#also love when the cast is a little loopy from finally reaching the end of filming and riding the high from resolutely kicking ass

[lesbianaelwen]

i was half expecting Lila’s last check to be like “you find all the paperwork from exxon and the like where they know how bad climate change will be and they’re knowingly continuing and you out them like three decades earlier” but a fucking doctorate is also ~super cool

[sunlit-squid]

(simping softness prompts) could i get some “hey, everything's gonna be fine. stay where you are, i'm on my way” or “holy crap, i thought you were dead! never do that to me again!” if you are feeling so inclined? sorry im just in love w ur writing

For those who don't know, my ask box is open. Send me a simping softness prompt, and I'll write a short sbsp ficlet for you. ✰

i'm gonna do "hey, everything's gonna be fine ...", but don't you worry. i will also be doing "holy crap ..." at some point, since someone else requested it.

anyway, thanks for the prompt, and for the kind words! while we're here, i should also say that @wowthwtslame is doing a similar ficlet challenge. their writing is wonderful, so definitely check them out!

also tagging @azumeowth, who requested the same prompt!

ficlet under the cut. thanks again!

The call came in -- loudly -- at around 2 in the morning.

When Squidward rolled over to check his shell phone, the dull blue screen read, simply, “SpongeBrat”, accompanied by a vomit emoji. Sighing, the octopus put his phone on silent and went back to bed. Surely whatever it was the sponge wanted to blabber about could wait until tomorrow. After a decent night’s sleep.

Unfortunately, sleep was hard to come by. Despite having switched his phone to silent, the device’s small blue screen continued to light up repeatedly, like a small, pathetic rave. Every few seconds, the small blue light cast peculiar shadows on the walls of Squidward’s bedroom. Eventually, after thirty minutes of tossing and turning, the cephalopod grabbed his phone to shove it inside the nightstand -- when he caught a glimpse of the screen itself.

43 missed calls. 37 unread text messages. All from “SpongeBrat” Squarepants.

The phone rang again. This time, Squidward picked up.

“Spongebob, do you have any idea what time it is?” snapped Squidward, despite the uncomfortable, worried feeling growing in his stomach. “No? Well, I’ll tell you -- it is two-forty-seven --”

“I-I know, Squidward,” came a small, shaking Spongebob-voice. “I just -- I didn’t know what to do.”

Squidward paused. Well, that was … not the regular Spongebob volume. Or tone. Or pitch.

“Squ -- Squidward?” came the sponge’s soft, sad voice once more. The frycook’s voice was barely audible. There was some sort of loud, constant whooshing happening on the other end, not to mention a weird crackling noise, which made it very difficult to hear. Squidward sighed, wiping a tentacle across his eyes.

“I’m here,” said Squidward. “What’s this about, Spongebob?”

Silence. Then, crying -- and not Spongebob’s usual loud, obnoxious crying. This crying was quiet and gentle, barely decipherable against the loud whooshing on the other end of the line. Squidward sat up then, pressing the phone close to his ear.

“Sponge,” said Squidward, panic rising in his chest. “Sponge, what’s wrong?”

Spongebob sobbed something indiscernible. Then, he stammered, “I’m -- I’m hurt, Squidward. I’m hurt, and … I’m lost.”

Something funny exploded in Squidward’s chest. Before he knew it, the octopus was out of bed, scrambling for his jacket and keys. Gripping his shell phone tight, Squidward asked, “Where are you? What’s going on, Spongebob?”

On the other end of the line, Spongebob snuffled. “I got on the wrong bus,” he explained, in a shaky, uneven voice. “I -- I’m in a place called ‘Deviltown’ now, and the current is so strong, and the signal is pretty bad --” There was that distorted, crackling sound again -- followed by a few more broken whimpers.

Squidward sighed, feeling his hearts crack with every little sob. “Hey, everything’s going to be fine,” he said, stepping out the door and into the cool Bikini Bottom night. “Stay where you are. I’m on my way.”

-0-

Deviltown, it turned out, was several hours away from Bikini Bottom. Squidward’s shell phone indicated the drive not only went straight, but downward -- which was certainly a problem. Oceanic towns grew more and more dangerous the deeper you went, and Deviltown was apparently thousands of nautical leagues under the sea. Wherever Spongebob was, even the sun couldn’t reach him.

Undeterred, Squidward set off on his journey. His boat was constantly maintained, so the cephalopod was certain it could handle the perilous road ahead.

For the first hour or so, the drive was uneventful -- peaceful, even. The streets were smooth and well taken care of, which was good considering the massive tax hike this past year. Squidward even put on some Kelpy G, which certainly helped to soothe his nerves.

Later on, however, the drive got worse. The once well-maintained roads gave way to rickety rocks and slippery sand, with only a few sporadic road signs to get by. Moonlight became sparse, and by the time Squidward reached a vertical road, he had his brights all the way up -- and was still struggling to see.

A nearby rickety sign read “Deviltown, 10 nautical miles downward.” Peering down into the deep abyss, Squidward gulped. Despite his headlights, he still couldn’t see a thing -- just a vast expanse of open blackness.

A tight feeling wound itself around Squidward’s chest. He thought about backing up, turning around, and going straight home. This was ridiculous. Why was he out here, in the wee hours of the morning, chasing after SpongeBrat Squarepants, of all people? The boy had other friends. Certainly one of them would be willing to retrieve him.

Squidward’s tentacle hovered just over the gear stick. That’s when he saw it: in his passenger seat lay Spongebob’s wrinkled little jacket. The sponge must have left it behind the other day, when Squidward (begrudgingly) drove them both home from work.

Squidward’s chest felt hollow, suddenly. He thought of how many times he’d seen Spongebob in that exact jacket over the years.

He thought of never seeing him in that jacket ever again.

Groaning, the octopus switched gears from “Drive” to “Drive, But Downward”, and puttered his way into the deep and black abyss.

-0-

The journey into the inky black was, bar none, one of the creepiest things Squidward had ever experienced. He told himself, repeatedly, that if he just stared straight ahead and focused on the task at hand, then everything would be fine. Still, hearing creepy noises in the darkness (and being unable to see where they came from) was severely unsettling.

After what felt like forever, the vertical road became horizontal once again, and Squidward finally drove into Deviltown. Luckily, the town had the decency to set up some lamp posts, possibly for out-of-towners like Squidward who were unused to the darkness. Still, the lamp posts were few and far between, and there was nobody out and about, giving Deviltown a fittingly creepy vibe nonetheless.

Tense, cold, and worried, Squidward drove further into town, squinting for Spongebob’s bright yellow body. Surely the boy couldn’t be that hard to spot -- he was likely the only vibrant thing down here. Surely --

Oh. Oh, no.

Squidward brought his boat careening to a stop. Clambering out of it, the octopus made his way over to a rickety wooden bus stop, with a flickering lamp post just overhead. On a bench nearby was none other than Spongebob Squarepants: cold, alone, and unconscious. For a moment, a horrible thought passed through Squidward’s head -- is he dead? -- before he saw the sponge’s chest rise and fall, taking slow and steady breaths.

Breathing a huge sigh of relief, Squidward looked up and down the street. No one in sight.

Gently, the octopus leaned down and shook Spongebob lightly. “Hey,” said Squidward, awkwardly. “What are you doing asleep all the way out here? We have work tomorrow, you know.”

Spongebob stirred. In the dim light, Squidward realized the sponge really was hurt -- his usually spiffy shirt and tie were ripped straight down the middle. Beyond the fabric, the sponge’s chest was badly torn up, too, and for some reason, he had not regenerated yet.

Squidward swallowed. “Spongebob?”

The sponge stirred once more. This time, his eyes opened -- and he smiled, weakly. “Squidward,” he slurred, happily. He tried to laugh, then winced, clutching at his stomach and chest. “Squidward, it’s you … you came … ”

“Of course I came,” muttered Squidward, before he could stop himself. “I -- you … ugh, I hate you.”

Scooping up Spongebob, Squidward gently carried him over to the boat, positioning him carefully in the passenger’s seat. The sponge fussed a little about being buckled in, but otherwise, seemed too out of it to complain properly. Taking a deep breath, Squidward got back behind the wheel and started the engine.

“Heheh,” chuckled Spongebob as the boat roared to life. “Vroom-vroom.”

Squidward rolled his eyes and began turning the boat around, back towards Bikini Bottom. “We’re going home now,” he said, with a sigh. “You need to see a doctor for … whatever it was that happened to you.”

Spongebob simply nodded, then fell to his side, leaning all of his body weight on Squidward as he drove. The octopus felt warmth rising to his cheeks, and for once felt grateful for the murky blackness of the ocean void.

Spongebob was mumbling something.

“What is it?” said Squidward. “Are you okay?”

“I …uh … love you, Squidward,” said Spongebob, in a very loopy voice. “I love your big nose, and your paintings, and I wanna … get married, someday. Okay? Can we get married, someday?”

Squidward’s entire face was bright red now. It took everything in him not to just veer in a random direction and crash the entire damn boat. Taking a deep breath, the octopus collected himself. Spongebob was just severely injured, and loopy as a result. He didn’t really mean any of this.

Squidward decided to play along. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, we can get married.”

“Mm,” said Spongebob, chuckling softly. “Can I -- can I wear a dress?”

“Sure,” said Squidward. “Whatever you want.”

“And you’ll … and you’ll kiss me?”

“Mhm,” mumbled Squidward.

“And I can … listen to you play the clarinet around the house … and, and paint with you … and watch your soaps with … you … ”

Squidward looked over. The sponge had fallen asleep, and was snoring loudly. Which was … good. Very good. Excellent, even. That way, they couldn’t talk about marriage or love or any of that absolute nonsense. Now they could just drive forward in sweet silence.

Still, Squidward found himself dwelling over Spongebob’s words far more than he would have liked.

About an hour into the drive home, the octopus glanced over at the sponge, still fast asleep beside him. Fixing his gaze forward, Squidward took a deep breath, clutching the steering wheel in a tight death-grip.

“Spongebob, I …,” Squidward began, shakily. “I love you. I love you, I love you.”

Squidward found that once he started saying it, he couldn’t stop. The words felt good in his mouth, like a massive weight had finally been lifted off his chest.

“I love everything about you,” said Squidward, his three hearts exploding inside his chest. “Your annoying laugh, your stupid singing, all of it. I want to read with you, and garden with you.”

Squidward hesitated, his words floating out into the open water.

“I love you,” said Squidward, one last time. “And I … I don’t know what to do about it. Maybe I’m a coward. I’m sorry.”

Squidward looked over. Spongebob was still fast asleep, snoring away against his arm -- but the smallest of smiles had appeared on his face.

-0-

Squidward woke up in the hospital, seated in a chair next to Spongebob’s hospital bed. The poriferan was wide awake, watching an episode of Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy on the hospital television. Of course.

The sponge turned. “Squidward!” he exclaimed, his voice loud and back to normal. “You’re awake!”

“Unfortunately,” muttered the octopus. “How are you feeling?”

“Great!” chirped Spongebob. “Better than ever, actually -- but the doc says I should stick around for a little while, just in case.”

Squidward glanced down. Sure enough, Spongebob’s chest had almost fully regenerated. Thank Neptune. When they arrived at the Bikini Bottom General Hospital early that morning, Spongebob was still in rough shape. The doctor said Spongebob most likely had a run-in with a deep-sea predator, and the attack was too quick and too constant for the poriferan to regenerate. Not to mention there were several lacerations to his vital organs.

Still, sponges were pretty sturdy folk -- and all Spongebob really needed was a long rest in a controlled environment.

Squidward breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Great,” he said, awkwardly. “I, uh. Pay attention next time you get on the bus, alright? So I don’t have to come running after you.”

Spongebob laughed. “Okey-doke.”

The two then sat together in silence for an uncomfortable amount of time. All the while, Squidward wondered if perhaps his stupid, impulsive, not-really-a-love-confession-confession had actually gotten through to Spongebob. His hearts twisted up at just the thought.

“Hey, Squidward?”

The octopus looked up, and was very surprised to find splotches of red decorating the sponge’s cheeks.

“What?” said Squidward.

“My, uh, sea flowers have been dying lately,” said the sponge, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “Maybe you could come by and we could share some gardening tips?”

A brilliant red blush planted itself on Squidward’s face. Then, he cleared his throat, and folded his arms across his chest. “Only if we get to watch a soap afterwards.”

Spongebob grinned. “Deal.”

Squidward found himself grinning, too, despite himself. “Deal.”

References:

“Deviltown” is loosely based off of the Devil Sea, near the Japanese coast.

I will likely be compiling these ficlets into one combined fic on ao3. I originally wasn't going to, but I definitely didn't expect so many requests. So keep an eye out for that, at some point.

[anotherkpopvictim]

Broken But Healing - Hoseok X BTS Littlespace Drabble

“Imogen asked: I’d love little Hobi being really unwell (maybe even a hospital trip) and just being taken care of by the rest of the members.”

A/N: First of all, thank you so much for requesting! I changed it slightly to an injury sending Hobi to the hospital instead of an illness or something. I hope I did your request justice.

Second, I am so sorry for posting this literally months after you requested it. Sometimes life just doesn’t bring me the will or inspiration to write, but I finally got it finished in a way that I liked.

Relationship: Little!Hoseok X Caregivers!BTS

Rating: G

Words: 2114

Hurt/comfort, fluff

DISCLAIMER: I don’t know shit about medical stuff so I’m sorry if it’s inaccurate but I tried my best.

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Hoseok knew that going into a career that involved dancing meant having sore feet all the time and countless other injuries. It was unavoidable. He’d been lucky enough in his thirteen years of dancing not to have done anything severe. He’d never even broken a bone before.

However, there was a first time for everything.

All the BTS members and staff were gathered together in the rented performance hall, polishing everything up for the online concert they were going to be having in just a few weeks’ time.

Hoseok made a simple misstep while going through the choreography and his foot missed the stage, instead plunging him off of the rather high platform they were on.

As the lead dancer felt the breath knock out of him and an excruciating pain running up his left leg, he could hear the distant-sounding calls of his bandmates.

“Hoseok-ah!”

“Hyung!”

Namjoon was the first one to reach him, followed quickly by the other members and some of their staff. The leader had wide, concerned eyes as he kneeled next to Hoseok’s collapsed form. “Hobi-hyung, can you hear me?”

There were a few startled gasps and a couple swear words from the others, but Hoseok could barely focus on anything other than Namjoon’s face, the floaty feeling in his head, and the sudden numbness in his whole body.

“Hobi-hyung,” Namjoon repeated, trying his best to keep his voice calm.

Hoseok swallowed, “J-Joonie?” his tone was soft and airy, instantly giving away his little headspace. “H-Hobi f-fell.”

Namjoon, who immediately crowded in closer when he realized the other was in littlespace, took his hand and smiled sadly. “I know you did, baby. It was a pretty bad fall.”

Seokjin came into his view, immediately taking up Hoseok’s other hand. “Can you tell hyungs how you’re feeling, sweetheart?”

“I-It hurt before, but the pain went away now,” Hoseok replied softly.

Seokjin and Namjoon shared a concerned look between them at that.

Before anything else could be said, Jimin appeared at Hoseok’s head, upside down in his vision. “Baby, it looks like you’re gonna get to ride in an ambulance today, isn’t that cool?”

“Am-bu-ance,” Hoseok sounded out, eyes widening. “B-But the pain is gone. Hobi doesn’t need help.”

“Your leg is hurt, honey,” Seokjin said, kissing the little’s knuckles in comfort. “A doctor needs to look at it.”

Hoseok whined, looking between his three bandmates. “H-Hurt? I-Is it bad?”

There was a silence before Jimin smiled at him, though even upside down it looked more like a wince. “It’s pretty bad, baby.”

Almost instinctively, Hoseok lifted his head to glance down at his legs but was stopped by his three boyfriends pushing him back and shaking their heads frantically at him.

“No, don’t get up, sweetheart,” Seokjin said, a strained smile on his lips. “Don’t look at it.”

“Just look at us,” Jimin added, running his fingers through Hoseok’s disheveled dark locks.

Hoseok was so distracted and out of it that he barely noticed when the paramedics arrived, nor when they stabilized his leg. He frowned when he was lifted onto a gurney and the world began flying by. He immediately missed the warmth of Seokjin, Namjoon, and Jimin’s hands on him.

Yoongi came into his view before he could whine in displeasure, running a hand through the younger’s hair before they lifted him into the ambulance. The eldest rapper hopped in after him and sat next to him as the vehicle started up.

“I’m right here, Hobi-ah. Hyung’s right here, love,” Yoongi assured him.

A few seconds went by (or a few minutes - Hoseok’s mind was getting too fuzzy to understand time properly) before the younger spoke up. “H-Hyungie, don’t feel good.”

“I know you don’t, bub,” Yoongi replied softly. “It’ll be okay, though. I promise.”

Hoseok didn’t get to hear anymore before he fell completely into unconsciousness, but the older man’s words made him feel more at ease.

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

“How is he?” Jungkook stood up abruptly in the private waiting room as Yoongi walked in. Jimin put a hand on his shoulder and gave a gentle tug so he would sit back down.

Yoongi sighed, “He passed out on the way here. The paramedics said it was from shock but his vital signs were normal, if a bit elevated but they said it was to be expected. They just took him into the operating room so I had to leave him.”

“Did they say anything about how badly his leg was broken?” Namjoon asked worriedly.

Yoongi shook his head and sunk into Taehyung’s lap, who wasted no time wrapping his arms around his hyung.

Being a dancer and just an active person in general, all of them were worried about how long this injury was going to affect their boyfriend and how he would get through it.

It felt like forever before the doctor finally came into the room, a small smile on his lips. “Jung Hoseok is doing alright,” he said before anything else. The man was on the shorter side and probably in his late forties, a pair of black-framed glasses sitting on his nose. Dr. Song was one of the doctors that frequently tended to the BTS members, so it was nice to see a familiar face.

All six of them were on their feet and anxiously awaiting what the doctor would say next.

The man took a deep breath and glanced down at his file. “Hoseok-ssi suffered an impacted fracture of his left fibula and caused some damage internally, but nothing major was disrupted. Thankfully, he only has two hairline fractures in his tibia that should heal within a few weeks.”

They all let out a simultaneous sigh of relief; at least Hoseok hadn’t broken both leg bones.

“And the operation went alright?” Seokjin asked.

Dr. Song nodded, “Smooth sailing. He’ll be in a cast for about eight or nine weeks. After that, with some physical therapy, he should be back to dancing by the beginning of next year.”

“That’s good to hear,” Jimin said with a smile. “Thank you so much for everything, Dr. Song.”

The man smiled back at him. “No need to thank me. I can take you to him now if you’d like, though he is still unconscious at the moment.”

The six of them eagerly followed the doctor through the maze of hallways until they reached a room marked with ‘Private Room #7’ written on it in clear, bold letters.

“He should be awake within the hour but he’ll probably be out of it for a good while after that. We’ve given him some medication for the pain and judging by the notes on his file that says he’s sensitive to drugs, he’ll most likely be a bit loopy.” Dr. Song explained as he led them into the private room.

The room itself was fairly large and had a sofa and a few chairs around for seating. Dr. Song moved to pull aside a curtain that revealed Hoseok laying on the hospital bed. He only had an IV in his hand and a heartrate monitor over his left pointer finger. They observed their boyfriend’s paler than normal complexion but peaceful face as he slept.

“I’ll come back in a little while with some prescriptions to help with his pain,” Dr. Song gave a quick smile and bow which the boys all returned before the man left the room.

As soon as the doctor had disappeared, all six pairs of eyes were back on their boyfriend’s unconscious form and a silence fell over the room for a few minutes.

“He’s not going to be happy when he wakes up to find himself in the hospital,” Yoongi commented.

Jimin hummed in agreement, “He hates hospitals.”

They all knew how much of an understatement that was. Hoseok had a huge phobia of hospitals. Thankfully, their private room was fairly comfortable and homey, only the IV and monitor giving an indicator it was a hospital room at all.

“Do you think he’ll be Little?” Seokjin asked.

“Hard to say for sure,” Namjoon replied. “Though I think he might slip pretty quickly even if he wakes up Big.”

Jungkook was the one that looked away from Hoseok long enough to realize that they were kind of just creepily standing around his bed, hovering over him. “I think we’ll scare him if he wakes up and sees us like this.”

They went about gathering some chairs and along with the couch in the room, there was enough seating for all of them.

Taehyung was leaning on his hand as he watched Hoseok once more. He pouted and sighed, “I feel bad for hyung. I hope his leg will heal alright.”

Yoongi reached over from his seat to ruffled Taehyung’s hair, a fond smile on his lips. “We’ll do everything we can to help him, and we can hope.”

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

Hoseok blinked his eyes open, though they felt like they were weighed down by lead. He was met with the sight of a white ceiling and tan walls and unmistakable machinery beside him, and his six boyfriends scattered around the room.

Namjoon and Jimin were curled up together in a comfy chair on the right side of the bed Hoseok was on, fast asleep. Yoongi and Jin were slumped together on a couch a few feet away from the end of the bed, also fast asleep.

The only two who seemed to be awake were the maknaes. Taehyung and Jungkook were both seated on a chair together on Hoseok’s left, speaking softly with each other. When they caught sight of Hoseok’s open eyes they sat up straighter and looked at him with wide eyes.

“Hyung!” Jungkook blurted out.

Taehyung immediately shushed him, “Don’t wake the others.” Then he turned back to Hoseok with that gentle, boxy smile of his. “I’m so glad you’re awake, hyung. You really scared us earlier.”

Hoseok blinked at them, still trying to put the puzzle pieces of what had happened together. He was in a hospital - that much he had gathered - but the why was what he didn’t know.

Jungkook seemed to read his mind and said softly, “You had an accident during our concert rehearsal earlier.”

Oh, now he remembered.

Hoseok’s face paled and his eyes widened as his mind replayed the horrible experience. Tears welled up in his eyes before he could stop them, and he sniffled loudly. “H-Hobi gots hurt!” he managed out with a scratchy voice.

Jungkook instantly got up and hurried out of the room to get him a cup of water, while Taehyung’s face softened at Little Hobi. “You did, bub.” He replied, taking one of Hoseok’s hands into his own. “But you’re going to be just fine. Do you hurt at all right now, sweetheart?”

Hoseok shook his head and Taehyung smiled, relieved.

Jungkook returned with a large Styrofoam cup of iced water. He held it out and positioned the straw for Hoseok to take a sip. The cool water instantly helped the dryness in his throat.

“D-Does...” Little Hobi started, “Does Hobi have booboos?”

Taehyung and Jungkook shared a glance before Taehyung answered, “Yeah, baby. You broke your leg, but the doctor fixed it up in a cast so it can heal quickly.”

Hoseok let out a little whine as he looked at his legs, obscured from his view by a mountain of blankets (Seokjin’s doing probably). One leg was obviously larger than the other because of the cast, but at least he wasn’t in any pain.

“Hobi hyu- I mean, Hobi love,” Jungkook said, grabbing his attention once more. “I got some colorful markers from the nurses,” he held up a small bag of markers that Hoseok had missed, “I thought maybe we could draw pretty things all over your cast to help it get better. What do you think?”

Hoseok’s eyes widened and he smiled, tiredly but happily. “Yes, yes! Please Kookie. Please Taehyungie! Draw pretty pictures, please!”

The two maknaes chuckled fondly. Taehyung nodded, “Of course, love.”

Hoseok wasn’t so scared when Jungkook maneuvered the blankets off of his left leg and revealed the bulky cast covering most of his leg. It looked too plain, but Taehyung and Jungkook quickly worked to fix that by covering it in a variety of colors.

Hoseok giggled as the other two bickered about their drawings, feeling the last of the absolute fear he’d felt earlier leave him completely. He was still uncomfortable in the hospital, his fear ever lingering, and he was even more scared about his leg healing, but he knew he had his six boyfriends right by his side (quite literally, right now) who would help him through the tough weeks to come.

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A/N: Fun fact: I have never broken a bone before so I don’t know actually know what it feels like. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it!!

[glenngaylord]

Glenn Gaylord’s Capsules From The Bunker – Summer 2021 Lockdown Style

Like many of you, I’ve lost all concept of space and time during this lockdown era. I’d watch movie after movie, but somehow forget to write about them. I’d consume films for sustenance, but then I’d move on to the next task of cleaning a room, doing a crossword puzzle, or staring at my dog for hours on end. Thank goodness I have a few friends to have breakfast with every now and then, or else I’d have assumed I had been transported to a cabin in Montana. “Am I a film critic or a hermit?” I’d ask myself daily…that is, if I even understand what days are anymore. All of this is to say that I have a lot of catching up to do now that we’ve taken a baby step or two towards returning to some sense of normalcy. Wait a minute. What’s that? Highly transmissible variants? Back into the cave I go. While I still can, I’ve managed to blurt out a few capsule reviews of some films worth mentioning.

In Between Gays – Film Review: Summer Of 85 ★★★★

Prolific French filmmaker, François Ozon, has made a career out of finding dark crevices in the most unexpected of places. Here, with Summer Of 85, he tweaks this New Wave era gay romance just enough to upend our expectations. In pure Talented Mr. Ripley meets Call Me By Your Name meets Luca fashion, Ozon spins what could have been that sun-dappled, seaside summer that changed everything into a love that perhaps never was, zeroing in instead on a young man’s obsession for something unobtainable. Beautifully shot and acted, Ozon takes the story to more provocative places than you’d initially expect while still maintaining the boppy fizz of a great Cure song. Despite the mish mash of tones, the film has a pulse all of its own. It’ll make you swoon, pull the rug out from under you, and then make you wonder how he managed to quietly get a little twisted.

Summer Of 85 currently in select theaters, see official website for details. Released on DVD and BluRay August 17th.

Truffle In Mind – Film Review: Pig ★★★★

Writer-director Michael Sarnoski makes an auspicious feature debut with the story of a man searching for his stolen truffle-hunting pig. Caked in dirt, blood and looking not so much like a homeless man but as a person who died inside a thousand times over, Nicholas Cage gives one of his best performances ever as a man who seeks the truth at all costs. He asks his only connection to the outside world, Amir, played wonderfully by Alex Wolff, to drive him through Portland’s dark underbelly to retrieve his pet companion.

Although the film takes us to a rather unbelievable “Fight Club” moment, it generally holds its mood with credibility. It’s a great calling card, not only for Sarnoski, but also for his talented cinematographer Patrick Scola, who brings a painterly quality to every single image. The film finds beauty in a bite of food, a breath of air, or simply the compassion between two main characters who have seemingly little in common. It’s a shame the trailer elicits laughs when Cage utters lines like, “Who has my pig?” Clearly they want to sell the actor’s neo-gonzo persona, but Cage brings so much depth and seriousness to this project, only raising his voice once. He deserves the highest praise for committing to such an oddly touching, gorgeously quiet story. At risk of sounding Dad-jokey, the only thing that hogs the scenery is his porcine friend.

Pig is in theaters now.

All Is Lost – Film Review: Old ★★

In 1999, M. Night Shyamalan made a great film, The Sixth Sense, and has been chasing that dragon ever since, often to diminishing returns. His films, however, often do well because he has great concepts, a keen eye for visuals and timing, yet things always seem to turn clunky and inane real fast. With Old, he continues down that path by giving us something compelling—a group of people on a beach who age quickly—and ruining it with dialogue seemingly written by an algorithm and rendered unintelligible much of the time, while the terrific cast seem to have no idea how to make Shyamalan’s words sound any better than a high school play. A couple of sequences did make me sit up and take notice, and he uses compositions and offscreen space well, but overall, Old plays like a stretched-out episode of Lost, and like that cool but overstuffed series, you’re not gonna get very good explanations as to what transpires. Sure, the big twist works well enough on some level, but it doesn’t save you from the discomfort of watching good actors flatline in more ways than one.

Old is currently in theaters nationally.

Hi Fidel-ity – Film Review: Revolution Rent ★★★1/2

Shot in 2014, Andy Señor Jr., who played Angel on Broadway along with a host of other credits, staged the classic musical Rent in Havana during a thaw in our relations with the Communist regime. He did so against the wishes of his Cuban family, who suffered under Castro and insisted his production would merely serve as a propaganda tool for the government. He plows ahead instead, capturing the months long process in a rather artless home movie style. The aesthetics don’t carry any weight here when you have such a compelling subject matter. Witnessing his actors struggling with their performances while also living in harsh conditions adds new layers to the late Jonathan Larson’s story of squatters in the age of AIDS.

With a limited talent pool, one of whom doesn’t feel comfortable with the gay subject matter and another who lives with HIV himself, Señor finds new connections to Larson’s material as well as an affection for his heritage. What we may have taken for granted here in the US in terms of sexuality and gender expression feels like a whole new experience when seen through a Cuban lens. Señor speaks out against the Castros with quick sequences showing moments of oppression, thus preventing this film from perpetuating the lies of its government. Instead, he gifts the people of this poor, struggling country with a real sense of community and its first burst of musical theater in ages. Sure he’s a privileged westerner who dangles hope in front of people only to return to his cushy life, but he does so with heart and good intentions. You end up loving and rooting for his cast in this moving, sweet documentary.

Revolution Rent is currently streaming on HBO Max.

Do The Hustlers – Film Review: Zola ★★★★

Call me wary when I went to see a movie based on a viral twitter thread and directed by Janicza Brava, whose Sundance Award-winning short, Gregory Go Boom, proved to be not only tone deaf but downright offensive towards people with disabilities. Her new film, Zola, excels however, in ways her prior work has not. Taylour Paige, a standout in Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, plays the title character, a stripper who meets Stefani (Riley Keough) one night and is convinced to travel with her down to Florida where they can make a lot of money dancing all weekend. Things, however, do not go as planned, with Zola’s story escalating from one insane twist after another. Paige and Keough are outstanding, as are Nicholas Braun and Colman Domingo as their traveling companions. Jason Mitchell, so great in Straight Outta Compton and Mudbound, brings a wild, dangerous energy, something he shares with the film itself. It comes across as The Florida Project meets Hustlers, but with its own surreal, unexpected tone. I laughed out loud often, especially with Paige’s loopy reactions to her surroundings and the giddy, zippy energy on display. Zola chews you up, twerks on your face, and spits you out, exhausted yet anxious to see whatever this talented group of people will do next.

Zola is currently playing in select theaters and available on demand.

Banned On The Run – Film Review: There Is No Evil ★★★★

It’s impossible to review There Is No Evil without giving away its central premise, so I will avoid as much description as possible. Iranian filmmaker Mohammad Rasoulof has crafted a four-part anthology of sorts around an agonizing moral issue important to people worldwide. At the end of the first part, a stunning cut to an unforgettable visual reveals everything and allows you to watch the rest with informed eyes. Rasoulof seamlessly excels at different genres, from family drama, to action escape, to romance, weaving a tale of such depth and sorrow for its talented cast of characters.

The making of it proves as interesting at the film itself. Banned by the regime from producing feature films for two years and prohibited from traveling outside of Iran, Rasoulof, like any crafty filmmaker, came up with an ingenious plan. He slipped under the radar by calling these four short films, mostly shot in small towns far outside the reach of Tehran, and then had the final product smuggled out of the country. A filmmaker with such talent not only at telling stories, but the with ability to will his vision into existence against all odds, deserves the world’s attention.

There Is No Evil is available on DVD, BluRay and VOD now.

In Space No One Can Hear You Think – Film Review: F9: The Fast Saga ★★★

Considered review-proof, the Fast and the Furious franchise has ruled the box office for the past 20 years, so my calling its latest entry, F9: The Fast Saga, monumentally dumb will have zero influence on anyone’s decision to see it. We all know it’s big and stupid, as do the filmmakers. These films, deliver said stupid with such gusto, that you simply surrender and have a great time nonetheless. Nothing, however, prepared me, for this series to go all Moonraker, sending a car to a place no car has ever gone before. You’ll know it when you see it and probably say, “That’s ludicrous!” and also say, “That’s Ludacris!”

F9: The Fast Saga is currently playing on every screen on Earth and in select theaters throughout the universe.

[anxiouslymalicious]

Losers Club Plus One Part 9

A Richie Tozier x daughter!reader series.

Read the previous part here or go here for the full masterlist!

A/N: Hi! As always, I want to apologise for being shit at updating but a lot is happening at the moment and I’m hella stressed out and hella depressed and hella anxious but that’s okay. 

This is about 3.5k words and the usual warnings apply. I hope you enjoy!

Y/N didn’t question what Richie was doing. She didn’t feel she had the power to. So, instead, she tried to muster up the most confused expression she felt capable of. Richie, almost maniacally, pulled her back outside to the car and made her sit down in the front seat. He finally noticed her looking on, in a stupor, not moving. Her face looked almost blank, only a hint of wonder lightening it up.

“I- I can’t. I can’t just leave them here. We can’t leave them here. We are Losers and Losers stick together.” Richie told his daughter, gently cupping her cheek. He was hoping for some kind of reaction but, upon receiving none, let a watery breath escape his lips. He felt tears stinging in his eyes yet again, before adding another whispered explanation.

“Stan wouldn’t want this. He wouldn’t want me or you leaving our friends behind. He wouldn’t want me leaving Eddie behind.”

With that, she nodded a little, facial expression still unphased. Richie shot Ben a quick text, letting him know that he and the little Tozier would meet them at the library, that they had gone out for a quick smoke or whatever. Given that he and Bev started smoking like a chimney at a younger age than her, he thought the excuse sounded pretty believable.

Impatiently, he drove through the town. Richie’s fingers were restless against the cold leather of the steering wheel. He tried to distract himself, tried desperately to recognise the buildings around him, the streets and faces, something he could hold on to. Richie felt like his life was slipping through his own hands like sand, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t hold it together.

Richie’s eyebrows were furrowed, face growing a grim expression and his jaw started clenching, all going unnoticed by himself.

What didn’t go unnoticed by Richie, though, was his presumed daughter’s hand on his wrist. He spared her a little glance which was all it took for Richie to step off the gas a little and lean back in his seat. He was still nervous, but the reassurance and worry in the big, familiar eyes of his daughter calmed him a little. Richie knew she didn’t hate him. He could read it in her eyes.

And he was right. Despite everything, she couldn’t hate Richie. He made a mistake, yes, but there were more important matters at hand right now. Besides, Richie didn’t love her any less, right? She could still pretend everything was alright. They could go back home once all of this was over and pretend it never happened. But, of course, it had happened and couldn’t be undone. The thought of Richie not truly being her father weighed heavily on her chest and would continue to do so until she knew for certain. And she feared whatever a stupid little test might say. Because, no matter what, their relationship wouldn’t be the same. Y/N felt like something had been taken from her, as stupid as it sounded. Because Richie was right beside her, it was just like she couldn’t look at him like she did before. 

The town was slowly growing colder to the girl. Not weather-wise, no. She felt that Derry didn’t care about them. She felt that no one in that town would notice if they needed help. She felt that the town wouldn’t care if each of the Losers died, stiff bodies recovered later that day, not even a lousy newspaper article would be written about the bodies. And it terrified her.

“Dad?” Y/N whispered, voice breaking as she swallowed the lump in her throat. She felt the tiny hairs on her arms stand up straight, embracing herself. Richie, a little surprised to hear her call him that, tried to look at her as he was navigating the car through the streets. Quick glances were casted her way until he finally had the chance to properly look at her as they reached a red traffic light.

“Yeah, kiddo?” Richie now asked. His lips were parted as he didn’t know what to expect, brows furrowed in confusion, but also a little curiosity.

“We’ll be alright… Right?” Y/N asked, raw fear very prominent in her voice. She looked at Richie with the eyes of the child she used to be. Many situations popped into Richie’s head. Moments when she had been terrified, almost petrified by the pure horror crawling under her skin, as she had asked the same question. He had always had an answer. And he had always been right. Because that was easy. Like when he saw the little girl with her pigtails (braided by Richie himself) in the doorway of her classroom on her very first day of school. She had been incredibly intimidated by the other students, but he told her that she would be alright if only she went in there with an open mind and a friendly face. She did. Richie was right.

Or the time she was scared of giving a presentation in middle school that her teachers would base a lot of her grade on. She was crying at her desk, little cards with notes carefully written out were strewn mindlessly around the table as her panicked eyes were directed to her laptop, presentation opened. She was scared of failing her class. Richie told her that there was nothing to be scared of. Failing a class wasn’t the end of the world, he had failed more classes than he could count himself. He told her that she was incredibly bright, told her to keep him in her mind and she would ace that presentation. She did. Richie was right.

Or the time Richie had to undergo surgery after miraculously breaking his nose. He had never told his daughter how exactly it happened, but she had called a taxi to drive them to the hospital where Richie was quick to be put under medication and have a surgery scheduled. She was standing by his side in tears, broken heart beating painfully in her chest as she watched her father grow loopy. Richie had enough of a straight mind to lay his wired-up hand on her cheek and give her the most reassuring smile he could. She was scared that Richie wouldn’t come back to her, that he would fall asleep and never wake up again. Richie’s smile faltered a little as his mind reminded him that there could be serious consequences to a surgery, but he was quick to shake that thought off. He told her that it was just a quick fix of his beauty. Told her that she should follow the nurses, they would be taking care of her, and after a bit of time he would be as good as new. He told her that all she needed was a little faith and patience, and trust. He told her that he wouldn’t ever leave her to fight for herself like that. He wouldn’t leave her alone. She did. And Richie was right.

But now was different. This was bigger than a surgery, a broken heart, a presentation or a first day of school. This was much bigger. And now, Richie was the one to be terrified, skin prickling with fear, cold sweat on the back of his neck, with no answer on his mind.

“Yes,” he rung out, “If you believe that we will be.”

With that, the car grew silent again, the only exception being the Beatles, singing for Help. A bitter smile grew on Richie’s lips as he remembered the flyer for ‘Richie Tozier’s All Dead Rock Show’.

“There must be some kind of way out of here…” mumbled the man to himself, shuddering as he thought about his encounter with the clown.

Despite his talk with his daughter, despite her telling him that it was okay for him to feel love for men, Richie still wasn’t sure. It was still one of the easiest ways to hurt Richie. But he couldn’t deny that it hadn’t been as bad as it could have been. The thought that Y/N would support him, regardless of who he loved, comforted him immensely. It was easier for him to make the clown piss off.

“Said the joker to the thief.” Y/N continued, turning the bitter smile into a genuine. A huffed breath escaped Richie, a cruel, self-deprecating joke on his lips, as he was about to reply, but swallowed it down instead as the old library building came into view. He felt the tips of his fingers go numb as he thought of the story Ben had told them of his first encounter with IT.

Slowly, painfully so, did the car roll closer to the building before coming to a gentle halt as Richie gracefully parked the expensive car. Y/N didn’t waste a minute and got out of the car the second the car stood securely, marching up the stairs to the heavy front door of the old building. She thought that Richie would take ages to muster up his courage again, which was why she sought the peaceful distance, but to her utter surprise, Richie was fast on his feet, almost eager to go to Mike, the man who hadn’t got a clue of any of the shit that was going on. Blissfully unaware somewhere in that building, hiding away between the thick books. He was probably happily reading through his notes on the history of Derry, the unawareness a constant companion. Or so Richie thought. Because, in truth, Mike was fighting for his life with a man he didn’t think he’d ever encounter again. Especially not in such a cruel way.

Richie, surprisingly, didn’t enter the library with a bang. Something held him back. It was like something was trying to quieten him, to make his and his daughter’s presence unknown to whoever or whatever else was in the building with them.

Y/N felt cold as she watched the eerily quiet library.

“Is Mike late or-“ she started, but didn’t get to finish her sentence for Richie shushed her, not letting her utter another sound. At first, just for a few seconds, she didn’t understand, an uncomfortable coil tied up in her chest. That was, until she saw the pure focus on Richie’s face. Furrowed eyebrows, tongue poking out just a little between his lips as he strained his old ears, hoping to pick up the faint sounds yet again.

And suddenly, she did too. The grunts were quiet, almost not audible if they had as much as walked through the library, searching the bookshelves. It seemed that even the lightest breeze could have drowned the sounds out, but once they heard them, they were there. And neither of the pair had any kind of doubt. Someone was struggling. Badly.

“Stay here.” Richie grumbled out before falling into a sprint. As quickly as he could, he moved up the stairs, hoping for the grunts to grow louder, to grow more present, but most importantly, he was hoping that they wouldn’t stop.

A glint of light caught Richie’s eye. A glass case was attached to one of the dark walls. An axe to be used in case of emergency, as the sign told him. Presumably, in case of a fire. The man jerked his clothed elbow against the glass, shattering it easily.

“This is an emergency after all.” Richie said to himself before turning around and running further upstairs. His lungs were burning with the effort. Something he wasn’t used to anymore. It was at that moment that he cursed his younger self for picking up that very first cigarette, the thing of all evil, basically. He shook his head. No time for thoughts of that sort.

It wasn’t until he reached the top of the stairs that the grunts and screams finally seemed close. And they were. Behind the door, Richie was met with the back of someone kneeling above his friend. Things weren’t looking good for Mikey. Richie didn’t even feel as though he was the one acting in that moment. He liked to think that it was some weird out-of-body experience, controlled by the pure adrenaline pumping through his veins, fueling his body.

Y/N had been hot on his trail, running just after him. She didn’t feel safe on her own, not even with the assurance of the mirror shard still in her pocket as a weapon. She arrived just in time to watch as her father raised the axe and rammed it into the man’s head, not a trace of hesitation in his actions. It was almost frightening to watch the lifeless body slump to the ground. Y/N almost felt like she could watch the life seep out of the man’s body with every drop of blood that left his body. Richie tried to make a joke, but was interrupted by his own body as he doubled over, emptying his stomach as a shrill scream escaped his daughter’s lips.

Y/N stumbled back, falling against the wall behind her, only to slide down to the ground. She too felt sick to the pit of her stomach, but she tried to suppress the bile from coming up. Instead, she scooted closer to the wall, instinctively curled up against the cooling surface as she watched the crimson stain the ground, the puddle growing bigger by the second.

Hands clasped together before her mouth in disbelief, she tried her best to breathe evenly, but any rational thought had left her brain. Y/N felt cold, her body shook heavily with fear clawing at her. It wasn’t until she heard a different scream, a feminine voice, that she noticed how her father was desperately trying to catch her attention, blocking her view of the body with his own body.

The other Losers filled the room, one more shocked than the other. Eddie’s face was almost as white as  the gauze on his cheek when he entered the room, anxious eyes immediately analysing the situation. Until his eyes finally found the Toziers sitting on the ground, Richie desperately trying to get any kind of reaction out of Y/N, any reaction other than fear. Eddie shot Mike, who was still on the ground, a sympathetic smile before dropping to his knees by the duo.

“Hey, hey, Y/N, it’s uncle Eds. It’s alright, you’re alright.” Eddie muttered as the rest of the bunch took care of Bowers’ body and Mike, who felt as shaky as a leaf in late autumn months.

Slowly, her eyes travelled to the smaller man, the fear never leaving them, but they were moving. She was with them.

“Uncle Eds?” Richie whispered to himself as he leaned against the wall next to Y/N, letting Eddie take over for a moment. His hand stayed on her knee though, eyes intently watching their every move.

Ragged breaths escaped her pale lips.

“You’re alright. We’re all alright.” Eddie continued his soothing mantra.

“Dad- the man- he killed him-“ her gaze jumped between the two men in front of her, her instincts tried to get another look at the dead body, but Eddie wouldn’t let her, hoping that his body would fully block the view as Richie kept her body planted in place, gently but firmly, with his arm around her shoulders.

“It was self-defence. He needed to do that.”

“But- but-“ her lips quivered terribly as she looked up at Eddie, eyes huge. Her mind had a hard time understanding just what was happening, but it was slowly catching up with the situation. “I’m scared.” She finally whimpered out and with that, the dam broke and fat tears rolled down her reddened cheeks.

Eddie and Richie both embraced the girl as she broke down. The other Losers watched with sorrow, watched as the little girl broke down. Mike, who felt like he was the one at fault to put her through all of this, felt a stabbing pain in his chest as a few tears of his own managed to push past the barrier. The other Losers didn’t feel any less to blame, though. Each of them were thinking about what they could have done to protect her rather than stand by and watch as the town, but mostly IT, mercilessly tore her down, broke her spirit until nothing would be left, not even a will to survive.

Silently, Bev looked over her shoulder at Ben and Mike, both sat on the ground, who only needed the one pained expression on her face. They understood. No words needed to be spoken.

“It’s okay to be scared. But you can’t let the fear take over you. Not now. You’re stronger than that.” Eddie explained to the girl, feeling her tears against his clothes. His chin was resting on top of her head. Suddenly, a stinging sensation in his cheek made him cringe, but it was quickly replaced by his heart feeling as though someone was squeezing it tightly. Richie had nuzzled his own head against both of their heads. And with that, Eddie suddenly realised just how close he was to Richie. Arms embracing not only Y/N, but also each other, clinging to each other, Richie’s head lovingly nudging Eddie’s cheek, the closeness of their hands-

“I think I’m going to throw up.” Said Y/N, pushing out of the warming embrace, accidentally breaking the two lovers apart, as she stumbled just out the door to empty her stomach.

“Are you alright?” Ben finally asked, looking towards Mike. Richie, who was helping his friend get back to his feet, trying to put some distance between himself and Eddie. It felt so nice, embracing his daughter with the man he loved, but at the same time, it was intimidating. He still had no reassurance, nor did he have the courage to confess to Eddie how he felt.

“No, I’m not! I just fucking killed someone!” Richie replied, confused at the stupid question. Ben and Mike looked at each other carefully for a moment.

“I was talking to Mike.” He continued, earning an almost insulted glare from Richie. Y/N was coming back into the room, eyes travelling from Richie to Eddie, sadly realising the distance them. It was strange to her, watching them bicker and move closer with every ‘your mom’ joke they made, hold onto each other in moments of fear and doubt and yet move away from each other as far as possible once they realised what they had been doing all along. 

“What the fuck happened to your face?” Y/N asked suddenly, voice loud and clear despite her shaking body. All eyes were on Y/N for a second before everyone’s eyes travelled to the person she was looking at. Eddie. 

“Oh… uh… Bowers stabbed me.” Eddie replied, feeling not only Y/N’s eyes on him. Richie was eyeing him carefully, worry flooding him. He wasn’t there, he could have helped. But he was too busy being a coward to protect one of his closest friends, the man he admittedly liked in a romantic way.

Richie watched as Y/N stepped closer to Eddie, eyes not leaving the huge white patch on his face that had gone unnoticed as the adrenaline took hold over their bodies yet again that day. Richie bit his lip, trying to bite away the familiar stinging of tears behind his eyes. He didn’t want to cry, not there, not then. 

Y/N hugged Eddie tightly. He was a little thrown off-guard, hesitating just a little before embracing her too.

 “I feel like we can’t be trusted on our own. We’ll just end up hurt.” She said seriously, causing the group to chuckle a little.

Something was strange about the sound. Mike examined the group for a moment. Then, he felt his heartbeat quicken as he looked around the room and saw all the Losers, minus one.

“Where is Bill?”

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Taglist (let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part!)

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[fangirlxwritesx67]

Ready For Anything (Sam x nurse)

AN: I got a very specific request here and had a lot of fun working with the requester to make sure they got what they wanted. 

Tags: 18+, smut, sex, light BDSM (handcuffs, orgasm denial, good girl/yes sir, safe word, discussion of choking), hookup, fingering, penetrative sex, condom, consent. Also mixing drugs and alcohol. 

"Dean, we have to go to the hospital!" Sam was insistent. "Stitches, I can do. Dislocated shoulder, no problem. But your wrist is broken and that needs medical help. We need you to get healed up so we can be ready for anything." Dean rolled his eyes and took another generous slug of whiskey. "Blah blah blah hospital, Sammy," he said. Eventually, Sam's level-headed insistence won the day. Dean reluctantly turned over the keys to the Impala and Sam followed the blue highway hospital signs.

It was a slow afternoon at the emergency room, and the Winchesters did not have to wait long before Dean was in his own room, Sam by his side. A petite nurse walked in and greeted them. "Mr. Winchester and... Winchester?" "Oh," said Sam, "Yeah, we're brothers!" The nurse nodded, clearly not caring. Her blue scrubs should've been generic but they hugged every curve of her perfect body. Her ash blonde hair, streaked with golden highlights, was gathered in a messy bun. Loose wisps trailed down over her pretty face. She ran through the basic intake questions in a cheery, professional manner before hooking Dean up to a couple of different machines and administering a dose of pain medication. "The doctor will be in shortly," she told them. But the doctor really wasn't. And either Dean had more whiskey than Sam had thought, or he got a higher dose of pain meds, because soon he was a little loopy. "Did you see that cute nurse?" He asked Sam. "She was totally checking you out. I'll bet you could tap that ass if you wanted. You've always liked blondes, Sammy." "Sure, Dean," answered Sam. "That's why I brought you here. So I could hook up with a nurse." Just then the nurse stepped back in. Sam startled. How much had she heard? Dean just smiled, a bleary smile. "My little brother thinks you're cute," he told her in a loud attempt at a whisper. She looked back at Sam with a mischievous glance. "It's okay," she told Dean, not pretending to be quiet. "I think he's cute too. Now be good and wait for the doctor." She walked out of the room without a backward glance, although Sam could swear there was an extra sway in her hips.

In a little while, someone came to wheel Dean away for x-rays. Sam took advantage of the moment to slip away for some coffee. He followed the signs to the hospital cafeteria. After he paid for his drink, he heard a voice behind him say, "Hey, Winchester." Sam spun around to see the nurse from the ER. "Hey," he answered, with a disarming chuckle. "I'm sorry if you heard what my brother said earlier. You must've given him the good stuff." The nurse shook her head. "I heard, and I don't mind. Besides, what I said was true. I think you're cute. So if you do want to hook up with a nurse, I'm game." She flashed Sam a cute smile with just a hint of seduction in her wide brown eyes. She let her gaze trail over his body, over his broad shoulders and fit arms, down to his waist. The nurse's eyes widened when they fell on his belt. At first Sam thought she was just really thirsty, until she looped a finger through something. "Handcuffs?" She asked. "Why are you carrying handcuffs? I thought you said you and your brother were hunting." A warm flush ran over Sam's high cheekbones. "Well, I did tell you that," he stammered. "We're actually private detectives. I just don't usually mention that." The nurse smirked, "A man of mystery, huh? Well, I like that you come prepared-" her voice dropped- "for anything." A page blared overhead. She cursed and hurried out.

Sam waited in the ER for a little while before Dean came back, his wrist encased in a dark blue cast. The two brothers waited to be discharged. Finally, the same cute nurse from before came back. "Hey," she asked Dean, "Are you ready to go home?" Dean barked out a short laugh. "Home?! You mean the crummy motel on the edge of town." The nurse looked between the brothers. Sam shrugged. "We travel a lot for work," he told her. "But this is a new town for us. Could you recommend a decent takeout place? I haven't eaten all day, since I've been in here taking care of this guy." She cocked her head and a warm smile spread across her face. "Do you want a recommendation or do you want company?" Sam smiled back, his hazel eyes bright. "I wouldn't complain about company," he said after a moment. The nurse gave Sam her cell phone number and told him to text her about dinner.

Dusk was falling when a knock sounded on the hotel room door. Sam answered it to find the nurse standing there with a box of pizza, a salad balanced on top. He stepped aside to let her in. She had changed into yoga pants and a long sleeve t-shirt that did a much better job of showing off her perfect curvy figure. She had also let her hair down, and it fell in blonde waves around her pretty face. Sam took the food from her, their fingers lingering when they brushed together. He set the food on the desk while she looked around. "Where is the patient?" She asked jokingly. "Oh, he took another pain pill with whiskey and passed out in the other room." Sam gestured to the door between rooms which was partly open. "He won't hear a thing." The cheap motel room didn't have much furniture. Sam grabbed pizza and salad, and sat on the end of the bed, folding his long legs comfortably. The nurse got food too and settled against the headboard. While they ate, two of them chatted easily, laughing and swapping stories of their lives. As they emptied their plates, their voices slowed. Sam found himself staring at the nurse's face, watching her full mouth move when she talked. He reached out one hand and cupped her soft cheek, pushing her hair back from her face. "Hey," his voice was low. "I'd really like to kiss you now." She lifted her bright eyes to him. This close, he could see that they were brown with little flecks of green. She nodded. "I'd really like that too." Sam lowered his lips to hers. Their first kiss was gentle, curious as they sought each other out. She sighed happily and leaned into him, deepening the kiss. Her hands slid up the back of his neck and tangled in his shaggy dark hair. Sam slipped his hands into her shirt and around her waist, pausing to murmur, "Is this okay?" She nodded and kissed him harder while his hands roamed her body. Sam slipped his tongue between her lips, tasting her. She opened her mouth to let him in. Her slim fingers worked their way down his shirt, tracing his warm skin as she undid the buttons. When her hands reached his belt, one wandered over to the handcuffs she knew he had. Sam felt her grasp and knew what she was going for. He grabbed her wrist and pulled back to look her full in the face.

"Please," said the nurse, tossing him a sassy look. Her sweet lips were puffy from kissing and she pouted just a little, teasingly. "Wait," asked Sam. "Have you done this before?" She nodded. "Do you have a safe word?" She shook her head. Sam undid the cuffs from his belt and dangled then enticingly in front of her. "Listen," his voice was deadly serious. "You've probably done something before with a boy and some sexy trick handcuffs. This is going to be different. These are real handcuffs, and if I put them on you, I'm not taking them off until I'm finished with you." She shivered with anticipation. "If you want to do this, we are going to do this right. You need to tell me a safe word and we need to talk about it." So they talked. The nurse told Sam what she wanted, what she didn't want, and together they came up with a safe word. Then Sam said, "Is there anything else you want me to know?" Even after everything they had just talked about, she was hesitant mention it, but she knew this was her chance. "Do you think you could... choke me?" Sam's eyes widened and he drew in a long breath before shaking his head. "No, I'm sorry. I'm sure that might be fun, but no. I don't know you well enough. I don't know your breathing, I don't know what you sound like during sex- there are too many ways it could go wrong."

The nurse could've been disappointed but instead she felt excited- more confident that Sam knew what he was doing, and secure that he would take good care of her. She leapt into his arms and he held her close, kissing her hard. Without letting go of her at all, Sam stripped off her clothes. His hands were hot all over her body. He laid her back against the pillows and pulled her arms up gently towards the headboard. Sam paused before fastening one of her wrists in his handcuffs. "Are you sure about this?" She nodded. "Because once we start," his voice dropped to a growl, "you're mine, you obey, and you don't come until I say." Sam clicked the other cuff shut. She shuddered, hard, as desire shot through her, and whispered, "Yes." "Yes?" He snarled. "Yes, sir?" A wicked grin spread across Sam's face and he nodded. "Good girl," he said, before he leaned down and kissed her.

Sam let his hands wander as he covered her mouth and face and neck with kisses. He found her soft full breasts and fondled them eagerly. He perfectly matched the movements of his mouth and his touch- sucking on her lips while he kneaded her breast, or running his teeth along her jawline while he flicked her nipple. Under his expert attention, she was soon breathing quickly. Sam slipped his hand still lower, between her legs. She was soaking wet and ready. "Needy, aren't you, girl?" He asked. She nodded once. "For you, sir, all for you," she managed to gasp. Sam loved that answer, loved how eager and willing she was. He pushed his fingers in closer and began to finger her with quick, steady strokes. She moaned under his touch. Soon her breath was coming in short, hard pants. Her body was growing tense and her arms were pulling against the handcuffs. Sam stopped and eased his hand away. She tried to reach for him but couldn't. "What did I tell you?" She shook her head wordlessly. "Did I tell you that you could come?" "No, no sir." she moaned breathlessly. "That's right," he commanded. "Now be a good girl, and do what I say."

Sam slipped his hand up against her again and went to work with his fingers. He watched her squirm under his touch, watched her stomach quiver, watched her knees begin to shake. He moved slowly, relentlessly against her sweet spot with his thumb while quickly slipping two long fingers up inside of her. She gritted her teeth to stifle a groan. She shook her head, tossing tangled blonde waves over the pillow. Sam could keep her like this, watch her like this, all night. Finally she drew a shuddering breath. "Please, sir, please!" She cried. "Yes," answered Sam. He could see that she wouldn't be able to last much longer. "Yes, come for me now." She obeyed willingly, gratefully, giving in to pleasure. Her entire body shook as her orgasm rolled out from between her legs, up to her shoulders and down to her knees. She was gasping, choking, helpless. "Breathe," Sam reminded her as kept his hand going in and on her. He had taken her breath away after all. "Good girl. Breathe." Finally, she relaxed against the bed, wrung out and pleased.

Sam was tense with anticipation and need. Without saying anything, he got up and walked to the bathroom for a condom (one of the things they had agreed on.) The nurse got a wonderful view as he walked away- his broad shoulders and strong back, his trim waist and delightfully round butt. She got an even better view when he walked back- his toned body, yes. But also his throbbing hard-on, ready for her; and his gorgeous face, bright with desire. Sam pushed the nurse back up on the bed just a little, making sure she was resting against the pillows again to take some of the strain off her arms. Then he spread her thighs apart with his hands and knelt between them. He looked at her, so beautiful and needy, already soft from pleasure, and his for the taking. He ran one hand up over the soft skin of her thigh to cup her ass. "Please," she begged, her voice both sweet and hot. "Please sir. Fuck me." Sam chuckled and that wicked smile curled his lips. "Oh yes," he answered. "I'd love to fuck you. But remember- you're still obeying me." "Yes," she nodded. "Yes, sir." Sam waited just a moment, waited for her to raise her hips, waited for her breathing to speed up in anticipation. Then he met her desire with his own and buried himself inside her. She gasped and then moaned as he thrust deeper and deeper. She rocked her hips in time with his, finding a rhythm between their bodies. "Good girl," Sam murmured in her ear before kissing her lips and then down her neck and across her shoulder. He grazed the skin of her collarbone with his teeth. She shuddered, a movement he felt through his whole body. Sam wanted her so much. Her blatant neediness was inviting to him in a way he couldn't describe. He wanted to disappear inside her and consume her at the same time. He bit her just a little, where her neck curved into her shoulder. Her mouth dropped open to scream but the only sound she made was a wild deep gasp. She pressed her body hard against his. Sam was almost lost in his own pleasure but he didn't forget her. He could hear her breath, quick and ragged next to his ear. "Come for me," he commanded. "Be a good girl and come for me." He felt her quiver underneath him and let himself go too. They tumbled together in the raging current of their release. As Sam throbbed inside of her, he pressed his lips over hers and she moaned against his mouth.

Finally when they were both spent, Sam rolled off of her. He reached for the night stand and something the nurse had missed before- the key to the handcuffs. He undid the cuffs and ran his big hands over her arms, soothing the tired muscles. She leaned into him, seeking the warmth of her embrace. He held her close, wrapping her in his long arms. Eventually, she tilted her face up and opened her eyes. He met her gaze with naked satisfaction. "What a good girl you are." Sam murmured with a smile. "Thank you, sir." She whispered. "You are one kinky little nurse." He told her with a kiss. "Ready for anything, hmm, Winchester?" she hummed, her voice warm and soft. Sam answered her quickly. "As long as it's you."

Taglist: @tloveswriting @marril96 @awesomesusiebstuff @idreamofplaid

[wordsnstuff]

Romantic Prompts

This is also available on wordsnstuffblog.com!

-- Here are 20 prompts for my romance writers out there! I hope this inspires you all. Happy writing!

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Your character falls in love with their doppelgänger.

A couple who has a list of cliché romantic things that never seem romantic when they try them.

A character realizes they’re in love during a really awkward moment.

One character is taking care of the other while they’re sick or recovering from a surgery, and the sick character confesses their feelings and romantic thoughts in a loopy daze.

Two people meet on a bus and mistake each other for their high school crushes, though they’ve never actually seen each other.

A couple that has been together a short time, and reaches a tiny domestic milestone, like washing dishes together for the first time, and finding a lot of intimacy in it.

A couple that is planning their first trip together.

Two people meet in a really romantic situation, but one actually ends up introducing the other to someone else that they really hit it off with.

Two people in the same book club take turns recommending books, and as they grow feelings for one another, they start recommending romances as a way to drop hints to the other.

Two people who are married for a pragmatic reason, rather than emotional, that end up falling for each other years after their actual wedding.

One character casts a love spell on the other, and believes that it worked, but that’s because the character loved them all along and finally worked up the courage to act on it. Write character A’s confession.

A librarian and a local author fall in love through the author’s frequent visits to the library.

Two actors fall in love while on set, and get married shortly after shooting is done, only to realize they had actually fallen in love with the characters they were portraying.

A person who falls in love with someone through reading hundreds of letters they sent over 70 years ago.

Two students from opposite sides of the world fall in love when they meet during an exchange year at the same school in America.

Two people meet when one picks the other up hitchhiking and hit it off when they go to get lunch at a shabby little diner.

A car salesperson and a customer are negotiating the price of a car and once they finally reach an agreement, hours have passed. The customer asks the salesperson out to dinner.

200 years in the future, a group of astronauts is sent to Mars to inspect whether it is safe for human colonization. However, a forgotten team has already colonized the livable area and refuses to surrender to invading troops. The chief astronaut falls in love with the colony’s leader.

Two couples meet on a cruise, and some how end up going home with different people.

Two people meet when one puts out a personal ad for a housekeeper, and the other accidentally calls their number when they meant to call the one for the opening at a Dutch Bros. They meet for the second person’s interview and hit it off.

If you end up using one of these posts, feel free to send it to me, tag me in it, or use #wordsnstuff so I can check it out!

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[snoozejoon]

Fools | Park Jimin

pairing: park jimin x black female oc (featuring jung hoseok)

genre: angst, cheating!jimin au

word count: 7.1k

ongoing series! 

05 - EMPTINESS

She sleeps all day, dreams of you in both worlds. Tills the blood, in and out of uterus. Wakes up smelling of zinc, grief, sedated by orgasm. Orgasm heightened by grief. God was in the room when the man said to the woman, "I love you so much, wrap your legs around me and pull me in, pull me in, pull me in." Sometimes when he'd have her nipple in his mouth, she'd whisper, "oh my God." That too, is a form of worship. Her hips grind. Pestle and water, cinnamon and gloves. Whenever he pulls out, lost.

Dear moon; we blame you for floods, for the flush of blood. For men who are also wolves. We blame you for the night, for the dark, for the ghosts.

HOSEOK DOESN’T pick up on the first ring. Neither the second, nor the third. But the fourth time, she finally hears his groggy voice semi-angrily answering his phone. 

"Hello?" 

Rosalie falls back onto her soft couch, and Juno underneath her snores louder than she was before. The television is playing still, but the volume has been lowered since Rosalie ceased to find it in her to sing; her voice had a certain raspiness to it when she spoke now. She blinks, remembering who was on the phone after he repeats himself.

"Oh. Hi, Hobi." For a moment, she forgets her reason for calling him. But just for a moment. He figures out who called him quickly, his annoyed voice turning into one of concern,

"What the- Rosie?" She hears him sit up, can hear the click of a lamp as he does so, checking the time on his alarm. "It's after 3 am, is-is there anything wrong? Should I call Jimin? Where's Haeran?" 

He's up now, scratching his head and yawing, awaiting her response. It didn't phase her at how concerned he was; but let this be a day of the past, and Jimin would just be coming home. A scowl appears on her face then, at the thought of him. It still stung.

"No. Do not call that. . . that fool." Her eyes roll as she improves the grip of her phone, "and Haeran is fine." 

Hoseok pauses on the other line, she was drunk, of course, but fool? Not even the nights the three of them spent drunk as hell on the floors of her living room has she said that to describe Jimin.

His stomach churns uncomfortably, and he swallows harshly before he speaks, "fool? What do you - what do you mean, Rosie?"

He hears her scoff, the sound of leather stretching against bare skin. "Yes, a fool. He cheated on me, and had the nerve to think he wasn't going to get caught. What the hell else would he be? A genius?" 

She scoffs again, moving Juno's head from the side of the couch and onto a pillow, "he's a ... a damn fool. A fucking idiot. Oh my god, I h-hate him." 

Her mind doesn't recognize the power of the words she just released, but nothing but what was happening now mattered anyway. She can't taste the venom on her tongue at the moment, because the alcohol has numbed her tastes. She's just numb, and she hates it. There was a pit in her stomach and all she wanted was to remove it; but she couldn't reach it no matter how hard she tried. She was too empty to even fully care.

All means of sleep begone, Hoseok stood, Rosalie's words roaming through his head so quickly he needed to mentally slow down to understand them. Jimin cheated? On Rosalie? It really was the weirdest thing to even imagine, because this was the same guy who broke into tears before she even finished walking down the aisle. For fuck's sake, Hoseok literally went to his wedding. What the hell? He shook his head, detecting Rosalie's speech and her slur of words; she was probably somewhere unsafe, drunk as hell, suffering from her heartbreak. Hoseok feels a bit of respect leak out from what he held for Jimin then. No one should be able to make Rosalie feel that way. She was always the strong one; no one should be able to wear that away. Especially not Jimin, her Husband.

"Rosalie, where are you?" He asks, interrupting his questioning thoughts and grabbing a light jacket. His keys were in his hands and his body was already out the door. Rosalie hums, her hands somehow finding its fingers caressing Juno's hair.

"I'm at my special place. Me and Juno were rockin' out in the karaoke room earlier!" She giggles, removing her hand from her friend's hair; and Hoseok knows she has to be really drunk because he's never heard those words escape her mouth before, "but i had to stop because I lost my voice a little from singing so loud. You can hear it, can't you? Is it sexy like a man's? I think it is." She giggles again.

He doesn't answer that, but instead buckles his seatbelt as he got inside his car. Juno is there too? 

"Rosie, stay there," he says, backing up from his driveway. He can't just leave her there. He has to do something. "I'm coming."

When he sees Rosalie sprawled on the couch of the karaoke room, he sighs, looking at her current state. She was humming a random tune now, her body at one end of the couch and Juno's at the other. Her phone was still in her right hand, and her heels were still on her feet. He walked over to her, kneeling down in front of the couch and nudging her softly. 

“Hey," he whispered, "Rosie. I'm here." He moved back as she got up, reaching for the remote on the coffee table and clicking the television off. "Come on, I’m taking you home." When he says that, he sees her eyes widen and her head shake quickly,

"No!" she whisper-yelled, "not home. Anywhere but home." The sound of juno randomly snoring louder gets their attention, their faces falling back on each other moments after,

"Not home? Then where else-"

"Anywhere, Hobi." Her eyes were too glossy for him to argue anymore. He didn't want to inflict any more pain on her than what was already there.

"Okay."

It takes longer than he planned getting them both into his car. Rosalie could barely stand, and Juno proved to be a rather angry drunk who didn't like to be woken up by anyone. But eventually, he succeeds at getting them both into his car; with Juno draped across the leather seats of the backseat — with a seatbelt across her middle — and Rosalie, in the passenger seat. Somehow he figures out Juno's address and carried her inside, with her spewing curses at him for even thinking about waking her up again.

Rosalie waited in the car, slightly sobered and playing with the windows Hoseok didn't bother to lock. When he comes back to his car to see her window ascending and descending slowly, he almost says something, but decides against it. It was too late to cause anything and she'd been through so much already. She should do as she pleases. He plops into the driver's seat and her eyes immediately cast toward him, waiting.

Only he has no idea what to do, or where to go. His hands rested on his steering wheel, waiting to do something but having nothing to fulfill their needs. He tightened his lips against each other, facing Rosalie,

"Um?" His tongue suddenly felt dry as he searched for the right words to say. 

He didn't want to just sit here, or drive around — it was way too late for that and the drowsiness that was masked as determination was catching up to him. He yearned for the soft, plushness of his bed, but Rosalie was still here and he had no idea of what to do.

He could take her to his place, but wouldn't that be a little prude? She was still married, despite her. . . situation. And taking her to his place would serve a disrespectful motive to something that was certainly innocent. He doesn't want that, but he also doesn't want to put Rosalie under more stress by taking her home. So begrudgingly, he took her to his place, grimacing at how bad this looked at every turn, but Rosalie's reassurance was more of a priority.

No one in particular was watching anyway.

"Home sweet home," Hoseok muttered, leading a loopy Rosalie inside. 

Immediately, she removes her shoes and strips herself of her jacket, dropping it into his hands, and he fumbles with it before hanging it up. She begins walking to the first room she can find; which happened to be his. He awkwardly follows her and catches her right before she belly-flops on his bed.

"Hey," she whined, pulling from his arms. "M'sleepy." She said it in English, so it took him a moment to fully grasp what she said.

"I know," he says, opening the blanket and letting her slide into it. "Here." He fluffs a pillow, and watches as she snuggles up inside of it. 

She was an adorable drunk, to be honest. 

Hoseok notices the time on his alarm as he stands; it was the ripe time of 4:37 a.m, and he was more than eager to find solace on the pillows of his couch. 

"Well," he says, dropping his arms to his sides, "i'm gonna head out to my couch. Goodnight, Rosie."

"Good—wait!" she shoots up, a hand flying to her head in deep thought. Hoseok turns from the doorway slowly; he really didn't expect the random burst of energy. 

"The gala," she says, a sudden realization flowing over her and her quivering words, her eyes watering at the thought. "It's tomorrow."

Damn. She was right, it was tomorrow. Or today; if he was being technical. He couldn't imagine what could be going through her head currently — partially because he hasn't married yet, and partially because she was drunk off of her mind. But he decides he can still offer his sympathy; it was a great distraction for the unsettling anger growing inside for Jimin and what he did. 

He walks over to her, seeing her eyes slowly well up and hugging her tightly. She instantly broke into tears.

"I'm so sorry, Rosie," he whispered, hugging her tighter as her cries slightly grew in volume. "You know you can just skip it, right? No one will be upset or anything."

She could. She really could. It still hurt like hell to be around Jimin, and having to fake her smiles and reactions to whatever the people there said wasn't going to be easy. But she had to be strong. Stronger than what she was now; weeping in her friend's arms. She had to keep herself together; hold herself to some sort of responsibility without breaking into fragile pieces. She's scared, she realizes. She's scared of letting others believe she was anything but the titan of her world everyone thought she was. She's scared of disappointing herself.

And all of this from her husband's infidelity. 

There were often times Rosalie would tell herself that she would never be able to understand all the women at the firm who were well aware of how their husbands were all lacking at being able to keep their dicks in their pants, but were able to simply accept it, and forgive. For whatever reasons they’d tell her when the topic came up. She remembered being in silent disbelief, but also being able to breathe a little more freely because she wasn’t them. Because her husband was faithful and because she trusted him with all of her heart.

She can’t believe how naive she’d been.

"No," she sniffles, lifting up her head slightly. "I'm going. I need something to distract myself. I..I won't let him win. Let him break me." She inhaled deeply her breath shuddering.

"I've got shit to do." She wipes her tears. Hoseok smiles sadly, hugging her one last time.

"I don't think you should go, but I'll be there, if you need me. I’ve got you, Rosie." He released her then, removing himself from the bed, letting her lean back so he could pull the blankets up. He reaches over to his lamp, clicking off the light as he watches her eyelids finally decide to flutter. She needed all the rest she could get.

Her eyes are hazy, and she's still drunk; but her mind tells her to be extremely grateful. Grateful for juno, and her ability to help blind herself from her feelings. and grateful for Hoseok, too; for helping her come to terms with them.

"Thank you," she whispers, her gratitude laced between every word she spoke. 

“Goodnight.”

Unsurprisingly, Rosalie has one of the most intense headaches she's ever had since her first sip of alcohol when she turned 21. She awoke with a groan — disappointed that she allowed herself to turn to drinks to blur her raging feelings, but not shocked that she chose to do so. Her eyes wandered to her surroundings; and she quickly realized that this was definitely not the couch of her karaoke room, neither was this her own bedroom. Although her clothes weren't removed and she still had all her fingers and toes, worry still creeped up inside her as she removed the blankets from her legs and peered at the time.

9:27 a.m. A glass of water on the nightstand with two aspirin pills beside it were near the alarm clock, and she grabbed them with an esteemed urgency, swallowing them quickly. She needed to get home, and fast. She shoots a text to Juno, asking where she was and if she was okay before someone knocks at the door.

Her eyes widen at the sound, her body flinching and her senses heightened. 

Who is that?

"Rosie? Are you up?"A voice softly called. She instantly sighs in relief; it wasn't a weirdly kind kidnapper at her door, it was just Hoseok. The reasoning why only had to be that she had done something unreasonably unwise in her drunken state. She's already feeling a rush of embarrassment thinking of what that could've been.

"Y-yes! I'm up." She stands as the door opens, with Hoseok poking his head in first with the rest of his body following. He's wearing casual clothing instead of pajamas; he must've just flopped on the couch from being so tired. He smiles warmly, before walking over to her, placing his hand on her forehead.

"Hm. You're not warm. You feel okay? Did you take the aspirin?" His eyes are furrowed with a cautious worry and his hair is horribly disheveled as he speaks. She nods, moving his hand from her head slowly.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Stop babying me," she says playfully as she looks up at him. "Did Juno get home safe?" He nods at her words again and she thanks him for being so considerate.

"I mean, I couldn't really leave her there," he laughs. "She was actually really mad at me for waking her up."

"Yeah, that's Juno for you. She finds more anger in drinking than pleasure,” she giggled.

A lightbulb seems to go off in her head for a moment, so she asks quickly, "Wait. What all happened exactly? I remember Juno taking me to the karaoke room, but everything else is kind of blurry." She looked up at him warily, not knowing what to expect, but it couldn't be so bad, right?

Hoseok grimaced, his hand going straight to the nape of his neck; his nervous tick. He sucked in a breath, "Well."

That alarmed her. She sat up straighter then, bracing herself for the information she was so careless to expose. She tried to preview in her mind everything she could've said on a scale from being slightly uncomfortable, but not as embarrassing to extremely private and totally ignominious. In all honesty, she was kind of fine with mentioning anything but what happened with Jimin.

God, she thought. Not him.

Hoseok couldn't meet her eyes. He sighed, avoiding her worried eyes before deciding on speaking. He needed to be careful with this, it was definitely a hard subject to discuss. 

"You — you uh," He scratched behind his ears some more, gazing at her face and then dropping his eyes, "you told me about Jimin."

She can only sigh defeatedly; God just wasn't on her side these days. She didn't even want to know anymore, she knew she probably spilled more than what was remotely appropriate for his ears to hear. She bites her lip and nods embarrassingly, but somewhat relieved — at least it was just Hoseok. He would do nothing with the information for his own benefit, much less ramble onto someone else. He was a good friend, this wouldn't escape from between the both of them, that she knew.

She stared blankly at an anxious Hoseok who was wondering how she'd react; he was sure it'd contrast greatly from her tears from the night before. To his surprise, though, she just silently sat before she sighed, "Well."

Hoseok noted her discomfort and decides not to go more into the matter and instead offers her breakfast; there was no way she wasn't hungry. But Rosalie just slumps her shoulders and declines quietly. 

"Can you please just take me home? I'm not really in the mood to eat anything." Even the mere mention of her husband drained her. and at the sound of her voice and the tug of her pleading eyes, Hoseok almost obliges and takes her home. But he remembers that she hasn't eaten and was drunk off of her mind last night, and the suggestion is quickly eschewed from his mind.

"Yeah sure," he nods, pulling her up slowly. "I'll take you home." Rosalie thanks him and follows him out of his room, blinking furiously when he promptly places her in an already prepared chair at his dining table, a bowl of cereal in front of her. she looks up at him and he looks down at her,

"After you eat something."

After a fulfilling breakfast of a hearty bowl of classic cheerios with sugar — the dish made her feel like an absolute child, but hoseok was too tired to cook something and she simply had no more fight in her — Hoseok was dropping her back home. She eventually broke and asked him all what happened yesterday, so the car ride was filled with cringes and sheer disappointment in her drunk self when she learned about the crying and the embarrassment she put not only herself but also Hoseok through. One thing that sober rosie and drunk Rosie both agreed on, however, was that they would definitely still be going to that gala.

As drunk Rosalie said herself: she had things to do.

When hoseok's car pulls into Rosalie's driveway, she turns to him, smiling shyly. 

"Um," she awkwardly laughs, "Thanks for dealing with me last night. I know I'm not easy, and God I'm so sorry I called-" a warm hug interrupts her words, his arms engulfing her frame snugly.

"You talk too much, Rosie," he giggles. "You're fine. Don't apologize, okay? I told you that I’ve got you, right?" He switched to english mid sentence, knowing she broke into a smile without having to look at her.

"Right, Hobi," she said.

He patted her back soothingly, "Exactly. I'm here for you, we aren't friends for nothing." He released her, sitting back comfortably into his seat, feeling pretty good about himself. His hugs were great.

Rosalie nodded, her hand sitting upon the door handle. "You're right. but still — sorry for being such a crybaby."

Hoseok just waved her off dismissively, "don't worry. Get in safe, okay?" He was going to watch her go in anyway, but he wanted to tell her too; letting her know that he cared as subtly as he could. When she finally waved her goodbye and left his car, cool air wisps across her face, waking her up and opening her eyes. Her day was far from over.

As she entered her home, it was still empty and awkwardly so; she remembered that Haeran was still with her father and she had told him not to drop her off until 10. Her arms wrap around herself as she walks through her halls instinctively, she was almost uncomfortable being so alone, without her child or her partner to welcome her home.

She shakes it off. It was something she'd need to get used to now, since she was kind of in the dark about what to do: forgive and remember, or move on and forget?

Her reflection in the mirror proves that Hoseok was more of a good friend than rosalie thought; she looked horrible. Her extremely tussled hair and deep eye bags must've shown him the face of a damn zombie and he didn't utter one discouraging word about it. Well, in reality she didn't know if he was a good friend for letting her be, or a bad one for not at least telling her to get herself together. She went with the former to make her feel better about herself.

After deciding that she'd rather not peer at her distasteful reflection until her daughter came home to see her, she bent down and committed to washing her dry face and brushing her teeth. When she finished doing that, she stripped herself of her clothing and hopped into the shower; in an attempt to cleanse herself of the rummaging thoughts filling her mind one by one. She dreaded what the rest of the day had in store, but she wouldn't dare regret facing it anyway. She focuses on cleaning her body, then, pushing her plaguing mind to the back burner.

Her hair drapes down her back as moisture serenades it with a delicate touch; and she sighs. The scalding water against her back simply never felt better.

20 minutes later, she was fresh in some clean clothes that didn't reek of soju and runny tears, but a breathable, randomly thrown together outfit and a hairtie holding her hair into the air as it dried and some vaseline across her dehydrated lips; she simply did not have the time to worry about blow drying at the moment. She occupied her time before her daughter's arrival with cleaning anything she deemed to be dirty, removing things she saw were out of place, and reading her records of recipes out of boredom. She felt out of place, out of the ordinary. like she was touring someone else's home instead of her own. She absolutely loathed those feelings and tried her hardest to ignore them.

Then her doorbell rang.

The walk to that door could've been mirrored almost to a walk of shame; she's never had to do this before. Ever. Never in her lifetime would she have thought that she'd have to open her home's door to her husband with her consent, and not have him come in with open arms because this was obviously where he belonged. Because this was his home too.

She looks through the peephole to see where her daughter was directed so she knew where to divert her primary attention to. She was on the right — well, Rosalie's left. Jimin was holding her in his arm with ease, with her bag in his other hand. Then she opened the door, with the doorknob cool against her fingertips and not the least bit inviting.

Her expression was a delighted one when she turned to her daughter, not even acknowledging Jimin. Haeran squealed with happiness upon seeing her mother, undoubtedly welcoming her with an open hug from in Jimin's hold and thus transferring to her mother's, with her arms around her neck. Her cheeks were warm, and the messiest of buns sat atop her small head. 

Rosalie kissed Haeran's cheeks multiple times, making her giggle, asking, "Did you have fun?"

Jimin watched his daughter nod with earnest as he leaned against the outside of the doorframe opposite of Rosalie.

“Yeah, mommy, we went to the beach and I got seaweed in my hair and daddy washed it all out," she chirped, purposely leaving out what they discussed at the beach, and subtly looked over to her father and nodded, as if she was telling him that their secret was safe with her. It was a secret mission as Jimin called it.

"Did you miss Haeranie?" Haeran asked, her hands on Rosalie's mouth. "You missed me right? I missed you mommy." Her head rested in the crook of Rosie's neck as Jimin watched in awe. He really missed this.

"Of course," Rosie hummed, "mommy missed Haeran so so so much!" And it was true. If there was anyone who motivated her to find it in her to keep pushing on, it was her daughter. Whether she was aware if it or not, she was a very valuable anchor to rosalie's mental state. Because she's her baby. Her everything. She could never be away from her for so long.

"Good." Rosalie and Jimin both laughed them at Haeran's bluntness, but the laughter died almost as soon as it came. The sound had an uncomfortable familiarity to it.

"Haeranie," Rosalie whispered, "go upstairs okay? I'll be up in a minute." Her eyes unintentionally locked with Jimin's then, and she moved them away from him as Haeran nodded and slid from her arms.

"Okay mommy!" She quickly eschewed her shoes at the door and waddled up the stairs, and Rosalie watched until the last stair was conquered before she turned to him. Haeran didn't even bid her father goodbye, because she honestly thought he'd follow behind her later with her mommy.

Cold eyes met anxious ones when she looked at him. Saying nothing, she reached out her arm and waited for Jimin to drape the bag across it. He does so hesitantly, careful not to make any actual contact with her body. When she has the bag, she moves to step back into the house and attempts at closing the door, but Jimin quickly puts his foot between it.

"Wait," he begs. her eyes are fierce and unforgiving, but he tries anyway. "Please." She swallows, motioning for him to go on.

"What, Jimin?" She cannot meet his eyes. It would only cause the tight wall she forced in between them to come crashing down with ease.

This was no time to stutter, no time to choke on words. "The gala . . " He says, almost feeling stupid for even suggesting it, "are you-"

"Five o'clock." That was all she needed to say for him to understand. She would be picked up at 5 — not a minute before or after.

He nodded, about to leave, but he stalled in case she had something else to say. The door wasn't being slammed in his face as he expected; instead it seemed as if she was just searching for the words to say.

He was right. 

"Wait," she said softly. She looked up to him, her left hand gripping the doorknob tightly and her lips slightly parted. Rosalie swore to herself she wouldn't make efforts to give him the time of day, but damn it, she just . . broke. Despite it all, she couldn't help but care.

"W-where are you staying?"

He took in a deep breath, unconsciously roaming his hands through his hair and sighing. Rosalie wished he wouldn't do that. It just reminded her of how things used to be, when he'd lay in he lap after a long day and beg her to play in his hair to lull him to sleep. She's able to get a better look at him now, he was dressed in simple clothes, his hair was slightly disheveled and oily, his stance was so guarded and his eyes were so tired.

But he did this to himself.

"A hotel not too far from here. It's fine. Don't worry." She definitely didn't need to be told twice. She simply turned around and shut the door.

He had wanted to say something to her before he left though. Have a nice day, I'm sorry.

Better yet: I love you.

But the right words never find their way to him.

Nothing new.

She tries her hardest to be engaging with her daughter, she really does. But her mind is occupied heavily, and Haeran's continuous mommy mommy mommy's weren't making anything any easier. The emptiness eats away at her, searching for her whenever it seems she'll be okay for a few moments. Rosalie couldn't catch a break, and it had her wondering: why? Why does she bother putting herself through all of this, why does she bother to be cordial, and respectful, and hopeful? Why not say to hell with it all and damn everything she set her eyes upon in a burning rage?

A heavy sigh emits from her body. Because she was grown. And she'd handle this the only way she knew how.

It was just around 3 p.m now, and Haeran was peacefully dozing off after indulging in various activities with her worn mother throughout the day. Peculiarly, she had drifted off on her own, looking under beds and behind doors. She claimed she was looking for something but wouldn't inform her mother on what it was. Rosalie was just glad she had a distraction.

She already picked out a dress; it was a simple burgundy off the shoulder dress with a large split in the side. It still fit her well and she deemed it appropriate for the night ahead of her. But she didn't want to think too much about it until it was time to prepare, so she peacefully dozed off to sleep, thanking god her raging mind withdrew on its attacks for now.

By 4 o'clock she was almost ready; Haeran had welcomed her grandfather of a babysitter into her house with a squeal and open arms, while Rosalie unenthusiastically applied makeup. Haeran and her father were having many various conversations with the topic shifting quickly, and all Rosalie could do was be thankful her father was the patient type. Her reflection in the mirror showed her exactly what she expected — her eyes were bright, but hollow and empty.

As she descended down her stairs minutes before 5, Haeran perked up and looked in her direction with questions leaving her mouth before Rosalie even had time to process them; whatever her and her grandfather were discussing was immediately forgotten.

"Mommy?" She asked, turning her body on her grandfather's lap to face her, "Where are you going? You look pretty." She pouted as her mother finally entered the living room, searching for her heels.

"Thank you baby," she said, slipping her feet into some pumps, "I'm going to a little get-together with daddy, okay? I won't be long Haeranie, I promise." She walked over to kiss her daughter's forehead and ruffle her hair.

Haeran's face lit up with a smile at the mention of her father; he found it! "Okay mommy!" She laughed. "You'll be with daddy, again." And you'll be happy now.

"Yes, I'll be with daddy," Rosalie cooed, trying not to frown at her words. She looked up to her dad. 

"You'll be okay here, daddy? Won't let Haeranie tire you out, right?" She joked. Her dad rolled his eyes and teased her for even asking.

"Stop making me feel old, Rosie June. Now go on, girl," he shoo'd her away, and she laughed and kissed his head too, telling him not to wait up for her.

It was going to be a long night.

Jimin arrived exactly at 5, as she told him to. He was dressed in a crisp tux and a stony expression as he greeted her and opened her car door. He was nervous, and obviously so, but Rosalie couldn't care less about that. His shaking hands didn't phase her in the slightest.

"You-you look great," he said awkwardly.

"I know." She picked up her dress from the ground and stepped inside.

Jimin tried not to make eye contact, knowing she'd be upset, but it was so hard. And he had so many questions. Why was she doing this? What convinced her to go despite all he put her through? It confused him, but he didn't dare ask. He just keeps his eyes on the road.

"We're only going to be there for an hour," Rosalie says, her eyes never drifting to where he sat. "And don't touch me. At all." She couldn't hide the venom in her voice if she tried.

He couldn't help but peer at now, simply at a loss for words as she continued to look out her window, avoiding him expertly. He swallows, and speaks quietly like a child who was just scolded by their mother. 

"Okay."

The ride is short and silent. The area the ceo and his wife picked out was a convenient 15 minute drive away from the firm itself. The room was beautiful, Rosalie wouldn't dare lie; and whoever decorated did a fantastic job. It was like she was immersed in a fairytale, even if she felt nothing like Cinderella. A large chandelier stood high and mighty in the middle of the main floor, and behind that were the doors to the entrance of the main hall. Rosalie and Jimin were fashionably late; the gathering was already in full swing with smiling faces greeting each other and conversing.

To be honest, Rosalie really adored the Choi firm. They were honest people, and so were their employees, they were one of the few firms that weren't so corrupt and filled with greed; as many others often seemed like they didn't exactly care for those they were aiding, they just anticipated the pretty coin. The Chois weren't like that.

Choi Yoona, the ceo's wife, greeted Rosalie as she entered, rushing over to her with a saccharine smile. "Rosalie, darling, you made it." She was as graceful as she was kind, wearing a sleek black evening gown that exposed her left shoulder. Her short hair accented the dress exquisitely.

Rosalie bowed respectfully to the woman, before saying, "thank you for the invite, miss. It's beautiful what you've done to this place, your decoration skills are unmatched." The two continued to compliment the other before Yoona noticed Jimin standing quite awkwardly near,

"Oh my goodness!" She said, putting a hand near her mouth. "Excuse me, Jimin, I'm so sorry," she shook off her displeasure, "I didn't even see you." And Rosalie didn't bother to mention him.

"It's fine," Jimin bowed, smiling as well, "Rosie's the star here, anyway." He giggled and turned to her, waiting for her to play along.

"Well," she said, feigning timidity, "Already trying to butter me up aren't you?" She smiled back at him, but it didn't reach her eyes.

Who she was really looking for was Hoseok, he said he'd be here, and she had yet to see him arrive. Eventually she and Jimin separated, with him going off to talk to Namjoon and a few other close workers, and her to the table of desserts. The only people she knew comfortably were Yoona, Namjoon and Hoseok, and two out of those three were unavailable. She'd talk to Namjoon without Jimin, she didn't want to pretend any longer with him as if this was a poorly written script of a lifetime movie.

And hoseok came, eventually. His tux was gray instead of the traditional black, and his hair was styled to perfection and his stride was confident as he noticed her. He engulfed her in a hug before she could fully register him being there, and a yelp emits from her in surprise.

"Sorry I'm late," Hoseok said, releasing her. "I just couldn't figure out what to wear." He looked down at his clothing considerably. 

He looked back up Rosalie, "you look great though." He tilted his head to the side slightly as he examined her. He did it so seriously with a tone change that was almost comical.

So at that, rosalie had to laugh. It was the first time a laugh genuinely came from her that entire night, and it didn't escape the attention of Jimin, who was conversing with Namjoon as they watched his wife giggle to herself with a wine glass held by her shoulder.

"Why thank you Hobi," she giggled out. "You cleaned up nicely as well, as always." Hoseok smiled, happy to see her in a better mood.

"That's how I like me. How're you doing? Where's Jimin?" He looked around discreetly until he found him before she could answer; Jimin was still looking at the two skeptically before Namjoon took his attention again.

Hoseok sighed. "Found him."

Namjoon's hand rested on Jimin's shoulder, shaking it some to gain his attention. "Hey, look here."

For some reason, Jimin couldn't take his eyes off Hoseok being near Rosalie, which puzzled Namjoon, because they were close before Jimin even entered the firm. Hoseok was one of Rosalie's closest friends. But Namjoon had to remember the recent events in Jimin's life; and how they affected everything now. Jimin's infidelities came with consequences, and Namjoon wouldn't let him forget it.

Jimin released his gaze reluctantly, "what?"

Namjoon sucked in a breath, removing his hand. "Don't start. You know you don't even have the right." Jimin looked like he was about to jump to his own defense, but diffused quickly upon realizing that Namjoon was right.

Jimin sighed, leaning on a nearby pillar. "I know. It may be hard to believe, but I can't wrap my mind around this any better than you can. A couple of weeks ago, we were joined at the hip. And now we're playing pretend," he scoffed.

And who's fault do you think that is? "It is crazy, I won't even lie," Namjoon said, sipping his own wine, "I almost didn't believe you when you told me about what happened." 

And that was true. Jimin had told him the day Rosalie confronted him, sweating and as if he had just ran a mile.

I did something horrible, he had said. I may have just broken my family and it's all my fault. Tears flowed from his eyes as he slumped down on Namjoon's porch before Namjoon finally wore off his shock and invited him inside for a drink. Once inside, he broke down and told him every last detail. Somethings Namjoon wished he didn't know.

Jimin's eyes couldn't focus on one thing and he was getting a headache from thinking so much here. He pushed himself slightly off the pilar, "I'm gonna go to the bathroom." Namjoon nodded and watched him walk quickly towards the nearest restroom, wondering how in the hell was his friend supposed to fix the dilemma he just threw himself into.

Once in the bathroom, Jimin clutched the sink's marble stone, looking into the mirror. He didn't know what to do then; being there with everyone watching, and him watching Hoseok and Rosalie probably hating the ground he walked on was just so overwhelming, and he just needed to hold himself together until they took their leave.

"damn it, jimin," he swore, biting his lip. "how could you?"

"Funny. That's exactly what I said." A new voice entered the bathroom. Jimin looked up in shock; it was Hoseok's voice. he stood by the door, his hands were in his pockets and his eyes rather indifferent, but there was a hardness in them that couldn't be ignored.

"What?" Jimin asks, narrowing his eyes.

Hoseok shrugged, walking up to him. "How could Jimin of all people, cheat on Rosalie? It's one of those more baffling life questions, isn't it? Wondering how someone you thought you knew so well, considered a brother, hurt someone else that they love like that. You know?" He was very close to Jimin now, who was unresponsive.

All he could do was stare blankly, licking his dried lips. She told him? He knew something was off that night. Of course she told him. Jimin decided he couldn't just stand there and allow himself to he cornered; he needed to say something.

He swallowed nervously, and how did Hoseok get so close? "Hoseok I-?" He searched for the right words, "I know I made a mistake, but-"

"Yeah," Hoseok laughed menacingly, "a mistake. One that should've never happened in the first place." He scowled before laughing, "But will say this.Your first mistake was the cheat, of course."

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice to where he was almost whispering, "but did you ever consider how much you've played her for the fool that she isn't? Did the thought ever once cross your mind? and if so, why didn't it ever cease? Because it seems to me, Park Jimin, that you've done all of this to yourself. And all you're doing now is suffering the consequences; reaping what you've sowed."

He chuckled darkly, “so stop looking at Rosalie across the dancehall like you’re crazy. She’s uncomfortable.”

He leaned back then, patting Jimin on his shoulder mockingly. "But you know what they say," he smiled at him. "You live, and you learn, right?"

Jimin's jaw clenched as he listened to Hoseok speak. You live and you learn, right?

"Yeah. Right, Hoseok." As embarrassing as it was, he just stood quietly and let Hoseok say what he needed to. This wasn't the time nor the place to allow anything else. Hoseok smiled again before releasing himself from Jimin's personal space.

"Exactly. Enjoy the rest of your night, Jimin." he cut his eyes to the ground and then left as swiftly as he entered. He followed him in there for a reason, and he was glad it had been fulfilled. Those words had been begging to escape him since he heard Rosalie's drunken slurs over the phone.

As soon as he left, Jimin punched the marble sink so he could just feel something. Jimin wanted to fucking scream, anything to express some type of feeling for the utter mess he's put himself through. He was glad no one else was in the bathroom to view his misery. He wanted to go home. He wanted to embrace wife and daughter at home, where he belonged to them and they belonged to him. He wanted to cry, to weep, but just stood there hopelessly instead, because no sound left his lungs.

Jimin just wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

[eleanor-writes-stuff]

in sickness and in health [one-shot]

Flu season returns, and Ben is the first to fall victim to it. But that's okay, because he and Rey have promised to always take care of each other - through thick and thin, in sickness and in health, whether it's seven days or seven months...

(The one in which Ben gets a flu, and Rey gets a stomach flu... or does she?)

After an unplanned month-long hiatus, I’m back! ... with yet another plotless fluffy one-shot, because it’s important to stay on-brand, guys.

Also available on AO3. And hey, maybe check out my Twitter or Ko-fi?

Ben ❤️❤️❤️[04:26PM]: I think I’m dying

Rey rolls her eyes at her husband’s dramatic text and huffs out a little laugh under her breath as she replies. His whiny exaggeration and – more tellingly – the lack of proper punctuation are obvious indicators of his condition, but it’s hardly as serious as his message would suggest.

Rey [04:27PM]: Pretty sure it’s just the flu, babe

Ben ❤️❤️❤️[04:28PM]: Come home anyway Miss you Please

She shakes her head at the texts rapidly popping up on her screen and chances a look around the office. The workweek ends in just half an hour, and most people are already winding down for the day, either putting the finishing touches on whatever it is they’re working on or discreetly starting to shut things down and pack up to leave as soon as the clock strikes five.

It’s probably okay for her to leave early just this once.

Rey [04:31PM]: You’re a bad influence, Ben Solo Fiiiine Leaving work soon, will swing by the store on the way home to pick up a couple of things Try to survive without me for a little longer, okay? Love you ❤️

“Hey, Rose?”

Her cubicle neighbor wheels into sight with a smile on her face. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Ben’s sick, so I think I’m gonna leave early and go get some stuff for him. Can you just let people know if anyone comes looking for me?”

“Sure thing,” Rose agrees easily as she watches Rey pack up for the day. “Send my regards to Ben. Oh, and let me know if you guys need anything.”

With one final click of her mouse, Rey’s workstation is shut down and packed up for the day. “Will do. Thanks, Rose, you’re the best.” She shoulders her bag as she stands and leans down to give Rose a quick hug goodbye, and by the time Ben replies to her message Rey is already on her way down to her car.

Ben ❤️❤️❤️[04:37PM]: Thank you thank you thank you Love you too See you soon, Nurse Rey 😉

If the uncharacteristic use of an emoji is any indication, he’s probably pretty feverish already.

Rey sighs as she pulls out from the underground parking lot and straight into traffic. There’s no escape, not even with a ten-minute head start on everyone else. By the time she finally gets home, armed with the spoils of a quick detour, the winter sun has long since disappeared and so has what little energy Ben managed to derive from his feverish state.

She finds him asleep on the couch, curled up in a quilt from their bed while the TV casts dancing shadows across his face. Rey takes a moment to smile at the scene before she heads straight for the kitchen, careful not to wake Ben as she puts the kettle on and sets aside her purchases. It’s only once she’s armed with some lemon ginger tea and a plate of saltines that she heads back out to her sleeping husband and gently shakes him awake.

“Don’t wanna,” Ben whines even before his eyes are open, face scrunching up as he catches a whiff of the dreaded tea. Rey sets everything down on the coffee table before she braces herself against the couch and pulls, a determined force meeting a stubborn object.

“C’mon, up you go,” she insists as Ben groans and grumbles, and eventually he opens his eyes just long enough to take pity on his wife, forehead creased with effort and chest heaving from exertion. “No complaining from you,” Rey orders as she retrieves the tea and crackers and foists them upon a reluctant Ben. “I had to deal with looks because of this, you know.”

Bleary-eyed and two seconds away from a sip, Ben seizes upon the opportunity for a distraction. “Looks? What kind of looks?”

Rey shakes her head at him with a knowing smile and nudges the cup closer, pointedly silent until he gives in with a sigh and gulps down half the cup.

“Apparently Leia’s idea of an emergency flu supply run looks a whole lot like a morning sickness starter pack,” she explains as he starts nibbling on a saltine with considerably less disgust. “Maz even came out from the back to ask if congratulations are in order.”

“As if I’d make you buy your own morning sickness supplies,” Ben scoffs as he washes the cracker down with the rest of his tea, making a show of draining every last bit for her.

She runs a hand through his sleep-rumpled hair before sliding her hand down to gently pat his cheek. “Good boy. Think you can handle some soup?” Rey asks as she gathers his cup and plate and makes to leave the couch. “And for the record, I’d be perfectly capable of getting my own saltines, pregnant or not.”

Ben reaches for her wrist, his grip feverish and looser than usual. “I know,” he assures her, his thumb stroking the inside of her wrist. “But you wouldn’t have to. I’d take care of you. I’ll always take care of you – you know that, right?”

Even with his eyes fever-glazed, Ben still looks at her like he holds all the world’s sincerity in his heart; she doesn’t think he’s ever made her a promise with anything less than that. Rey smiles as she leans down to kiss his burning forehead. “I know, baby. But for now maybe let me do the caretaking, okay?”

“For now,” he relents, and lets her go with a loopy smile that’s only partially flu-caused.

Ben continues to be sick for the next five days, and by the fourth so is Rey.

“You did this to me,” she accuses him on Tuesday night, squirming as he pulls her overheated body closer to his. “I told you you were going to get me sick.”

“And I told you it was going to happen whether or not I kissed you,” Ben counters easily, his voice almost back to normal after days of sounding like he’s hacking up a lung. “Besides, I promised to take care of you too, didn’t I?”

Rey settles against his chest with a huff. “You better.” She knows she’s being snippy, but she figures it’s well-deserved because somehow, Ben managed to transform his regular flu into some kind of stomach flu from hell before passing it on to her. Her rational brain knows that’s not how it works, but rational thinking went out the window after the fourth time she failed to stomach a goddamn cracker.

Ben presses a kiss to her clammy temple. “I will. I’ll wait on you hand and foot until you’re 100% back to normal, okay? I promise.”

He keeps his promise for a whole week, tending to her every need without so much as an aggravated sigh even when she wakes him up multiple times a night with a coughing fit or sudden bout of nausea. So when Ben does finally suggest she see a doctor, she knows it’s not because he’s tired of playing nurse.

“I’m just worried, sweetheart,” he murmurs against her sweaty temple one morning when he’s running late, sitting on the bathroom floor with her instead of rushing out the door. “At least take another day off?”

“I’ve already stayed home for a whole week,” Rey protests as she struggles to get to her feet, only to have Ben scoop her up and seat her on their counter. “Besides, it’s probably just the last of this bug making its way through my system. I’ll be okay, baby.”

Ben frowns at her, complete with a crease between his brows and everything, but Rey maintains eye contact and refuses to back down. She knows he won’t hesitate to call in sick for her, won’t think twice before taking the day off himself to care for her, but at some point things have to go back to normal. And if her body refuses to acknowledge that, she’s more than willing to force it to play along.

“Look, staying cooped up in bed can’t be good for me,” Rey points out as she takes his hands in hers and gives them a little squeeze. “Maybe getting out of the apartment and actually moving around a bit will help me bounce back.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Ben says, but his shoulders sag and seconds later he lets out a defeated sigh. “But okay. Just… promise me you’ll call if you’re not feeling well?”

Rey smiles and presses a kiss to his jaw, painfully aware of the lingering acidic taste in the back of her throat. “I promise. Now go, you’re going to be late!”

It takes another five minutes before Ben actually leaves, and another hour after that before she makes her way out of the apartment. Rey’s not too worried about that, though; Holdo made it clear yesterday that she doesn’t expect Rey in at all this week, so she’ll hardly mind a little tardiness.

She’s a little over an hour late by the time she gets to her desk, but everyone’s too busy asking after her health to care about that. It takes what feels like an eternity before her coworkers finally break apart from the circle they’ve formed around her cubicle and get back to work, leaving her alone with Rose.

“I know you’re probably sick of talking about this,” Rose says with an apologetic little smile, “but are you sure you’re okay?”

“I mean, I might avoid the breakroom today, but other than that I’m perfectly fine,” Rey assures her. “Really, Rose, I’m practically back to normal. It’s just a bit of nausea being stubborn.”

Rose, already half-turned away, suddenly spins back to her. “Nausea?”

“Yeah, the joys of a stomach flu, right? All my other symptoms disappeared days ago, but I still can’t keep anything down. I gave Ben hell for getting me sick, but it probably wasn’t even him. He was lucky enough to just get the regular– What?” Rey interrupts herself, skin prickling under Rose’s scrutiny.

Her friend has never been one to mince words, not even back when they were just colleagues, but there’s something delicate and careful about Rose’s next question. “Rey… are you sure it’s just a flu?”

“I mean, what else could it–”

She freezes up the second the thought occurs to her, rendered speechless mid-sentence.

Rose gives her a little smile. “Yeah. That.”

They spend their lunch break at the nearest CVS.

When Ben gets home on Thursday, she’s sitting cross-legged on the couch and twisting her fingers together into a hopeless, nervous knot.

“I went to the doctor today.”

He drops everything in a heartbeat, barely stops to kick the door shut behind him before he’s hurrying over to her side and taking her hands in his. “Rey, why didn’t you– I would’ve– oh god, is everything okay?”

She’d planned to build up to it a little, but Rey can’t bear the look of utter terror on her poor husband’s face for another second. “Ben, I’m fine,” she assures him, leaning down for a lingering kiss before she pulls him up to sit next to her. “It’s just…”

“Just?” Ben echoes, looking only slightly less terrified than he had ten seconds ago.

Rey decides to put him out of his misery.

“Remember that deal we made last week, to take care of each other?”

Ben nods. “Yes, of course,” he says as his brows knit together in concern. “Rey, whatever it is… I’m here for you, sweetheart. Always will be. Just tell me, please.”

She rises up on her knees to press their foreheads together, looping her arms around Ben’s neck as his hands find her waist. “I’m okay, I promise. It’s just… you definitely got the short end of the stick, babe.”

He draws back to frown at her. “What do you mean?”

Rey brings one hand up to cup his face, brushing her thumb along his cheek as she smiles. “Well, I only had to take care of you for a week.”

“Okay…?” Ben replies, concern slowly giving way to confusion.

She moves her free hand down to one of his, pulls it from her side to her abdomen. “Meanwhile you’re going to have to deal with this,” Rey whispers, applying the slightest bit of pressure on his hand and her stomach, “for another seven months.”

It takes a second, but she can see the exact moment Ben’s brain breaks. His eyes are fixed on hers but she knows he’s not actually looking at her, a million miles away as his lips part but nothing comes out, not until a full thirty seconds later when he finally says–

“Oh.”

And then, as his eyes trail down to their joined hands – “Oh.”

“Terrible deal, wasn’t it?” Rey laughs when he finally returns his attention to her, only for her laugh to turn into a gleeful shriek as Ben gathers her up in his arms and jumps to his feet to swing her around, his exuberant laugh joining her rare giggles in the moments between kisses.

“Are you kidding me?” he grins once she’s finally grown dizzy enough to ask him to put her back down, and Rey blinks back a sudden well of tears as her husband kneels before her and presses a reverent palm to her belly.

“Best deal ever,” Ben declares, and doesn’t change his mind even once throughout the next seven months of morning sickness and midnight cravings.

Was this just another excuse to write devoted, married Reylo? ... Why yes, yes indeed.

Hard to believe it's been more than a month since I last posted anything, but time's weird like that. I'm glad to finally be back after a particularly hectic month, and I hope I'm not too rusty!

As always, thanks for reading and please don't hesitate to like/comment/reblog!

[sentimentalised]

Useful

This is some post-Adrian Dove emotional whump, because unlearning things that abusers drill into you is hard, and sometimes it’s almost relieving to fall into old patterns.

CW: Victim-blaming (self), minor misgendering, manipulation, drugging.

Dove was going to a dive bar. They’d ridden the metro all the way to the edge of town, and not even five minutes later they saw the tacky string lights that made this particular seedy bar stand out from all the other seedy bars.  It had a reputation around town for being an establishment frequented by the wrong sort of people, so that’s where Dove was headed. They’d come here for a reason, and said reason was why Dove hadn’t told any of their friends where they were going, or invited any of them along. Before they’d left, they’d brushed out their hair so that it fell in shiny black waves to the tops of their shoulders, and they’d pulled one of their only short-sleeved dresses out of their closet. Dove had bought it because it was a shade of blue that matched their eyes exactly, but had never worn it, because, well…they weren’t exactly eager for people to see their arms. Not after what’d he’d done to them. He was gone, but his marks remained. Tonight, the scars he’d left would be an asset.

When they walked in, they sat down at the bar itself, close enough to the front that they could see the patrons coming in out of the corner of their eye without it looking like they were staring. They ordered a lemon drop cocktail to drink while they watched-without-watching, taking little sips every now and then and trying hard not to wince at the vodka’s burn.

After about twenty minutes, Dove felt the hair on the back of their neck stand straight up. They cast their eyes to the side, sneaking a glimpse of the man who had just walked in. To the average observer, he would have seemed ordinary, passingly attractive but not overly so. But Dove, though they’d never met him, could see the calculating glint in his eye and the hunger in his smile. *There’s a monster.* They looked back down quickly, tucking their hair behind their ear nervously. They felt their skin prickle again, and they knew he’d seen them. Now all they had to do was wait.

Five minutes passed before the bartender came over with another cocktail. “Compliments of the gentleman in the blue jacket,” he said, inclining his head to the man Dove had seen, now sitting at the other end of the bar. When he saw them look over, he grinned, and Dove felt their stomach drop.

“Thank you,” they said softly to the bartender. They took the drink in hand and walked over to the man’s side of the bar, perching on a stool next to him. “So.” Dove looked up at him. “Why is a man I don’t know buying me drinks?”

He laughed charmingly. “My name is Jackson Hawkins. Now you know me!” He leaned closer. Dove could smell his cologne, something spicy and dark. “As for buying you a drink, well, I wanted to get your attention. It’s not every day I see such a pretty girl sitting all alone, you know.” He winked. I bet your routine works on everyone, Dove thought to themself. No one ever sees through your act, because you know how to charm. I see it, though. I know what you are. They opened their mouth, intending to correct him on their gender, but closed it with a sigh. I’m pathetic enough without trying to explain what a special snowflake I am.

“It’s not every day that someone is interested in me, Jackson Hawkins,” they remarked. “Normally these” -and here they held out their arms so that he could better view the twisting scars that ran their length- “tend to frighten people off.” Damaged goods, that’s all I am. People would need to be assured of a discount before they looked twice at me.

“They’re cowards, then.” Jackson leaned back and sipped something amber from a crystalline glass. Scotch, Dove assumed. “I happen to find that people with scars are always the most…interesting.” The smile was back, but this time he barely tried to disguise the hunger underneath. He knew that they knew what he was, and he also knew that, if they weren’t running now, they weren’t going to run at all. Putting down his glass, he took one of Dove’s small arms in his hands and ran his thumb along one of the raised white lines. It took everything Dove had not to pull away and run screaming. They couldn’t stop themself from shaking, though, and they felt Jack grip tighter in response. “Your scars happen to be quite lovely,” he murmured.

“Th- um, thank you, Jackson.” Dove tugged their arms from his grip, and he let go without a fight, though the hunger that had arrived when he’d first touched them hadn’t left his eyes. Dove hugged themself tightly, cold to the bone even in the stiflingly warm, alcohol-scented air. “I- I, um, I have to go?” His eyes darkened, and he reached out for their wrist again, grip almost painful.

“Go?” His voice was like silk over a knife. “Whatever for?”

“Not, um, I’m not lea- not leaving!” Dove tripped over their words in their haste to explain, holding their other hand out in front of them. “I just, um, I have, have to go powder my nose?” They pointed towards the bathroom in case he didn’t know the expression. He relaxed a fraction, and let go of their wrist. Dove resisted the urge to rub it with their other hand. As sore as it was, they didn’t want to draw attention to it.

“I shall await your return, pretty girl~” he said, lilting. Dove walked off, a furious blush on their cheeks. When they got to the bathroom (a very dingy affair), they splashed some water on their face and looked into the mirror. The mirror itself was just as dirty as the rest of the bathroom. Dove’s reflection stared back at them, warped and grimy, and Dove thought to themself that honestly, if their outside looked like their inside, that would be the face that all passer-byes would see. Damaged. Broken. Useless. Not quite, Dove reminded themself. I am good for something. I am.

With that, they reentered the bar, flinching at the sudden return of loud voices and thumping bass notes. Jackson saw them coming back, and waved them over. “You were gone for ages, darling. I quite missed you. I thought you’d abandoned me.” He frowned.

“I- I’m sorry,” Dove stammered. “I lost, um, lost track of time.”

“No need to apologize, sweetheart.” Like a light switch, Jackson’s sunny smile had returned. “You’re back and that’s what counts. Now!” He inclined his head towards the drink that he had bought for them, still full to the brim. “Why don’t you have some of that, hm? I’d hate to think I bought something that wasn’t enjoyed.”

Dove nodded mutely, and reached for the glass. Even before it passed their lips, they knew that it would taste salty, like they had just had a margarita. Wasn’t that why they’d gone to the bathroom in the first place? To give Jackson time to slip a drug into their drink, if he was so inclined?

“Well?” Jackson prompted. “Do you like it?”

“Y-yes…thank, um, thank you for, for the drink.” Dove could already feel their head starting to spin. They wobbled, and Jackson caught them easily, steadying them with an arm around their shoulders.

“Easy there, pretty girl, we don’t want you getting hurt, now do we? Bartender!” he called, pulling Dove closer to him. “I think this lady’s had a little too much to drink. I’ll help her out and take her home.” The bartender raised an eyebrow, but after a second, he went back to washing glasses. Jackson’s nails dug tighter into Dove’s shoulder.

He walked them out to his car, and sat them in the backseat, patting their cheek in a parody of gentleness. He didn’t bother with the façade of asking them where they lived, assuming that Dove was too loopy to try and tell him, or to even think straight. He was half right: Dove was definitely too out of it to try talking, but they were still able to think, though that was rapidly slipping through the grip of their foggy mind. They leaned involuntarily, their cheek coming to rest against the cool windowpane. Their eyes fluttered and fell closed, and Dove let them, tired of trying to stay awake. After all this is what they’d known was going to happen. At least it will hurt less if I’m drugged. Their last hazy thought before succumbing to the white numbness was this: Finally, finally, I can be useful again.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Why do we let me write?

Wriggling down in his chair, Eren was trying to hide how crappy he was feeling. He'd been fine until just after the movie had started, but now his stomach was rolling and a general feeling of grossness had set in. He didn't want to ask Levi to take him home, his husband needed this night too and he'd been so loving. Wriggling again, Eren sighed to himself

"Everything alright?"

"Oh. What? Yeah. I need to use the bathroom"

"Do you want me to go with you?"

Eren shook his head

"Levi, I'm 24. I'm pretty sure I know how to use the toilet"

Pressing a kiss to him shoulder, Levi nodded

"Alright. Just don't get lost"

By the time Eren reached the bathroom, he was stumbling. It was like his legs didn't want to work, which ended with him practically collapsing into the first stall. Sliding to the floor, he placed his head against his knees and tried to take a deep breath, only to find he couldn't breathe properly. Gagging, the omega leant over and vomited violently into the toilet. Great... he was going to ruin everything for Levi.

Throwing up again, the door behind him swung open, causing him to jump in both surprise and fear

"You look pathetic. Tell me, what's it like? You know, you moved all the way here and your husband still can't protect you"

Eren's heart was racing as he slowly turned to look behind him. Historia was standing there, smiling happily and wearing the same clothes as the waitresses at the restaurant they'd just been at. He'd been right. It was her...

"H-Historia... stay away..."

Trying to crawl backwards, he couldn't actually go anywhere"

"Why would I stay away? I have to give Levi points for bringing you all the way to Marley. It's really pretty here"

"Why?"

"Why what? I told you this wouldn't be over as long as I'm alive. How are you feeling? Dizzy? Nauseous?"

"You did this?"

"You should be careful when ordering drinks. Valium and alcohol... yeah, you really shouldn't be mixing the pair... especially given the other medication your on. You can thank Mikasa for the Valium idea though, it's so sad she's gone completely loopy"

Eren was trying to process just what Historia had said

"You talk to Mikasa?"

"You're the one who abandoned her. Left her in that hospital so you could run off with your husband and kids. Do you really think he loves you? I made sure you took photos of me that day in the park, and yet nothing happened. So tonight, I just couldn't wait any longer"

Stepping into the stall, Historia grabbed him by the hair. Thanks to the bitch drugging him, his hold on her wrist was almost nonexistent as she pulled him along the bathroom floor.

*

Eren was taking too long, and Levi was torn over what to do. He didn't want to embarrass his husband by checking on him, but he'd already been gone long enough for to miss the main twist in the movie. To be honest, he really wasn't into it, but Eren was missing everything. Making sure he had all their things, Levi deserted the movie. If Eren was alright, they could always head back in.

Ignoring the "Closed for Cleaning" sign, Levi slipped into the bathroom, almost gagging on the smell of vomit as he did

"Eren?"

Walking round the corner, Levi let out a long snarl. In front of him was Eren, collapsed on the floor and in the arms of girl

"Levi... run..."

Slowly the girl raised her head to look at him, her long brown hair covered half her face, but the fluorescent lights of the bathroom meant he could see the other side just fine

"Historia"

Giggling happily Historia raised a finger to her lips

"Not so loud. Eren's trying to sleep"

"What the fuck did you do to him?!"

"Me? Nothing. No. That's a lie. I just gave him a little something to make him nice and quiet... but I might have given him a little too much. Oh well. It's not like he really means that much to you"

Snarling, Levi lunged towards Historia

"Let him the fuck go!"

"Ok"

Rising to her feet, Historia let Eren fall to the floor. His head hitting the tiles with a solid thud

"It's ok, I doubt he felt it. Now, we're going to leave this place and go for a little drive"

Looking at Eren, he definitely didn't want to leave his husband like this

"What if I don't want to?"

"Then I'll just kill him right here"

The girls voice was deadly serious, and her hand rubbed at her side as if she was holding back from doing something. When he didn't reply immediately, Historia kicked Eren hard in the head

"Stop! I'll go with you! Just leave him alone"

"Excellent. Now pick him up. I'm not leaving him to be found by someone before I'm ready"

It would have been easy to take Historia out, but he didn't intend on going easy on the woman, and really didn't want any witnesses. Carrying Eren out to his SUV, he carefully laid his husband in the back and clipped his seatbelt into place. Eren's nose was bleeding, and his breathing wasn't great... his husband needed help because he'd failed to protect him again

"Now get in"

Spinning around, he was brought up short by the gun in the woman's hands. So that's what she'd been rubbing... great. He already knew Historia was crazy, and now the crazy bitch had a gun. The idea of being shot again really wasn't that tempting

"Get in the car. You try anything and I'll kill Eren first, then you, and then I'll hunt down those three brats of yours"

"Fine"

*

Following Historia's directions, it seemed she was very familiar with the city, and they were driving out of it. With Historia pointing the gun at Eren, he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in an attempt to keep his temper. Historia was fucking dead. Some people still thought him a murderer, and he was going to prove them right... with a worthy victim.

Leaving the city lightly behind them, the road wove through the hills and trees, as the traffic gradually faded to nothing. Eying the shoulder of the road, he had an incredibly stupid idea. Slowly increasing his speed, Levi made sure to keep casting glances at Historia's gun. She couldn't notice anything wrong... not yet and not if he wanted things to go right. Hearing Eren vomit in the back, Levi winced in sympathy for his husband, but also said a silent thanks

"Pull over"

"What?"

"Pull over. Here's far enough"

"Historia, Eren needs a doctor"

"Pull over or swear I'll shoot him right now"

So Levi did as Historia asked, though he was certain this really wasn't what she meant. Flooring it, he aimed straight for the closet tree. This was probably going to hurt like a goddamn bitch. Screaming at him, the gun went off as Historia grabbed for the steering wheel. The force of the impact drove the breath from Levi's lungs. His face smashing against the steering wheel as the whole world span. Shattered glass and screaming metal was all he could process as the car flipped and skidded. Finally rolling back onto its wheels and coming to a stop in the middle of the road.

Groggy and disorientated, Levi fumbled for the door handle, only to find it wouldn't open. God. He and Eren had horrible luck when it came to doors and windows. With his husband being the only thought he could properly process, Levi fought his way out his belt and then out the car through the window, before falling hard onto the bitumen

"Eren?!"

Spitting the blood from his mouth, Levi grabbed onto the hot car and pulled himself up. Unlike his door, Eren's opened when he tried the handle.

Eren looked horrible. Blood and vomit covered his dress, his arm seemed to be broken and he was out cold. All of which weren't great on their own, but together... dragging his husband out the car, he collapsed down with Eren in his arms

"Eren?"

All but spraying blood on his husband's face as he spoke, Levi wiped his tender face on his shoulder

"Eren, you need to wake up"

[imaginethatawriter]

Preference-Avengers-You break a bone

Requested by  @angel34jolly-blog

Tony Stark (Iron Man)

Tony is mid flight when his communication device comes to life and announces your injury. The description is vague. The only information Tony get’s is that you were hit by one of the largest men on the field and you were lying on the ground not moving. For two agonizing minutes it feels like his world is falling apart all over again. And yet the tightness in his chest doesn’t disappear when your beautiful voice comes across the device telling everyone that you were ok. That it was just a broken arm. Maybe a few broken ribs. 

Tony forgets everything else and rushes to your side. 

“Tony you can’t be down here. You need to be air control.” You try to push the man away with your good arm. But it’s no use. He places an armored hand on your back to support you and his face plate flips up. His skin is pale and the whites of his eyes are showing clearly. The panic on his face is clear. 

“God I thought you were dead.” 

“But I’m not see? I’m not that easy to get rid of. But seriously we need you back in the air. I’ll let you worry over me when we get back to base all right.” You struggle to your feet with Tony’s help. 

“Fine but only if you don’t get knocked around anymore.” Tony bends slightly to catch your lips in a quick kiss to remind himself that you’re still there. 

“Deal.” 

Bruce Banner (The Hulk)

Gif Credit: @nysmedit

Bruce isn’t a part of the mission when you get hurt, but he’s watching through the drones that SHIELD is using to monitor the mission. The guy you’re after corners you while you’re separated from the rest of the group. Even though you’re a powerful fighter the criminal gains the upper hands and doesn’t stop beating on you until SHIELD agents show up to stop him. Bruce has to be dragged away from the observation room because his knuckles are white and green is creeping up his neck. 

He sits in his lab for hours alternating between calmly thinking about helping you and wanting to murder the man who had beaten you so badly. When you arrive back on the base he’s the first person at your side. He works alongside the other doctors to reset and cast the bones that you broke. Luckily it’s not too bad. Well if you consider breaking four bones not too bad. You won’t be able to use the majority of your right side for a while, but don’t worry Bruce will be by your side the entire time helping you get stuff that you can’t reach and pushing you in a wheelchair. 

Steve Rogers (Captain America)

You’ve never broken a bone before and you’re pretty proud of that fact. Most of the time you’re the one who has to take care of Steve after he gets in a fight that’s just a little too much for him to handle. You’re not a SHIELD agent so Steve doesn’t worry about your safety too much. But when he get’s a call from the hospital that you’ve been injured he drops everything and sprints to the hospital. He practically pushes doctors over to get into your room and by your side.

“Geez you’re acting like I was run over by a semi-truck. I only broke my collar bone.” 

“That’s a big deal (Y/N). What happened? Did someone attack you? Did you run into something?”

You reach out and grab his hand even though the action causes a jolt of pain in your shoulder. 

“Steve calm down. I slipped and fell down some stairs. No big deal accidents happen. The doctor even said I don’t need to have surgery.”

He leans down and kisses your forehead. 

“Do I need to follow you around and carry you up and down the stairs now?” 

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

Clint Barton (Hawkeye)

Clint is very calm when you break your arm. And he’s actually there with you when you suffer the injruy. You’re out on a walk through Central Park with him and his dog Lucky. Something catches the sight of Lucky who bolts off, chasing whatever it is he saw. The leash is yanked out of Clint’s hand and the two of you run after the dog. You’re running as hard as you can, but Clint easily out paces you and you start to fall behind. Clint lunges at the dog and grabs him by the collar to stop him. At the same time you put more weight on your feet in an attempt to slow down quickly. Unfortunately your right foot hits a patch of slick dirt and suddenly you’re plummeting to the Earth. 

Your arm erupts in pain and you scream obscenity after obscenity.

“Whoah whoah! What happened? Let me see?”  He reaches for the hand that’s cradled to your chest. He takes a deep breath when he sees your arm. “Yeah we need to go to the doctors.” He helps you up gently. Throughout the whole process he is very calm and reassuring and he makes the experience a lot less scary. 

Natasha Romanov (Black Widow)

Natasha becomes extra protective when you break your leg. When she first saw you with the cast she became eerily quite for about five seconds before letting her features relax. She becomes your personal assistant for the entire time that you have to be in a cast. On the outside she seems completely composed and calm about the situation but on the inside she’s panicking. Natasha doesn’t get attached to many people because she’s had them ripped away from her too many times. So seeing you hurt really shakes her. Sometimes she just wants to run away from the sight of you because it makes her feel sick. But she knows that you’re vulnerable with a broken leg and she’s not going to let you get any more hurt. 

She spends an afternoon doodling on your cast. Signing her name in loopy letters and coloring in little shapes. Her name is easily the largest name on your cast. She also keeps a very close eye on anyone who asks to sign it as well. Which is maybe why so few people actually approach you to sign it. 

Thor Odinson

Thor is no stranger to broken bones. Though the warriors of Asgard are very tough when pit against each other in mock battles or rough housing they can break bones. However, Thor is extremely cautious around you when you break your arm. For the first two days it’s nice to have Thor waiting on you hand and foot. He carries all of your stuff and even cleans your apartment when you mention it’s getting cluttered. However, as time passes it get’s a little suffocating. He carries you up and down stares and won’t let you do anything more dangerous than walking along a flat surface. 

It’s a relief when you finally get your cast off and Thor starts treating you a little more normal. The next time you break a bone, if it happens you don’t tell Thor for as long as possible. And when he finally finds out he’s a little hurt that you kept such important information from him. You have to explain to him that you didn’t want to feel so caged in again and he seems to understand. At least this time he let’s you go to work alone. 

Bucky Barnes

Gif Credit: @buckypupbarnes

Bucky got a lot of experience dealing with illnesses and injuries back in the forties with Steve. So overall Bucky is the best person to have around when you break a bone. However, you are a very important anchor in his life and witnessing you get hurt by one of his enemies scares him badly. The first day of your injury, the doctors appointment especially, he’s intensely silent but he never leaves your side. You try reassuring him that you’re fine and that in the end you won the fight against the bad guy, but nothing will get through to him. 

The next day he’s back to the loving Bucky that you know, but he refuses to mention what happened the day before. Instead he makes up for the past by providing everything you need. Medical technology has advanced since his times taking care of Steve, but he still knows quite a few tips and tricks that make the healing move along better. He keeps you from sticking pencils down your cast and helps you figure out ways to shower while keeping the cast dry. 

T’Challa

Gif Credit: @softestisak

T’Challa doesn’t find out about your injury until about a week after it happens. He’s away in Wakanda and you’re too far away for him to visit regularly. So he finds out during a video conference that the two of you set aside the time for. You are very nonchalant about the situation and T’Challa  doesn’t notice anything until you casually reach across the screen with the arm that’s in a cast. 

“(Y/N), what happened? You didn’t tell me you were hurt?” 

You shrug. “Oh it’s nothing. I fell off of dividing wall about a week ago and landed on my arm. No big deal. I didn’t have to get it reset or go through any surgery.” 

T’Challa feels really bad that he can’t take the time to visit you and help you out, but he has an entire country to deal with. He tries to make up for it by sending you texts throughout the day asking how you’re doing and makes sure to call more often. You think it’s funny that he’s so concerned, but you appreciate that you get to talk to him more often now. 

[stcrlghts]

Be Mine, Valentine.

Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day and your long-time boyfriend has planned an extensive scavenger hunt... with quite the twist at the end. 

Warnings: LITERALLY 250% FLUFF 

(also, general lack of knowledge about a “berry picking farm”... you’ll see) 

Pairing: Lin x Reader 

Words: 3,033 (SORRY NOT SORRY) 

Special shoutout to my main homie and fellow scorpio, @hamilbye, for fangirling over this earlier. I really needed that confidence boost. You’re my fave ♥♥ 

Happy Valentine’s Day to all of you following me or reading this! I love you all and just picture me sweeping you all in for a huge group hug because that’s what I would be doing if you were all in front of me. 

You were unsure of the time you were woken from your sleep, but you knew it was early. Even with your curtains drawn, you were acutely aware of how dark it was outside. Shaking off your sleep and trying not to trip over your own feet as you shuffled across your floor, you arrived at the door. Simultaneously tugging your hair into a ponytail and peeking to see who was at the door, you were surprised to see no one standing in the hallway of your building. Perplexed, you opened the door to check again. Peering out into the hallway, you shivered in the cold air conditioning the building ran and almost missed the envelope with your name written on it. You bent down to pick it up and stepped backwards back into your apartment, closing the door behind you with your foot. Leaning your back against the door, you tore the envelope open. You never were one for patience.

As soon as you’d opened the flap of the envelope, a flurry of pink and silver glitter fell out, littering your floor. You cursed under your breath, knowing that would be a pain in the ass to clean up later. You watched the glitter fall, your sleepy stare catching on the flakes as they sailed through your living room. Returning to the rest of the contents, you fished out a piece of paper with a handwritten letter on it. Your eyes scanned the letter’s contents before finding their target – the sender’s name… which, annoyingly, happened to be anonymous. You decided that you’d have to read the letter to understand what it was. You rolled your eyes before moving through your apartment to sit on your kitchen table, crossing your legs up underneath you. It wasn’t like you lived with someone and the table was too many years old and too cheap, but it did its job.

You now settled in to actually read the letter, but you already understood the only person that would be thoughtful enough to do this.

My dear,

Here’s to hoping I didn’t wake you too early. I want you to get your sleep, but I really want you to get this letter too.

If you’ve looked at a calendar yet, I’m sure you’ve noticed that today is Valentine’s Day. Today is the day to celebrate you, the person I love. Contained on the second page of this letter are six (6!) clues that you should follow today. They will lead you to various locations that are important to the timeline of our story. At the sixth location, you will receive a text from an unknown number with nothing but a seventh location to meet me at.

Enjoy your day and I can’t wait to see you later today. I shall miss you while we are apart.

A soft smile pushed its way on to your face despite the early hour of the day. Lin always had a plan and you weren’t surprised he had this whole day planned out to the last detail of how you’d see each other later this evening. You felt a little pang of sadness knowing you wouldn’t see him until late, but you knew he was missing you today too.

By 8 am, you had showered and dressed to prepare to follow your first clue. You left your bathroom with the letter back in your hand, silently packing up your things in a messenger bag to carry with you. Taking a photo of the letter on your phone, you folded the letter carefully and stashed it in a pocket of the bag. You opened the photo on your phone to glance at the first clue one last time and then you were off.

____

You sighed, running your hand through your hair.

“Let’s try this again. Did a guy come in this morning to drop off a paper of any sort? Did he tell you where it was?”

It was late in the day by now and the sun was beginning to sink in the sky. You glanced one last time at your watch before watching the shop manager shake his head again. You’d spent your entire day traipsing through the city to follow the clues Lin had left. You’d been to the spot you met (a 24-hour diner), the spot you had your first kiss (the park you frequented together), the spot you had your first date (an old comedy club), and the place he had told you he loved you (back to your apartment, in your bedroom). You were now at the fifth stop, trying to wrestle the last clue out of an owner and manager who couldn’t seem to recall Lin coming in this morning. You really were running out of patience, quickly, and all you wanted was this last clue to go to the last place so you could finally get the location where you’d finally see Lin. You had guessed early on that one of his rules was to not run into you, not text you, and not call you and you severely missed him. Seeing happy couples all day had worn you down and all you wanted was to feel his arms around you and tell him how much you missed him and needed him and loved him.

The manager glanced at you before squinting his eyes, as if trying to conjure up a memory.

“You say a boy? Dark hair? Totally and utterly exhausted?”

You gave him a tired smile, “That would be him.”

The shop manager continued, “That boy came in here today, like 6 AM. Rushing around, all frantic-like. Wouldn’t stop talking, either. Told him I’d stash his letter just to get him to shut up. See, I remember now because I recognize you. You were the wallpaper on his phone and I got a glimpse of it. I’d just barely finished hiding the letter before he rushed off, muttering something about wanting to be at the jewelry shop by the time it opened. Damn boy was so tired he didn’t know what was happening.”

During this tirade, the manager bent down, searching underneath the front desk. He reappeared holding an ivory colored envelope, just like all the rest that day. You plucked it from his fingers, giving him a wide smile.

“Thank you so much! Yeah, Lin can be confusing sometimes. I’m sorry that he bothered you.”

The manager managed to grunt out a short grin, “He must really love you.”

You smiled now, casting your gaze downwards.

“We’ve been together for almost four years now. Some of the best years of my life.”

The manager kept his face still before waving you on, “Go finish this quest then. I know you must be wanting to see him just as badly as I’ve been wanting to see my wife today. Have a great rest of your day and tell the boy I say hi.”

You smiled again, “I will! I hope you and your wife have an amazing night tonight!”

While leaving the shop, you focused on opening this last clue. You spotted Lin’s loopy, crazed handwriting and smirked. You’d done it – one last puzzle to solve and you’d finished this quest.

(Y/N),

If you’re reading this, it’s almost over! I hope you’ve had an amazing time. And, without further ado, here is your final clue!

Congratulations on succeeding!

But I’m not ceasing – there’s one more to do!

This place is fruity, the place across is literary!

Remember where we pick berries!

To solve this clue!

 You knew him too well. He always talked about the date you took one summer where you drove half an hour upstate and found a corner of the world where both a library and a berry picking field coincided together. It had been your slice of heaven for an entire day. You spent half the day messing around in the library, swapping books back and forth and laughing. The other half you spent chasing each other down rows of berries and getting in various berry fights through the fields. You had ended the day completely exhausted but the happiest you had ever been. Lin often said that was his favorite date he had ever been on.

You thought of that day as you drove up, your eyes not seeing the wet snow, but feeling the summer sunshine and Lin’s hand in yours. You arrived quicker than you thought you would, given that night was falling and it was Valentine’s Day. You pulled up in front of the small, county library and parked your car. The berry orchards were covered in a melting snow and the sunset shone down on them, as if they were covered with silver glitter instead of snow. You spotted a booth sitting in the path in the center of all the rows and decided to try it first.

Striding up to it, you greeted the teenager standing inside the booth with a grin. He ignored you, choosing instead to focus on the game he was tapping at on his phone. Suppressing the urge to roll your eyes, you cleared your throat. The sound alerted him out of his trance and he fixed his eyes on you. Giving him a polite smile, you began your question. But, before you could finish, he held up his hand.

“(Y/N), right? Yeah, he’s been here. Early this morning, told me to give you this cell when you arrived.” The boy held up one of those pre-paid, burner, flip cell phones from the dollar store and you must have looked confused because, when you didn’t reach out to take it, the boy continued.

“He said you’d get one text on it and you weren’t allowed to reply and then I was supposed to take the phone and destroy it.”

You laughed then, “Destroy it? That does sound like my boyfriend – dramatic.” You stretched your hand outward then and felt the phone drop into your palm. Still standing in front of the booth, the boy watching you, you powered the phone on. As soon as the display lit up, it dinged with a text message.

Go down the fourteenth row on your left of berries. Love you. XO, Lin.

You looked off into the distant direction of where you now knew Lin was located. Before taking off, you gave the phone back to the boy, who smiled and nodded, understanding his mission. You smiled, the sky dark now, only lit by the street lights and the lights from the berry farmers. You counted rows as you passed them, finally reaching number fourteen. Peering downwards in the row, you could see Lin’s shadowy figure moving about, darting here and there. There seemed to be some sort of set-up, like a dinner table and lots of lights. You kept walking down the row, the picture coming in clearer the closer you got. When you finally saw it, it took your breath away.

Now you knew what Lin must’ve been working on all day.

There was a dinner table, yes. Circular and cloaked in a white cloth. A two-person dinner sat on it, when fine china and crystal wine glasses. Surrounding the table was a circular shape of rose petals, all fanning out into larger and wider circles the farther they got from the table itself. The backdrop for dinner was not only the beautiful fields, but a gigantic heart shaped bouquet of flowers – flowers of all sizes and colors. Surrounding the flowers and completing the heart shape were lightbulbs, ensuring the heart would shine even in the darkness that fell. And, finally, on the floor, more petals spelled out words. Before you’d even read them, you were aware of yourself crying softly, sweetly. You kept moving closer to the entire scene, finally reaching one of the chairs and setting your weary body sink down into it. Lin stepped forward, giving you one of his infamously bright smiles before taking your hand in his. You watched Lin as he bent down onto one knee and launched into a speech you knew he must’ve been rehearsing for months. It was then that you realized what your subconscious mind had realized and what had triggered your tears.

“(Y/N), am I allowed to say that I can’t quite remember my life before you? That the entire world was only black and white and you were the change that made it into vivid, high-definition color? That whatever it was I had done and was doing before I met you didn’t matter after I met you? The night I walked into that little diner and accidentally took your seat was the best night of my life. The years afterward have been filled with more laughter, smiles, bliss, contentment, love, and animation than I had ever known could exist. And, even when things aren’t quite right, I know I have you to come home to, to hold, to love, to hug, and to kiss. And I hope you know you have that in me too. I lived my entire life looking for the kind of joy you bring me. I hope you know that you have blessed my life with your existence. I hope you know that I love you like the sun loves the moon and the stars. I hope you know I will forever do everything and anything I can to make sure you’re happy and loved and treated the way you’re supposed to be. I promise to be everything you need and more. I promise to always stand by you, even when you’re wrong. I promise to always laugh at your silly jokes and take care of you when you’re drunk and cry with you when you’re sad. I promise to love you for the rest of my life. And so, my eternal sunshine, will you do me the greatest honor and agree to be my wife? That is – will you marry me, (Y/N)?”

When he had finished his speech, the expectant look in his eyes gleamed with hope, pride, and love. His grip on your hand tightened as you drew your breath inwards, working to try to calm yourself. The timing felt right, this felt right, he felt right. You just needed to find your words for the man who kneeled in front of you, holding out a delicate engagement ring.

When it took you longer to answer than he had expected, he moved closer to you, taking both of your hands in his, pocketing the ring. He forced you to look at him, his eyes not confused, but worried for your well-being.

“If this is too soon, it’s okay. I will still love you the same tomorrow as I do today, no matter what happens. I just love you so much that it can’t be contained any longer and this was the perfectly fitting next step. But don’t worry, I’m not trying to pressure you.” He kept his eyes locked on yours and moved his hand to draw a cloth from his pocket, wiping your tears dry with it.

Before you could help it, your face broke out into a wide smile and, with tears ringing your vision, you held onto his hands as if he was a life boat and you were sinking.

“Lin, I will marry you. I will marry you today, I will marry you yesterday, I will marry you tomorrow and I will still marry you a hundred years from now. You’re the love of my life and I can’t express to you what this means to me, the extensive effort you put yourself through and how worried you must have been. But you should know better of me – I couldn’t say no to this. Not to you. Not in a million years. So, yes, a thousand times yes.”

As your words sank in, Lin reached up, both of his hands caressing your cheeks, drying more of your tears. His eyes searched yours, probing deeper and deeper, searching for meaning. In an instant, you watched his emotion overcome him and, when he pressed his lips to yours with a fierce, aching pressure, you accepted the kiss happily. When you both broke away, you smirked.

“Now tell me the truth – how long did you work to perfect that speech?”

You recognized his embarrassed smile before he spoke, “Like a month… and a half. But, the guys will be so excited I finally got it right! I didn’t even have it right in rehearsals yesterday!”

You felt yourself turning confused at first… and then realization started to come in.

“Wait, the rehearsals you’ve been staying late at… were those rehearsals for…?”

He smiled again now, clearly pleased with himself. “Rehearsals for my proposal to you? Yes, ma’am.”

The pure Lin-ness of it all made you laugh. “You’re such a dork.”

Lin pulled you closer, his voice now just a whisper. “But now I’m your dork, exclusively.”

The realization of it all made you blush, realizing he would never be anyone’s but yours.

“I missed you today,” was your answer for him, a change of subject.

He chuckled, “I missed you more.”

You pressed a quicker, milder kiss to his lips. He pulled back for a moment, fishing the engagement ring back out of his pocket.

“I think you get this now.” He said as he took it from its velvet box. You held your hand out, watching the moment in slow motion as he pushed the ring onto your finger. You looked back up at him, your eyes connecting at the same moment. You spoke first.

“I love you, fiancé.”

The last word brought the largest grin you had ever laid your eyes on to his face. He pressed a kiss to each of your cheeks, pausing thoughtfully before pressing a softer, longer kiss to your lips.

“I love you more, fiancée.”

Giggling, you pulled him closer, delighting in in the feeling of his lips on yours, the way he seemed to be made for you. Under the night sky, the life you lived played out like a movie – the one you had always wanted to star in and the one Lin had helped you write. Without him, this narrative wouldn’t have been possible and this level of pure, unadulterated joy would have been unattainable.

[maneaterwithtail]

My Star Vs S3 Finale Reactionary Thoughts

Globgor

Suffered from major Dad bod-itis Ah he's still yummy. Eclipsa played Star like a fiddle. She intervened WITHOUT the wand (check the purple blast in the midst of the fight) She didn't have a super detailed planned. She's more a fly by the seat of your pants Xanatos Speed Chess master. Helps when the competition thinks they are playing checkers and you've likely put (or have a standing) gag order on the living repository/speaker of the secrets of the royal family. Hell chances are SHE was behind the return of Glossaryk Those sequences in the magic world helped us learn things. Not least some world's "wellsprings of magic" have been sealed (Earth?) DAMNIT MOON we JUST got the damn realm clean and you had to go and super re-corrupt it. Given her handprints on the well its possible she STILL isn't uncorrupted after all that bathing in pure magic and stuff. Now we know how the unicorns as sources of magic work. Birthed by pure imagination and magic stuff they wander or get tossed in the wellsprings and.. well THAT. Also the "first one" has matured and gotten more...well weird. Okay this is my read. 

Eclipsa breaks out. She has no wand so her powers are at an all time low. She had little to no idea WHAT THE HELL is going on, likely with ASE spell she can peak and check some things out but she doesn't know where to look for everything (she DID somehow get from prison dimension straight to Mewni castle) and little context is had.

 In the interim she stirs up the pot, likely connecting with families new to power (Pigeons) and the disgruntled or craycray possibly even the high commission (then erases memories when that would be inconvenient) Then she turns herself over after charming Star and making SURE to social fu ("Hello, Moon how'd that spell work out for you?") any encounter Star would be present or likely get back to her on. (look she has a single focus BE FREE AND BACK IN POWER)  While "in prison" she sneaks about the castle OR gets messages out (feeding the birds and sending messages via Rich’s family) 

Its not a total act, girlfriends is kinda loopy and prefers to be spontaneous and, as she said, she has self control issues Anyway she knows dirty laundry (seriously I doubt the royal line of Mewni is, ya know, private information. She can count and put shit together) and likely has, as mentioned, good skill at "psychologically hurting teenagers and they deserved it" She got the perfect read on the phase and nature of Star and Moon's relationship. Moms and daughters and queens and princesses are ALWAYS like this /. She needs info on what happened she wants to be reunited with her husband AND her baby girl. For that she needs to get the High Commission to confess. she ALSO needs to clear her name and *legitimately* reclaim the throne. Meteora is exihibit A why going in hot wouldn't have EVER worked, if she wants to be Queen again. She'd fight every freaking step, be opposed unto the last if/when she got it, and then destroy the place. Nope the real sign of victory . . . TAKE IT GUL DUKAT That. I'm not sure she knew Meteora was Heinous. but regardless that's the wild card. She adjusts her plans further so she can get to her baby girl. Likely Rich was trying to shelter/corral her to the Pigeon castle for his "Sword hand dance" meme partner. But Heinous is HELLA unstable after centuries of brainwashing. She goes on a rampage. Eclipsa is not "ragey" but she loves a good troll and repays a grudge. Moon is built about being the perfect queen? She first turns that against her and then takes it away. Its why she tried to coo down Meteora the way she did. "Nasty ol' Queen" 

*Aside*

(that or the timeline of events is very VERY off, Eclipsa, her Hubby, and Meteora weren't taken down by Shastacan but by Festivia when she reached Majority. Either that's Festivia's spell OR Eclipsa CAN, as mentioned, cast without a wand and did that to Meteora in the first place. THAT'S why Shastacan called that baby Heinous. He'd seen it as a soul sucking monster) *end*

Anyway Eclipsa now has to move. She gets back to Mewni castle (somehow AHEAD of Meteora who is acting way more...sane and cognizant even by Divide) then when Meteora comes in she figures "dear I won't be a queen of the ashes balloons. She coaches that fight, either deliberately telling Meteora what to say or, as she does, set her up with just the right words^ BTW its possible she "hurt them psychologically" by using the de-aging spell to make her victims teens and then hit them with a memory eraser. Hmm her sigil changed from the eye to a ringed planet.  Maybe just as spoke on reddit a “Sailor Saturn happy ending?  As I mentioned in a prior Post Eclipsa is the classy grand dame of dark magical girl power and takes from Sailor Pluto The sigil is possible sign of character growth.. or when Eclipsa intervened with Moon she intentionally put all her corruption in her?  

Ugh just thought of this... likely her sigil was changed to match the monster one in her portrait because duuuuh, historical revisionist demonization. ^Seriously when and how and WHY would Meteora know Marco OR Tom was Star's boyfriend if she hadn't been informed by Eclipsa? Moreover that end fight AND intervention... just doesn't make sense if it isn't, partially, a play if not a plan. Think being on the field in a game. Eclipsa is running quarterback with the rare conversion and scrimmage. Even if every is idiots there are alot of them and they see her as an enemy BTW I thought Eclipsa was cleared in her trial why did Star have her locked up? Was assaulting her mom THAT big a deal? Hmmph rather quick abandonment of Mina is cookoo plotline OFF SCREEN. Talon is well characterized as something other than just the bro-rival. Can I just give it a thumbs up Hekapoo being loose isn't held against her. Then again this has to be a very libertine show with the implication of possible triad endgame more than the Kon-Cassie-Tim thing that ran in Teen Titans. I like that Tom still has some growing to do but he's not.. ya know, a total heartless jerk. I also like this finale used ALL the things set up And yes they ARE committing to Marco's time in the Hekapoo space being a thing for/with him now. Likely meaning we’re done with his Earth life, for good.  This is deliberately going out the way to make Star and Marco equals, something I feel was missing for most of S3. So sad despite multiple MULTIPLE backups Star's rescue plan didn't work. She divided herself and so ended up conquered, invited and begged her conqueror to save her and that they needed her to be saved. Masterclass Eclipsa showing Aizen AND Light Yagami - who couldn't stand the idea of the world not knowing they were under his judgement - how the plan is SUPPOSED to be played. Re: Glossaryck being a dick He's suffering a Hal 9000 or similar fritz. He is divided to serve two masters. Or more likely he's always serving the previous queen their prior edicts and so on acting as the ground rules her must obey...? No doesn't work with "into the wand" where Queen Moon has a directive and then Star just demands he break it. Basically Eclipsa did something where he couldn't reveal a list of things but one of the things OFF the list was "Globgor"

That or he was testing them to see which one passed the trial of wit and wisdom to see who would ascend.  Eclipsa being clever, sincere...ish, and dynamic along with POWERFULY (and practiced and sure in her power btw folks aside from speed and practice and minimalism her spells don’t do more effect to Meteora than Butterfly’ed Star.

Seeing as Eclipsa never winged up even with a Dip down?  Its likely the Festivia-Butterflies are part monster

@talkingrainbowstalkingpuppies please pass this on to Scrooge, looking forward to next week’s podcast

@sunder-the-gold your thoughts? Am I honeypotting this? Also thanks again for that excellent Jesus Smash post

Also @godizilla-daedalus725 @vicki820 and uhm @fathmecomic (check out his comic y’all ‘cept you sunder I know not your thing)