

pt 1

pt3

read it on ao3

Remus thought inviting Sirius up was the right thing to do which is the only reason he did. He dared to let himself hope but he didn’t really want to see Sirius. Still, Remus had manners and it was so cold outside that his own fingers were turning purple. Leaving Sirius out in the cold and making him probably walk home seemed too mean, even for Remus. Although, he thought Sirius definitely deserved it.

He followed Sirius up to the flat, Lily looked more than surprised when she saw Sirius come in and gave Remus another look. It was one of those looks that Remus didn’t like getting, the we’re-going-to-talk-about-this-later kind of look. He shrugged it off, too preoccupied with his bloody hip.

“Remus, did you really walk all the way here?” Lily crossed her arms over her chest as Remus closed the door behind them.

“Yeah, so what” He replied through gritted teeth. “I’m going for a shower to wash off the smell of stale alcohol”

“You’re going to be the death of me one day, Remus Lupin” Lily’s voice called to his retreating back. “Sirius, how are you?”

Remus heard vague small talk as he navigated his way to his bedroom. The pain in his hip wasn’t unbearable exactly. It was just bad enough for it to consume all his thoughts. All he needed was a warm bath, some painkillers and to limit his movements for the rest of the day. Easy. Unfortunately, the bath would have to wait until later though seeing as it would probably be rude to soak in the tub while having a guest over.

Showering after a night out was always a pleasant experience. He emerged from the shower just a couple minutes later with damp hair, a stolen pair of Lily’s yoga pants and a clean jumper.

“Ah, here’s the idiot who has no regard for his health” Lily smiled as Remus walked into the kitchen. “Are those mine?”

“Maybe, painkillers please?” He walked across the room and leaned his chin on Lily’s shoulder.

Sirius watched the interaction between the two with some hint of longing in his eyes. Remus wasn’t sure why, maybe it was because he had never been so casually touchy with anyone but now him and Lily were even closer than they were in school.

Lily wrapped an arm around his waist, rubbing circles on his hip. “Sirius, there’s a small pill bottle in the cupboard just there-“ she pointed to the right above her head “-would you mind grabbing it please?”

Sirius blinked for a moment, seemingly frozen at the sight of them. Then, he nodded. “Yeah- yeah, I got it”

He passed Lily the retrieved painkillers without looking at them. Lily hummed gratefully in return, easing Remus, who had hid his face in the crook of her neck, off her. He leaned back against the counter and Lily switched the kettle on.

“I promised Mrs Pettigrew from next door that I’d pick up her groceries today” Lily turned to Remus, glancing at Sirius, “and do a bit of cleaning for her since her grandson is out of town, do you think you’ll manage?”

“Yeah” Remus breathed out. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay”

Lily pursed her lips and looked to Sirius again. “Make sure he stays home, yeah?”

Remus made a noise of protest as Sirius nodded, “I doubt he’ll want to listen to me”

“Lily, I can take care of myself”

“Hardly, you’re in a right state after being without me for a few hours” She scolded, “If you strain yourself any more then you’re going to really fuck up your hip”

“I can’t fuck up something that’s already fucked, can I?”

“I mean it, take it easy and don’t be an idiot”

“Alright, fine”

“And I want to talk to you later”

Remus paled a little at that, despite fully seeing it coming. He made a noncommittal sound and Lily, satisfied with herself, left the room to layer up on clothes and help the nice old lady who lived across the hall.

There was a tense moment when she left. The kettle went off and Remus poured himself a cup, then paused. “Tea?”

“Sure”

Sirius seemed more relaxed now that Lily had gone. It was as if he had been on best behavior when she was there and now he didn’t have to be. Remus couldn’t really blame him, Lily could be very scary sometimes and she was always unreasonably overprotective of Remus. In all fairness, he felt the same way towards her.

So Remus poured two cups of tea and then added milk and sugar accordingly. He had assumed that Sirius took his tea the way he did back in school and he was only a little ashamed he still knew what the other man liked in his tea off the top of his head.

“Am I allowed to ask about the accident?” Sirius picked up his cup and took a sip.

“Why do you want to know?” Remus retorted, taking a painkiller.

“Lily wouldn’t tell me… and I’m…. worried” Sirius looked embarrassed to admit it but he did admit it which was good enough for Remus. It showed some sort of growth, some kind of potential.

“Depends on whether you’re going to pity me or not because frankly, I don’t care much for it”

“Jesus, you don’t have to be so snappy”

Remus scowled at him, not saying another word. He didn’t care about being snappy in that particular moment. His hip hurt like hell, he could feel his leg slowly going as well and whenever he told people anything about the accident they all treated him like a fragile porcelain doll.

Sirius cleared his throat before speaking again. “I won’t pity you, if you don’t want me to”

“What do you want to know?” Remus asked, disregarding what Sirius had said.

“What happened?”

“I worked at this publishing place, had a late night so I took a cab home” Remus began, even thinking about that night made his heart race and his eyes sting. “Someone was driving under the influence and hit us- the cab, I mean.. and it was really bad but they put these screws and plates all in my side, shoulder down to my shin”

Remus paused a moment, wiping his eyes on the back of his palm. Sirius made to touch him but he jerked away, a little too fast and hissed in pain. Sirius retreated his hand, looking crestfallen.

“Anyway, I had to quit the job cause it was too far to walk and I refused to get in any type of car or bus or really any type vehicle since then” Remus rushed the end of the story, his hands were shaking and his throat felt tight.

Sirius took a step forward and this time Remus allowed him to. He carefully opened his arms and slowly wrapped them around Remus, giving him more than enough time to move if he didn’t want this.

Remus, however, was just exhausted. He collapsed right into Sirius’ arms which tightened around him. The bad thing was, he was still shaking, his lungs refused to take in air and oh, there was the whole thing about just falling into his ex-boyfriend’s arms. Good thing was, he felt safe.

Then he started crying, his own arms wrapping around Sirius’ waist while his arms were around Remus’ back. He was pretty sure the only reason he still remained standing was Sirius’ strength forged by years of playing rugby. Remus wanted to kick himself, everything about this situation was just so pathetic and he hated it. He hated himself for it.

Sirius, meanwhile, said nothing and just rubbed circles on the taller man’s back. “I’m sorry, I’ve been horrible to you and now you’re literally comforting me, maybe I am the asshole”

“Nah, I kind of deserved it”

“Yeah you did”

“Hey! you’re not supposed to say that”

“But it’s the truth”

“Shut up”

Remus let himself laugh quietly. He was mortified by this display of vulnerability and dearly wished the ground would open and swallow him whole. Then he made a feeble attempt at pushing Sirius away, nearly toppling over himself. He had to grip the counter behind him to stop himself from hitting the floor. Sirius made to catch him but Remus swatted his hand away.

“I think you should go”

“But I promised Li-“

“I’m tired and she’ll be back soon”

Lie. Remus knew that Lily would be gone for at least two more hours, maybe more if Mrs Pettigrew offered biscuits.

“Then I’ll just stay till she comes back, she really worries about you” Sirius shrugged like it was final and Remus didn’t want to talk about it so he slowly hobbled to the living room.

“Do you-“

“No”

Sirius started asking but Remus snapped at him before he could finish his question.

“Sorry” Sirius mumbled, hands up in surrender. Remus could feel eyes on his back as he managed to get to the couch. He switched on the telly, laying on the side of his body that hurt the least.

Remus figured that if Sirius didn’t leave, then maybe he could ignore him to the point of leaving. Unfortunately it didn’t work because this was Sirius so instead of sitting on the chair near the couch or even on the floor, he stood at Remus’ head. Hands were gesturing for Remus to sit up but he ignored them.

“Remus, squish over a minute”

With a groan, he turned onto his back and sat up. Sirius slid into the open space and Remus turned so that his feet were at Sirius’ lap instead of his head. He wasn’t sure how his body would react if Sirius started gently twirling strands of his hair and admiring them as if they were made of gold.

Remus closed his eyes, feeling fingers tracing shapes on his exposed ankles.

Suddenly Sirius spoke. “You and Lily have gotten really close”

His eyes shot open, a little startled by the tone. He wasn’t sure how long he was out but he definitely slept at least twenty minutes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His voice was groggy with sleep, the side of his mouth damp from drool

“It’s weird, I’ve never seen you so much as hug anyone”

Remus wiped the side of his mouth. “People are allowed to change and Lily is my best friend”

“It’s just- you’ve changed so much and I’m struggling to keep up” Sirius’ tone was strange, the most un-Sirius thing Remus had ever experienced him do since they met.

Remus’ eyebrows knit together, a frown now playing on his face. “The world doesn’t revolve around you, y’know… besides, I don’t have to change according to your terms”

“I never said that” Sirius spat.

Remus sat up in response, leaning back on his elbows. “Then why are you constantly bitching about how much I’ve changed?”

“Because you have! It’s like you’re this whole new person and I don’t even know you”

“I haven’t spoken to you since we were 17, that was 6 years ago and you expect me not to change?” Remus ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck, I went to college, I got in a horrendous car accident Sirius, do you really expect me to be the same person I was when we were teenagers?”

“No- it’s just, I don’t like change”

“Fucking hell Sirius, the world doesn’t care and guess what? that’s constantly changing too”

“Yeah but not as drastically as you! You work in a bakery for Christ’s sake when I know you always wanted to be a writer”

“And I know you vowed to never work for your parents and here you are, doing daddy’s dirty work no doubt”

“Remus”

“What”

“You were never this cruel”

“No, I suppose not”

The two sat in silence, and it took all of Remus’ willpower not to kiss him.

“Can we just be friends or something” Sirius looked sincere enough, good natured enough for Remus to want it.

“Something? Something like wh-“

But Remus never got to finish his sentence because suddenly Sirius’ knees were straddling his hips and they were kissing.

What the fuck!

Remus wanted to scream, he was tired and annoyed and now he didn’t know what to feel. He pushed Sirius away for a second time that day, both their breaths coming in uneven.

“No” Remus breathed out, shutting his eyes tightly.

“No?”

“Yes, no… I can’t… what were you thinking?”

Sirius looked both hurt and surprised but Remus wasn’t concerned about that, he was more confused than anything and also there was the almost unbearable pain in his hip.

“I- well you were being cruel and this is the only way I knew how to shut you up effectively”

Now it was Remus’ turn to look hurt, he pushed Sirius again with more force than before. He brought his head back down and refused to say another word.

“Remus”

Nothing.

“Remus”

He shut his eyes, willing himself to go to sleep again.

“I’m sorry”

“Remus, I’m really sorry”

“I know I shouldn’t have said that”

“I did want to kiss you, I also wanted you to stop being mean”

“Come on Moony”

Remus’ eyes shot open at the childhood nickname. “Leave me alone Sirius, I’m tired and sore”

“Are you cross?”

“With you?”

Sirius hummed in response.

“Yeah but mainly cause I’m tired”

“Oh, I’m sorry”

“Just stop talking”

Sirius did just that. Remus felt bad though, he very carefully and hesitantly moved again so that his head was on Sirius’ lap. “I’m sorry for being a dick” he whispered, eyes closing again.

“I’m sorry for not thinking before I speak” came Sirius’ soft reply.

Remus felt Sirius’ fingers move through his hair tentatively as if he was uncertain whether or not this was allowed. “No, I’m being a moody git, all hot and cold on you”

“I couldn’t blame you for it”

“Well you should”

Sirius didn’t reply and Remus remained on the side that didn’t hurt him, facing away from Sirius and towards the telly.

#marauders #remus lupin #sirius black #the mauraders #modern marauders #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar angst #wolfstar fic #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #lily evans #okay but i love writing lily and remus’ friendship so much #they remind me of me and my best friend

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thekisforkeats · 4 years ago

Text

The Joys of Fandom, or, how TMA helped me rediscover my love of tea

So among the many (many) good things The Magnus Archives podcast has brought to my life, none has been quite so profound as remembering how much I love making a good cup of tea. I’ve got a whole post about how it’s helped me categorize the anxiety cloud I live with on a constant basis, how it’s gotten me writing again, and writing poetry which I haven’t done in forever, how identifying with so many openly queer boys going through so much crap has helped me figure out that I want to transition.

But.

Tea is the reason we’re here today, because making a pot of tea has become a daily ritual since I started listening to TMA, and it’s been one of those tiny things that’s changed my life profoundly, and I have TMA to thank for this almost entirely.

I did not grow up drinking tea. I am from the Seattle, Washington area, and I’m just old enough Starbucks was a popular local coffee shop when I was a kid. My parents both drank a TON of coffee, my mother basically runs on the stuff, and by the time I was 6 I was drinking coffee too. Tea, growing up, was Lipton, sometimes iced or sometimes not. I didn’t even realize herbal tea was tea. Green tea was a thing one drank at Chinese restaurants. I was not at all informed.

When I got my first job, I would stop at Starbucks during the bus layover (as once does in the Seattle area) and one day in a fit of teenaged desire to be “cool” and “writerly” because I’d seen a tin of “Writer’s Chai” in the store I bought a chai latte. I loved it, and that became my go-to Starbucks drink.

I still didn’t really get tea, but I at least started learning how to boil water in the kettle and waiting for it to actually boil, pouring it over the tea bag, etc. I didn’t put in milk or sugar because I drank coffee black unless it was a latte or a mocha. I would just sort of... boil the water and pour it over and wait a few minutes and drink the tea with the bag still in the mug.

It wasn’t until I moved to Toronto that I sat down and had a good cup of tea. The woman who hosted the social group I was part of had her particular tea-making rituals, and she encouraged me to try it with milk and sugar, and it was... amazing. Life-changing, even. My perseveration drive kicked into full swing and I had to know everything about tea and its history and how to make a proper cup and so on and so forth. I learned all I could from our hostess, and then turned to the internet.

I bought a kettle to make tea at home but my ex wasn’t really supportive of my desire to brew tea on the regular, so loose leaf and teapots and “does the milk go in in cup before or after the tea” had to wait until I moved out and got a place of my own.

Then I moved to Tallahassee.

In Tallahassee, the coffee was atrocious unless it was from a couple of specific places, mostly serving cafe con leche. But I had my own place and my own dishes and I could have a teapot and make tea and nobody could stop me. So I did. Mostly for myself, while I was contemplating things, and it was really nice to sit and stare out at the ridiculously heavy Florida rain--which hit, in Tallahassee, right about 4:15 in the afternoon all summer so perfect for tea time.

I moved back to Seattle with my spouse, and we moved into my mother’s house. For a long while we didn’t have a kitchen of our own and we had small children, so tea wasn’t a thing I did any more. I had leftover coffee (or canned/bottled coffee) for the caffeine fix, but rarely tea. When my grandmother died and we moved into her old apartment we didn’t have a stove, and I despise heating water for tea in the microwave.

So for the better part of a decade, I barely drank any tea at all. I did discover Oi Ocha in this time, which is bottled green tea from Japan, which is amazing and I love it, but again--it was in a bottle. Not a thing I was personally making.

Then I started listening to The Magnus Archives, and I really identified with Martin Blackwood, because of reasons too complicated to get into here. But it inspired me to want to make tea again, and so I started getting K-cup pods, but it just... wasn’t... right. It wasn’t the same. I mean, it was tea, but it wasn’t... tea.

So I went and bought an electric kettle, and a teapot, and a strainer, and ordered regular deliveries of loose leaf tea, and started making tea for myself and my spouse. I developed my own ritual: cold water in the kettle, put hot water into the teapot (so it doesn’t crack), put three scoops of loose leaf in the strainer. Pour out the water in the teapot when the kettle boils, put in the strainer, pour the boiling water over the strainer. Wait four minutes or so, and while you’re waiting put a splash of half-and-half in the tea mugs (milk goes first so it doesn’t scald and we like the taste of half-and-half best). Then pour the tea into the mugs. The mugs are big enough that I take three spoons of sugar and my spouse four, so put all the sugar into the mugs and then increase the entropy (aka stir) until the sugar’s dissolved. Bring the tea out into the living room, enjoy.

The first time I got it all right, and made a good cup of tea, I literally cried, I was so happy. It was like seeing the sun after it had been dark for so long I’d forgotten what the sun looked like.

The thing I have come to realize about what tea means to me is something that Jon says in the trailer for Season 5 of TMA. Martin brings him a cup of “tea” and Jon goes “that’s not tea” and, indeed, it turns out to be some weird skittering thing. The following exchange really crystallized things for me:

Jon: This is no longer a world where you can trust-- Martin: Tea?! Jon: Comfort.

And that was it, right there. Coffee is fuel, for me. Coffee is “Wake Up, Get Up, Get Out There.” (Quite literally; part of playing Persona 5 was remembering how much I love trying out new coffee blends.)

Tea, however, is comfort. Tea is slowing down. Tea is caffeine, yes, and therefore focus for my poor ADD/autistic brain, but it’s afternoon focus. It’s contemplation. It’s sitting and breathing in the aroma and thinking about things in a way that isn’t spiraling or catastrophizing. Whether it’s breakfast tea or Earl Grey or green tea, or an herbal like peppermint or chamomile, tea for me is self-care.

Taking those few minutes to get up and go make a pot of tea in the afternoon, to stop the business of the day and just stand there waiting for the kettle to boil, is something I’ve desperately needed. Coffee is easy to sort of make as “fire and forget,” to the point that I’ve gulped down cold or lukewarm coffee I’d forgotten about just because I need the caffeine. Tea, though, if you’re doing it right you have to stand there and wait for the water to boil and wait for the tea to steep. If you walk away to do something else you’ll ruin the whole thing. I completely understand why Martin is running around making tea for everyone in Season 2 all the time, because everything is falling apart in slow motion and it’s a chance to stop, to focus on making the tea, and then to take the time enjoying the tea itself.

Making tea for others also means love to me. I make tea for my spouse alongside myself. I included one of my teenaged children in tea-making for the first time yesterday and my youngest keeps getting the last bit of tea in the pot, and it’s such a joy to see their faces light up. Bringing someone tea means bringing them a mug of love and care. Another reason I identify with Martin--I often don’t know what to say to help someone, so I try to be sure they’re fed and hydrated and cared for. And I, too, had to learn to stop setting myself on fire to keep those people warm. I had to learn to be sure I was fed and hydrated and cared for, so I could care for them. But even now as I get older and wiser and grumpier I still run around making sure everyone’s fed and has had their mug of tea, I just don’t do it at my own expense anymore.

One of my next crochet projects is a tea cozy in the shape of a green owl, in honor of the Magnus Institute owl, because my little tea-making ritual is always going to be connected to TMA in my head. Also I have a “Fifteen Fears” mug and my spouse has a “Magnus Archives” owl symbol mug, so it’s literally just this really intense connection between TMA and tea, for me.

It’s funny how much comfort a horror podcast has given me since I’ve started listening. There are a few fandoms that have profoundly changed me--Star Trek was the first big one, Babylon 5 was the first that directly inspired me, Mass Effect helped me get out of suicidal depression, Persona (specifically Persona 5) inspired me to take responsibility for myself in a way therapy never quite managed.

And here I am with TMA, figuring out how to navigate anxiety and pain and grief in a world that feels like it’s falling apart around my ears. The concept that what we do matters; that right or wrong you should be making a decision instead of just reacting from fear or surprise; that sometimes you screw up and there’s nothing to be done, that “sorry” doesn’t fix everything, that sometimes nothing you do will fix anything and you can’t let that paralyze you... it’s all been necessary, and helpful, and I’ve been terribly grateful.

Thanks to TMA I’m writing again after years of terrible writer’s block. I’m facing my own fears and accepting that despite (because of?) my terrible arachnophobia I’d probably serve the Web if I served anything (although Eye and Lonely would also get a look in--I did say I identified with Martin pretty strongly). I’m recognizing dysphoria and dealing with it after years of trying to deny the elephant in the room.

I’m also making tea again. And for that, I am eternally, profoundly grateful.

#tma #the magnus archives #tea #martin blackwood #tma spoilers #i guess sort of?#i mean just in case #long post #my writing #seriously i cannot overstate how much tea means to me #it's been one of those things i didn't realize i needed until i started doing it again #i will definitely be posting pics of the tea cozy owl as i make it #because it's gonna be adorable af

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fidothefinch · 4 years ago

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Homeward Bound

For Whumptober Day 28: Mugged (because I am really late for the “lost” prompt and this is close enough).

Warnings: blood, injury, concussion, one moment of implied solicited child prostitution, homophobic slurs, police officers, briefly implied domestic abuse, briefly implied animal injury Despite the warnings, this is, like, mostly soft.

Read on AO3

“Hey, kid, I think you dropped something.”

When Damian turned, he was looking down the barrel of a gun.

He frowned, unimpressed with the ruse. “I do not carry such crude weapons on myself.”

The man jabbed the barrel of the gun forward, toward him. “Shut up or you’ll figure out just how much damage my crude weapons can do.”

Titus growled up at the man, and the man glanced down just long enough to lose his concentration. Damian sprang forward to attack.

- - - - - - - - -

Damian’s head was pounding. He groaned despite himself and tried to pry his eyes open. They wouldn’t focus as well as he would have liked, but he was pretty sure that he was not waking up anywhere familiar.

He took a moment to assess himself, before broadcasting his return to consciousness. There was a cool breeze running down his shirt, and moisture collected on the places where his bare skin had been touching the air. He wasn’t wearing his Robin gear; that narrowed things down, at least. He didn’t hear anybody near him, either, so risked opening his eyes.

Even as they fought to bring the world into focus, he couldn’t figure out where he was.

There were spindly branches above him, silhouettes against a rapidly-darkening sky. The air smelled of damp earth and decaying leaves; autumnal. He could hear birds chirping, all around him, the low hum of traffic beneath that. A lamppost somewhere past his feet flickered on.

He levered himself up with his elbows. He was sitting on a soft patch of ground. When he lifted a hand to his head to stop the beating there, he found dried blood and several blades of grass in his hair.

What the hell had happened?

He racked his memory, but the last thing he remembered was the taste of the orange juice he had had with breakfast. It was clearly the evening now, and the few people he saw around him were bustling homeward.

Home.

He should get home.

With some work, he managed to get himself all the way to his feet, not even needing more than a single tree to catch his balance when he wobbled on tingly legs. He had been out of it long enough to let his limbs fall asleep, at least.

He reached for his phone; Richard would be worried about him by now, surely. But when he got the device from his pocket, a pit dropped in his stomach. The screen was cracked, and when he tried to press the button on the side, it read “Critical Low Battery,” and turned off again.

He would never hear the end of this.

He sighed, tucking the phone back into his pocket so he could harvest its spare parts for later. He would just have to walk, then, until he found a bus stop – or train station – or ferry – that could take him home. And maybe he would figure out where he is, too.

The pavement he had woken next to stretched off in two directions, and he randomly chose one and walked. It wasn’t like it would make much difference, since he expected it to be a long night, anyway. But as he took his first few steps, he staggered sideways.

Maybe he had hit his head harder than he thought. His hand found the bleeding again, and with searching fingers he found a large knot on the back of his head, where the flesh had swelled. Looking around, it didn’t look like he had hit his head on the pavement, and there had not been a significant amount of blood in the grass where he had gotten up. Maybe he had hit his head, and moved before passing out?

It didn’t matter, now.

The air was getting colder, and he hadn’t brought a jacket with him. He didn’t want to spend the night outside, so he quickened his step.

A familiar tinkling followed him down the path. He turned, too abruptly for his failing sense of balance, and nearly fell into his loyal friend.

“Titus,” Damian breathed. The dog whined at him. He was limping, one of his front paws held up. Damian knelt next to the dog and took his injured paw. “What did you do?”

He carefully felt around the pad and found no thorns or irritants, but when he felt around the knee Titus yelped in pain.

Damian hushed him. “I apologize,” he whispered. He rose to his feet again. “I will have Pennyworth take a look at you when we return.” As he tried to rise, another wave of dizziness hit him, and he fell backward, nearly hitting his head again.

“Hey, kid!”

Damian whipped his head around to the source of the noise. A man was walking toward him, down the path. Damian hadn’t heard him approaching.

“Are you okay?” the man asked, then stopped short as he spotted the blood on Damian’s head. “Oh, man.”

Damian waved a hand over his shoulder flippantly and rose to his feet. “I am fine.” Gotham citizens weren’t usually so. . . hospitable, and Damian couldn’t help being suspicious of him. Damian would deal with this on his own. “I am on my way home.”

“Are your parents around? I don’t think you should be—”

A hand landed on Damian’s shoulder, and without thinking he tugged the man down and around into an arm lock. “Don’t touch me,” he warned.

The man’s breath caught. “Let go of me!”

Damian blinked, and he released the man’s hand. The man stood to his full height, rubbing his wrist where it had been bent at an awkward angle. His eyes were wide, now, with something like fear. “H-hey, it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Damian stepped back unevenly, and Titus stepped in front of him. His ears pressed flat to his head and his teeth glinted in the light form the lamppost. A warning growl emitted from his muzzle.

The man, wisely, backed away, hands held high.

Damian watched him move away until he was satisfied with the distance between them. Then he clicked his tongue, and Titus’s posture shifted as he glanced back to Damian. “Come, Titus,” Damian called. He mustered enough energy to make his voice steady and commanding.

Titus gave one sharp bark to the man before turning tail and obediently following Damian down the opposite path.

They didn’t make it out of earshot before he heard the man pull his phone out. “Yeah, I’m Robinson Park. I think I’ve found a homeless kid.”

Damian wasn’t close enough to tell whether the man was calling the police, and he certainly didn’t want to be dragged into another kidnapping. He forced his feet to move faster, and he ran.

The man had said something about Robinson Park, right? That put Damian almost an hour’s walk from the penthouse, and that was assuming he was moving in the right direction.

He tried navigating with the stars, but there was too much light pollution; the one star he thought he had found turned out to be a plane.

“Where are we,” he asked Titus.

The dog huffed, but despite Damian’s greatest wish, was not able to respond.

Moving at all was better than staying in place. He would be able to figure out where he was when he got out of the park.

The walk felt like hours. Whether it was fatigue, or dehydration, or his concussion, the world would slant sideways occasionally, tripping him up until Titus’s warm flank would help steady him. His mouth was incredibly dry, and his stomach empty. He grimaced when they got too close to any lamplights, as the glow would make the icepick in his head dig harder. It was better that they stay away from the walking paths, anyway; as it grew dark, the people wandering the park became, in Richard’s words, “shadier.”

He could smell the road before he could see it. Hot asphalt, gasoline, and spent cigarettes wafted from beyond the tasteful brick ledge cornering the park from the rest of the city. The sun had set completely by the time he reached the road beyond.

He reached the sidewalk and peered up at the stared up at the street signs, trying to make sense of them. To his great frustration, his brain refused to make words from the letters. There were still a handful of cars idling at the stoplight. One of them blasted bass music loud enough Damian could feel it under his feet. The more tasteful lilt of classical music spilled out from a different car.

One car pulled up to the curb next to him. Damian couldn’t make out the shadowed face of the man driving, but he knew enough to be wary when he asked, “How much?”

Damian shook his head, despite how it made the world spin. As Robin, he would have taken him out on sight. As Damian, all he could react with was a “No,” as pointedly disgusted as he could make it.

“Faggot,” the man sneered.

Damian didn’t have time to reply before a cup burst against his chest, soaking his shirt and pants in ice-cold slush. His gasp was lost under the squeal of tires as the car pulled away. He didn’t have the thought to memorize his license plate until he was too far away.

The light was green, and cars raced by faster that Damian could track, though he was beginning to think that reflected more on himself than their driving habits. The movement paired with the sticky-sweet cherry smell from the ICEE was making him nauseous.

Titus licked the syrup from his bare wrist in commiseration. His tongue was warm against the cooling night air.

Damian shivered, the breeze from the handful of passing cars cooling his wet clothes even more. He needed to get inside soon, or he risked hypothermia.

He waited until there were no cars before crossing the street, and he walked another block, parallel to the park, before finding a small store and slipping inside.

The heat was a blessing, but the lighting was harsh enough he had to squint. Damian’s fingers tingled as they warmed up, and he perused the small aisles for something warm to wear for several minutes.

“No dogs.”

Damian looked up, and the cashier, who was the only other person in the store, had finally looked up from their magazine.

“He has excellent behavior,” he started.

She rolled her eyes. “Out.” She pointed toward the door.

Damian scowled. He wanted to protest more, but he couldn’t summon the brain power for it. “Very well.” He gave her his best glare on his way past.

Leaving the store was difficult, as the outside temperature felt even colder when he hadn’t had time to acclimate to it.

He shoved his numb hands in his wet pockets. His wallet was missing; he could not have purchased anything, anyway.

He voiced his thoughts out loud as he walked down the street, more to keep warm than with a destination in mind. “If my wallet is gone, somebody may have taken it,” he mused. “I may have been the victim of a mugging.” He felt for that tender place on his head again and winced. “Gone wrong.”

Titus loped along next to him, ears high and alert for any sign of danger.

Damian lost track of time and how many blocks he had walked before he spotted the bus stop. Inside the sheltered benches was a large map. “Titus, look,” he mumbled. Titus did not look, but wrapped himself around Damian’s legs, watching his six o’clock while Damian studied the graphic.

It took far too long for him to find the “You are Here” star, and then he couldn’t make sense of the rest of the lines and letters. They seemed to float around his point of focus, blurred around the edges.

“We’ve got him,” somebody said. A radio blipped. Acknowledged. Over.

Damian turned around when a shadow fell over him. It was a police officer, wearing a sympathetic smile. “Hey, kid.”

Damian didn’t reply, looking him up and down. When he saw his hand resting against where Damian knew his Taser to be, he tutted. “You are not going to Tase me, are you?”

The officer’s hand flexed, then relaxed, but didn’t move from the position. “Not unless you give me a reason to.”

Damian shook his head as much as he dared. “You are the one approaching me.” He turned back toward the map in dismissal.

“Got a name?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Where are you headed?”

“None of your business.”

“Look,” and the officer stepped toward him, but Titus growled. “Somebody called in some kid acting confused and wandering the city.”

Damian’s shoulders tensed. “I am not confused.”

“Easy, there. I’m not accusing you of anything.”

Damian turned again and crossed his arms. He hated to admit it was more for the warmth than for the intimidation. “Please go on your way. I do not require your assistance.”

The officer whistled under his breath. “That’s a nice bruise you’ve got there. Did you get in a fight?”

Damian’s hand flew to a second, slightly less painful knot on his forehead, but it was too late. The officer had seen.

Damian had been there long enough. The last thing he needed was to be forced into a physical examination. Without saying anything, he moved to duck around the officer and excuse himself.

A hand landed on his shoulder. “Wait a minute, young man.”

Damian stiffened, and the hold relaxed but didn’t release. “Titus, heel,” he commanded, stopping the pending attack. He gave the officer what he hoped was a measured look. “Let go of me.”

“Is there some place I can take you? Do you need a ride home?”

Damian hesitated, and the officer jumped on it. “I can give you a ride in the squad car. I’ll let you try the sirens.”

Damian rolled his eyes, but despite the patronizing, he asked, “and my dog?”

“We’ll call animal patrol to take him to a shelter, and you can go pick him up—”

“No.”

“He’ll be safe, you have my word.”

“Titus stays with me.” The dog sneered at the officer from where he sat by Damian’s feet, clearly still a threat should the officer choose to lunge.

The officer looked at the dog, and back up. He released Damian’s shoulder, and Damian would feel more relieved if it didn’t make him feel less steady on his feet. “If something happened at home, you can report it—”

“Nothing happened.” Not that he remembered, anyway. Damian’s chin rose. “I will return myself.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, son.”

Damian didn’t think; he bolted.

“Hey!” The officer shouted, giving chase.

Damian breathed harder, through the nausea and the pain flaring in his head. His blood was roaring in his ears. He demanded his body move faster.

Titus guided him, a second, ghostlier mirror-Titus weaving in and out of his body. The loyal dog stuck exactly to Damian’s pace so they wouldn’t lose each other. The streets at this pace looked more familiar, and Damian thought he recognized an alley opening ahead. “Left,” he directed, and Titus ducked into the alley, as instructed.

“We’ve got a runner.” He could hear the officer behind him huffing into his radio. “I’m going to need backup.” He was gaining ground; Damian was lagging.

He had just slipped into the alleyway when Titus pivoted around, barking angrily at the officer.

“Titus,” Damian wheezed. The world spun around him, and he had to brace himself against a grimy brick wall. “Come here.”

But the dog ignored him. In fact, Titus suddenly lunged forward, out of his sight, and the officer shouted.

Titus yelped.

“No,” Damian moaned.

He had to keep running. He couldn’t let the officer take him. He couldn’t remember why, but there had been a reason. . .

He stumbled down the alley, turning blindly around corners until he found himself back out on a dark street. There were a few lights on in the windows above him, but not a soul in sight.

Damian’s head felt like it would split in two, like there was a wedge being driven between the hemispheres of his brain with every thump of his heart. He squinted through the darkness until he made out the shape of stairs, leading down toward a basement floor and locked door. It would at least get him out of the wind.

He got two steps down before he tripped over his own feet, flipping down the last six.

He allowed himself to groan at the bottom, feeling all the new places that stung and throbbed.

He must have hit his head again, because he had to blink black spots out of his eyes as he half-crawled, half-dragged himself (his arm, at least, was definitely broken) to the corner under the stairs.

He curled his knees up and tucked his head down, conserving as much body heat as possible.

He blacked out.

Something wet was tugging on his face.

Damian scrunched his nose. There was still a dull ringing in his ears.

No.

That was whining.

Prying his eyelids open felt more difficult than lifting the Batmobile. The world swayed, and he immediately had to shut them again.

“Titus,” he whispered. And it did not sound like a whine. “I am alright.”

Titus continued licking his face, nuzzling his nose underneath Damian’s arms so he could get a better look.

“Damian?”

Damian tensed.

“Damian!”

There were feet pounding down the short stairway. “Alfred! I found him!”

Damian winced at the noise. It was much, much too loud.

“Damian,” Richard breathed again. His voice dropped into something much softer. “Can you look at me?”

Damian lifted his head with gargantuan effort, and lifted his eyelids again.

Richard’s face swam into focus, a deep wrinkle in his forehead. He gasped, when he saw the lump on Damian’s forehead. “What happened to you?” he asked. His hand rose to the lump’s twin on the back of his head and lightly brushed away some of the grime.

It had grown more tender since last night. Like it had opened a floodgate, Damian was suddenly bombarded with all of the aches and pains of the night before. His left arm and head throbbed in time with his heartbeat, slightly syncopated.

Richard clicked his tongue, and leaned back to shout up the stairs. “He hit his head.”

“Oh, dear.” Pennyworth must have been standing at the higher level, but Damian couldn’t look that high up for fear of getting lost in the nausea. “And he is soaking wet. I will fetch a change of clothes from the car.”

As Pennyworth’s voice got distant, Richard leaned in closer. “We’re going to get you home, okay?” He didn’t wait for Damian to acknowledge him; he slipped his arms under Damian’s knees and behind his back and lifted him smoothly. “It’s okay.”

Damian tutted, but even he could admit it lacked his usual passion.

Richard tucked Damian’s head under his chin as he walked up the stairs, and though it was an awkward angle Damian was thankful for the body heat he was able to absorb from it.

Titus followed right at Dick’s feet, not taking his big brown eyes off Damian for a second. He was still limping.

Richard must have caught him looking, because he explained, “Animal Control found the chip, called us out here to pick him up. He wouldn’t stop whining until we followed him.”

Damian reached down to pat Titus’s head with his good hand. “Good boy, Titus.”

Pennyworth fussed over him until he was in clean, dry clothes. The heat was already blasting in the car, and Damian immediately felt himself melting into the seat beneath him.

Richard would not let go. Titus collapsed in his lap in a furry, warm heap.

Damian wouldn’t have it any other way. He was finally home.

#whumptober #no. 28 #mugged #fic #dc #damian wayne #a boy and his dog #fido writes #titus the dog

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colitisandme · 3 years ago

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Self care, don’t care. Before I start this blog post, I want to say last month was probably one of the most exciting months of my life as I became a finalist at the Wego health awards 2021 for Rookie of the year category. I could not and still cannot believe that my blog, Social media page and general posts resonated so strongly with you lovely lot and is recognised so highly by Patient leaders across the world. So thank you. That night and the excitement I felt throughout the whole of the month is something I will never forget. I love you all. 😊 So, the reason that I have not posted a full blog for a few months is … well honestly like I have felt like over cooked spaghetti. You know when pasta is cooked to long, and it all gets sort of mushy and stuck together, people avoid it, make appreciative noises when you bring a plate of it out, and when your back is turned, they stuff it behind some sort of pot plant or when it becomes so claggy you could use it as some kind of DIY alternative for tile glue. Well yeah, like that. I think the thing that started it was the realisation that I would have to go out into the world after lock down – back to work, seeing people, whilst still trying to stay safe and well and not feel like wallpaper paste. It was also the scary realisation of how Phyllis has very much become a permanent fixture in my life and how my mobility and general staying ‘uprightness’ has got worse in a year. Suddenly the safe cocoon I had built for myself, and my husband was obliterated. I suddenly became very wary of others, especially large groups of people with faces. The walk that I could complete which would take me to the bus stop a year ago became this game of Russian roulette to see how impossible it would be to carry myself, a bag on wheels and walk in a straight line on a 60mph road with no pavement, and I was pretty sure there was a higher than likely chance, if I fell over, I would get rolled on by a vehicle or 6 coming in the opposite direction and I would spend the rest of my life in 2D. Pre fibro, I used to be able to hop in a ditch with care free abandonment, waving merrily to all the passengers in the cars going past, letting the cars whizz past me in the knowledge that I was safe and sound (albeit muddy) but oh Mama those days are long gone. Since Fibro makes me feel like my legs are tied together with bungee cords and my reflexes are not up to par, hopping anywhere would require me to be lifted up on a trampoline by a team of 4, said team pressing me up and down in unison in some kind of bouncy motion, then hoisted up by winch, until a team of workers could create some kind of solid landing platform for me to land on. However I fear the reality of me trying to leap out of the way as a car comes screaming towards me, would cause me to losing my footing and end up arse over face, in a ditch covered by twigs, moss, grass and last nights remnants of KFC, then trying to scrabble out of said ditch, swearing, removing, chicken wrappers out of my hair, apologising to the squirrel I have just rolled on. All whilst some twat face leaned out of a car window, absolutely wetting themselves at the sight of this mad Stig of the dump like creature covered in mud and tears, stopping only to take a video of me for their social media page. Then once I had managed to dig my way out of said ditch and on two feet, I would have to drag my poor bruised, hair straggled self to a bus stop filled with suspicious people all wondering why I look so dirty and smell of chicken and suddenly have 3000 views on you tube. That thought is stressful. All those tasks I didn’t have to worry about whilst safe in my little bubble, became now something extra to worry about and I have to admit I have not coped with the change very well. As well as that my darling husband, (yes we still like each other after a year of us both working from home) suddenly started a new job, a better more shiny job, and I didn’t see him as much. I missed him, in fact I still miss him. I lost my lockdown buddy and suddenly the world became much more difficult to navigate with chronic illness, and I retreated into my shell like a sad turtle, not sure how to re-integrate myself back into society.  I know I have not been alone in my thoughts. I met up with one of my darling friends a few weeks ago, and she confessed she had been struggling over lockdown. Her feelings very much echoed my own, except I felt all the things she was feeling now the world was opening up again and so I wondered why? Why now when we have the choice to go out more and explore and be free, dance in the sunflowers with our hair blowing in the wind, why now am I feeling like the feeling of going out fills me with dread and anxiety? I think it’s the feeling of losing control. In my bubble, I had complete control of my own actions. For one whole year, I went out about 6 times throughout the pandemic. I created this lovely, safe, nest for myself and my husband. It was comforting and familiar. Now I feel like I have lost that. I have returned to the office where I work, I know because I am alone in my house I need to do things to upkeep my own mental health and now feel like I have to go out. Its this horrible catch 22 situation where I feel nervous leaving the house but then sad if I stay inside. There’s no safe space for me anymore, plus I had to fully confront head on the effects of fibro and the chronic fatigue syndrome a year on.. One person asked me ‘ So, why were you able to do….. and not able to now?’ and my answer was ‘BECAUSE ITS BEEN A YEAR SINCE I HAD TO AND PHYLLIS IS NOT HAPPY WITH THE NEW ARRANGEMENTS’ followed by ‘Please by all means if you have any grievances, take it up with her I am sure she would be delighted to answer any complaints you have to why I am suddenly not able to walk without looking slightly drunk/ lob sided, speak without repeating myself, and losing the words for toast but be please be aware she likes to swear and bite’ …. and that’s why I feel like over stretched cheese.  So I have had to regroup…. and quite honestly, I am not there yet. It is hard. I am falling into a rut where I am struggling to leave the house or get out of a very stale routine. I have become reliant on my ‘comfort things’ to help me get me through my rough days…. An abundance of tea, MasterChef Australia, MKR, Disney and pyjamas (whilst at home) and I feel like I have lost my Jess spark and not sure how to get it back. I know I am going to have to put a lot of work into self-care to get me back on an even keel, drastically reduce my tv time drastically, start arty projects again, go and see real people with real faces, stop glaring at strangers not wearing masks, follow a routine, say my self-affirmations once again, listen to mindfulness exercises, complete more meditation…. Its going to be hard work. But I refuse to lose myself again. So, if I am quieter than usual, or seem a bit lost, It’s because… because well I am a bit lost. This new world is hard to navigate whilst juggling fibro and LC and CFS and sometimes I just want to drop all my juggling balls and quit the circus. So, for a little while I am going to focus on Jess. And gently supporting myself to feel like me again, one step at a time. I know Phyllis is going to hate me and with all the change I have spent more time on the toilet than recommended dealing with Colins ever changing habits and demands…. But its something I need to do, and for others trying to step back into the world after all this upheaval and unease, I just want to give you a big hug. You got this. Whether you struggled through lockdown, or are struggling now out of lockdown, please be gentle with yourself. One step at a time and if you need to regroup and recharge, then you do that. I am going to try and speak about the way I am feeling and encourage you all to do the same. After all, with this ever-changing world of chronic illness, symptoms, medication, appointments and this new normal, then its important we all support each other because we are all in this together.

#selfcarematters #mental health #mentalhealthmatters #loveyourself #fibrowarrior #fibrofighter #invisible illness #restandrecharge #chronic illness #new journey #allinthistogether

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selenaurrr · 5 years ago

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You Found Me

REQUESTED: Yes

PROMPT: “I thought I almost lost you.”

PAIRING: Matt Casey x Reader

WARNING(S): Kidnapping, Abduction,Swearing, Abuse & Violence.

—

‘Ambulance 61, Injuries from a fall. 815 South Nebraska.’

"Something is bothering you and I want in it.” Sylvie said tapping her fingertips on the black steering wheel as she drove down the streets, I slightly shifted in my seat, leaning my head on the window a bit.

“I just... have a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

“Bullshit. Does it have something to do with Casey?” Sylvie flirty smirked at me, “Oh shut up.” I playfully shoved Sylvie’s shoulder, she gasped then playfully shoved me back. We were cut off just as we reach the call, a man laying on the ground screaming in agony.

I opened my eyes slowly unable to remember what has happened beforehand. Before I could gather my bearings, I was jolted sideways, crashing against a mental wall. I shook my head and steadied myself, trying to figure out where I was and what was going on. I knew deep down I was in the back of truck, I tried my best to get my wrist free from the tight rope wrapped around causing lost of blood circulation.

The truck came to a jolting stop, leaving me to imagine what comes next.

Sound of the vehicle doors slamming could be heard followed by low faint footsteps approaching the back door, once they opened the door I was blinded by sunlight, I squinted. They quickly placed a blindfold over my eyes and duct tape my mouth shut. Someone grabbed a hold of me and roughly jerked out of the truck, causing me to fall to the ground then re-picked up.

I tried to fight with them but they gladly through me down a flight of stairs, I groaned in horrible pain, as low faint footsteps came down the stairs then stopped in front of me. I whimpered in pain.

I was kicked in my stomach throwing me back against the floor, I groaned once more. He smirked licking his lips before bending down and grabbing me by the hair. I screamed muffled against the duct tape, pain shooting up through my scalp, he then dragged me down a narrow hallway; opening a door and threw me into a closed off room, where it had no windows or even a heater in sight.

Black spots clouded my vision, my lungs felt like it was ready to burst any minute now, right as I thought I was going to black out, he pulled me head out bathtub. I gasp for air, coughing up some water I inhaled, before I could say a word he dunked me head back into the water, I managed to choke on some more water, I didn’t think should hold on much longer, but he pulled back out again, I gasped for air.

I was eventually thrown back into the room where I sat on the cold, hard floor beforehand, the only noise I head was the occasional drip of water coming from a nearby faucet. What have I done to deserve this? I thought to myself, as the sound of my quiet, painful sob muffled through my taped mouth.

I slowly fluttered my eyes open. I had a killer headache and my eyes took a while to focus. I felt exhausted, like I had been hit by a bus. I had no idea how long I had been passed out. I was lying on a cold hard surface, probably the floor, and I could feel pain through my whole pain, my mouth was dry with thirst, and the temperature of the room was below average, making me shiver ever so much. The room was pitch black, so I couldn’t tell how long I had been out for, my guessing it was at least a couple of hours.

I could vaguely see a dark figure standing in the doorway, the man dressed in black, with a mask covering his face. He hasn’t moved or said a single word, he just continued staring down at me. Disgusting images filled my mind of what it could be, rape? Sex trafficking? Etc. I just didn’t know, I would just have to wait to find out and hope an opportunity of escape came soon or the intelligence squad comes and rescue me from this hell hole.

My mind tend to wonder away with me with so many different thoughts about what was going to happen to me. I couldn’t decide whether I was relieved they hadn’t killed me yet or not. If that was what they were planning to do with me, I hoped it would be done quick.

“Why are you doing this?” I croaked.

“Make yourself comfortable. You are going to be here for a while.” He grinned and shut the door as he left. The sound of deadbolts could be heard locking on the other side of the door. Leaving me alone in darkness again.

I couldn’t stop shivering, I was laying on the cement cold wet floor, the room wasn’t heated but you could still feel the cold air creeping into the cracks of the building, being scared didn’t help either. I wasn’t sure how long I had been left in here for, it felt like hours and hours, but I couldn’t tell for sure how long it had actually been.

I managed enough strength to prop myself up on the elbows, wincing from agony from the excruciating pain that shot through throughout my whole body but despite the unbearable pain I felt, my head felt a bit clearer now. No more headache. I dragged my body to the wall, leaning against it, the cold air crept in between the cracks of the building; making me shiver. The growling in my stomach reminded me of one thing for sure, I was also starving.

Would they have found Sylvie’s unconscious’s body laying on the ground beside the victim who clearly passed out from blood loss? Did they realized I was missing in action? That I was taken? So many unanswered questions filled my mind thinking of the worst.

“Ah, you’re awake. Good, it’s time to eat.” He set a plate in front of me in an oddly calm manner. My eyes instead flickered to the door he came into. It was big and heavy and there was no way I could’ve taken it down, not even at my full strength and much less drugged up and beaten harshly. “Don’t worry, it’s not poisoned. If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it already.” He spoke reading my untrusting look in my eyes. I shakily reached out and took the plate, and ate hating myself for every single bite I took, but if I was going to get out of here. I would need all the strength I could get.

I didn’t have much time left, before I ended up just another one his victims.

I was battered, tired body full of cuts and bruises. When he came in, he didn’t expect me to be awake. I could tell, I pretended to be asleep worked perfectly in my honor. Without a second to spare, I lunged myself at him, kicking, scratching, screaming and hitting with all my force. I used everything I had in me, my fists, teeth, nails. I didn’t mind the pain, or the blood, I was used to it. If it meant getting me out of there, the element of surprise gave me the head start on what I needed, as I pushed the door open and threw myself out.

I tripped going up the staircase, it took a couple of seconds to adjust to the daylight after countless hours in the darkness, and I navigated through what looked like an abandoned warehouse, desperately trying to find a way out, or even at least a weapon to use to protect me.

I could hear him coming after me, I could feel my body slowly trying to give up on me, failing me in the most important moment in my life, and I pushed even more. I reached for the door knob, so close to the outside world, I screamed when his hand made contact with me, and then a piercing pain filled my whole body, and after that I couldn’t feel anything for a brief second, until I saw a red stream of blood leaving my body where the knife had impaled me, and then everything went black, and for a second I thought or wished this was it. No more pain. No more torture.

Just let me go.

The first thought that popped into my head was that I was alive. In a lot of pain, but steady breathing. But that quickly changed as the smell that invaded my my nostrils was that of dust and something else. Smoke. This son of a bitch was lighting this abandoned warehouse.

The building was engulfed in flames.

I was coughing and gasping for air, I groaned as I lightly touched my gushing open wound, dark blood pouring out of me, I screamed in pain.

“Help me!” I screamed in pain.

Silences filled the room.

The roaring of the flames continued to get louder and louder by the second that time wasted being locked up in the basement of the abandoned warehouse. This isn’t how I wanted to die.

I slowly felt myself go unconscious here and there, it was becoming harder and harder to breathe by the second.

“(Y/N)!”

A faint voice calling my name in the distance, my body lay unmoving on the ground, limped.

"Fire department, call out!”

“Here...” I gasped on my last breath before blacking out.

The sound of deadbolts unlocking the door, and revealing two firefighters standing in the doorway, Matt stopped dead in his tracks because that was when he saw her. Her body lay unmoving on the ground, he knelt down next to her still body. He didn’t know if she was alive, or if it was his worst nightmare had just come true, and if they were too late.

It took a second, because her breathing was so shallow; her pulse was so weak.

There was a giant gash on her side that made his breath catch in his throat for a split second. It looked like it was a stab wound, dark blood poured out. Her body was otherwise badly brutalized, it seemed, with cuts and bruises. It filled him with so much anger and sadness. The bleeding wasn’t stopping, she was suffering a major blood loss, and the only fact that the only thing she had on was a thin sweater and a pair of lacy underwear, had him tugging off his jacket, slipping it around her cold lifeless body.

There was a brief second, where she slowly opened her eyes and found his, and all his anger was gone in the matter of seconds, and then his heart broke into a million pieces, and then slipped back into unconsciousness.

He was able to scoop her into his arms in the gentlest way possible, and carry her out of that place. He kept telling her she was safe, because he thought that maybe in some time of way that she could hear him and he wanted her to know it. He couldn’t even see the real extent of her injuries in the dark smoky building. He knew deep down it was bad, but she was still hanging on for dear life. He didn’t want anything bad to happen to her ever again. Not again.

They lay her down onto stretcher, and loaded her inside the back of the ambulance, “She’s been stabbed. Her breathing is really shallow, and she has lost a lot of blood.”

They placed a respiratory mask over her airway, and starting a line to get some fluids in her. It was a little bit hard to do so, since Matt wouldn’t let go of her hand, not even for a second, and if he did, he found a way to grab onto some other part of her.

His heart broke, when he saw her badly bruised, and wounds, and her overall condition. He knew she must’ve gone through hell and back, he felt sick that he wasn’t able to find her before.

They wheeled her in on the stretcher, and that’s when Matt had to let her go.

The whole fire unit and police unit was crammed into the small waiting room at the hospital. The nurses knew it was pointless, and didn’t even try to send them home, knowing nobody would move if they did. She was the beating heart of Chicago. If you want to see the stars, you must be willing to travel through the dark.

He stood up from the hospital chair, “How is she?”

“Severe dehydration. Multiple bone fractures, but mostly was the blood loss from the stab wound. The knife had punctured her liver, she bleed too much, but she’s stable for now.”

Matt sighed in relief.

I didn’t know where I was at the moment, I blinked a few times, until light quickly adjusted to my vision, and I then realized I was lying in a hospital bed. I realized my hand felt heavy, I turned my head to the other side of the bed, and a familiar figure came into view.

“Matt..”

“You’re awake!” He breathed out, sighting a relief.

“You found me,” I whispered feeling my throat was completely sore and dry, “Of course, I’m here.”

Matt didn’t know what else to say, he gave her a gentle kiss against her forehead, “I thought I almost lost you.”

#chicago fire #chicago fire imagine #matt casey imagine #matt casey x reader #matt casey fan fiction #matt casey #fan fictions #you found me #my fanfic stuff

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iamnightduchess · 4 years ago

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Is it just me or it's getting difficult to find theories and meta on this fandom esp in reddit without someone going "yes genocide is 100% the solution" and as someone who lives under duterte's regime whose followers echo the same sentiments it's getting kinda difficult to navigate through fandom space without seeing those uncomfortable takes

Hello dear Nonnie,

Don't worry, it's not you, it's actually the general consensus in Tumblr that almost all is against a genocidal overlord 😢 but, if we were to share our opinions & stances on that for SnK fandom specifically in all other socmed channels (Reddit, Twitter, FB, IG, YT), get ready to be mentally recked, stand corrected & sniped virtually on the spot. Their genocidal overlord can do no wrong & all the alliance members are ungrateful, idiots & dumbasses for working collectively to stop millions of people and the earth from dying.

I feel so sorry for the people who has this type of mindset: their ancestors, their families and themselves have not been born in a situation where they've been through oppression. Eldians are no different. They were the first oppressor, then now the oppressed and these readers strongly believes that the rest of the world deserves to be fucked up. Eldians in Marley & Eldians in Paradis are like two children that was forced apart and separated when their parents divorced (Fritz 145 & Tyburs/remaining Eldians in Marley). Yet both parents remarried to toxic partners who, also, instead of suggesting of working together for the children's future + greater good, used the children as weapons to attack the other side.

For people from multiracial countries or countries that have or is suffering a regime/administration run by a tyrant, it is always ingrained in us to strive for unity, peace, humanity & livelihood. We were told stories of not of our oppressors but of how us, the people work together to fight for our independence. All different races, we love each other & we want our country be a much better, peaceful safer place for our children. Thus why, Isayama's work hits us so damn much in our hearts. It hits too close to home. Genocide is never a solution. Because even if Eren succeeds & only the Islanders are left alive, bet you how long it'll take for the remaining humans to fight each other even if they're both from the same place, have the same blood. E.g Kiyomi reiterated this to Floch & before that, the Jeagerists were a prime example of what extremists would do.

I myself, is from a country like Marley, where we have asylum-seeking refugees and we are multiracial. We have differences without a doubt but instead of a melting pot, we are a salad bowl where we mixed together in harmony but still retains our unique cultural identity, faith & attributes with respect for each other. Even if you've been blessed enough to not have to go through all that oppression in history, it doesn't take a genius to appreciate all living beings. It's humanity. The world had treated Paradis as an evil entity but you fight hate with love. It's easier said than done, yes, but you and I, we're both living proofs (like Ackermans & Azumabitos!) in the real world that peace has to be fought through unity, empathy, compassion and not violence or mass killings.

They said, the Eldians in Marley have thrown them under the bus but Niccolo & Onyankopon are amazing examples that the rest of the world can coexist with Paradis, but you have to be patient, work hard at it & you need time. My country managed to achieve our independence in 1957 because of our first Prime Minister's efforts; he has a globalist mentality like Armin has. What he did was if Armin goes to Marley to table a thick binder detailing our constitution proposals for an alliance/truce with Paradis. He believes in humanity & he united all races under one country name & constitution. It has been done in reality. (But some people just want to see the world burn)

Oh but no, their genocidal overlord doesn't have much time, (he's dying in four years!) & he feels genocide is the only solution. This is why I agree with Reiner when he said that the Founding couldn't have gone to a much worst person. OG Ymir & Eren are proof that tremendous powers would destroy worlds if they're given to children whose thinking have not fully developed & mature to be logical & objective. (I also want to share my grievances on OG!Ymir. I used to sympathize with her but the moment she got the powers & she went back to offer herself again as the tyrant King's slave, my sympathy just went down the toilet. She was a classic victim who has Stockholm Syndrome & she allowed herself to be manipulated by an abusive man just because she needed to be validated when she has this God-like powers. She should've killed that evil king from the beginning & ally with Marley. Yet now, she's using Eren as a tool/vessel to fuck the whole world up for her own mistake that she made.) also, these people are in denial that the MC/hero can do no wrong. That's the beauty of Isayama's writing: he flipped the table with Reiner as the MC and these people lose their minds. What if he always wanted the story to start with Eren but ends with Reiner?

Thus why, you can only still find a more positive environment that are more 'sound', 'sane' & 'humane' only here in Tumblr. However, I've also personally noticed the sudden appearance of new Tumblr accounts of these toxic members from other channels, sending unsavory asks & commenting with unsavory phrases on mutuals & some of the top posts on my page 😂

Hang in there, Nonnie. It's hard to voice out the truth sometimes but as long as you keep on breathing, you shouldn't stop fighting for humanity's survival just like the alliance!

People can disagree with our opinions but I drew the line at genocide & mass killings. Period. Even criminals have a legislation & justice system before they are ruled out for execution. Eren is a child that's been given the most dangerous powers. His own version of freedom is twisted & skewed. The Alliance is willing to die first, fighting for the world's humanity's survival than living peacefully (really? With the Jeagerists own regime?) in Paradis at the expense of the bloods shed and lives lost by millions around the world.

I'm so sorry for this barrage of texts, Nonnie. I get very emotional when those who supports genocide shits on the humanitarian's principles. You can't also be in other channels without getting brain damage of the 'genocide is right/the only way' sentiments. We can't control what other people posts but the only thing we can, is: how we react to them.

I hope Tumblr could still be a positive safe space if I can help it!

xoxo

Thank you for the Ask! ☀️ Take care & stay safe ❤️

#asks #textposts #anonymous #snk opinions #personal opinions #aot opinions

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queenlists · 5 years ago

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Yours

A/N: We’re at 70! I thank every single one of you whether you follow or not. It’s been brightening my days getting notifications of people following, liking, and/or sharing. I never thought I’d see 70 on this page. THANK YOU! This is a story involving post-death Kyle Spencer. WARNING: Mentions of death and abuse! Thank you so much, again. I hope you enjoy this ✌

Post Date: 12/15/2019

He seemed dangerous.

“Kyle, no! I can’t get him to stop! Help me, (Y/n)!” Zoe screamed to me, her face a ghostly pale and her eyes reddened with fear.

The kind of person you’d better steer clear of.

He couldn't speak - only grunt, groan, and yell.

He flung his arms around, knocking things over.

Kyle threw everything in his path at the wall. Pushing over dressers, throwing lamps, throwing books, ripping pillows apart, tearing blankets, etc. Anything that could be destroyed in any way was. The way he flung his arms around showed that he lacked motor skills, he couldn’t really control his arms as they flung around him lifelessly only causing him to scream, yell, and destroy some more.

He seemed inhuman, animalistic if you will.

He lacked self control.

He lacked control, period.

“I am so happy he’s calm now. I was getting so scared!” Madison fanned herself with her hand. Zoe stood there watching Kyle, shaking violently. “What the hell did you two do?” I hissed at the two who exchanged looks with one another. “Hello?! I need to know what happened! Why is Frankenstein’s son in the coven?”

Apparently, he wasn’t always this way.

From what Zoe told me, she met Kyle at a party. He was kind and sweet before Madison flipped the bus that he was in over, killing him in the crossfire.

They managed to resurrect him after treating his body like Mr. Potato Head, playing Build-A-Boyfriend.

“He’s not the same, Kyle. I don’t think I can do this,” Zoe sobbed. “Well, I’m not.” Madison scoffed. Taking a deep breath, I rolled my eyes “You two owe me big time.” Madison and Zoe celebrated amongst themselves as I got up to walk to Kyle. His big, dark eyes looked up at me and I couldn’t help, but to smile at him.

He didn’t come back the same sweet frat boy he once was.

That scared Zoe and Madison off.

Leaving me to deal with what they created.

At first, I minded. Now, not so much.

I can see it in his eyes that he means well.

After a day or two, I could not handle his outbursts any longer. Every day was a constant losing battle. I was up every hour on the hour consoling him back to sleep and calming his rage fits down. I was beyond exhausted. With little thought, Zoe, Madison, and I decided taking Kyle home to his mom was our best bet. When we got there, his mom was ecstatic. Him not so much. As the door closed between us, he stared at me with cold, sad eyes. A tension crept down my spine. "Okay, we learned our lesson with that. Never again!" Madison huffed. "Yeah, never again" Zoe agreed. As we walked away, I couldn't help but keep looking back. Something inside of me was screaming to turn back. Something was wrong. Something was going to be wrong.

A few days passed and I could not shake Kyle from my mind. Throwing on clothes, I rushed downstairs to go pay him a visit. Knocking did nothing. Nobody was answering which was all too odd. I felt a coldness in the air. A coldness that meant no good. I welcomed myself into the home, creeping around the house as I breathed in the still of the air. Then I saw it. I saw what I feared most. Kyle's mom dea, lying in a pool of her own blood. I covered my mouth as I backed out of the room. My heart thudding hard against my chest. My hands creating a pool of sweat. I backed up until I was stopped by a stiff body behind me, turning around shakily there he was. Kyle, bloodied. His eyes were red-rimmed and crazy. His lip quivering. "Kyle, what did you do?" Kyle stood there, just watching me. Something happened. He wasn't a monster. Something happened.

"Are you hungry? You must be hungry." I gave Kyle's cheek a gentle pat before navigating my way to the kitchen to prepare him something. He stayed put, frozen in his spot. I slowly put together a sandwich for him, gathering my thoughts. I carefully picked up the plate and brought it to Kyle "I want you to go eat, okay?" I sat the plate down on the nearby table. Kyle obediently went to the plate, giving me time to do what I needed to do. I walked back into the room and knelt down beside Kyle's mom's body. With a shaky hand, I pressed my hand gently against her back. I saw it all.

I saw how she hurt him. Touched him in ways she shouldn't have. Violated him. Forced herself onto him. Out of fear, he protected himself. My heart broke in ways it bever did before. I quickly raced to Kyle, tears falling down my face as he looked up to me. He grunted, pointing to himself, to me, and then to the door. "You want to come home with me, baby?" My voice squeaked out. The pain he endured because I chose an extra two hours of rest over his peace hurt me. It shook me to my core that this all could have been prevented if I had only kept him with me. Where I knew he was safe. Where he knew he was safe. He smiled, nodding to me. "Let's go home, Kyle."

----

It was hard. The tantrums. The teaching. I felt tired!

"Kyle put it down now!" I screamed at the enraged man. Little things set him off. He was a ticking time bomb, but he never put his hands on me. Kyle threw the lamp against the wall, grunting loudly. "Kyle, you need to calm down right now!"

I felt lost.

Kyle screamed, tears flowing out of his dark eyes and down his rosy cheeks. He pushed over my bookcase along with my dresser. "I can't do this!" I yelled, putting my face in my hands, sobbing. I didn't know I was about to cry, but the emotions of this were too much for me. The yelling, the destruction, the tantrums were day in and day out. My body shook violently as I loudly sobbed into my hands. Soon, I heard whimpering coming from Kyle. Looking up, he was right there in front of me. "Sorry..I..sorry," Kyle slowly spoke, wiping away my tears "Kyle..sorry. (Y/n), no leave." My heart broke at the fact that he thought he was disposable to me, that I could throw him away at any given moment. Like I had before. “I will never leave you again. I promise.”

--------

“No, no, no, no!” Kyle screamed repeatedly, banging his fists against the bedroom wall. “Kyle, it’s okay! You’re okay. You need to get into the bath,” I walked towards Kyle as he punched holes into the bedroom room. “Kyle, enough!” I yelled loud enough to get his attention “Come with me, baby,” I held my hand out for Kyle as his shoulders slumped and his arms fell loosely to his sides. Kyle stared at my hand as his eyes began to turn red, tears falling down his face. He whimpered "Mad?" Kyle didn't speak much, but he was learning! “No, I'm not mad. You’re okay, honey. Let’s get in the bath.”Kyle walked over to me and fell to his knees in sobs, holding onto my legs. I gently ran my fingers through his soft dirty blonde hair “It’s okay, Kyle. You’re alright.” I managed to get Kyle to stand up and follow me into the bathroom where I already had a bath drawn.

Kyle pointed at the bubbles and smiled, oohing at the sight. “You like bubbles, huh?” I laughed, helping Kyle get undressed. His motor skills were equivalent to a toddler’s. He needed assistance in daily living: dressing, bathing, feeding, etc. I had to watch my words and my temper with him. Some days were way better than others, but I kept my promise. I eased Kyle into the bath slowly and then sat down on the closed toilet once he was in, thrashing and splashing around excitedly. He was full of wonder and amazement with life. I felt complete with him. "Bath?" Kyle smiled, pointing at me. I shook my head, giggling "No, no bath for me!" Kyle poked his bottom lip out as his eyes widened, guilting me with that puppy dog face. I playfully rolled my eyes at him, shaking my head "You're gonna stop that! It won't always work," I warned, undressing.

Getting in the bath, we played together. Splashing, singing, blowing bubbles, etc. With him, life was brightly new. Yes, it was complicated but it was damn worth it.

-------

"I love you," Kyle straightened his tie before heading downstairs to play butler. "I love you too, Kyle!" I smiled, kissing him on the cheek. He grabbed me, getting really close to my face "No, I love you." Words wouldn't come out of my mouth. I knew that things had changed for good when Fiona managed to "fix" him. He didn't rely on me as much, He could dress himself, bathe himself, feed himself, and could express himself. After awhile of it, our time together began to take a different turn, a turn lacking innocence.

"Kyle I-" "I want you. Be mine?" Kyle interrupted, smiling at me with those big, dark irresistible eyes. "I’m yours!" I laughed out, gently kissing him. “Oh my, you two?” Misty gasped, clapping her hands over her smiling mouth. Grinning, I nodded my head “Yes!” “Finally! Stevie and I told you she’d say yes, Kyle. This is wonderful!” Misty wrapped Kyle and I into a tight, warm bear hug.

It was a turn of events I never thought would happen, but through it all, I knew we were a match made forever.

#kyle spencer #kyle spencer ahs #kyle spencer american horror story #american horror story #american horror story imagines #american horror story fanfiction #ahs imagine #evan peters ahs #ahs #ahs fanfiction #ahs fanfic #fantasy #fanfic #fanfiction

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