#and i go into the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror and i don't recognize myself

[incorporealbombchelle]

Friend Of The Family: Epilogue

When I wake up, the lights in Mr. Reed's bedroom have been turned off, the scented candle on the nightstand blown out. I'm sleep-warmed and a little hazy as I reach a hand around the bed next to me. Cold. Empty. Where is he? Rolling opposite, toward the edge of the bed, I fish my phone out of the pocket of my jeans. 4:09 a.m. Dad should be up in a couple hours.

I gather my clothes and hurriedly make my way into the guest bathroom, turning on the shower and ridding myself of last night's underwear. Taking a minute to scan my body in the mirror, I realize how tired I look - because I am, and I already know I'm probably going to be asleep most of the day. My thoughts are interrupted by the buzz of the phone on the vanity.

Reed: You're up early. Toast, coffee? x

Memories of last night's rendezvous fill my mind and a deep blush takes my features as I tap back : yeah down in a sec 💕

After my shower, I slip into a pair of pink flannel pajama pants and a tank top and make my way down to the kitchen, where Mr. Reed has set out my breakfast, but is nowhere to be found.

Me: thx 4 breakfast, btw where r u?

Reed: End of the hall, past the bust, door on the right. x

I take a sip of the coffee, -he remembered how I like it- and abandon the toast to find him. The hallway is dimly lit but bright light flows from under the door at the end and I let myself in.

"Hello?"

"(y/n), welcome."

He sits at a desk near the door scattered with a few different piles of books, journals, tinkering with something. I take a look around the room. It's a maze of dark shelves filled with all manner of books, records, magazines, and in the center, a large desk, on which sits a nearly burned down candlestick and behind which are two doors, one green and the other purple. There are a couple rows of what look to be pews, and a long, seemingly wine-stained Persian aisle runner, and while I'm all for meticulously curated decor, I can't quite place this room's purpose.

Taking a couple steps further in, I look around a bit more. Portraits of different religious figureheads line a wall and I notice a vinyl player off to one side of the room. "So is this like, your office or...?"

"Office. Sanctuary. Man-Cave. Whatever you like." He doesn't look up.

"Huh. Cozy. And why have I been summoned here at nearly 5am?"

"You woke up at nearly 5am, I heard your dainty little footsteps, and I figured that maybe... you'd like to open a gift, what do you say?"

"I say...yes, please" I beam, closing the door behind me and wandering behind his seat at the desk. He has a journal of barely legible scrawl open and I watch over his shoulder as Mr. Reed carves details into a small wooden figurine. Resting a hand over either of his shoulders, I set my chin on his head and he relaxes his arms, setting down the figure and carving knife. "Right. Take a seat just there," he gestures to the pews, "hold out your hands and close your eyes, please." He taps the tops of my hands and I do as he says.

Taking my seat and closing my eyes, I hear Mr. Reed shuffling through the room behind me and then feel him settling into the pew just beside me.

"Don't look yet, dear."

"I'm not, I swear," I laugh, feeling a weight settle into my palms, and run the tips of my fingers along the edge of it... thin... large.... square....

"Go on, then. Open."

I open my eyes and it dawns on me. It has to be a vinyl. Has to be. There's no way it's not.

I cautiously peel back one edge of the wrapping paper to see a gilded block letter 'Y' over a blue background. No fucking way. I quickly rip away the rest of the wrapping paper and in my hands sits the vinyl record cover of Lana's Born To Die : Paradise Edition... and in the left bottom corner, in gold looping script.... it's signed. My eyes go wide. I have to blink a few times to make sure this is really happening. Holding the record up to the light, the metallic script shifts and glimmers. It is real. She... she signed this. She held this. I scoff in shock, feeling tears sting the corners of my eyes.

"Well? Do you like it?"

"Thank you...so much... holy shit. How did you even get this?"

"Well, you'll remember that before the world shut down, at the height of her popularity, she used to do signings, meet-and-greets, that sort of thing... I've been to...many."

"I thought you didn't leave the house anymore?"

"Not for things like...groceries, or clothing, stupid things, but... for her, on occasion... I make an exception."

He smirks, proud of himself, and I can tell this is of the same sentimental value to him as it is to me.

"Mr. Reed, are you sure you want me to have this? You said it was one of your favorites... I can't take something like this from you..."

"Let me give you something I love, that we both do. That is what this is all about, after all."

"But I didn't get you anything-"

"Wrong. I'd say, (y/n), that your mere presence here, your personality, as pretentious, contrarian and apathetic as it's been, has been a great gift to me. So thank you, for the gift of allowing me to know you."

I attempt to blink away tears of joy but they come regardless and he wraps an arm around my shoulder as I wipe them away, "Merry Christmas, (y/n)." A kiss to the top of my head.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Reed."

He tips my chin up. Our eyes meet, and he leans in.

As we kiss, I feel one of his hands rest on the back of my neck and it occurs to me that this may be one of the last times I get to be with him like this before Dad and I head back to the city, and the Oxbridge winter break concludes.

Mr. Reed's tongue tastes like black coffee, and he smells of cardamom and clove. He takes the record from my hands, setting it aside and pulls away for a moment. "I'll miss this. You, being here..."

"After this...When will we see eachother again, in person I mean?"

"Well, they do still allow you a summer holiday, yes?"

"Yes..."

"I don't see why you wouldn't be able to fly in..."

"But it costs-"

"I'd pay for it. Happily. You are worth at least the price of a Heathrow-Boulder plane ticket, or maybe even the other way around..." he takes one of my hands in his, quirking an eyebrow at me.

"You'd come to see me?"

"If I absolutely have to, I don't see why not. Bit of nostalgia never hurt. "

"But what about in the meantime?" 

"We have phones, (y/n), E-mail addresses. I watched E-mail come into existence, and it hasn't failed me yet. I've known lovers who stayed in touch over oceans with much less than you and I have at our disposal." He smiles and the corners of his eyes crinkle and I bury my face in his chest to keep from crying. I couldn't have estimated how strongly I'd react to the idea of leaving.

Mr. Reed wraps his arms tightly around me, a hand drawing soothing circles into my back. "Come now, that's alright. Everything will be alright, (y/n). You have my word.  You'll see me sooner than you know."

I sniffle, breathing deep as I look up at him. "Okay. Yeah. I-I'm sorry I just, I really like being with you and-"

"I know. I feel the same. We'll have tomorrow," his voices drops to a whisper "We have tonight..."

He's right and after a couple minutes, we move back to the kitchen to prepare a Christmas Eve breakfast for Dad.

Christmas comes and Christmas goes.

I recieve a green leatherbound journal from Dad, 'To the next great American novelist: never stop.' 

He and Mr. Reed unknowingly gift eachother the exact same grey cashmere sweater, and on the morning of the 26th, we share a tearful goodbye.

Upon my return to the Oxford dormitories, I unpack the Christmas cookies and Lana Record he gave me. I feel myself tear up just looking at them and send a message over Whatsapp: miss you 🥺

Seconds later : And I you. Have you unpacked your things yet? x

Me: no, just the presents from you and from Dad.

Reed: You may want to do so, left a little something at the bottom of your suitcase for exactly this occasion. x

Me: what is it?

Reed: Unpack. x

I tear into the suitcase hastily, tossing clothes, books and toiletries around the room with total abandon until-

I see it.

There, at the bottom of my suitcase; an immaculately folded checkered cardigan.

[imsickrnandihateit]

Thinking about fucking somewhere public like a bathroom and pushing you down to the dirty floor by your shoulders for anyone to take a second glance at and quickly notice what's going on behind the barely hinged door, not really caring who else may be occupying the other stalls. Letting him suck me off in public shamelessly like a cheap whore with my pants around my ankles. Fucking myself loudly on your tounge like nothing else matters in the world. Using you however long I need to, however I need to.. oh how id kill to be bending your neck back on the railing by your throat and spasming on your face as your head slams into the wall the harder I ride out my orgasm. Hearing you groan in so much pain and pleasure, feeling you tap out against my leg from the lack of air flow and pain in your head.. Getting one last thrust in before yanking you off my cock by a full head of hair just to stare down at you with such amusement and pity while you gasp for air and try to stop the ringing and the light floaty pressure in your head.

Stroking his poor sore scalp ever so gently for letting me break him in so well, I know it hurts dear im sorry. Im not quite done yet though, I need to use you just a little more love. Your tounge is so fucking soft I can't help it I just need one more. Please. I'll be gentle this time I promise, just let me stroke myself between your lips one more time. I love watching my cock throb on your tounge i love it. Its fucking addicting. I love feeling you wrap around me. I love feeling you swallow me whole. I can't stop thinking about itI know i know, I said id be gentle, what about it? You're really that gullible to think I'd actually treat you with delicacy?? Oh fuck no. Im gonna break you. Come on don't look scared, It's your fault for being silly enough to fall for that false hope I fed straight to your face sweetheart. ♥︎

Just dreaming about slapping and kicking you around the dirty floor, but you'll take anything to get dick won't you? I won't be too rough though, I still wanna order you around while you can still process it. How about we fuck our last orgasm out in front of the mirrors? Im sure you'd love to watch me stroke myself exhaustedly over your teary mess of a face. Getting off over your expression contorting and your eyes whitening as i squeeze the life from your airway. Don't worry, Everyone's already left after the entire place heard the door slamming with every violent thrust into your throat, So you can choke, and gasp, and scratch desperately at my arms for mercy all you want. My poor baby. I almost feel bad yk? You've been used so roughly, so shamelessly ...Anyways, go on. spit on my cock or open wide.<3:)

[renegadetulisrp]

He wasn't used to people thanking him. Heck, when was the last time someone actually took the time to thank him for doing something? And not in the forced, formal way either - Blair's gratitude was genuine, sincere and had sent a small touch of warmth in his chest. Such an odd feeling. He grunted wordlessly in response, looking away from her lithe frame as she rose and left him alone after what seemed like an eternity. As her footsteps dissipated down the hallway behind the closed door, Nick's gaze snapped back to where she was sitting prior, bewildered by his own wish that she had remained just a moment longer.

~~

The ache in his jaw was slowly intensifying. Nick was sure it was going to throb soon. He wouldn’t exactly classify this job a total success - usually they’d be gone without a hitch which meant he gets out unscathed. This one was… fucking hell.  Cavalleri didn’t mince his words when he warned the mercenary that it was going to be very challenging. Still, Nick got out alive, finished the job despite the huge bruise across his face, blood already drying up at the side of his right ear, passing down his jaw. There was a slight limp in his proud stride, exhaustion was gnawing his knees. By the time he managed to drag himself into the manor, he had left a trail on the wooden flooring up to his temporary accommodation.

He grunted, trying to tear open his shirt with the knife in his left hand. The gaping gashes on his right arm made it even more excruciating to move but Nick pressed on. These injuries were nothing compared to the ones he had back in the military. Ah, fuck. In the disorienting blur of discomfort and agony, he had forgotten to lock the door. God damn Blair and her nosiness. The door clicked open and Nick grunted, having left no energy to chide her nor even move to close it back. . “I don’t have the time to deal with coppers. The nurses tend to call them in when they suspect something is up," he immediately growled as if to warn her of the scene at present. "The usual guy I go to isn't in town, so..." His dark gaze met with Blair's light ones through the mirror. “I might need stitches.. If you have a sewing kit somewhere in this goddamn bathroom, I can do it myself," he continued gruffly.

Even having a moment to prepare herself for it, that blunt honesty stopped her breath for a moment. Nobody in this house ever spoke that plainly, not even Blair, who constantly walked a delicate balance between pleasing her father and protecting her siblings, which often involved spreading the truth so thin she could see right through it. She knew enough of the Rastelli mob for the name to send a chill down to her bones. The only thing she doubted about that explanation was that William Cavalleri had done something as innocent as refuse business to provoke them.

She drew a slow breath, her expression evening into something calm and considering. "Yes, they are." Nick might be honest, but he knew just where to aim the threat to ensure that Blair was on their side-- as if there was any other side for her to take, being who she was. She'd kill the Rastelli men herself to defend her little sisters. William had made sure they were all competent with weapons, and Blair was the best shot of all her siblings after Gabriel, who lived and breathed at her father's side.

Of course she would honor her side of the bargain, and she stood slowly from the chair, pausing at the door to look back at him. "Thank you for your honesty. And… thank you for protecting my family." She was sure he'd be paid generously for it, but that didn't take away the fact that he was putting himself at risk to protect the people she loved. That wasn't a small thing to her. She closed the door behind her, feeling perhaps she'd unfairly misjudged him.

Blair returned the next night, but not to ask more questions. Plausible deniability was probably best in this instance. She had a bottle of expensive whiskey in one hand as an apology and a thank you, the other raised to knock on his door when she saw the drops of blood on the wood flooring of the hallway. "Nick? Are you okay?" She knocked and then tried the handle before he could get any ideas about locking her out. Plausible deniability, indeed. She really didn't know when to mind her own business.

[golddustdyke]

i feel like i can never get into charli xcx's music. i need something to bite into not even a lot just a little but i can never find anything to bite into with her music. like i can never find the juice of her music. her music is the equivalent to the sound of a heart flatlining and not in a fun way but in a boring way

[pliablehead]

i was born in the wrong body. i'm supposed to be a goblin

[yourcomputerr]

there is some weird as fuck noise happening outside girl its nearly 4am can we please not

[thetriangletattoo]

.

[selvepnea]

A strange shirt sort of dream?

[izzy-b-hands]

Was gonna sleep in. Instead woke up randomly at 5 am and have been writing a fix it steddyhands fic since then

I work in like. six hours. I have gotten maybe four hours sleep. Today is a double shift day that'll have me working bit late into the night.

This is fine.

[extreme-technicality]

“Sure hope the magical entity that can see through every mirror in existence is enjoying the show” I say as I do some dumb shit at my reflection

[despite-everything]

fuck im having an insane dysphoric moment.

[fern-pajamabrain]

cutting my hair was 100% the best decision I've taken this year

[neverendingford]

.

[loverboybrightsideghost]

computer define underdog

[ame-to-ame]

Ackk

[twilightakiishi]

i’ve been giving myself haircuts since i was 12 and kokonoi hates it