#and i mean i could TRY getting through the rest of the movie with. chinese subs and japanese audio.

[todayisafridaynight]

he's gonna be late to his first day of breaking the law

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 3/34 - soft blue sweater

[Read on AO3]

That weekend, it is with giddy excitement that Mulder and Scully spend the day at her apartment up to their eyeballs in paperwork, brochures, and Chinese food.

“Next question: where would we live? Together or separate?”

“Together,” she answers, before thinking she should probably soften that affirmative answer with an indifferent, “if that works for you.”

“It more than works for me,” he says with certainty. “I can ask Frohike for the number of the real estate agent who hooked him up with the lair. Or we could live here, either way.”

This is crazy. They’re moving so fast. What they’re thinking of doing doesn’t even make sense. Everyone will think they’ve well and truly lost their minds, and maybe they have!

“This is giving me a headache,” she admits, feeling suddenly overwhelmed.

“I’ll flag that as one to revisit later,” he says, jotting something down in a notebook. “This communicating thing is a lot of work, huh, Scully? No wonder we don’t do it more often.” He grins at her, more freely than he has in a long time.

She rubs a hand over her tired eyes. “No, it’s good. It’s good. I’m glad we’re doing this, Mulder.”

“Me too.”

He just looks so happy, she can’t help but smile back at him. The knot of uncertainty she’s been harboring as a result of her overthinking dissolves instantly in the radiance of his boyish enthusiasm. He’s all soft edges today, for once out of his G-man uniform. Instead, he wears that soft knit blue sweater she likes so much, and jeans that hug him in all the right places.

His socked feet rest on her coffee table while he flips through various documents, assembling them into binders with an attention to detail that she’s only ever seen him apply to their files. She’s mesmerized.

This might be her life. If they go through with this… He just said he’d live with her. Weekends spent together flash before her eyes, not having to say goodbye after one of their movie nights, just ‘goodnight.’ Takeout containers morph into home-cooked dinners at the table in her kitchen. Him making coffee in the morning. Driving to and from work together…

As much as the thought appeals to her, there’s one tiny detail missing that could put an end to this entire operation before it even begins.

“Mulder?” she asks, inadvertently cutting off whatever rambling he’s been doing while she wasn’t paying attention.

He glances up at her, pushing his glasses back up his nose to keep them from sliding off. The sight almost makes her forget what she was going to ask, as important as it was, but in this case, her concern far outweighs anything else.

“Do you think they’ll buy the co-parenting thing? I mean, I’m not really seeing a precedent for it in any of the literature I’ve looked at. Would they even accept our application?”

He’s quiet for a second. That second stretches into two.

“I’ve been thinking about that.”

She swears the entire block goes silent, not even the sound of a car on the street outside or the hum of heat pumping through her apartment. It makes his words feel heavy. Meaningful. Like she’s just dipped into unfamiliar and dangerous territory without knowing it.

“And...?”

He rubs the back of his neck, obviously struggling to verbalize whatever is going on in that beautiful mind of his.

And then he just outright says it.

“We could get married.”

Her eyes go wide. 

Married.  

“Mulder…”

He puts his hands up, halting her speech. “No, I’m serious. You just said we’d be living together. What’s the difference if we also happen to have a piece of paper that makes it official?” 

There’s that look in his eye, the one he gets when he sits her down for one of his slide presentations. Never could she have imagined he’d have the same look when trying to convince her of marriage. It’s overwhelming.

“Unless,” he pauses, “you think you might meet someone sometime in the future, which is a completely valid concern…”

She has to stop him there. “That’s not it at all. I just– What if this doesn’t work out and we don’t get a baby? You’d be stuck with me and have nothing to show for it.” 

Don’t put all your eggs in one basket, the saying goes. If this fails, she could lose… everything. Is that a risk worth taking? Would he grow to resent her? Would they have to jump through legal hoops to undo all of this if things don’t go their way?

“And you could meet someone too,” she reminds him, “someone that could give you a real family. What then?”

He ducks his head, shaking it in a poor attempt to hide a wry smile. “What’s a real family, anyway?” he counters with a shrug, then grabs her hand. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be stuck with than you, Scully.”

Her eyes find his, searching them for something to clue her in to his thought process. Is he serious? Has he lost his mind? She finds nothing but bare honesty in his emerald depths. Bare honesty, and that hope she’s been seeing there since this whole idea came up. It’s a different look for him, but oh how she loves it. She wants to do everything in her power to keep it there.

“Would you believe me if I told you I’ve thought of asking you before?” he asks.

Her brows furrow, and though part of her wants to bolt, to declare this whole evening an error in judgment, she stays, looking at him warily. His thumb runs over her knuckles, soothing, as if he had known her inclination was to flee from this conversation. Stay , his touch says. Stay with me.

She shakes her head, lips quivering in an almost-smile, and says what he always loves to hear her say. “You’re crazy.”

“No, I’m not!” he counters, equally amused and defensive. “When you had cancer, and I had to fight tooth and nail to get to see you in the hospital…”

She swallows at the memory of waking to find him collapsed by the side of her bed, his hand clasping hers like a lifeline.

“Really?”

“Really,” he answers, his smile softening into fondness. “Though I’m pretty sure Bill would have killed me.”

That brings out a laugh, which Scully shyly hides behind her hand as she wipes it across her nose. When had she started tearing up?

“We’ll buy you a helmet and some shoulder pads, then,” she concedes teasingly.

His mouth quirks up in a smile, knowing precisely what is implied by that response.

“Is that a yes?”

She pauses for a moment, eyes locking with his. Is it? Is she about to agree to marry her best friend?

It should be more of a question, but it isn’t. For some reason, this feels like the most logical thing to do.

She nods.

He shifts on the couch, suppressing a smile and squeezing her hand before letting go. “Well alright then…” he says, crossing his arms in front of him for lack of anything better to do with them. “We can go to the courthouse whenever you’re ready. Or, if you want an actual wedding—”

“No,” she says, a little too quickly. “No, the courthouse will be fine.”

“As long as your mom doesn’t pool her money with Bill to order a hit on me,” he jokes.

“She wouldn’t do that,” she says, rolling her eyes. He does bring up an interesting point though, one that fills her with trepidation. “God, we’ll have to tell her, won’t we? And your mom. And Skinner .”

The dread increases with each name listed.

“We’ll figure that out as we go,” he assures her, placing a calming hand on her knee. “For now, this is just between us. Until you decide otherwise.”

“Just between us,” she agrees, letting his words melt her worries away.

 -.-.-

He had lingered for a while in her doorway when the time came for him to go back to his apartment. It was awkward, but not in a way that might cause alarm in light of what they’d just agreed to do. 

No, as crazy as it might sound, this was one decision neither of them could imagine regretting. The gravity of the situation, though, was what led to the uncharacteristic silence and shyness as she bade him farewell with an impulsive, last-minute hug. He had smiled, and walked backwards out the door, maintaining eye contact until she slowly shut the door between them.

She lies awake in her bed hours later, unable to sleep.

This morning, she was a perpetually single federal agent with a pipe dream of being a mother. Now, she’s engaged to her partner, and there’s partially filled out adoption paperwork with both his and her names on them burning a hole through her top desk drawer.

The Dana from seven years ago would tell her she’s lost her mind.

But then, that Dana also wouldn’t know how important her crackpot new partner would end up being in her life. Skeptical as she was, she’d hardly believe it anyway.

Engaged . She’s always thought about this day, how it would feel to have a man ask for her hand in marriage. She can say without a doubt that this is not how she expected it to go, but the disappointment one might expect in her situation is absent. They may not be going about this in the traditional way, but it is nothing less than what she’d expect with Mulder. 

He had long since rewritten her thoughts on what a normal life was supposed to look like. Her eyes had been opened, the possibilities now seemingly endless instead of linear and predictable. Despite the heartache she has endured over the years, it’s worth it to live with a more complete view of the world. Sometimes, it feels like she and Mulder are the only ones who can see it.

Sighing, she rolls over, her gaze settling on her nightstand.

She shouldn’t. He could be sleeping.

All the same, the corded device beckons her. It’s a temptation she’s familiar with, although tonight it is particularly strong and irresistible.

Don’t, Dana. It’s not real. He’s not really your– Give him space.

She picks up the phone anyway.

Before she can even change her mind, she hears the line connect, and she greets him in the way he’s come to expect.

“Mulder, it’s me.”

She can almost hear him smile on the other end of the call, and all thoughts of this being a bad idea fly from her mind. 

“Well if it isn’t the soon-to-be Mrs. Spooky Mulder,” he says jovially, sounding much too awake for her to have interrupted his sleep.

She rolls her eyes, but can’t help the flutter in her chest at his words. At the timbre of his voice, lazy and drawn out at this late hour. He can be endearing when he wants to be. A real sap at times.

“Hey, Scully. We’re engaged.”

“I know,” she speaks into the phone, curling in toward it and holding it with both hands up against her ear. Her pillow welcomes her into its embrace, and she sinks into it, grinning into the covers.

“We’re gonna give poor Skinner a heart attack,” he says with a laugh.

Their poor boss. He must have had no idea what he was getting into when he was assigned to oversee the X-Files. 

“He’ll get over it,” she says dismissively.

She hears Mulder chuckle a little, the breathy sound tickling her ear. She can tell he’s tipping back in his rickety desk chair in his apartment by the rhythmic creak that sounds, and she pictures him with his feet up on the desk, maybe spinning his basketball around idly in his hands.

“I don’t know, this might break his heart, Scully,” he teases.

Scully rolls her eyes. “Oh, would you stop that? He does not have a thing for me.”

“He absolutely does, and so does every guy in the building.”

She almost asks, ‘Every guy?’ but thankfully catches herself before uttering those words. Sometimes she wonders, but then everything with Diana had shaken what she thought she knew about him. They are still working on getting back to where they were before. It’s far too fresh for her to make any suppositions about where they stand now.

They fall into a brief silence, each waiting for the other to speak first.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he finally asks, when it becomes clear she won’t tell him why she called unless prompted.

She sighs. “I can’t sleep.”

He hums softly in amusement, the sound rattling over the phone. “I don’t know if I’m really the expert you want to be talking to on that particular subject, Scully. Just what exactly do you want me to do about it?” he teases.

“Just talk to me,” she says softly, as if speaking quietly will somehow lessen the embarrassment she feels.

“Ah, so you want me to bore you to sleep. Got it,” he says, taking it in stride. “Which cryptid would you like to hear about tonight, Miss Scully?”

She closes her eyes, her lips tightening into a tired smile. “No monsters, Mulder. You know I find those way too fascinating.”

“Ha ha, Scully,” he says, laughing at her obvious joke. “Okay. How about this? There was this kid at my school growing up. Mark. One of twelve siblings in the same family.”

“Twelve?” she asks incredulously.

“Mm-hmm. All of them adopted.”

Her smile widens, and she burrows further into her pillow, tucking her comforter over her shoulders. She loves these little glimpses she gets into his old life, rare as they are. She doesn’t have to ask why he chose to tell her this one tonight of all nights. His motives are as clear as can be.

“They’d go to Disneyland every summer, all twelve of them plus their parents,” he continues. “Sam and I were so jealous. One of the girls was in the same grade as her, so we all hung out a lot. Well, not all of us. With that many siblings, there were bound to be some you just didn’t get along with. We had fun, though.”

“How’d they afford Disneyland with twelve children?” she asks sleepily.

“It was Martha’s Vineyard, Scully,” he answers simply. “They were filthy rich.”

She hums, feeling herself begin to relax at the soothing monotone of his voice. The line falls silent, but she knows he’s still there. She can hear the gentle sound of his breathing. She allows it to lull her into a state of restfulness.

“After Sam disappeared, it didn’t seem fair. He had so many siblings, while I lost the only one I’d ever have. I stayed away from him for a while after that. He was one of the only people at school that didn’t treat me like some criminal or freak after she was abducted, but I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing him or his little sister anymore. It was too big a reminder of what I was missing.”

Scully’s heart aches as she listens. This bedtime story doesn’t have a happy ending, she knows. Though her eyes are closed, she feels a tear leak onto her pillow, hurting for the lonely little boy her partner had once been. She wishes, like she has so many times before, that she could have been there for him then like she is now.

His voice returns, crackling over the line. “Eventually I started going over there again,” he continues, “before they moved away. They were kind to me. Treated me like one of their own. It didn’t make up for Sam being gone, of course, but at least I wasn’t completely alone. And it taught me an important lesson, one I think I’m only just beginning to understand.”

“What’s that, Mulder?” Scully slurs, barely keeping awake but wanting to know the answer—this epiphany he’s had. She has to know how he can tell this story without breaking down into tears as she would if it were her own.

“You can choose your family,” he answers finally, as if it were the obvious conclusion to this story. “They might not have been connected by blood, but Mark’s family was connected by something stronger. Love .”  

He breathes, perhaps lost in the memory of his childhood friend. Perhaps he’s contemplating the great mysteries and joys of the universe. Either could be possible for this deeply philosophical man.

“It seemed to work out pretty good for them.”

Scully’s heart blooms with emotion, her eyes filling with tears.

“It’s time I choose my family, Scully,” he says softly, his voice lowering to just above a whisper. “I hope one day I’ll find out what happened to my sister. I– I still need to have some closure, I think. But it feels good to hope for something else too, for a change. Something more than piecing together a family that was never together in the first place. So, thank you. You’re the one who showed me it was possible. I think I owe you more than everything, at this point.”

She smiles softly into her pillow, reminded of the feel of his breath on her lips that day in his hallway. It’s a thought she has come back to innumerable times since it happened, and though there have been some shake ups since then, it still brings her comfort.

She allows the memory to wash over her, covering her with a blanket of warmth and security.

And finally, she succumbs to the pull of sleep. 

-.-.-

It’s quiet. He listens, recognizing the subtle change in her breathing, and he knows she’s fallen asleep. He could hang up, call it a night, but he selfishly isn’t ready to.

There’s still one more thing he wants to say.

“I choose you, Scully,” he whispers into the phone, too cowardly to say it when she might hear him. “You’re my family. And I can’t wait to see how it grows from here.”

~~~

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[vinetae]

Try - Ch. 14

You let out a sigh, scooting over to crawl into his lap. The light, skin tight biker shorts you wore, along with the see-through tank top had no place in making him this excited. Your arms snake around his neck, as you press a lazy, slow kiss to his lips. “Can’t sleep?” 

He nods. Your head bows as well, rolling off a sigh as an agreement. “Is it because of Jimin?” 

No. I mean, Taehyung loved Jimin. Don’t get me wrong, but-

“Yes.”

Liar.

Pairings: Jimin x reader, Taehyung x Jungkook, reader x Jungkook, Taehyung x reader

Genre: Boyfriend!au, Smut, Fluff, poly!au

Word count: 3K

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---

The window’s pane seeps in the sun’s soft glows. Particles of dust dance around, basking in its love for the rest of eternity it seemed. A floating speck of dust. Seemed easy to do. No responsibilities, no jobs, just floating around in the air, drifting wherever the wind could take you. 

Rising slowly so as to not wake the three tangled up in each other’s embrace, you reach over to the bedside table, unplugging your phone to unlock the screen. However, the background had changed. Inspecting the device, your eyebrow raises before the realization settles in. A sticker from your first date shows the day you went to the beach together. His parents had gone out for the weekend on a little vacation. He had invited you to his house to spend the weekend together. Disney movies sound in the background, as you two spun around the room like love-sickened fools. Feet lightly grazing his parent’s living room floors as if you’d been a ballerina. Hands trailing all over each other, before he sprung the idea of visiting the beach later in the afternoon. 

A little kiosk had been selling couples stickers and products. He’d come back to the little bench with two ice creams and a little sticker stuck to the cup. Each ice cream ordered had a special sticker that -when pulled apart between two people- revealed your futures as a couple. He’d bought it for a silly reason, as you referenced it to be like a bad fortune cookie from your favorite chinese restaurant. 

As you and he both pulled one end, the sticker opened up to reveal the message. 

Your finger lightly grazes the printed words, a smile written on your face from remembrance. 

‘Your love will prosper in more ways than one.’

Turning to the side, you watch as the young man’s chest rises and falls in patterns. His arm slung around Taehyung’s body, as Jungkook curls up to the side, nuzzling his nose into Jimin’s side neck. 

Reaching back over to grab your phone to set him down, you pause when a certain notification pops up on screen. Heart starts to race at the words typed into messages. The unknown number leaves such a dent in your previously perfect morning. 

“So, have you thought about my offer yet?”

..

Dishes clash together in the sink, as the sounds of Jungkook’s slurps of ramen echo through the small apartment. Taehyung sat on the end table, scrolling through his phone, while you had been enjoying a proportioned sized bowl of cereal. 

The bedroom door swings wide, as Jimin enters the vicinity. Sporting a formal suit and tie, looking as if he’d been ready to close on a business deal. Suddenly, you’re reminded of the text you’d seen earlier. The small little question, still burning in the back of your mind. 

Jimin’s lips curve into a smile, as he walks over giving each one of you a kiss on the forehead, starting with you of course. “Hello, my love.” His voice is chirpy and pep-filled, but you could sense a twinge of worry settled behind his happy façade. 

Taehyung’s head lifts, eyeing the attractive man’s suit. “Where are you going?” 

Jimin turns on his heel, walking over to grab a bite from Taehyung’s banana. Wiping the remains from the corners of his lips, Jimin answers. “I’ve got a business meeting my boss wants me to attend. We’re releasing the new demos for our products soon to see how the public will respond.” He ruffles the newly-dyed blonde’s locks, making a smile crease his face. 

Jimin lets out a sigh, admiring the three of you in awe. Your head raises, eyebrow quirking in question. Not wanting to bother with his little happy place right now, you decide to stick you scooping out the last bit of Lucky Charms floating around in your bowl. A comfortable silence looms over the air, before Jimin makes his way towards the door. 

“Don’t wait up!” 

You stand, clearing the table of your mess as you call back out. “Love you!” 

The door shuts. 

..

You’d been sprawled out on the sofa of your apartment, eyes glued to your screen as you drew out the last few details to the new character your boss wanted done before this weekend. Intricate and precise details make it all worth it, as you take another glance at the piece from a different perspective -aka imagining that you’re another random person who got shown this- and judging it. You hum in satisfaction, saving the artwork to a tab.

Taehyung’s body plops down onto the couch, sighing as he rolls onto his stomach. Voice drawn out. “Y/nnnn” His eyes peek out from behind your tablet screen, making you chuckle at his cuteness. 

“Mmm?” He goes to settle himself between your parted thighs, nosing your lower belly delicately. His breath rolls against your heating skin like soft waves on a calming sea’s plains. His hands find their way down the exposed lengths of your thighs, tracing small little circles along the pudgy flesh. You sigh out, letting him remove the drawing tablet from your grasp, as he’s quick to consume your attention now. 

Body sliding back further into the comfort known as one of your loving boyfriends. Taehyung had always had a way with knowing how your body reacted to certain things. Even before all of this had started, Taehyung took quite magnificent detail into knowing what made you so… you.

Every touch that left your body in shambles. Every little graze along the innards of your thighs makes a chill crawl up your spine. What made you laugh, cry, uncomfortable, happy, calm. 

He knew so much more than he let on. 

Your chest rises slowly, as the tips of your fingers card through his damp folds, smelling the soft aroma of coconut and vanilla shampoo he’d loved so much. So had you. 

“Y/n?” His chin tilts up, giving you the biggest -unintentional- puppy eyes. The dark brown of his irises glimmer with little specks of gold ringing the center. Lips pursed in a soft pout, making your heart flutter in place. 

Your head tilts, silently telling him that whatever he wants to say, he can say it. You all four had grown so close together, it’s almost unbearable to just have one of them away. They had been more than family. 

They were home. 

Just as his lips part to ask something, the door swings open, Jimin startling the two of you. You’re quick to raise off the couch, helping him to get rid of his blazer. His eyes burned with tears he didn’t want to show. The pain in his chest felt like a thousand rocks were sitting atop, pinning him down. He couldn’t breathe. 

“Holy shit..” Taehyung mumbles as you help Jimin to lower down onto the sofa. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you sooth his aching soul. 

“Hey.. come on, what’s wrong?” You coo, thumbing away the tears falling down his cheeks and into his lap. Taehyung joins on the other side, placing a hand atop Jimin’s thigh, using his own way to comfort his best friend. 

Jimin’s throat felt dry. Hoarse and cracked. He could barely get out the words, as his whole persona he built himself upon, came crashing down. 

“I-I’m moving..”

…

Jungkook’s lips curve into a smile, as he swings the little enclosed gift in hand, reaching for the handle of the door, only to be met with nothing. 

“Guys?” He calls out, stepping into the apartment. Kicking his shoes off, he makes his way through the house, wondering where his people had gone. “Hey, guys I got something for us to-” His eyes set upon Jimin’s slouched figure, a somber tone echoing in the room. His shoulders fall, matching the solemn atmosphere the bad news had brought. 

Taehyung’s voice is laced with worry, as he tries to get some more information out. “W-Well.. What if you quit?” Jimin lets out a sad chuckle, thumbing Tae’s cheek, admiring the cuteness he emitted. 

“It’s not the company’s fault. My father wants me to live in the U.S for a few years, to study under his management.” 

“Management? For what?” You question, not truly believing this for a second. There’s no way he could just - leave like that. Everything that we have.. Everything we built..

Jimin sighs, settling back into the couch’s headrest. His eyes felt tired and heavy from all this crying. Throat, tight and clamped as his arm slung across to cover his eyes from the burning mid-day lights. “He’s wanting me to take over Nyuskeen.” 

An uproar of shouts echo through the walls. “What?!” 

“Wait wait-” Jungkook adds, settling himself down on the coffee table to make a little triangle of people. “You’re saying that the guy speaking at that big event was your dad?” 

Jimin nods. “I didn’t want to be known as just ‘the CEO’s son’, so I tried getting a different job. He paid people off NOT to hire me for anything, until I eventually had to go crawling back to my old position.” Your heart breaks at his words. Arms gripping tighter as you try and ease the pain of his memories. 

“I’m.. really sorry, Jimin. If I had known-” Jungkook tries to speak, but the elder cuts him off with a raised hand. 

‘That’s the thing. I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want you guys to think I was just rich off my father..” Your gaze softens, leaning in to peck his cheek lovingly. Tender hands caress and sides of his cheeks, as you add in. 

“We wouldn’t think that, Jimin. Rich dad or not, we know you’ve worked so hard to get where you’re at.” 

Taehyung scoots closer, adding an arm to this half bear hug session. “Besides, we’d love you either way, hyung. Rich or poor.” Jimin chuckles, leaning his head to the side to lay against Taehyung’s shoulder, releasing a drawn out sigh. Jungkook observes the group hug, not really sure on where or how to join in. You take notice of his hesitation. 

“Kook?” You reach forwards, pulling him into this cuddle pile. You’re to Jimin’s left, as Taehyung is to his right, and Jungkook’s sat on his lap, earning a chuckle from the eldest. Jimin bounces his knee gently, making the younger man whip around in surprise. 

You turn his attention back onto the subject at hand. Jimin has a tendency to manage to get out of tough conversations by either sex, or flirting. Flustering up the person until their able to speak, or fucking them so hard he literally steals their words away, are always his go-to’s. 

But right now, he knows he’s supposed to feel this pain. Feel the warmth, and the fear that comes along with the bad news. Actually, he’s never felt so many emotions at once. On one hand, he’s in absolute awe at how well you guys are handling the situation, even though it’s breaking his heart. On the other hand, he’s angry. No- furious at his father for splitting up his pack. But he also knows that he can’t do anything about it. His father will always and forever hold everything he can over Jimin’s head. 

How he hates it. 

..

It felt like you were sending him to death row. The dinner table, not busy with light chatters and banters among the loves of your life, instead a dark and gloom aura settles in to stay. Like a nasty, free-loading uninviting guest, stealing your joys away. 

Silverware clinks against the dishes, as Taehyung tries to make light of the situation. “Did you guys hear what’s going on in Itaewon?” 

Heads lift from their staring contests with their food. “What?”

“Four whole streets got shut down due to tourist overpopulation.” Jungkook’s eyebrows raise. 

“Doesn’t each street have like- a hundred vendors?” Taehyung nods, confirming this information. 

Your head turns to Jimin’s slouched figure, who’d been busy rolling the little tteokbokki cake in the gochujang sauce you’d made. A pout tugs your lips. Hand reaching to place on top of his, you silently listen to the rest of Taehyung’s story before excusing the two of you from the table. 

Pulling him into the laundry room, you lock the door. “I won’t have this sappy sally ruining our family time Jimi-” 

“Y/n..” His voice is soft as he grabs both of your hands into his. Eyes lifting to sport somber and melancholic tones, as irises swirl with silence. He leads one of your hands to press against his chest, peeking a sad smile. “I love you.” 

“Yes Jimin we’ve gone over this, but you can’t just-” 

“Don’t you understand that?” You stop for a minute, listening to what he has to say. 

“I love you. It’s not just that I love the sex. Because- hell I do but..” He chuckles, trying to say this in a way that you’ll understand. However, he can’t find one. Except for - 

His lips crash into yours, hands guiding their way up along the lengths of your upper body. His touches, no longer sent the demon in your mind running wild. This had been more of a kiss filled with passion. Worry. Love. Fear.

Fear of losing the best woman he’s ever known. Losing his best friends. Lovers. The people he could rely most on in this twisted, fucked up world. 

You all had been his world. All he ever wanted to live for. 

And now, his world had been set on fire. All he could do is just watch as his people burned inside, waiting for the final ember to burn out. 

..

Jungkook lets out a sigh, pushing his half-empty plate from the table. Arms settled in his lap, as he glanced at Taehyung. 

“It isn’t fair.” Taehyung’s head cranes to the younger, nodding in a silent agreement. His head bows gently, the pain in his neck never could touch the hurt he felt in his chest. As if his heart was being ripped into fours. One piece for each of you. 

Jungkook scoots closer to his boyfriend, resting his head upon Taehyung’s shoulder in somberness. 

“You haven’t told her, have you?” 

..

His mouth explored places along the plains of your body, as if it had his first time with you. Each touch, burning marks along your skin that had screamed ‘mine’. Your head lulls back, as his lips travel down the center of your body, trailing gently kisses along before stopping at your waist tied shorts. His eyes glance up, asking for permission silently. You both share the same expression, before his hands dive to rip your panties and shorts down in one go. Nose, edging along the exposed skin of your public bone, as he breathes in deeply. In one swift motion, his tongue is pressing flat against your heat, earning himself a whined cry from above. 

Your hands grasped the washing machine’s edge, as your back laid out across the surface. Legs wrapping around Jimin’s head in pure bliss, as his tongue licks gently strips up the center of you. The tip, lightly dipping in a few times, making your body shiver. His hand reaches up to yours, clasping his fingers together in a romantic gesture. Your toes curled at the ends, as a wave of arousal flooded your entire body before landing against his tongue. A guttered moan vibrates to your exposed heat, as his free thumb lowers, rubbing against your aching clit in need. 

Your head lays back, a heavy, moanful sigh rolls past your lips, watching as your stomach contracts little by little. Legs spreading out butterfly style to accommodate his more than welcomed lips to your pussy. 

His voice is low and deep, as he coos at your little shaking figure. “Look at my baby, being so good for me. Spreading her legs like a good little girl.” Your thighs quiver with need, as one of his fingers reaches down to slide the length past just a bit, earning himself a whine. 

Your breath was staggered and wanting, as you pulled out his favorites. “Oh- fuck.. Daddy please, I want your cock so bad. I’m your good girl, please!” Jimin chuckles, sliding in one more finger to the bunch, as his mouth hovers over your clit, before flicking his tongue out going side to side, sending you into a frenzy of sinful sounds. Voice becoming laced with need -as if it was never- watching as your legs began to shake. Adding in one last finger, his hand thrusts slow but efficiently to help you chase your high. 

“Come on, baby. You can do it. Just cum on my hand like a good little girl. I know you want to. This pussy’s just begging to be filled, huh?” 

Your back arches off the washing machine, as you cry out. “Yes! Yes! Oh fuck yes, please!” A wave of arousal courses through your body, as sleep begins to fade in. A euphoric and knocked out sensation takes over your body, as he lowers his head to lick up the rest of your juices. 

Fingers coming out to brush against your lips, pressing your cum to your lips before he starts licking them up, while using his other clean hand to pet your head. 

“That’s my girl.” 

..

They fucked. He knows they did. Or, at least he thought you did.

The way you’d come out of the laundry room, wearing a sleepy smile on your face and a limp in your step had his heart aching at the sight. He wanted to be the one to make you like that. All sore and stuffed to his liking. Just wanting to have you beg for more of his cock, until early morning hours. 

And that’s what this had been. Taehyung turns to the other side, glancing at the clock. 

4am.

He sighs, arms crossing over his chest as he admires the way you had been squished between Jungkook and Jimin, as the three of you had fallen fast asleep. 

He knew it wouldn’t have been fair to barge into your little goodbye sex session. Or, whatever you two did behind that locked door. 

It really wasn’t his business. Just as if Jungkook and you had made out in the kitchen, it wasn’t any of his business. He was only here for you. Jimin, well that had been a bonus. 

Or that’s what he kept telling himself. 

His arm reaches out to touch the exposed skin of your own, gently shaking you awake. He smiles at the way you use your arm to cover your face, whining from the sudden disturbance. 

“Y/n..” He softly coos, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. You groan, flipping over to the other side, curling into Jungkook’s snoring chest. Taehyung shakes you again, and this time you fling up, annoyed. 

“Taehyung it’s-” You look towards the clock, sighing in frustration from the early wake up call. “Four in the morning, Taehyung. This better be good.” Taehyung’s head hangs low, nodding. Open his mouth to spill the words, but they just don’t come out. Instead, he opts on something else. 

“H-How was dinner?” 

“You woke me up at four in the morning to ask me how I liked dinner?”

No. 

“Y-Yeah. I mean it was a new restaurant we tried and-” 

No.

“I wanted to see if we’d like to try it again.” 

You let out a sigh, scooting over to crawl into his lap. The light, skin tight biker shorts you wore, along with the see-through tank top had no place in making him this excited. Your arms snake around his neck, as you press a lazy, slow kiss to his lips. “Can’t sleep?” 

He nods. Your head bows as well, rolling off a sigh as an agreement. “Is it because of Jimin?” 

No. I mean, Taehyung loved Jimin. Don’t get me wrong, but-

“Yes.”

Liar.

A smile pinches your cheeks, as you lean in to kiss his forehead gently. All of his worries, not diminishing like he had wished, but decreasing more so to say. Your body pushes him back down gently to lay, as you rest your head on his chest. Softly whispering sweet words in hopes of easing his worries. 

“Everything’s gonna be okay, Tae Tae.” 

Y/n..

“We’ll still have each other~” 

Y/n.

“And when Jimin gets back, it’ll be like he never left.”

No, Y/n. It won’t.

..

You four had all woken up early to bid Jimin a goodbye. He promised how he’d have room if you guys had ever wanted to fly over for a week or two. The reason why you hadn’t gone with him was because A - your business had been here. Animation companies were pretty strict on getting designs in on time, even if they had been digital. You also had to hand draw some papers to hand in manually. All in all, it wouldn’t have worked. Jungkook had started up his artistic career as well, getting a job in a similar department as you, for an opposing company. 

The airline calls Jimin’s plane number, as he hugs the three of you goodbye. Sharing a passionate kiss with each of you. No stares had been made your way when he kissed you, but when it came to Taehyung and Jungkook, some heads had definitely turned. 

Jimin slings the weight of his carry-on over his shoulder, letting out a sigh. 

“I’ll see you guys soon.” 

.

When he’s past the gates, that’s when you let it all out. You watched the love of your life, your first everything walk away like it hadn’t even affected him. 

Oh, how wrong you were. 

Once Jimin’s out of sight from the group, his chest begins to beat out of his chest, the crease of his eyes pouring down streams of pain and anger. Anger towards the world, for taking his away. Anger to his father. Anger at being born into his family. His knees hit the floor, giving up on the facade he tried so hard to maintain around the three of you. His beautiful angels. The loves of his life. Everybody he would ever need. 

Being ripped away from him.

But, the most pain comes from knowing that he won’t get those morning greetings, with Taehyung bringing a tray of hot cocoa while you all cuddle in bed, watching some random Telenovela. The way Jungkook and you fought over who’d win the Mario Kart racing match, while Taehyung and him sat back, curled up with a good book or listening to some music. No more passion filled nights, where you all put your whole trust in him alone. Loving him so much to even allow that. 

It was hell.

The airline speaks once more through the intercoms, pulling his mind from the depths of his own thoughts. Taking a deep breath and picking himself up off the floor, he walks through the door. The door that leads to his temporary life. 

___

Next Chapter ->

[aries-rising-on-an-aquarius-tide]

A/N: I know it's been a long time, and some of you decided that Evocations was over for you before we rounded the final curve ... but I am still determined to finish it, bc Cabenson deserves it. This story means something to me, even though Cabenson isn't canonically endgame. So, here's the next piece. There's not too much left to cover past this, so hopefully I can do the rest of it justice, too.

Rating: 14+

Spoilers: Scorched Earth, Lost Reputation, Above Suspicion

Trigger/content warnings: references to Domestic Abuse/Violence (M/F), alcohol, Domestic Homicide including graphic description of a crime scene, nausea and vomiting

Evocations: XXV

They say you can never start over the way it was, but for just a little while, they beat the odds. Somehow, it was 2002 again, with Alex in Olivia's bed at the end of the day, it was joints shared on the roof in each others' arms, talking about their years spent apart. There were no rough edges, no fighting. Just fucking, laughter, good food, and solid sleep.

When the world once again shifted beneath Olivia's feet, for the first time it was not Alexandra who left her.

Elliot disappears as though twelve years together evaporated into the aether. No words, no phone call, not a post-it note or a 'kiss my ass' to dream on. At the end of the day that she finds out from Cragen, she walks into her apartment to find Alex making dinner.

"Elliot quit," she tells the blonde, hands fisting her hips in an attempt to push the tremble in her voice down her arms and back into her body.

Alexandra stopped dicing just shy of severing a fingertip in surprise. Biting her lip in dismay at the emotion on Liv's face, she wiped her hands and came around to the brunette, enveloping her in a hard hug, which lasted a long time.

Alex tried what she could to dispel the dark cloud that Stabler's ghost wrapped around Liv; she pulled out every trick she knew from all their stuttered years, making time for wine nights, for trying new restaurants, for black & white film festivals. They were still happy together, but the blonde knew that something inside Olivia was broken, something that all the quality time in the world was never going to fix.

Not everyone's heart is made whole by the love of just one soulmate. Part of the identity Liv had carved out of herself was made to fit into Elliot Stabler, and his absence took up as much space as his presence ever had.

Stabler had been Liv's anchor, and now Alex knew that Olivia was adrift at sea.

.

.

Throughout 2012, ADA coverage was a three-way split for SVU between Cabot, Novak and Cutter. When one of them was handling a sex crimes case, the others were handed cases in other departments. Late that year, Alex got a call telling her to meet a client at the hospital.

A pack of bustling ER nurses parted to reveal a battered middle-aged woman who looked like she had lost a battle with the not-so-jolly Green Giant. For a moment, from a distance, she looked so much like Olivia that Alexandra's heart jumped.

"Hi," she says quietly when she gets within speaking distance. "I'm ADA Alex Cabot. What's your name?"

The scared brunette looked at Alex, but the gaze was hollow. "Betty," she answers through swollen lips, "Betty Bluestone."

When Alexandra gets home that night, she is poised to start telling Liv about Betty's DV case. But the apartment is dark and silent. A ripple of discontent passes through the blonde for the first time since she returned, and she is immediately uneasy. She doesn't call, or text - opts, instead, to open a bottle of wine and order in something to eat.

Hours later, Olivia finds her swaddled in the heavy throw blanket, asleep in front of some flickering old movie. There is unfinished wine and cold Chinese on the coffee table. The brunette shakes the ADA awake, unaware of all the words that come rushing up out of the sleepy blonde's mind about the beaten woman who looks like her.

Before Alex can form any of them, Liv tells her, "Cragen's been accused of murder."

.

.

They fight with each other, but only in their heads. Olivia dives into saving Cragen, which Alex understands, as Cragen is really the only father Liv has ever known. Alex doesn't budge from the Bluestone case, which Olivia won't forgive.

It makes the Autumn longer, and colder. They don't have much time for just each other - they are ships in the night, passing like ghosts, hulking and silent. Over the weeks, Betty becomes the surrogate for Alex's protection and concern: she checks in constantly, arranges shelter, makes sure there is no contact with Mitch, and preps Betty for court until both their voices crack.

Liv goes to war for Cragen; her years at SVU, and Elliott's abandonment both tangled up in her battle plans. She learns the hard lesson that parental figures are never faultless. She refuses to lose another part of what has made SVU her home.

In the end, both battles are lost.

.

.

"Mitch, no. Leave her alone, let's just go home."

Alex is numb with the cold on the stone steps of the courthouse. Her ears lift at the sound of Betty's plaintive voice.

"I should give that bitch a piece of my mind," Mitch Bluestone rumbles back to his wife.

"I just want to go home. I've missed you."

Alexandra's stomach knots at the words that come out of Betty's mouth. She turns just enough to watch the couple continue down the steps in perfect sync, waiting to see if Mitch will throw a snarl back over his shoulder.

Their day in court had been a disaster. Between Mitch's intimidation from the defense table, and his lawyer tearing Betty apart, it had all gone to hell. It had taken an act of divine intervention to keep Cabot from screaming when Betty had apologized meekly after telling the ADA that she and Mitch were going to "try one more time."

She stood in the cold for long minutes after the Bluestones had disappeared from sight, wishing for a joint, wishing for Liv's calm pragmatism, for anything but the emptiness that the defeat had punched into her. Even if she goes home, she knows she won't find relief, because Cragen is still in lockup. Olivia has slept and showered mostly in the cribs at the precinct for weeks, sending errant text messages when she had an extra three seconds in a minute.

So Alex goes to a bar instead, tossing back martinis that make up the largest portion of her meals for the day. By the time a woman makes eyes at her from across the bar, the blonde is four drinks deep, but allows the woman to buy her one more anyway. She stands up to leave when it's empty, and isn't sure if it's the world that's spinning her on her feet, or the Wheel of Fortune.

Perhaps both.

.

.

Alex wakes in bed in the apartment, with Olivia shaking her insistently. The dull ache of a hangover is a weight at the blonde's temples as she wonders when her lover got home, and if it means Cragen's charges are dropped.

"Lex," the brunette mumbles again, "Alex. Your phone's ringing."

She reaches to the bedside table, doesn't recognize the number, puts it haphazardly to her ear anyway. "Cabot," she muffles out.

"ADA Alexandra Cabot?" The voice on the line is far too awake for the hour, and Alexandra winces.

"Yes."

"We found your card in the effects at our crime scene. Is a Mrs. Elizabeth Bluestone your client?"

Her blue eyes snap open wide as she sits up in the bed. Olivia is already back to sleep and breathing softly. "Yes. Did she ask for me?"

There is an apologetic pause on the line, then: "Uh, no ma'am. She's dead."

.

.

Mitch is arrested and long gone from the scene by the time Alexandra arrives. The one cop car that remains outside has lights but no siren, the blue light illuminating the windows in staggered flashes. The darkened house full of shadows hulked on the lawn in the eerie quiet that follows chaos.

Unlike Olivia, who could flash a badge and push her way in to nearly anywhere, ADA credentials didn't grant Alex much entry. She waited uneasily for someone to fetch the cop in charge so she could get inside, and a younger guy, the one that had called her she presumed, came out to meet her.

"Neighbor called in a Domestic Disturbance," he explained quietly as he lead her into the house, "which escalated to Shots Fired before we even arrived. The husband went quietly enough, but the woman was DOA. We found your card in the pocket of her jeans."

At the end of the hall they turned into the bedroom, and Alex was hit immediately by the tell-tale scents of domestic violence that has reached its climax: sweat, gun powder, and the copper-metal tang of spilled blood. Her stomach lurched, already disquieted by her hangover.

Off the master bedroom there was an ensuite. The light inside it was on, the coroner and a CSI stood near the doorway, trading quiet murmurs between them.

"I don't imagine this was their first fight," the young cop said.

"No," Alex confirmed, her heart racing at the idea of looking inside the bathroom. She took another couple steps forward, then halted again. "Did he say anything?" she asked, "The husband?"

The police officer cleared his throat. The coroner, the CSI, both turned their heads to look at him. "He said . . . he said he wished he'd've had more bullets. Ma'am." He took a breath to tell the tall blonde ADA that she didn't have to go in there, but it was too late - she had closed the distance between herself and the doorway.

Alex swayed on her feet for just a second. Her nostrils flared, heart racing as her pupils dilated with the shock of fight or flight. Blood coated the bathroom tile, parts of the walls, and flecked the porcelain of the fixtures. Betty had dropped where she stood, a freeze-frame of her last moment, eyes wide open and a hole bulls-eyed into her forehead. The blood pooled around her head that had soaked into her dark hair was scattered with bits of brain and scalp and splinters of skull bone.

Mitch had said "I should give that bitch a piece of my mind," earlier that day, but instead had gone home and painted the ensuite with pieces of Betty's.

But the worst part were her eyes.

Not that they were open. Not even that they were dull with the finality of it all.

No, the worst of it was that instead of looking surprised by the turn of events the night had taken, Betty looked as meek and as cautious as she'd looked when apologizing to Alex after court. There was no righteous indignation, no pleading or regret.

Betty Bluestone looked for all the world as if she had been expecting it.

Betty Bluestone looked relieved.

Alexandra didn't see the long pale grey hallway wall, or recall ducking the crime scene tape as she rushed past the cop watching the front door. The next thing her eyes fixed on was the Bluestones' lawn as she threw up whatever was left of her drinks from earlier that evening. Normally, the ADA would be ashamed of such a rookie move, but Alex was past it that night. She was past all of it, perhaps for the first time in her whole life.

As the cold night air seeped into her skin, she thought of all her years at SVU. She thought of her years on the run - from Wisconsin to other made up lives, of all the people and love lost along the way. Then of Africa, of how anything she did there had been little more than a drip in a giant bucket of war and violence that never ended. Alex thought of Holland, of Knopf the cat, of Sky High, of the children she was probably keeping Olivia from having. There was all that loss, all those endings, all the change and activism that she had wanted to achieve.

And there was Betty, getting cold on the bloody bathroom tile.

It wouldn't do.

Not anymore.

.

.

The clean white light from above the stove is the only illumination in the apartment when Olivia gets home the night of the day of Betty Bluestone's death. Cragen is still in lock up. Cassidy had been shot. Her entire world was upside down, and all she wanted was to crawl into Alex's arms and find sleep that wasn't tainted with the impotence of all her efforts.

On the counter across from the semicircle of light was a little dark object that Liv didn't recognize. She stumbled through taking off her shoes as she got closer. Slowly, a faint smile crossed her features as she held the item up into the light, turning it.

It was a set of Nesting dolls, but instead of the traditional Russian doll style, they were painted to look like a female cop in uniform. Liv twisted the doll open to get to the next one, closing the largest and setting it aside. She repeated with the second doll.

The third doll was not a cop.

Liv frowned. The third wooden doll was a likeness of Alex: blonde, court-ready in a formal skirt and jacket combo, her reading glasses on. Then the fourth and fifth dolls went back to cops in uniform. Lastly, even stranger, the tiniest of the dolls was painted as a baby. It was just a tiny, indistinguishable face, swaddled in a white blanket. Olivia used a fingernail to part the seam in the wood and popped it open.

Inside of it was a ring.

Alex's ring.

Olivia had bought it for her for the first birthday they'd spent together after Alexandra's return. It complimented the diamond and rose gold one that the blonde had bought all those years ago.

The finality of it gripped Liv slowly, a tingling numbness that started in her toes and filled her all the way up. It felt familiar, and somehow different all at once.

The Matryoshka doll was Alex's goodbye letter.

Olivia was finally, truly, alone.

TBC

[kafkaoftherubble]

237不止没有改进236，还他妈的直接... //CH237 did not improve CH236. In fact, it fucking—

Spoilers for Jujutsu Kaisen CH237.

Damn. This chapter blows as a belated Gojo fan. Also blows as a character-work fan. Or a "surprise me with an interesting and creative maneuver after the last chapter" fan. I should be glad I didn't inhale dangerous amounts of copium last week beyond small doses and hope.

You know what feels like the point of JJK as of this writing? "Be an asshole, or lose." Megumi ain't an asshole, is he? So there you go. He kept getting punished. Bruh had been an L magnet for a while now for sure, but at CH237 you can reasonably believe he's in that same afterlife airport in yet another offscreen death. At this rate JJK is gonna feel like a fundamentalist/millennialist Christian talking point: "This life on Earth is shit. You can only hope for salvation in the afterlife. No point trying to fight suffering while living; no point dreaming about improvement. True happiness only exists after you die... In God's Kingdom Gojo's airport, mai furrendo. Until Sukuna Reality-cut through even the afterlife, that is."

Megumi had a lot of characterization early on, man. He's got an interesting psychology, legitimate mental growth, a self-ish goal revolving around Tsumiki, a selfless goal revolving around his definition of being a jujutsu sorcerer, a dynamic of interesting potentials between himself and Yuji + himself and Satoru + himself and Tsumiki + himself and the Zenin clan (or whatever's left of it), and a canonically busted technique. We would have been so stoked to see what Megumi himself could do with Ten Shadows, especially when it's said to rival the Gojo clan's Limitless.

Instead, when the 10 Shadow vs. Limitless fight happened, it was Sukuna who demonstrated how good it was, not the young hero we're rooting to master it. And now comes CH237 and Sukuna's like, "Yea, this technique was just an Anti-Gojo move so I can forget this now that he's 2.5jo. Bye Megumi's L Magnet body! Bye Megumi's soul; thanks for tanking Unlimited Void that one time! MAGICAL GIRL TRANSFORMATION SEQUENCE! BELIEVIX, SO MAGICAL!"

Was the whole point of Megumi's existence just to erase Satoru? Were all those previous hints to Megumi's character development and psychology just haphazard salad dressings?

And man. Because I'm, indeed, a Gojo fan, what really bummed me out is this growing realization: Satoru seemingly still dead right now really lends substance to people who said he's the single-most stupidest loser in this story ever. He has never made any right choice, has he? Even his insistence on not executing Yuji, which was framed to be a move for a noble cause back then (I'll die on this hill; I really can't see it as a self-motivating cause no matter how some people might like to paint it), is now seen as a stupid choice that doomed the future because of how much the villains are winning right now (while the strongest guy on the good guys' side is chilling with "no regrets" in an afterlife airport).

You'd at least hope that Satoru managed to introduce some permanent damage to Sukuna for the rest of the camp. Lose the battle, win the war. But apparently, from the looks of it, that didn't last. Sukuna magical-girled into his Second Stage Boss form. It's reasonable that his brain just got renewed from this, which means Malevolent Shrine may be back on the table already. And any (meager) damage Satoru had left on him from their fight is just wiped clean. Bruh even has his dumbbell-looking weapon (it's actually a legit weapon in Hindu myth if I recall correctly, though what exactly is the name slipped my mind this time) now.

Hell, that simp Uraume is still alive and kicking. Satoru didn't even offscreen that annoying twerp with his 200% Hollow Purple at the beginning of the fight. Now Uraume is presumably acting out those Gamble God(赌神) Chinese New Year Hong Kong movies with Hakari up there in the sky.

Honestly Gojo Satoru, are you sure you were the strongest at all? Or have you just been subjected to that old Chuck Norris meme, where tales of Chuck Norris being "the strongest" in the most ridiculous ways possible spread among people—except in your case, everyone including yourself believed it? 'Cause man, the story disrespects you so hard now.

Oh, and don't bother looking for Satoru's body among the rubble. Nor bother with the cast's emotional reaction. No Yuji, no Yuta, no nobody except Kashimo and Hakari. Some said this might allude to a background event—maybe Satoru is being patched up in the background as we speak, ya know?

But I don't know. It's just... better not to expect anything at this point. Better not to cook unless the intention is to write fanfics and what-ifs for yourself or your community. I do neither of those things, so I don't wanna try cooking at all. "Nekkhamma", man. Non-attachment is the better frame of mind by this point.

Still gonna stick with JJK though because hey, I still wanna evaluate things when it's all said and done. I'm not gonna try persuading my best friend into seeing it with me when Season 3 comes, though. Her fav is Nanami and she's only interested in Satoru because of me. By this metric, there's no point in having her stick around past her personal interests. She's not even one who likes pointless tragedies nor is she wanting of shows to watch, aye, Fionn?

Sukuna fans can rejoice, though. He reclaims the form Sukuna fans wanted to see for years! And he's more powerful than ever and is indisputably the King of Curses very likely riding into a non-airport style victory (unless Kenjaku screws him). In addition to being the strongest and poetic (that's the character depth non-Sukuna fans like myself missed at our peril, I suppose), he's—by his admission—an unwanted child with a hint of him "working to become the strongest" (this has been a pretty persistent fanon for a while now. Just need a confirmation.). He also doesn't know "love." And thinks everyone else is trash. There are some genuinely interesting possibilities to speculate about his background based on the breadcrumbs provided CH237 though. I wonder if the conjoined twin theory is true!

Hey, Gege? If you're transitioning Jujutsu Kaisen to Sukuna Kaisen, might as well start throwing the most meaningful bones to Sukuna fans, okay? No more being coy. Just tell them his backstory. Hell, I'll stick around out of curiosity alone... even if I hate an asshole who never gets punished.

Thank you for reading my ramble.

[kyndaris]

The Shadow of Broken Dreams

Although I wanted to initially title this the Boulevard of Broken Dreams, I didn't know how well it would have gone over. This is a short story I've written following on from me finishing up Toymaker. Now it's just a matter of editing that behemoth of a novel before I upload it on FictionPress and Wattpad to share.

Once that's done, well, here's hoping I can start working on something I actually want published.

Should be noted, though, that this piece wasn't uploaded to my Wattpad because I felt it was a bit too grim and a little too experimental. It IS on my FictionPress (put up back in August) but I've also posted the full story here anyways behind the read more link. So, enjoy!

The apartment was dark when I entered. The only light being the television set to a channel that replayed old sitcoms and daytime movies from the 70s. It served as white noise as I set my work bag groceries and the groceries down on the floor. They’d been heavy. Weighing me down as I wrestled them up the stairs.

Yet despite the numerous complaints, building management had refused to install an elevator. The bastards.

And while I knew I ought to put the groceries all in the fridge, that was a battle I didn’t want to face right now. Not when all I wanted to do was curl up next to the kitchen counter. I was drained. Exhausted. Tired from smiling and being the vivacious social butterfly that most of my work colleagues and old college friends saw me as.

If they could see me now, what would they think?

Would they see the broken woman that I was? The one who spent most nights with a glass of red wine in hand? Who had a bathroom littered with bottles of pills? One for anxiety, another filled to the brim with antidepressants, and a third for some unknown painkiller to get rid of the ache that racked my very soul?

Probably not.

I mean, why would they? It wasn’t as if I invited anyone over. And no-one was curious to delve more than surface level in trying to get to know me.

During my darkest moments, I often played with the thought of just disappearing entirely. After all, who would miss me? Who would even care?

Certainly not my father. Especially after the explosive fight we had four years ago during Thanksgiving.

And definitely not the ‘friends’ that had glommed to me back in high school like barnacles to the bottom of a very rich ship. Or the faceless men that I had met in bars, looking for a quick pick-me-up or just to feel something when everything inside me was numb.

Despite everything I was doing, though, I still felt so alone in the world; cast adrift by everything and everyone.

Shaking the morose thoughts from my head, I got to my feet. I wasn’t rejuvenated in the slightest but it wouldn’t do for the food to go bad just because I couldn’t deal with the empty apartment and the lack of human contact. People couldn’t subsist solely on alcohol and the occasional Chinese takeout.

But even as I unpacked everything from my reusable grocery bag and put them in the fridge, my movements felt sluggish. As if I was swimming through a thick and heavy malaise. And I couldn’t help but think what the entire point of all this was for.

Why did I even bother going to a dead-end job? Or try to befriend people that couldn’t give a whit about who I was or what I was interested in?

Nothing mattered. Not in this cold, uncaring world.

Wouldn’t it just be easier…

The snap of the elastic band around my wrist broke the chain of thought that had gripped me. Suddenly, I was standing in front of the fridge, a carton of milk in my hand.

Had I been in the process of putting it in or taking it out to make myself a coffee? I didn’t remember.

I put it in the fridge and instead grabbed the bottle of wine resting on the top shelf. My therapist said that self-medication wasn’t the answer but what did she know, anyways? I’d had a tiring day and my head was still throbbing from the grilling I had received from one of our long-standing business associates.

Her words sounded in my ears as I poured myself a glass, the red kissing the rim. I took it with me to the couch. The show on the TV was something I’d seen in passing a million times before. A vapid woman chasing after a man that couldn’t have cared less about her.

The associate – a woman in her late 50s, her hair in a neat chignon – had been utterly ruthless in her assessment of the report me and my team had handed in.

She had destroyed what little confidence I had. And even now I was questioning if I knew what I was doing; if I deserved the position that had been bequeathed to me. Both at work and in terms of the trajectory that I wanted my life to go.

Which, I mused as I took a gulp of wine from the glass, was straight down to rock bottom.

Maybe I should tender my resignation. I was clearly unfit for the role AND out of my depth.

That had always been clear to me from the start.

I took another sip from my wineglass only to find that it was empty. Frowning, I padded back to the fridge and pulled out the bottle of red. With the bottle in hand, I returned to my spot on the couch.

By the time I had downed the entirety of the bottle and felt buoyed by a light buzzing in my head, the time on my phone showed 8:54PM. It was late but not so late for me to cook something simple.

But the desire to get back up and actually do something for myself was non-existent. Especially as I had gone out after discovering that there was naught in my fridge but two bottles of wine and 3 six-pack of bud light. Which had, of course, prompted me to go down to the shops to pick up some groceries to give the thin veneer that I was a fully functional adult human.

Besides, I’d picked up two buffalo wings and a bread roll from the corner store before I went out.

That was a healthy meal, right?

It was certainly better than nothing, I told myself as I turned back to the TV, eyes glazed.

--

I blinked groggily awake as the sunlight streaming through the half-closed blinds hit my eyes. Taking in my surroundings, I realised that I’d fallen asleep on the couch again. The wine bottle had fallen to the floor, the last dredges of it staining the carpet red.

Shit.

As I contemplated if it was worth it to clean it up or leave it until later, I felt a vibration at my side. Patting myself down, I couldn’t find my phone but I knew it had to be nearby. Before I’d fallen asleep, I’d been scrolling through social media. Something my therapist had recommended that I stop.

It was only after I stood up that I found the Samsung snuggly sandwiched between the seats. Grabbing it, I looked at the screen. Why was management calling? At this hour?

Before I could compute what was happening, the call rang out and I finally glimpsed the time. 10:55AM.

Fuck. Shit. Shit. Fuck.

I was late. Very late.

No wonder management was calling. They were after my pathetic little hide for screwing up so spectacularly. And a part of me did still care about what they thought of me.

These were people that had took me on. They had hired me despite all my flaws. And I was letting them down during a crucial moment.

The guilt ate at me as I hurried to my bedroom. Just as I was stripping out of my work clothes from yesterday, my phone buzzed again. This time, I picked up.

“This is Cheryl,” I said, somehow sounding peppy though I was running on fumes.

“Oh, thank God. For a moment, I thought you’d died in a ditch somewhere.”

“After the dressing down I got yesterday, I almost wanted to.”

An awkward titter. “Oh, Cheryl. You’re so funny. But, not gonna lie, you had me worried there for a second. I’d called you ten times already. What’s going on?”

“Long night,” I replied sheepishly as I glanced back towards the living room. “I’m so sorry, Joan, for letting the team down. If you give me an hour, I can get into the office and start on the project. I’ll work until it’s finished, no matter how—”

“Cheryl, it’s fine. We can park the project for tomorrow. I called because we hadn’t heard from you and I was getting a little worried since you’re usually in so early.”

“But I can still—”

“No, Cheryl,” said Joan, channelling her mum voice that I knew all too well. “Look, we’ve all been under pressure one time or another, so I know how you feel. Don’t worry, I’ll think of something to say to leadership. You take today off, okay? Get some rest and look after yourself. You’ve been looking a little pale these last few days.”

“Joan—”

Before I could say something more, she had already hung up. I kept the phone held up to my ear for a few more moments, expecting to hear Joan’s voice come through to demand that I make it into the office by 12 or I’d be fired, before I threw the phone onto my bed and let out a frustrated groan.

God. What was wrong with me? How could I have let myself slip like this?

As I slumped down onto my bed, still half-naked, my thoughts turned towards the project I was supposed to be busy starting right now if I hadn’t overslept. What would people say? Would they finally see through the façade that I’d projected all these years?

And Joan…she’d said I had looked pale during the phone call.

Did she know? Did she suspect something was amiss?

Fear and paranoia gripped me then. Before I knew it, I was up on my feet, heading to the shower. All the while, my thoughts were dissecting the conversation I just had with my immediate supervisor.

What had she meant about being ‘under pressure?’ Or that I ought to ‘look after myself?’

Had I let the mask slip?

No. That was impossible. I’d honed my ability to put on a smile so that none could see beyond the image I’d projected. In that, I was, at least, perf—

The cold water from the showerhead struck me then, pulling me from my thoughts. I yelped, dancing back in the shower until the water had turned lukewarm before diving back in.

It was too late now to eat breakfast. But if I was going to enjoy this unplanned day off, I needed my daily dose of caffeine. Maybe I could grab a wrap, too?

There was a café close by that I’d always wanted to try but never had the time for.

Yes. I’d go there.

Some food in my stomach to appease the hunger gods and a few of my prescribed skills in my gullet would be enough to get me out of this funk. Or, it would allow me to stop trying to parse the hidden meaning behind Joan’s words. More likely than not she hadn’t meant much of it.

She’d just been trying to make small talk.

Right?

Trying to find a way to be empathetic was the ‘perceived’ social norm.

Right?

Or maybe it was all a way to say that the team didn’t need me at all. That I was a liability. A burden.

Fuck. I needed to get out of my own head. And quick.

--

I got into the office early the next day. There was a ton of work that I needed to catch up on. And I couldn’t disappoint. So, I skimmed through the emails in Outlook before turning my attention to the big project that we’d been assigned. I was adamant that by the time Joan arrived in the office, I would have a draft on her desk.

They couldn’t fire me then. Right?

I was indispensable.

A vital member of the team.

But even as I searched for statistics, the doubt continued to gnaw on my mind. Despite the anti-anxiety pills and antidepressants I’d taken. The worry just wouldn’t leave me be.

It haunted my every step; made me question every move.

When Joan did finally arrive at a quarter past nine, her cappuccino in hand, she walked right past my desk, plonked down at her desk and stared at her blank computer screen for a good few seconds before taking a sip of her coffee cup and shaking off the last vestiges of sleep. That was when she glanced down and saw the printed outline I’d made.

Her head turned towards my desk before looking back at the outline. Her brows knitted together and her lips arched downwards in a frown. After logging into her computer, she rose from her chair.

I quickly turned back to my computer screen. The project wasn’t going to finish itself. Especially if they wanted it in by the end of the week. And it was already Thursday.

The clack of her heels was the only warning I had before Joan loomed above me.

“Cheryl.” Something sounded off. Had there a hint of disappointment in her voice? I looked at her face but the usual fun twinkle I saw in her eyes was absent. This was no-nonsense Joan. A person I’d rarely met.

A cold shiver went down my spine. Why did it also feel like my stomach had dropped out from its usually spot?  

Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I hit ctrl + s on the document I was working on. I forced a smile to my lips, though all I wanted to do was run and hide. Was it too late to go to the bathroom? “Hi Joan. How’s your morning today?”

Joan looked at me, an unreadable expression on her face.

The mother of two was impeccably dressed although I could see that she had slightly smudged her lipstick. Despite having a rebellious teenager and a loud rambunctious pre-teen, Joan was a career woman through and through. Like me, she had on a blazer. But while mine was grey, hers was black. And while I much preferred wearing a skirt matched with low heels, Joan dressed like a woman on mission in black slacks and flats.

“Cheryl,” she said again. “Look, this isn’t easy to say but the project…well, it’s been assigned to Brett.”

It took a moment for her words to sink in.

That they had reassigned the project to Brett wasn’t the issue. It was the fact that they didn’t think I could do this that broke me. It meant that they didn’t need me.

One mistake and it had all led to this. What was wrong with me? How could I have done something so blind, missing that glaring mistake in the report?

The pressure in my head began to build, dull though it seemed. But as time passed, it grew ever more present. Ever more demanding. White noise filled my ears. And then, my entire imploded. Utterly and completely.

Before me, a black void yawned open in front of me. I stood alone at its edge, no-one beside me. Off in the distance, I heard the sounds of howls getting ever closer. Fear enveloped me.

Did I jump off? Or did I stay to be devoured by monsters?

It would be easier to just let go. To take that step and take the plunge. Then I wouldn’t be hounded every day. I wouldn’t be a burden. I wouldn’t take up someone else’s share of oxygen…

“Cheryl? Cheryl!” Something was shaking me.

I blinked twice and the office swam back into focus. Before me was my computer with a screensaver of a forest somewhere in Germany. To my left, there was a photo of me smiling with my family on a summer vacation back in my 20s. In the corner of my eye, to the right, I could see a beige blouse.

There were words being said above me but I couldn’t process what was being said. It all sounded like nonsense to me.

Then someone crouched down to eye level.

It was Joan. There was a look of concern on her face. But rather than reassure me that there was someone out there cared for me, I was filled with anger. I had seen behind the façade. Nobody cared about me.

Certainly not Joan.

If my self-control hadn’t kicked in, I would have snarled at the woman and probably spat in her face. She was a fucking bold-faced lie. Why did she and everyone else in my life play pretend? What was the goddamned point? Did they think they were good people if they put in a tokenistic effort of empathy?

Well, fuck that. And fuck them.

“Cheryl, I think—”

“I’m fine,” I said through clenched teeth as I unlocked my computer.

“Are you sure? Look, we understand if you’re angry. This isn’t a reflection of all the work you’ve done for us so far. Given the fact that we didn’t know how long you were going to be away, leadership thought—”

I closed my eyes, counted slowly to five. “I said I’m fine, Joan. There’s a lot that needs to be done. I’m here to work. So, let me do it.”

Perhaps Joan sensed something in my tone. She rose to her feet. “Be that as it may, Cheryl, I think it’s in your best interest to take ten minutes. Go out and grab a coffee. Or get some fresh air, whichever helps. Then, when you’re back, we can talk about the project and Brett. Okay?”

It wasn’t a suggestion but an order. I flashed Joan a tight smile. “Sure. Fine,” I said, grabbing my bag. “I’ll be back in ten.”

Reining in my bubbling resentment, I headed to the elevator lobby. Two minutes later, the doors opened on the ground floor and I stepped out onto the street. But instead of turning left to enter the coffee shop, I walked straight past it.

And then I began to run, my handbag slung over my shoulder.

I didn’t go back to the office.

--

In my darkened bedroom, I sat on my bed and stared off into nothing. I had curled my knees up to my chest, my arms holding them in place.

It was Monday.

Normally by now I would be in the office, tapping away at my keyboard and finishing off whatever it was I had been assigned or responding to emails from stakeholders. You know, business as usual. But it was already nearing lunch time and I hadn’t done anything except stare at nothing for the entire day.

My phone sat beside me. I had turned it off immediately last Thursday after walking out of the office, fearful that I’d receive a barrage of calls once Joan realised that I wasn’t coming back.

But a part of me wondered if that truly would have been the case. Would they have even cared?

What was I but a cog in the machine of corporate America? And an unimportant one at that. Easily replaceable with someone like Brett. A man that had coasted by on his good looks and charisma but who couldn’t even string two sentences together in a report.

Yet, leadership favoured him anyways.

I wanted to hate Brett with all my being but I knew that it wasn’t entirely his fault. Not really.

He was, after all, a better choice than Briony.

Now, she was a piece of work. A woman who delighted in gossip. Who would tell everyone far and near how accomplished she was even though she’d literally done nothing to earn it. Every day I’d see her chatting with upper management or leadership or going out for coffee at least five times a day. She was slow with her work and constantly on the phone to her friends or her daughter or the landlord.

It was easy to get mad at her but it wasn’t worth it.

After all, I knew I was going to be fired. Not that I cared.

Nothing really seemed to matter to me anymore. During the weekend, I’d lazed in bed. Hadn’t bothered to even get up to brush my hair or my teeth. Or even really eat anything beyond some buttered toast and ordering in an unhealthy dose of ice-cream via Uber Eats.

The antidepressants weren’t working. I’d stopped taking them on Saturday because I hadn’t seen the point of it all. And I’d flushed the anti-anxiety pills down the toilet as well.

Only the painkillers remained.

Maybe if I…

Before I could finish the thought, there was a knock at my apartment door. It was an incessant hammering that told me if I didn’t open it now, the person would only continue until I opened it or the door broke down from the sheer force of their hits.

Better to ignore it, I thought though my original train of thought was gone. How else ought I to while away the time? Maybe I could watch some daytime TV. They were mostly reruns of soap operas from back in the day. Mindless drivel, most would say.

Or perhaps I could turn on my computer and sit down to some reality shows on Netflix that could drive away the numbness that had taken hold on me.

It knocking kept on for a solid five minutes. By then, it sounded like the door to my apartment was about to cave in.

Having not decided what I ought to do best with my time, I tumbled out of bed with a groan and grabbed a jersey that had belonged to one of my exes, and which was long enough to reach my knees. For a moment, as I slipped on the jersey, I wondered if I ought to change into something more presentable but thought better of it.

What did it matter anyways?

Satisfied that I wasn’t entirely exposed except for my pale creamy legs, I padded to the door.

As if they had heard my footsteps, the knocking stopped.

Rising to my tiptoes, I peeked through the peephole to see who had come to interrupt my pity party. But there was no-one to be seen.

What in the world?

Was this just an elaborate prank?

They had hammered at my door for so long but by the time I arrived, they were gone? It was enough to heat up what little energy I had when it came to such things.

I wrenched open the door. Maybe, if I was quick enough, I could see who had bothered to come a-knocking at my door before leaving so abruptly.

Poking my head out, I first looked left and then right. But there was no sign of anyone having been there. The corridor was empty.

Had I been imagining things?

Time had lost almost all of its meaning as I had moped around the apartment.

Just as I went to close the door to return to my wallowing, I heard soft mewling coming from under me. I looked down. There, right on the welcome door mat, was a cardboard box. And inside them were four tortoiseshell kittens.

Fuck.

--

“We’ll make sure to find a home for them all. You have my word.”

“Thank you,” I said. “That means a lot to me.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to keep one?” asked the shopkeeper of the pet store. “Tortoiseshells can be a bit tricky but they’re lovely creatures.” She was young. Or, at the very least, looked it. I guessed that she was probably in her mid-20s. Her soft straw-coloured hair was tied up in a messy bun. And over her blue and white striped shirt, she was wearing an apron.

In comparison, I was dressed much more sloppily in shredded black jeans and a too-large maroon hoodie stamped with Harvard University on the front.

Not that I’d gone to Harvard.

My dad had bought it for me when we had visited Boston during my sophomore year in high school. He’d pointed out the law building in particular, said that it had been his dream for one of his children to attend.

Given that I was the only child that my parents ever had, that burden lay on my shoulders.

Suffice it to say, I didn’t make the cut.

I smiled back at the shopkeeper. “No. I’m good. Not sure what kind of monster decided to dump them on my doorstep but I’m glad that I was able to help them out.”

And really, I was glad. It was the first time I’d felt good about something I did.

True, it wasn’t a high paying job and wouldn’t get me any brownie points, but it was the right thing to do.

After all, I couldn’t look after the kittens. Heck, I couldn’t even look after myself.

This was for the best.

They would find good homes to take them in. People that were more put together and had their life all figured out—

Someone crossed by my vision. She was dressed in a business suit, like always. Her hair was pulled into a neat chignon, held in place by a diamond tipped pin. It was Joan.

Fear sluiced down my veins. Had she recognised me? Was she going to rip into me for not being at the office these last two days, and had been unreachable via both phone and email?

But no, Joan was headed towards the far end of the pet store. She walked with purpose. And that was when I remembered that she had a little chihuahua at home. Brutus, his name was. No doubt she was here to pick up some treats for him.

Once she’d picked up some premium lamb dog food, she headed back to the counter. Not once did she glance in my direction but I kept my face turned away, hidden beneath the hoodie.

“Gone through another bag, has he, Joan?”

Joan let out a sigh. “If you’d believe it. Brutus just loves these. Goes rabid at the very scent because he knows he’s been a good boy.”

“What’s wrong, Joan? You’re not normally so down.”

“Oh, just some drama in the office. You know how it is Vanya. Big project, new staff that need to be trained and to cautious about making a mistake.”

Vanya – the owner of the pet shop owner – nodded. “Yes, I remember you telling me something about it. Said you had this troublemaker that forced you to kiss up with the big bosses. I think you said she’d gotten drunk on a weeknight and was too sauced to come in the next day?”

“That’s the one. And it wasn’t even for anything serious.” Joan leaned across the counter. “I tell you, Vanya, this young generation that’s coming in, they’re just too sensitive. Give them even the slightest criticism, even ones that are constructive, and they fall apart at the seams. That never used to happen with me.”

“Exactly. You listened, you learned, you became better.”

Joan nodded. “Anyways, you don’t need to hear me bitch and moan too much, Vanya.”

“Oh, it’s no bother, Joan. You’ve been a loyal company for fifteen years. What are friends for? Us—"

I didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. I didn’t want to. Especially given the topic of choice. So, after pulling my hood just a little further down to cover my face, I waved goodbye to Vanya and headed straight for the door.

By the time I’d made it down the street, to the lights, I was breathing heavily and my chest was tight. Thoughts whirled in my head, never slowing enough for me to analyse them.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Had that really happened?

What was Joan even doing, coming into a pet shop in the middle of the city, in the middle of the Goddamned day…

But as I turned the corner, I was met with the skyscraper that housed the business I’d been working at since I graduated from college, fresh-faced and eager to contribute to the workforce. I’d met Joan at my first interview. She had been kind and friendly. Always eager to answer my questions when I didn’t understand something.

How quickly things had changed.

I turned on my heel and headed back down the street. Somewhere, I’d just got turned around, my feet naturally leading me back to something that was familiar, but which also filled my very being with dread.

It was probably because I’d been distracted, thinking too much on Joan’s sudden appearance. She was a blast from the very recent past. And based on what I’d overheard, she’d never been my friend. Like everyone else in my life, she saw me as a disposable tool. A person ‘too sensitive’ who couldn’t take an undeserved dressing down.

A lump formed in my throat and hot wet tears pricked at the corner of my eyes. Ones I tried to blink back desperately. I wouldn’t cry. Not out in the open like this.

All I needed to do was get back home. Then I could close the door against the world and let myself go.

Blinded by the despair that gripped me, I didn’t notice when I bumped headlong into someone.

My first impression was of warmth as something spilled onto my hoodie. Then the thud of a solid chest.

I stumbled back, keeping my eyes lowered to the ground.

“Hey, that was my bloody espresso!”

“I’m so sorry,” I murmured under my breath, jaw working overtime to keep the sob from my voice. Everything hurt. And I wanted to get away.

“Just…just watch out next time, yeah?”

I nodded, head down, before sidestepping past the man. The most I caught of him was a fitted graphic t-shirt with three triangles set in what looked like a pyramid.

As I hurried to the next intersection, I didn’t dare look back. Even though I could feel the man’s gaze drilling a hole through the back of my head. What else was there to say anyways?

--

Back in my dark apartment, sitting in the empty bathtub and naked from the waist down, I looked at the bottle of pills in my hand. It would be so easy. And it would make things so much better.

After all, I was unlovable. I was a burden. I was weak. I was sensitive. And I was never going to aspire to anything in life.

Flashes of memory, from both the distant past to the recent encounter at the pet shop, rushed through my mind. Each and every one reflecting how much I had failed and worthless I was.

At age 7, I’d had dreams of becoming a pianist. But a recital gone wrong, when I’d sat frozen with fear had shattered those dreams early. The relentless teasing I’d undergone afterwards only proved that becoming a world-famous pianist was not in the cards for me.

 So, I’d dreamt smaller.

Yet, even there, I’d failed.

Dad had wanted me to attend Harvard. To follow in his footsteps. And though I wasn’t sure what degree I’d pursue once I’d arrived, I’d put my heart and soul into trying to get into an Ivy League School.

Despite busting my arse all throughout high school, earning myself a 4.0 GPA, they had found my admittance letter lacking. I was just one amongst hundreds of hopefuls and I had failed to stand out of the crowd in a meaningful way.

I touched a hand to my right shoulder. Hidden underneath my t-shirt was the mottled scar. After I’d failed to get into the college of my dreams, I’d been moping at home before falling asleep with the electric blanket still on. The first sign that something had gone horribly wrong was the sharp pain in my shoulder. When I’d opened my eyes, the polyester shirt I’d been wearing had melted, twisting into my skin.

Mum had thought it was a self-harming incident. She’d argued with Dad and had taken me to see a psychiatrist.

That was when she’d first been diagnosed with depression and anxiety.

But it was the pain that had troubled me over the years. By the time I’d graduated, I couldn’t really function. A trip to the doctors saw me prescribed with medication to deal with the chronic pain.

It worked. To a degree. Dulling the short sharp lances down the right side of my body into a dull ache.

Yet it wasn’t gone.

Rather it lurked beneath the surface, ready to rise to the surface.

It would never leave.

If I wanted to be free of it, to be free of the doubts that plagued me, it would so much easier to put an end to it all. And I had the solution right in the palm of my hands. I merely had to take a little too much, my breathing would slow, and I’d never have to deal with all the failures that my life had become.

Twisting open the bottle cap, I hesitated for a moment before I poured the first few painkillers out into my hands.

This was it.

It was now or never.

Did I take that final step? Was it worth it to walk into that good night? To put an end to my story?

Before I could make that choice, however, I heard a soft mewling somewhere in the silent apartment. 

What in the world?

I tried to shut it out, resolute in my decision. But it kept going. Rubbing my nerves raw.

Returning the pills to the bottle, I clambered from the tub, nearly slipping in the process. After I put the bottles back into the medicinal cabinet, my heart still beating a hundred miles a minute, I studied my wan reflection in the mirror. Dark purple circles underscored my blue grey eyes. Matted strands of red hair clung to my face when once it had been filled with life.

How quickly my life had spiralled.

The mewling started again and I tore myself away from the bathroom, finding a pair of pants to pull on.

I padded to the living room but couldn’t find the source of the mewling. My mind was already racing back to when I’d first found the box of kittens at my doorstep.

There had been four kittens in the box. I was sure of it.

And when I’d handed the box to Vanya at the pet shop, there had been four kittens inside.

So, why could I still hear mewling within the confines of my one-bedroom apartment?

Having no luck in the living room, I headed to my bedroom. Seated on top of my covers was a kitten that was almost entirely black except for its paws and the white dot on its forehead. It came up to me, curiosity shining in its eyes, as I approached before nuzzling my outstretched hand.

I gave it a scritch behind the ears before glancing up at the clock on the wall. Maybe I could head back into town and hand this one over to Vanya as well. Not that she would be the best person to give it to. Her conversation with Joan had forever tainted my initial impression. But with a start, I realised just how late the hour was. By the time I arrived, the shop would be closed.

The little kitten would have to stay with me. At least for the night.

I was pulled from my thoughts as it mewled at me again. She was hungry and wanted something to fill her stomach.

While I hadn’t been contemplating cooking anything up for dinner, and in fact didn’t feel hungry at all, I couldn’t just let the kitten starve because of my own bad choices.

“Wait right here,” I said to it. “Let me see what I have.”

The kitten looked up at me with its huge blue eyes, letting out a little needy cry that seemed to demand that I hurry up. Bossy little thing, I thought, as I headed back to the kitchen and to my mostly empty fridge. Although I’d restocked a few days ago, I didn’t know if I had something appropriate for a kitten.

I reached for my phone to google what types of human food would be appropriate for cats to eat before realising that my phone was still sitting on the ground of my bedroom, the screen cracked after I’d thrown it at the wall after the encounter with Joan at the pet shop.

Hurrying back to my bedroom, the kitten meowed in greeting.

“Sorry. Just recovering my phone. I’ll be back.” With that, I grabbed my phone and headed back to the kitchen, pulling up Google as I did.

I glanced through the first page of results, noting the cooked meats, the few vegetables that were listed and the small pieces of fruit.

Opening the fridge, I looked through my measly stock.

Well, I had some chicken and broccoli and carrots.

Maybe I could whip up something simple. The thought of preparing a meal flipped a switch inside me and my stomach let out a small growl. For the first time in weeks, I had something of an appetite.

It had been hours since I last ate. When I had eaten, it had been something simple. Some toast, slathered with jam along with a middling coffee. Then I’d binged on some chips and beer. Nothing substantial.

Looking at the ingredients in my fridge, I decided to whip up a quick stir fry. Something that would satisfy me until the next day. After all, I needed to keep myself alive until I could think of what to do with the kitten.

In my mind, it deserved a fulfilling life with a good owner. It needed someone that could shower it with unconditional love.

And that person was definitely not me.

--

I was back in the office again, working on a project that I’d been assigned. As I clicked open the email to refresh myself on the parameters, nothing seemed to make sense. The words were difficult to parse. The sentences went round in circles before trailing off into nonsense.

Desperate, I sent through a message on the group messenger to Joan. Knowing she’d be able to assist me. She had always been there for me in the past.

But as I hit ‘enter’ on the keyboard, the memory of the encounter at the pet shop swam through my mind. A growing sense of dread and panic rose in my gut. Behind me, the voices in the open office space began to swell as people began to whisper and gossip.

I caught snippets of their conversations. None of it good. All of them about what I liability I was for the company. That they would be better off if I vanished from the face of the planet.

And, was it me or were there eyes drilling into the back of my skull?

Breathing became hard as I tried to fight the rising terror that had gripped me. I wanted to turn around but I didn’t want the others to know that their words were affecting me.

If I kept my head down and did my work…

Clipped footfalls sounded behind me.

Dread made its way down my spine. It felt like ants were crawling on my neck. The itch was intense. And all I wanted to do was turn around and say I was sorry. Why I felt the need to apologise didn’t matter. I just knew that I had to.

“Cheryl.” It was Joan’s voice. Slowly, hesitantly, I turned around to face her.

Words clung to my throat. I wanted to say something but my chest was so heavy. It was like a weight was pressing on me. Robbing me of breath. Robbing me of sound.

“Jo—“ I tried to say her name but couldn’t seem to wrap my lips around it. It was just too hard.

She cocked her head to the side, confused, before she reached out to me, the picture of concern. “Cheryl, we need to talk. Would you come with me, please?”

Before I could nod and follow her, something in my chest constricted.

I flailed, pushing something off my face as I blearily blinked up at my dark bedroom. Sunlight was peeking through the underside of the blinds. And resting on my pillow, looking sheepish was the stowaway kitten that had wormed its way into my life.

“What is it now, Princess?”

She mewled at me before agilely landing on the ground and began to claw at the door. Picking up my phone, I glanced at the screen. 9AM. On a freakin’ Saturday. I wanted to groan and sidle back underneath the covers.

But Princess was having none of that. There was only one thing on her mind. Breakfast.

“Fine. Let me get dressed first, okay? And stop sitting on my face. If you aren’t careful, you’ll kill me and who will feed you then?”

Princess spun around, sat down on her haunches and started licking her paws clean. It was a clear sign that she hadn’t been listening. Nor did she care.

With a sigh, I looked around for something to throw on.

Already, Princess had been with me for three months. I don’t know how she’d managed to entangle my life with hers but she had. Despite my best intentions of bringing her to Vanya, the pet shop owner, Princess had been nowhere to be found when I was ready to leave. When I did finally spot her hidden on the upper shelf of my wardrobe, it had taken the entire day to coax her down.

The next day, she’d utterly refused to leave the apartment, sneaking out of the makeshift cage I’d made for her from a few pieces of scrap cardboard that someone had tossed out for recycling.

By the end of the week, I’d given up.

Princess clearly wasn’t going anywhere.

But that left me saddled with a kitten to look after and no job in sight.

True, I might not have properly resigned from the firm I’d walked out on but I had as good as done so. The calls and text messages had slowed to a dribble. My last message from Joan told me of her disappointment that I would step away after all these years when I was so close to reaching my fifteenth year.

 So, I’d sat down in front of a computer and forced myself to apply for every single job that caught my eye.

In the end, I’d taken on an administrative role with a startup tech firm. The pay was much lower than what I’d earned in my previous position as senior project lead. But considering the fact that they had essentially offloaded all my responsibilities on Brett…

I caught myself right before I spiralled.

My first order of business for today was to get breakfast for Princess.

“Here you are, my Princess,” I said to the kitten as I opened up a packet of salmon cat food and poured the contents into her bowl. “Eat up.”

Princess looked up at me with her big blue eyes and meowed before digging in. Watching her enjoyment, I felt something warm and fuzzy suffuse my chest. A smile pulled at my lips before I caught it.

Squashing the fleeting glow of not-quite-happiness down deep, because I knew that it was undeserved, I turned away to prepare my own morning meal. After all, breakfast was the most important meal of the day. Or so my mum had told me growing up.

And maybe there was some wisdom to it, I thought as I pulled out a loaf of bread in the freezer, some peanut butter and jam from the pantry and laid it all down on the counter.

It was hard to imagine life without Princess anymore. She had barged into my life and demanded that I be the one to look after her. Just like a little prima donna or a rich lady of leisure. But while I’d been tempted to name her Queen for her imperious and spoiled ways, there was also a wild side to Princess that decided me on her name.

Breakfast sandwich made, I flopped down on the couch with my morning cup of coffee, a peeled apple and turned on the TV. Princess snuggled in beside me, purring as I stroked her head.

Life wasn’t quite perfect. Not just yet.

But there was a light now in the very dark tunnel I found myself in.  The battles were still hard but I now had something to fight for.

At least for now.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d be with Princess. It was still my personal opinion that she would be better served with a proper owner that had their shit all sorted out rather than with me. And I’d raised the fact with my therapist who had only nodded and scribbled something in her notepad before asking me if I’d had any more instances of suicidal ideation.

--

Rain pissed down on my head. My hair was matted to my scalp. But I cared not as I ventured further down the dark street, calling for Princess. I was desperate to have her back with me at home where it was warm and I could put on a dumb movie for the two of us to watch. Maybe something light and fun. Like Oliver and Company.

Why had I left the door to the apartment open?

“It’ll be okay, Cheryl. I’m sure Princess isn’t too far off.” I looked up at the man carrying an umbrella and forced a smile to my face.

Yang was one of my neighbours a few doors down. He was a lanky man with a mop of unruly hair with blond highlights. Framing his face were a pair of rectangular half-rim glasses. A blue parka sat atop his black jeans.

He had been the only one to volunteer his assistance. My other neighbours had all shook their heads and closed their doors when I’d asked if they had seen a black and white cat called Princess. Even the one that lived right opposite me in the hallway. She was a nervous spindly woman in her late 40s. But while she had helped me out when I first moved in, offering a basket of goodies, we’d had little interaction since except when we exchanged ‘hellos’ in the elevator.

“I just…I just need to find her.”

“Don’t worry. We will.”

I held onto Yang’s words like an anchor. Princess meant everything to me.

Little by little, she had wormed her way into my heart and had pulled me back from the brink, focusing my thoughts on the things I could do and serving as motivation to be a better person in general. Now that she was gone, I felt cast adrift. There was nothing to keep me grounded.

Once more the doubts came creeping in.

Had Princess left me too? Would I be alone again? Friendless except for the fleeting encounters I shared with those I’d known in high school and college?

Everybody was so busy these days, preoccupied with life.

Nobody cared to look behind the façade I’d put up. Nobody cared to ask how I was doing or if I was okay.

“Hey, hey, hey! Look at me, Cheryl. We’re gonna find her. Just breathe.”

I nodded, though my gaze was focused on the concrete pavement beneath my feet. With effort, I focused on slowing down my breathing before the panic took me to parts unknown.

I felt something warm rub my back.

“It’s going to be okay. We’ve got this. And, if not today, I can see about making some posters, yeah? Everything is going to be fine Cheryl.”

“Thanks Yang. Maybe we give it another half hour? Sorry. I just want to make sure we’ve checked everything nearby.”

“Yeah. Sure. I’m good to go.”

We combed the block twice more before Yang escorted me back to my apartment. He said nothing as we trudged down the hallway.

After all, what was there to say to a distraught woman who had just lost the only guiding light in her life?

Without Princess, I was nothing except a broken human being who had no purpose and was better left in a ditch somewhere.

There was nothing for me without Princess. Absolutely nothing.

As we approached the door to my apartment, though, there came a familiar mewl. Sitting on the welcome mat with a disgruntled expression was Princess. Just like me, she was a little bedraggled. But a quick glance told me that she wasn’t harmed in any way.

Relief flooded through my entire body. Had it not been for Yang, I might have collapsed to the ground.

--

“So, you’re planning on moving? When?” asked Yang, curling his legs up underneath the duvet as he spooned a mouthful of ice cream.

“Yeah. It’s just not affordable in the city anymore. And there’s just too many bad memories here. I think a change might be nice.”

“What about me?” he asked, turning to face me instead of the movie we watching. Die Hard.

I smiled. “Well, there have been a few good ones,” I admitted, nudging Yang on the arm. He grinned at me. “Memories, that is. During this past year.”

“Thanks. Good to know that I quantify as a memory.”

“I’m only joking, Yang. You’ve been a great friend to me and I’ll miss hanging out with you in a few weeks’ time.”

“Oh, I know. I’m gonna miss having these hangouts too. Who knew I had such a cool neighbour for these past five years and never knew?”

My cheeks flushed. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that I’m very cool. In fact, I’m not very interesting much at all.”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

“Oh, shut up,” I said, lightly punching Yang on the shoulder.

“Hey! Watch it! I’m fragile!”

I cocked an eyebrow at Yang. God. He was such a melodramatic Leo. No wonder he was trying to become an actor instead of something useful. Like a doctor.

“Okay, fine. I’m not that fragile but you ought to know you can’t treat me like this.”

“Yeah, yeah. I wouldn’t want your girlfriend to come knocking on my door,” I said. “Honestly, I’m still not sure what she sees in you. She’s so accomplished and you’re just…well, you.”

“Hurtful!”

Exchanging a look, the two of us broke into giggles before turning our attention back to the movie right as Bruce Willis was crawling through the air vents.

 A few minutes later, Yang looked once more in my direction.

“So, what about the commute?”  he asked, curious.

“Well,” I said, “the good thing about this new role that I’ve got is that they offer plenty of work from home options. So, I won’t be taking the subway every day. But, even if I were, it’s only about forty minutes door-to-door. Not too shabby, if you ask me.”

Princess chose that moment to jump onto the couch. She settled in my lap and looked plaintively up at me, begging to be petted. I did so, unable to resist any of her demands.

Was she as eager as me about moving to the new place? I hoped she was. It hadn’t been as cheap as I had told Yang.

Or would she, instead, miss the old apartment? Miss Yang, perhaps, and the old haunts she favoured?

When I’d been hunting for a new place to call home, I’d brought her with me. I’d felt it important that we make the decision together. After all, Princess was an important member of the household.

Of course, she hadn’t much liked the cage. It had been impossible to coax her inside.

But she had been amenable to the backpack with a small bubble that Princess could poke her head through to look around.

It was the second apartment that we’d been looking at that she had fallen in love with. While it was still a small one-bedroom apartment, albeit with a study, the views of the river from the balcony had been stunning.  Even Princess had mewled her approval.

Better yet, neither the owner or building management had been fussed about her bringing along a pet. In fact, they welcomed it.

“So, your earlier question, Yang, was that your attempt at offering to help out with the move?”

Yang kept his gaze fixed on the television as he spooned up another mouthful of double-choc mint ice-cream. “Maybe,” he said after a moment.

I turned my head to look at him. But he kept his eyes rigidly focused on the younger Alan Rickman, may he rest in peace always, as he monologued his evil plans. If Yang wasn’t already taken, I might have just snapped him up for myself. Despite his questionable career path, he was a good man.

And, dare I say it, a good friend. I cherished these small moments we shared.

For the first time in a long while, I had someone that cared about me and didn’t want anything beyond just my company. My heart swelled up at the thought and I dabbed at the corner of my eyes before turning my attention back to the TV.

I still wasn’t sure what Yang saw in me, personally, but I felt that in that moment, curled up on the couch watching Die Hard, it didn’t matter. Not in the slightest.

He was my friend. And I knew he would be there for me. Through thick or thin.

His was a friendship without conditions; without artifice. And I could rely on him as much as I needed.

--

I had just been grocery shopping at my local Albertsons when I’d seen Briony. She was immaculate as ever, her hair styled into a coif although she was dressed like she’d just been at the gym. Beside her was a young girl, presumably her daughter, who looked about eleven.

They hadn’t noticed me as they headed in the opposite direction down the aisle.

Well, Briony wouldn’t. She was just as self-absorbed as ever. It was why I’d always hated working with her.

As she passed me by, I could hear her speaking. But it wasn’t to her daughter. Instead, she was talking into a Bluetooth headset.

“—you believe it? They’ve asked me whether or not I’d take a voluntary redundancy. Me? Yeah, mhmm. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Cheryl—” There was a brief pause as she grabbed a box of cereal from the shelf. “Fuck her. She walked away when the company needed her most. And fuck Joan. Always having a ready excuse to explain away—”

I didn’t hear the rest as I turned the corner and was out of earshot. Standing next to a shelf stacked to the brim with all sorts of chips, I took a moment to steady my breathing and calm my beating heart.

What had all that been about?

No. I wouldn’t go there. It wasn’t my business. I’d stepped away from the company.

And yet, a part of me couldn’t help but wonder what had happened in the end with the project that they had given Brett. It had been a big one. One that might have consolidated my position and perhaps earned me a promotion. Coming in on Thursday, I’d tried my best to set up a plan given the fact that I’d taken some unexpected leave on the Wednesday. Joan, however, had dashed all of that.

Maybe it hadn’t been her call, exactly, but after overhearing her at the pet shop, I couldn’t stop the anger that rose to the surface. She was my immediate manager.

Why hadn’t she ever fought for me?

I had thought she’d cared. Had seen me as more than just another number. But in the end, I had simply been a pawn for her corporate aspirations.

Resentment, hot and dark and terrible, bubbled under my skin, leaving a sour taste in my mouth.

I’d never received much closure after stepping away. But there had been a thousand and one different things I’d wanted to say. And it came as a surprise that despite the year that had passed, it had never left me.

It was something I’d not been able to let go.

Even with Princess in my life. And even with the positive steps I’d taken in therapy.

It was something that I needed closure on.

With that thought in mind, I picked up the remaining goods that I needed and headed for the checkout. There were a lot of things that were weighing heavily on my mind.

Princess was sat on the kitchen counter when I walked in, laden down with groceries. She cocked her head as I set the bags down before padding over to me and demanding that I scritch her behind the ears.

“I hope you behaved yourself while I was gone,” I said as she strutted past me to the edge of the counter.

The expression on her face would have curdled butter, such was the contempt in that furry face of hers, as she turned around to look at me over her shoulder. “Do you really think I wouldn’t?” she said in a deep sonorous voice that should have surprised me. “I’m no bright-eyed bushy-tailed kitten any longer, Cheryl. And I can tell that something’s on your mind. If you ask me, you need to pay Joan a visit. Show her exactly the pain you went through.”

“How, Princess? It’s not like she’ll just let me talk it out with her. Heck, I probably wouldn’t be able to get my foot in the door.”

“You know that’s not what I mean, Cheryl.”

“I don’t understand, Princess,” I said to the cat. And truly, I didn’t.

Princess padded up to me, her tail brushing against my chin. “You already know what needs to be done, Cheryl. Don’t make me spell it out for you. And you ought to do it tonight. After all, it’ll still be the weekend and we both know you need your seven hours of sleep if it’s a weeknight.”

“But—” Before I could put forth my arguments to the contrary, Princess had hopped off the kitchen counter and had headed for the bathroom where her litter box had been placed.

I remained standing next to the fridge as I tried to sift through the hidden implications in Princess’s words.

My history with Joan was a long and troubled one. Did I have what it took to finally confront her over it all? Or was it better to just push it out of mind and keep it buried where no-one would be able to see the hidden ugliness of it all?

I glanced towards the bathroom where Princess had vanished into.

Princess had said I knew the answer to this dilemma. But the thought of actually seeing it through was terrifying. And it made me wonder if this was truly what I wanted.

But although I agonised over what I ought to do as I packed all the groceries away, in the end, I knew Princess was right. A reckoning was coming.

It was do or die.

And as the hour ticked closer to midnight, I packed my bag for everything that I would need. Princess watched on. She sat in the shadows, licking clean her paws. She glanced up and from where I was standing, the light, as it hit her eyes, made them look demonically red.

It should have frightened me but I only felt a sense of calm suffuse my entire being.

This was right.

This was a means of bringing back balance to my shattered life and the broken dreams that had plagued me since childhood.

I had to do this.

If not, then I would be forever adrift, unable to be satisfied with my lot in life. And it would only be a matter of time before I took that last drastic step and fall into the deep and dark abyss that had been threatening to swallow me whole since time immemorial.

Glancing up once again at the clock in the living room, I gave a resolute nod to Princess before padding towards the door. Princess barely looked in my direction. She had turned around to watch the TV as Annie Murphy appeared on screen. The Canadian actress had two white streaks in her hair.

Taking a deep breath, I turned the knob and stepped through in my black hoodie, back jeans and comfortable black joggers. I would be as a shadow. Unseen and unheard.

The door clicked close behind me.

I was alone.

--

Joan lived in a four-bedroom house on the outskirts of the city. I’d been there only once before for a 4th of July celebration. All I really remembered was her huge backyard set up with two barbecue grills, four plastic tables and boiling in the hot July sun as we chatted inanely about their favourite sporting teams or the weather or provided anecdotes about their children.

The lights were off as I did a circuit around the block, looking for a place to park my car.

I couldn’t park it too close lest it seem suspicious but I didn’t want to be too far away in case things went awry. There was Brutus, after all, to contend with.

Not that he would be much trouble.

From my recollections, he had been an amicable Yorkshire Terrier. Though he could be excitable among strangers.

He’d never much liked me when I met him the first time, although he hadn’t tried to bite me either. It was a mystery on how he’d react if he could smell Princess on me, though.

But it didn’t matter. The plan was to keep him distracted. If that failed, I would need to find another way to silence him. Joan couldn’t be forewarned. At any cost.

The streets were empty as I crept towards Joan’s house.

Thankfully, living where she did, Joan had eschewed the need for actual security cameras. Rather, she had installed fake ones to deter any potential thieves. But given that she lived in a fairly well-to-do neighbourhood, the risk of a burglary was small.

No-one saw me as I hopped the gate that led into the backyard. From my backpack, I pulled out a packet of dog treats. Hopefully it would be enough to get him off my back for however long it would take me to find either an unlocked door or break in via the glass slide door.

There was another packet for when I needed to leave. Although, by then, perhaps I could simply waltz through the front door instead.

I stalked forward, ears alert for the sound of barks and the pattering of tiny feet.

But to my surprise, there was no sign of the Yorkshire Terrier in the yard. There were no yips of outrage as I padded over to the sliding door that separated the living room from the backyard.

The first indication that something strange was going on was when I reached the porch and noticed a dark stain on the mosaic tiles. It meandered its way around the corner of the house.

The eerie silence only made it worse.

Once again, my thoughts turned to Brutus. I couldn’t help but wonder if something terrible had happened to the dog. To my knowledge, he was only about five years old. Hardly the time for him to die of old age, Yorkshire Terrier or not.

But since I’d never been close to Joan, I couldn’t say for certain that her pet had had any health problems.

Shaking the thought away, I pulled lightly on the glass door and watched in surprise as it slid open. Clearly Joan and her family didn’t think much of basic security. Although, growing up with their privileged lifestyle, it came as no surprise to me as I crept into the living room.

Inside, I took stock of the perfect modernity that was Joan’s living space. Right in front of me was her three-seat couch with chaise longue. A rich carpet lay underfoot with a heavy coffee table serving to hold it down. A vase of flowers worked as the centrepiece.

Her 80’ inch 4K TV had been mounted to the wall. Next to it were a stack of DVDs and CDs. Of the titles, I could see nothing and I didn’t want to risk turning on the light just to sate my morbid curiosity.

All of it screamed opulence.

It only made me hate Joan more as I headed deeper inside. The stairs, if I recalled, hadn’t been too far.

As I turned the corner, I slipped on something sticky on the ground. Thinking fast, I grabbed onto the wooden bannisters to prevent myself from falling and managed to arrest myself before I took an unsightly tumble that might have warned Joan or her family of my presence.

What had I even slipped on? Had her kids spilt juice on her hardwood floors? If so, it would be a pain to clean up and I didn’t envy Joan the task. Although, come to think of it, she probably had a cleaner come by to help out.

Still, I couldn’t help but thank my lucky stars that I’d never had any children.

Once my heartbeat had calmed down to something reasonable, I started to climb the stairs. It was slow going. I didn’t want to set off any creaky floorboards and announce my position.

But I reached the top of the stairs without incident.

Glancing down the hallway, I could see nothing except the shadows of picture frames and closed doors. No doubt they were filled with pictures of family holidays where Joan, her husband and two children were enjoying themselves. Her desk had always been cluttered with mementos from her children. The lock screen on her phone had been a professional photoshoot of her and her husband, Brutus between them.

From memory, the master bedroom had been at the farthest end.

As I took a cautious step forward, the floorboard creaked beneath my foot and I immediately froze.

Seconds passed into minutes but there was no sound to indicate that anyone had heard. Letting out the breath I was holding, I crept forward ever so slowly.

All of this needed to go smoothly.

When I reached the door to the master bedroom, though, I found it standing slightly ajar. There was a soft gentle light peeking through, as if someone had turned on a nightstand lamp.

Odd. That didn’t seem right, I thought, as I gently pushed the door open.

 It swung open on well-oiled hinges and revealed what could only be described as a crime scene. The blankets and sheets and pillows had been strewn across the floor. They were coated with feathers, having been ripped open. To the right, a portrait of Joan and her husband had three long gashes torn through it.

Finally, my eyes trailed to the sight that I’d been avoiding.

The body that lay on the bed.

I’d never talked to Joan’s husband. Didn’t have much of an opinion of him. In my head, he was a non-person, an accessory to the very real Joan that I knew in my day-to-day life when I worked at the company.

But there he lay, eyes wide open in shock as they stared up at the ceiling. Blood flecked his cheeks, his stubble, and his messy brown hair. In his chest was a gaping hole.

Fuck! Fuck! What had I just walked into?

As I doubled over to empty the contents of my stomach, I caught a black and white shape in the corner of my eye. Wiping my mouth clean, I glanced towards the chest at the foot of the bed.

Sitting atop it was Princess, looking nonplussed as she licked her paws clean.

Her paws that were stained a deep red.

“You’re a little late, Cheryl. But no matter. I saved the best for last. You’ll find Joan cowering in the bathroom. Ready for you,” said Princess. Her voice reverberated around the room, dark and ominous.

Cold prickled on the back of my neck

This wasn’t right. This couldn’t be right.

I backed away from Princess, chest feeling tight.

“Oh, come now. You aren’t thinking of getting cold feet at the penultimate moment, are you Cheryl?”

“No,” I said, my back hitting the wall. “No. No, no, no. What have you done, Princess? This isn’t what I wanted.”

God, was it me or had it become incredibly hard to breathe? Each breath seemed to take more effort than the last. And they were all shallow.

Was I going to have a panic attack? I thought, cradling my head. This wasn’t real, right? It couldn’t be real.

Princess hopped off the chest and approached me, her tail twitching in the air. “Cheryl, Cheryl, Cheryl. Of course, it is.” And then she pounced at me.

--

I jolted awake, gasping for breath. Princess, startled from her perch atop my face, landed on the floor, hackles raised. I took a few deep breaths and tried to slow my racing heartbeat.

It had all been a nightmare. A horrid and terrible nightmare.

After all, I hadn’t bumped into Briony when I was shopping for groceries but rather Joan herself. She hadn’t seen me as I headed down the aisle, too busy wrestling with her youngest who was throwing a tantrum about wanting Frosty Flakes for breakfast.

My old manager had looked worn, dressed as she had been in sweatpants. Her hair was a mess and there were dark circles under her eyes as she sternly told her youngest that only students with a 3.5 GPA deserved Frosty Flakes. Right as her eldest surreptitiously slipped two packs of Dorito chips to the already huge pile in the shopping trolley.

Watching them from the corner of my eye as I picked looked through the condiments, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for Joan. She had always presented herself as professional in the office. With her placid smile in place, she had always told me that she was keen to help. That there was no question to stupid that she couldn’t field.

And while I desperately wanted to hold onto that image of Joan, I knew that she wasn’t perfect.

Looking back, I had been in a vulnerable state. Hurt and grieving and overwhelmed. Joan hadn’t fought hard enough for me, her concern only surface-level.

Maybe for anyone else, it would have been fine.

But I had been drowning in doubt and self-recrimination.

A part of me still resented the fact that she hadn’t been there for me when I’d needed her. The support I’d come to lean on over the years had decided to take a step back. I’d fallen down, looking for a hand to help pick me up.

Then she had to deal me a second crippling blow when I’d overheard her with Vanya the pet shop owner.

That had when the veil of ignorance had truly been ripped away and I realised that Joan was just as human as the rest of us.

Did I resent her for that?

A little.

But as I sat in bed, reminding myself to breathe, I looked down at Princess, who had hopped back onto my bed and was making herself comfortable at the foot of my bed, and wondered if what I truly wanted was closure.

After all, Joan didn’t owe me anything. Rather, I’d leaned on her for so long. She wasn’t the one to blame for my downward spiral. Nor had she agreed to be my anchor in a toxic workplace that was always seeking to pit every single employee against each other.

We hadn’t parted on good terms and that had been my fault.

I’d been living too much in my own head, letting every small comment trigger a meltdown.

Had it not been for what had transpired, I might never have walked away.

I shuddered to think what my life might have been if I had stayed. Would I be lying in a grimy alley somewhere, unloved, friendless and forgotten? Another victim of the big city lifestyle that had claimed so many others?

True, I still wasn’t in the best headspace now but I’d made some headway in clawing myself away from the abyss that was never too far away. My therapist said it would be a gruelling journey, coming to love oneself. Yet with Princess by my side, it didn’t seem as hard or as insurmountable as I’d initially thought.

With her in my life, I was too busy to be lonely. And I’d also made some fast friends. Both at my workplace and with my neighbours.

That didn’t mean that all my wounds had been healed, but I was learning to take each new day in stride.

Slowing down had been one of the best decisions in my life.

And it had all been because of Joan.

So, I didn’t resent her for that. I couldn’t.

Having cleared my thoughts on the matter, I turned to look at the alarm clock next to me. 3:34AM. It was time to get back to sleep. When it was a much more reasonable hour, perhaps I’d think of something to send Joan as a parting farewell gift.

It wasn’t the closure that I wanted, but it was probably the one I needed. My therapist had always said that oft times, it was how we thought about things that really informed our view of the world. So, maybe if I changed my thinking around, I could learn to forgive past wrongs and move on with my life.

As I laid back down to bed, I did so with a smile on my face as I made peace with the past and finally let it go.

[dysfunkt1on]

I had absolutely no time to do much of anything when I got up because I woke up late and had to cram breakfast and a whole pot of coffee into my belly in record time and I drank even more when I got work already feeling like the broken energizer bunny. Thank god today was a normal day at work and there wasn't as much of anxiously scrolling about on my phone for hours waiting till it's time to do stuff or get out. My anxiety levels overall haven't been as high lately as I've been relentlessly tearing into the mechanisms behind how my brain is managing micro triggers and directly opposing them based on the mechanism of which my brain is reacting to and escalating trigger responses. It took many months of experimentation but eventually as I realized large amounts of them we're weakening severely I knew I was doing something right. I nthe fine details of the context of my situation things are far more complex but to find some over arching mechanism that globally reduces trigger loads to allow further dissection of my mind's own processes is extremely interesting and useful all the same. Bursting out the door today into the cold didn't phase me as much as yesterday, I suppose I've gotten entirely used to it already and things won't get much colder so I can rest easy there knowing there isn't much that will surprise me. I bought some scratch off's on the way home and not surprisingly it was another bottom line 5 dollar hit on a 4 card pull. Putting that and the other together the next pull will be less painful at 10 dollars for 4 more which isn't too bad. Honestly I just mine it out of a shoulder shrug these days out of the curiosity of how long it'll take to get a big hit. There's just some comfort I take in gambling, it helps keep my perspective on life in a more stable state. If I didn't spend it on those tickets it probably would have went to some horrible for me take out when I can spend much less at home on something infinitely more satisfying even though there's something just a bit more interesting and refreshing about ripping open a fresh bag of Chinese take out. I remember my first actual casino trip too, there was just some weird magic about the experience of gambling and playing on hope when I'm already near the bottom that I enjoyed. That subtle desperation and those little thrilling up's downs you make it through anyways. When I say keeping myself more I suppose that's what I really mean on the matter. One thing that's becoming increasingly apparent as I get older is it doesn't matter what you do, life levels everyone out in the end anyways. You'll always get where you're going. I also like the ritual of kicking the door in, getting more coffee going, hopping on the internet, and scratching away as I listen to some music and enjoy my coffee. Today was the same as yesterday, just some random death and black metal that looked cool. I might actually order a couple albums on ebay and get the collection going bit by bit because I have some balance left on a gift card. I should start posting every day what my favorite album of the day or even if applicable song of the day was. I'll have to play around with how I wanna style those posts, I also wanna style up my blog a little but don't know how I'm gonna go about that either. I'm feeling quite disorganized and PEM-y at the moment but by the middle of the week working I just expect that. I'm just trying blow through this week honestly as it hasn't been a good one and I might have something to actually look forward to next week. Maybe I could use that old movie theater gift card too I have sitting around this weekend if anyone wants to go. I'm pretty content minding my own business right now at home in my own world but I'm also really bored and need a good ride in the car somewhere with someone to anywhere offering any kind of pleasant experience. I'm not picky, I'll ride around all evening with you just to go to the grocery store and follow you around like a lost puppy wherever else you wanna shop. Just take me on a little adventure.

[eyesthatroll]

BEAUTIFUL | BRADLEY BRADSHAW

pairing; bradley bradshaw x fem!reader

warnings; fluff, mentions of dead parents (carole), kind of edited but not really, lower-case intended.

word count; 1k

summary; you give bradley a compliment that leads to a realization.

suggestion: would recommend listening to i would die for you by matt walters while reading! i listened to that on repeat writing this and i feel it fits nicely <3

it's a rainy tuesday night, with you and bradley stuffing your faces full of chinese food as you watched movies. you were currently watching the day after tomorrow, which, judging by bradley's commentary, you would never do again. at least, not with him. 

you'd like to say that the two of you sat in silence as you watched the movie, nothing but forks scraping against plates and television dialogue, but it seemed he was deliberately trying to annoy you. 

"i'm just saying, that isn't even physically possible!" he laughs incredulously, shaking his head. 

you sighed for the umpteenth time, setting your empty plate on the coffee table.

"bradley, enough! i'm not watching the movie for it's scientific accuracy." you whined. 

shoving him playfully on the arm, you leaned into his chest. "be quiet, you're ruining my favorite movie."

he raises a brow at you. "i thought your favorite movie was the big short?"

you groaned. "my favorite disaster movie. shhh!"

"alright, sweet girl." he gestures zipping his lips closed, and throws the imaginary key across the room.

"dork." you mumbled, regaining your attention to the movie.

somewhere along the way, you're not sure when, you dozed off.

you woke to bradley shaking you gently. "baby, let's get you to bed."

you shake your head, "no, i'm not tired. i'm fine."

"no, come on, love. it's late anyways."

you frowned. "are you going home?" you asked him.

he gave you a sympathetic look. "i have to be up early tomorrow."

you nodded, trying your best to hide your disappointment. it was late, and the weather was horrible. albeit bradley never stayed over on worknights, you'd hoped he'd make an exception for tonight. "right." 

"but i guess, since it's raining, it'd probably be safer if i stayed the night, huh?"

you smiled at him, clearing your throat. "if you want." your attempt to play it cool, as if you didn't care if he stayed or went home, failed horribly. 

bradley sees right through your antics, of course. 

laughing, he chases you upstairs to your bedroom.

you reach the room first. “ha-ha i win.”

he rolls his eyes. “yeah, yeah whatever.”

you stripped of your day clothes and threw on an oversized t-shirt. interrupting bradley in the en suite bathroom, for two minutes, the two of you stood in silence as you brushed your teeth.

"if you're showering before you go home tomorrow, use the bathroom downstairs, please. don't want you waking me up at 5 in the morning." which he always ended up doing anyways.

even on nights when he didn't work, bradley woke up super early in the morning and subsequently-woke you up when he turned on the shower.

you belly flopped on your bed, almost moaning at the feeling of the memory foam beneath you.

bradley let's out a quiet laugh, his actions copying yours, him now wearing nothing but boxers.

climbing under the covers, you turned to face him.

"stop staring." he says, a slight smile against his lips.

"i can't help it. i'd stare at you for hours if i could."

he raises his brows at your words.

"you're really beautiful, bradley."

something flashes in his eyes, but you don't catch what it is. a light pink tinges his cheeks. "i'm supposed to tell you that."

"i mean it." your hand reaches out from under the covers to caress his cheek. "you are a beautiful man, bradley."

he gestures for you to come closer, and you slide your body until your head is resting on his chest. "i appreciate the compliment." he pauses for a moment before speaking again. "the last person that called me that was my mom."

your heart aches for the sweet boy next to you. you couldn't imagine going through life without your parents, and bradley had lost both of his. you could hear the pain in his voice, and all you wanted was to make it go away somehow, but you knew that pain would never truly dissipate. your sweet boy would live with that pain for the rest of his life.

"do you miss her?" you asked quietly, feeling the slight pickup of his heartbeat.

"everyday." he answers, his hands palming small circles on your back. "god, she would've loved you."

you felt tears welling in your eyes, but they didn't fall. "you think so?"

bradley had told you about his mother a few times prior to tonight, how she was beautiful, smart, strong willed. all the traits bradley explained of carole, you saw in him.

"absolutely." bradley kisses the back of your head, and here, in this moment, you would give anything to stay like this forever. be in his arms forever. love him forever. make him feel loved forever.

you let out a small laugh. "is it too early to say i love you?"

you and bradley had only been dating a few months, and while you had never felt this way about anyone this fast, bradley was different. different then all of the other shitty guys you'd dated in the past. bradley was special, and you'd often wondered what you'd done to deserve to be able to call him yours. what you'd done to have fate put you and bradley at the same bar that night.

"i don't know."

"okay.. maybe i'll tell you tomorrow, then."

he laughs, telling you to go to sleep.

so you did. 

when bradley woke up at the god-awful crack of dawn, before leaving, he ripped open the curtains, the sunlight temporarily blinding you. "good morning, sunshine!"

"what the fuck bradley."

he chuckles, shoving his jacket on as he leans down to kiss you. "leaving, i'll call you later."

with your forehead resting against his, your reached up to run your fingers through his hair. "i love you. don't feel pressured to say it back, just letting you know." you tell him. he smiles at your words, but says nothing.

"have a good day today, okay? be safe." you kiss him once more before gently pushing him away from you. 

he gives you a playful salute, and just like that, he's out the door.

—

A/N

any feedback is appreciated. this is only the second fic i’ve ever written so pls be nice but constructive if u can :) i think i may have developed an emotional attachment to this piece of writing so i may write a part ll but i’m not sure. wrote this instead of studying for my pharmacy exam so fingers crossed i pass on wednesday!! lol.

[watchmegetobsessed]

THE DEAL

a/n: i literally wrote it in less than a day because i was inspired by a movie... of god, i have issues, but ANYWAYS! this one is a classic friends with benefits to lovers story with so much angst and a grandiose love confession at the end so buckle up, you are in for a treat!! PLEASE PLEASE PLEEEEASE give feedback if you enjoyed it!!

pairing: Harry X Reader

warnings: some, drinking, sexual content, a hell lot of it, angst and messy emotions, it’s a lot!!

word count: 11.8k

masterlist

If your life was some romantic comedy his would be the moment where the camera would zoom on you, your eyes blankly glued to the ceiling, makeup from last night smudged under them as a muscular, inked arm gets thrown across your chest, a snoozing man beside you as you have the internal little monologue.

“You’re wondering how I got into this situation, right? Completely naked with one of my best friends after a night spent with heavy drinking and ending up fucking in his apartment until we both fell asleep.”

Yeah, this is probably what the voiceover would say as the camera would slowly get farther from you, Harry’s sleeping figure coming into the frame while you’re still lying like a damn statue. This was not supposed to happen. Not that it was bad, because oh God! Harry really is as good as his ex-girlfriends gushed to you when you met them on night outs. You could never blame the women for falling for him, he has the charm, the personality, the humor and definitely the looks. If you weren’t you, you’d be one of those girls who would do anything to get his attention just for a split second. But you’re not.

Growing up with a single mother that was repeatedly fucked over by several men, you were taught to be the kind of independent woman who needs no man. Who only uses them for whatever reason and throws them away before they could even realize what’s happening. Feelings could never be involved in the equations, those are just not for you.

For a while you thought you weren’t even capable of feeling anything at all. But the way you cried when your hamster you got for your sixteenth birthday died changed your mind and you realized that you are just saving yourself the time of allowing people to make you develop feelings for them and then give them the chance to break your heart. You’ve seen that happen to your mother enough times to know that you don’t want to go through that. It’s not worth it and why would you risk it all when you could easily get what you need and move on to the next one?

Your friends always joked how you’re gonna be the single aunt to their children later who would take them to clubs and honestly? You’re just fine with that. Because you always thought that while your married friends will be busy with keeping their marriage together with whatever pathetic man they chose to marry, you’ll be living your best life without a worry on the world. That sounds pretty good for you.

There’s no need to make it prettier than what it is, you’ve had a lot of hookups the past years but you always tried to keep yourself in check, have some kind of rules to follow so you don’t hurt yourself or anyone else in the process. One of those were that under no circumstances would you ever sleep with a friend. No matter how badly you want to, no matter if they are begging, it can never happen.

But you broke that rule.

Turning your head to the side you look at Harry’s sleeping face squished into the pillow and you almost wince, because you know that when he wakes up, this gonna hurt like a bitch. He’s gonna freak out, or what’s worse, he’ll want to take it further, take you out on a date… be in a relationship with you! And you’ll have to break his heart because none of those will ever happen.

You and Harry went to high school together and he is one of the very few people you stayed in touch after graduation. Though you grew a little apart when you went to different universities, later on you both somehow ended up in New York and while you’re working as a graphic designer at a magazine, Harry is making good money from writing music for other artists. He’s been one of your closest friends these past years and while you’ve always found him attractive, you should have never let this happen, because it will mess everything up and you didn’t want to lose such a good friend.

Harry stirs in his sleep next to you, his hand squeezing your side before his eyes blink open, green irises finding your wide eyes. He stops for a moment, looking around, taking in his surroundings before his eyes fall closed again.

“Wow, must have been one wild night?” he mumbles into the pillow before a raspy chuckle falls from his lips.

Last night, the two of you and a couple of your mutual friends celebrated that Harry has gotten his biggest deal so far, having to write an entire album for an up-and-coming artist, so you all got pretty wasted, especially you and him. It’s a little blurry how the two of you ended up like this, but you do remember wildly making out hidden somewhere behind the bar before he asked if you wanted to come to his place. You stupid little thing, should have said no…

Groaning, Harry rolls to his back, his arm falling from you as he lies sprawled out next to you.

“The tequila shots. Shouldn’t have had them,” you rasp out, a smirk tugging on his lips at your words. “So, um… we both can agree this was a one time thing, right?”

Harry peeks at you, pushing himself up a bit so his head rests against the headboard. The sheets slide down a bit lower on his body, revealing his toned chest and his several tattoos. Memories of you kissing them eagerly last night flash into your mind and you can only hope you’re not blushing like a school girl.

“What if I don’t agree?” Harry cocks an eyebrow and you almost groan. You knew this was going to happen!

“Harry, I’m not going out with you. You know me, I don’t do that. It’s nice that you think that it could work between us, but I don’t do relationships and I’m not changing my rules, not even for you.”

Harry starts laughing, as if you just said the best joke of the century, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. You give him a puzzled look as you sit up, holding the sheets to your chest.

“Who talked about dating, Y/N?” he then asks. “You said last night was a one time thing. We fucked last night. What if that wasn’t the only time we did that?”

You start to put the pieces together, though you’d definitely be sharper if you already had your first coffee of the day.

“Are you trying to start a… friends with benefits thing with me?”

“I mean, you could call it whatever you want. I personally really enjoyed last night and judging from the way you were screaming my name, you did too.” Now you’re for sure blushing. “Why not do it again?”

“This is not a movie, H. I don’t think it’s manageable without ruining our friendship.”

“Have you ever tried something like this?” You shake your head no. “Then how could you know?”

“Have you tried it?”

“Never,” he chuckles. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong. We are both cool, smart people. I think we can give it a try and whenever someone is feeling like they had enough, we’re just gonna stop.”

“What if you catch feelings?” you ask, raising eyebrows at him.

“Oh, but what if you fall for me?” he throws the question back with a cocky smirk and you smack his naked chest.

“You know I never do that!”

“I don’t think you can just decide that, but alright,” he chuckles, holding his hands up in defense. “I promise you I won’t catch feelings for you, Y/N. I swear on my…”

“Your mom’s and sister’s life!” you point at him. It’s clear that he thinks it’s silly, but you just keep staring at him until he gives in.

“I swear on my mum’s and my sister’s life that I will not catch feelings for you, Y/N.”

“Alright. And we can end it anytime?”

“Whenever you’ve had enough of me,” he smirks back, so pleased with himself that it’s clear he doesn’t think that could ever happen.

“If you keep that cocky look on your face it’s gonna be a very short deal, Styles,” you warn him, but he just laughs before he quickly pulls you back down to bed, getting on top of you, his hips sinking between your legs and you gasp when you feel that he is already semi-hard.

“Why don’t we get a head start on it then?” he offers, his lips crashing against yours before they travel down your body and soon enough he gives you something that’s a thousand times better than a coffee in the morning.

At first you’re clearly hesitant about it. Not sure if it was a good idea or you just ruined everything between you and Harry, but soon enough you realize that it wasn’t as bad of a decision as you thought it to be.

Harry is the one to call you for the first time, two days after the night you drunkenly hooked up. You’re just leaving the office when he hits you up, asking if you have plans for the night or you’re free to go over to his place. An hour later you find yourself pressed up against the wall of his apartment’s hallway, both of you eager to get each other out of your clothes. Now that it all happens without either of you being drunk, you actually have the chance to think about how good it is with him. He is just the perfect mixture of dominant and soft, knows when to be the boss and when he has to slow down a bit.

He makes you cum three times. Three mind-blowing times, and you also give him two orgasms. You try to make it equal and make it three, but he respectfully says no.

“If you touched my dick again I think I would start crying,” he chuckles jokingly, so you don’t even think about pushing it.

Instead, the two of you order Chinese, have dinner together, talking like you always used to before the deal and then you go home. There’s no awkwardness, no weird situations, not even when you leave. Harry leans closer and for a moment you think he is gonna be corny and kiss you goodbye, but then you feel him smack your ass before pushing you out the door, just like he always did before, joking about how he is gonna charge you rent if you stay any longer.

Nothing has changed, only that you now spend a good chunk of your time together naked, moaning each other’s name before you get back to your usual.

So after that you don’t shy away from reaching out to Harry as well. It becomes a regular thing, the two of you meeting up about two of three times a week. You fuck, hang out a bit and go your separate ways. Slowly, you start to forget about times when you stayed dressed up for more than ten minutes after meeting Harry.

You keep switching between your and his place, but sometimes meet somewhere in the middle. You’ve had sex in a restaurant bathroom, in his car in a parking garage and even in his cousin’s place in Brooklyn. That was a bit odd but still quite pleasing.

Tonight is going to be the first time you’re gonna be out with all your friends and Harry since the deal was made. No one knows about it and you intend to keep it that way.

Once you’re done at work you head home, texting Leticia, another friend from high school to meet you at your place to get ready together. She was Harry’s friend at first, what’s better, she openly hated you at first for some reason.

“You just had a punchable face at fifteen, you can’t blame me,” she used to tell you. It was actually Harry who made the two of you friends and you’ve been close ever since.

You get to your apartment almost at the same time. Leticia starts rambling about her asshole of a boss at the law firm where she works at as you open a bottle of wine to start the evening while you roam through your wardrobe for an outfit.

“Is Leo coming? I owe him a few bucks from last time,” Leticia wonders, digging into your dresser for a pair of tights she can borrow to pair with her leather skirt.

“I think he is, but he is going to be late. He is coming from Staten Island from his dad’s,” you muse, checking yourself out in the red dress you just tried on, not quite pleased with the look, so you quickly work down the zipper and look for something else.

“Um, whose is this?”

Turning around you see that Leticia is holding up a shirt Harry left at yours a few days ago. She is clearly confused about the men’s clothing between your stuff, because you are not one to steal them from the men you sleep with since you don’t really want anything from them to remind you of them.

“Oh, um, that’s… That’s Harry’s. He left it here a few days ago,” you shrug, not making a big deal out of it, but Leticia is nosier than that.

“And why is Harry leaving his clothes around your place?”

“Is that a crime?” you snort, trying to play it cool.

“No, but in what kind of situation did this shirt come off of Harry and end up in your dresser?”

You can’t think of a good answer that would stop her from interrogating you, and the way you’ve just gotten silent is telling her more than words could. She drops the shirt, eyes widening at you and it’s clear that she put two and two together.

“Oh my God! You’re sleeping with Harry!”

“No! I’m… I just—We…”

“You two are totally fucking! What the fuck!” she gasps in complete shock as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Let me explain it, alright? W-We hooked up on the night when we went out to celebrate his big album deal.”

“When I couldn’t go, right?”

“Yeah. So we were both very drunk and it just happened. And I really thought it would ruin everything but we somehow ended up making a deal.”

“Jesus, you guys are acting out the Friends With Benefits movie? Who are you, Mila fucking Kunis?”

“It’s not like that!” you defend yourself quickly, but then you realize that it’s just like that so far. “Well, it kind of is, but the ending won’t be like that.”

“Do you really think you can just do it with absolutely no strings?” Leticia sighs, her hands coming to her hips as she stares back at you.

“It’s been going great, so I really think it’s doable. And if any of us decides they had enough, we’ll just call it quits.”

“Yeah, because it’s that easy,” she rolls her eyes. “One of you will catch feelings and someone is gonna end up crying, Y/N.”

“No, that’s not gonna happen,” you shake your head stubbornly. “He promised it won’t happen.”

“Feelings don’t give a shit about promises! I hope you really know what you’re doing, because I don’t want to have to choose between the two of you,” she grumbles before throwing Harry’s shirt back into the drawer, grabbing the tights she’s been looking for.

Leticia doesn’t hold a grudge for the news she just found out, but she surely has gotten you thinking. Is it really gonna end bad? Why can’t there be a scenario where it goes perfectly fine and no one gets hurt? Harry promised it’s gonna be alright and he has been proven right so far, so why are you having second guesses now?

Arriving at the bar the majority of your friend group is already there, including Harry. You sit across him in the small booth, just exchanging a quick smile before the first round arrives and the evening starts. You allow yourself to take a better look at him while he listens to Mitch’s story and you can’t say that you don’t find him hot. He is wearing a vintage, floral printed shirt, the first few buttons left undone, so you have a nice view of his chest and his necklace you’ve felt under your lips so many times before when you were kissing down his body. He keeps twisting and playing with his several rings and it makes you stare at his hands for a tad bit longer than you intended to. God, he looks so damn good, you really just want to fuck him here and now.

You keep changing who goes up to the bar to order and the third round is yours, so sliding out of the booth you go to the bar and wait for your turn. A young, handsome guy is making the drinks and you clearly catch his eyes.

“And what can I get for you, beautiful?” he smirks at you when it’s finally your turn.

“Two vodka sodas, a martini and three vodka cranberries,” you smile back at him with a hint of flirting in your tone.

It’s kind of second nature to you, a few charming smiles and winks have gotten a lot of free things for you in your life and you never miss a chance to use your advances.

“All that for one pretty girl?” he teases you.

“I would be all over the floor if I drank all of it,” you chuckle, pulling your card out of your wallet, tapping it on the terminal as he finishes up the drinks, kindly putting them on a tray so you can easily bring them over to the booth.

“Don’t worry, I would surely pick you up then,” he winks at you, placing the last drink to the tray before you thank him and head back.

As you take your previous seat you notice that Harry is watching you intently.

“What?” you mouth him over the conversation at the table.

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, turning his gaze away, grabbing his drink and focusing back on everyone else.

You go up to the bar two more times, once to ask for some chips and once for some napkins after a drink has gotten spilt onto the table. Every time you exchange a few words with the bartender and you have to admit, he has a great sense of humor paired with his looks.

Sometime later in the evening you decide to switch to water, so you go up to the bar a fourth time, the bartender coming to you right away at this point. As you wait for him to grab you your drink you feel a hand on your lower back. Turning to the side you see Harry standing next to you.

“Hey, want to come to my place after this?” he asks, leaning closer to your ear. His hot breath hits your exposed skin on your neck and a shudder runs down your spine, especially with his hand still on the small of your back.

“You want a rerun of your first time?” you smirk back at him, referring to the drinks you both have had, though it’s definitely not as wild as that night was.

“No, but this dress is making it hard not to want to rip it off,” he bluntly tells you as you glance down at yourself. At last you decided to wear a black bodycon dress that surely shows every dip and curve of your body and apparently Harry has been enjoying the show.

The bartender arrives with your water, his eyes falling on Harry and you see that he is a little taken aback by his presence.

“Hey man, can you get me another one as well? I’ll pay for both,” Harry nods at him and there’s something foreign in his tone that you can’t really put your finger on. The bartender just nods back and goes to grab another water.

“What if I wasn’t in the mood?” you tease him, continuing the discussion where you left it a moment ago.

“Oh, please!” he chuckles smugly. “I saw you eyeing me from across the table, Y/N. I know you are definitely in the mood.”

He is right. So damn right. You’ve been crossing your legs under the table for a while now, feeling your arousal growing every time you saw him run his tongue over his lips or whenever his finger played with the lip of his glass, imagining him doing the same with your body.

Biting into your bottom lip you need to take a deep breath, but when Harry sees your teeth digging into your lip, he loses his patience.

“Or we can just do it now,” he growls lowly, grabbing your hand before he starts pulling you towards the restrooms. You don’t even have the chance to protest, not that you want to.

He is quick to pull you into an empty restroom, locking the door behind the two of you before his lips attack yours, pushing you against the door with vigor and hunger. His hands are already bunching your dress up around your waist and you moan his name when your hips meet and you feel his hard length through his jeans.

“We have to be quick, so no one notices we disappeared,” he pants as he helps you up to the counter, your back hitting the cold mirror behind you.

“Then shut up and just fuck me,” you challenge him and it makes him absolutely feral.

You don’t have time to enjoy it the way you usually do in bed, but the excitement of the situation alone has gotten you so wet that you’re already dripping when he pushes your panties to the side with one hand while his other works on his own pants.

“Fuck, already so wet for me, huh?” he breathes out, his lips brushing against yours before they kiss you fully.

“Just like how you’re rock hard for me,” you grin against his lips, a hand wandering down to his cock as you pull it out of his boxers, stroking it a few times before he pulls a condom out of his back pocket and wraps himself up. “Were you counting on this quickie, Styles?” you ask when you realize that he just had a condom ready on him.

“I knew for sure I’m gonna fuck you tonight, but wasn’t sure how long I’m gonna last,” he grins, capturing your lips again before he pushes himself inside you with no warning, making you both gasp.

“Fuck! Harry!” you moan as he starts moving rapidly, definitely not taking his time like he usually does. He is pounding into you without mercy, panting against your lips as his ring clad fingers are digging into the flesh of your thighs.

“You like that? Like it when I fuck you somewhere public?” he growls, making your legs curl around his hips.

Your hands move up his chest and neck, fingers tangling into his curls and you give them a tug, earning an animalistic grunt from him as he starts going even harder and faster. You’re rapidly getting closer to your orgasm.

“You close?” he pants and you nod. “Come on, cum all over my cock, Y/N.”

A few more thrusts and your walls tighten around his dick, squeezing him as you gasp, riding your high, your head falling backwards, meeting with the mirror behind you. Harry follows you a few pushes later, moaning your name repeatedly before his movements come to a halt and you both take a moment to catch your breath.

When he pulls out you both just quietly clean yourselves up, fixing your clothes and hair so you don’t entirely scream sex with your appearances.

“My offer to come to mine after still stands,” he smirks, running a hand through his hair before you head out.

“Tempting, but I have some work to do in the morning, so no,” you turn him down, stepping out to the dark hallway that leads back to the bar. Harry grabs your hand and pulls you back, his lips smashing against yours, surprising you with his move. He kisses you deeply, sucking on your bottom lip hard before he pulls back.

“What was that for?” you ask out of breath.

“If you’re not coming over, I needed something to have a good night,” he shrugs with a smug smirk before you return to the bar.

You catch the bartender’s look as you finally get your waters and Harry pays for them. You catch the two men eyeing each other for a moment before you and Harry return to the table and you forget about the whole thing.

A Sunday afternoon you’re lounging at Harry’s. You jumped at each other’s bones when you arrived, but now you’re chilling on his couch, watching a series you both wanted to start so you decided to give it a go together. Your leg is lying across Harry’s lap, his hands absentmindedly kneading your thighs. It feels nice, like a massage, especially after how sore he made you earlier, stretching you out more than he usually does with a new pose you tried out.

Your phone chimes next to you and tearing your gaze away from the TV you check to see who just sent you a text. It was one of your coworkers, Anthony, he sent you a raging text about how he still has no idea what to wear to the company party that’s gonna be next Saturday and you realize that you totally forgot about it.

“Shit!” you curse under your breath.

“What?” Harry asks, pausing the show.

“I have this stupid work party next weekend and I totally forgot about it,” you growl, checking your calendar quickly if you can squeeze in a quick shopping spree before Saturday or you’ll have to find something in your closet.

“Aren’t those things nice with a lot of free food and drinks?” Harry wonders.

“Yeah, but I don’t like it, because all my colleagues bring their partners and I’m usually the only single one and they keep trying to set me up with someone,” you roll your eyes even at the thought of having to suffer through another one of those awkward conversations about your love life. Like it’s any of their concern!

“I can go with you if that helps,” he offers and you give him a look over your phone. “What? I’m sure if you brought someone they wouldn’t bug you.”

“But we are not together,” you remind him narrowing your eyes at him.

“They don’t have to know that. It’s a win-win, Y/N. Your colleagues would stop nagging you and I can eat and drink for free,” he smirks, clearly pleased with his little plan.

“I mean… you’re not wrong,” you sigh.

“See? Then it’s settled,” he pats your legs, smirking widely at you, but you’re still not entirely convinced. “Come on, Y/N. It’s gonna be fun!”

“This is so cliché, Harry!” you groan, your head falling back against the arm of the couch. “Pretending to be a couple? Straight out of a damn movie.”

Harry lifts your legs up so he can get out from under them, placing them back to the cushion before he climbs over to you, half of his body pressing onto yours as he squints his eyes at you.

“We can fuck in the bathroom, if you want,” he bluntly offers and you just start laughing at his dirty mind and technique of convincing you. “What? There’s literally no better offer out there. Free food, free drinks and free sex. Really good sex, if I may add,” he points out and you smack his chest lightly.

“Didn’t know you were thinking about charging me for the sex,” you joke.

“Might as well do, baby. Especially if it’s the best you can get,” he smugly huffs and you’d retort something funny, but you get caught up on the name.

“Baby? Since when are you calling me baby?”

“Since we are gonna be a couple next week. Gotta rehearse, baby,” he repeats the nickname and a foreign feeling bubbles in the pit of your stomach. Why is this one little word making you feel things you haven’t before? “And you know what else we can rehearse?” he continues, oblivious to your inner dialogue.

You don’t get to answer upon feeling his hand slide between your legs, fingers gently pressing onto your clothed clit and though you can’t stop a moan from slipping through your lips, you still grab his wrist and pull him away.

“My legs are too sore, I wouldn’t enjoy another round of you pounding into me,” you tell him and you can see the proud glimmer in his eyes that he was the one who got you into this state, though he luckily doesn’t comment on it.

“It doesn’t have to be pounding, then,” he smirks and leaning down he kisses you, taking his time as his hand frees itself from your grip and slides under your shorts and panties, fingers meeting your already throbbing bud.

He repositions himself so one of his thighs are between your legs, his lips never leaving yours as his fingers start drawing circles on your clit, sending pleasure down your body in waves.

“Fuck,” you breathe out against his lips when two of his fingers tease your entrance before pushing all the way inside, curling them between your clenching, wet walls.

“No, we are not fucking right now,” he smirks, never missing a chance to joke around and you want to retort to his comment, but words get caught in your throat when his thumb starts playing with your clit, fingers sliding in and out of you in a steady rhythm.

“So, are we on for Saturday? It’s gonna be fun, hm?”

The little shit is using his fingers to convince you and he has the audacity to ask you questions when you are about to see stars. Sometimes you really do hate how big of a smug fucker Harry is, but it’s hard to feel hatred for him when he is about to make you cum again.

“I-I don’t… Harry!” you gasp when he abruptly pulls his fingers out of you, right when you were so close. “I was about to fucking cum!” you growl, raging eyes meeting his green irises.

“I know,” he chuckles. “Say that you’re in and I’ll make you cum.”

“You motherfu—“

You don’t get to finish, his lips smashing against yours as his fingers return, moving faster than before, quickly pushing you towards the edge again.

“Say it. Say it, Y/N,” he mumbles against your lips as your chest is heaving and you start buckling your hips to meet his movements.

“Fuck… Okay! I’m in, just please make me cum!” you whine, hands gripping his shoulders like your life depends on it.

“Good girl,” he smirks and finishes you off without any more teasing.

You cry out his name, fingers digging into his muscles as you push your thighs together, trapping his hand between them while he keeps fingering you oh so perfectly. He makes sure you ride out the last waves of your orgasm before he pulls his fingers out and without batting an eye, he just licks them and fixes your panties and shorts before returning to his previous position with your legs across his lap, starting the show like nothing really happened.

Saturday morning you’re able to quickly get your nails done and Leticia comes with you, the two of you having brunch together afterwards. You go to a new place near the nail salon and as the waiter arrives with your orders, you notice that he slides a napkin onto the table with a small smile.

Grabbing it you see a phone number scribbled onto it. Normally, you send back a smile and tug the napkin into your purse, but this time you just leave it on the table and decide to ignore it.

“What the hell is up with you?” Leticia asks and glancing up at her you see her gesturing towards the napkin. “You don’t seem too thrilled about the approach which is very unlike you.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’m just… not interested,” you shrug, reaching for your fork.

“Not interested? The dude looks like the lovechild of Chris Hemsworth and Johnny Depp. He is exactly your type, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m just not seeking another hookup right now, that’s it.”

“Oh my God!” Leticia gasps and you give her a puzzled look.

“What?”

“You don’t want other men because of Harry!”

“What? That’s crazy,” you laugh, because she has clearly left her mind at the salon for even thinking that.

“Have you hooked up with anyone else than Harry since you’ve made your little deal?”

“I, uhh… Flirted with the bartender when we were out together.”

“Flirting doesn’t count, not even in relationships.”

“I don’t think many would agree with that, Tish,” you huff.

“Okay, but did you have any interest in fucking someone else?”

“I don’t get it why you are making a big deal out of it. Why would I seek anyone else if I’m perfectly pleased by him?”

“Honey, that’s like… how relationships work.”

“That’s not true,” you shake your head, though what would you know about relationships? Your first and only one was when you were seventeen and it lasted twenty-one pathetic days.

“Are you fucking with anyone else?” She asks, eyebrows raised at you as you shake your head no. “Are you fucking him?”

“Obviously,” you scoff.

“Do you spend time together that doesn’t include sex?”

You are almost quick to say no, but then you realize that would be a big ass lie. Every time he comes over to your place or you��re at his, it’s never just the sex. That’s always primary, but not everything you do. All the dinners, the movies and shows you’ve watched together, when you sit on your tiny balcony with a bottle of wine, talking and laughing like you always did before the deal, something always happens after the sex.

Your silence once again answers Leticia’s question. Reaching over the table she takes your hand in hers, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Girl, you are totally dating Harry.”

Leticia once again manages to put a flea in your ear about this whole Harry thing. You wish she didn’t say a thing, because now you can’t think of anything else than the fact that you really are doing all the things with Harry that people who are dating do.

You get so riled up that you almost cancel on the evening, but you’d hate to have to sit through the evening with your colleagues alone when you said you’d be bringing someone. That would make their usual nagging a hundred times worse. So instead, you suck it up and decide to ignore the issue just for the time being and you get ready.

You were able to find a new dress beforehand, the yellow dress is truly a sight to the sore eyes with the corset-like top and very subtle lace details here and there. It’s a little daring, but everyone goes all out for these parties usually and you definitely don’t want to be underdressed.

Harry texts you that he is in front of the building a little before seven, holding up the taxi he came with so you quickly grab everything you need and head out.

You’re the first one to see him through the glass entrance doors of your building, he is standing next to the car in a simple black suit and a soft yellow shirt underneath. It was actually your idea to match your outfits and he surely understood the assignment, especially seeing his also yellow nails.

Part of you is still hung up on what Leticia told you, but a bigger one is so excited to see him and also very into his look for the evening, that you push your doubts to the back of your mind and step out of the building with a shy smile on your lips as his eyes fall on you and you see his lips part.

“Wow! This dress is… wow!” he breathes out, his eyes raking your frame up and down shamelessly as you walk closer.

“Do you know any other words than wow?” you tease him, biting into your bottom lip.

“Yeah. How about: I would love to bend you over this taxi and take you here and now in this dress?”

Your face heats up immediately, slapping his arm, but then you leave your hand on his bicep and give it a squeeze as your answer: you’d definitely love that if it wasn’t kind of illegal to have sex out on a busy street.

The ignorance in you is so high that you don’t even mind how Harry keeps a hand on your thigh in the car, what’s more, you’re quite liking the warmth of his touch on you. His fingers are gently tapping against the music the driver is playing and he even hums a little along the songs.

“Hey, how is the album writing going?” you ask to break the silence a little.

“Great! They asked for fifteen songs until the end of August, so I have plenty of time, but I’m already done with six,” he beams, and you smile back at him proudly.

“That’s amazing. Can I hear any of them sometime?”

“I mean… if you buy the album?” he chuckles, making you roll your eyes at him. “I’ll see what I can do about that,” he then adds, giving your leg another squeeze before turning towards the window.

The party is just the same as it always is. A luxurious evening to celebrate the company’s success in the past six months, a way to give back to the employees and make them feel appreciated with all the free stuff. It’s nice, but you don’t feel like it’s necessary, people would be happier with a raise after all, than one night of free food and drinks.

Harry holds your hand as you walk in, the majority of the guests already present, music playing and there are several open buffet tables and bars in the gigantic ballroom that was decorated in a forest-like theme just for tonight.

“So you did not lie about bringing a date!” Anthony beams as soon as he sees you, his boyfriend, Pete following him right behind, both of them wearing matching burgundy suits.

“Have I lied to you about anything?” you chuckle awkwardly.

“Plenty of times,” he points out before turning towards Harry. “Hello handsome, I’m Anthony, Y/N’s favorite coworker, and this is my boyfriend, Pete.” They all shake hands, Harry smiling back at them warmly before his hand finds yours again, his fingers lacing together with yours in an instant.

“Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you, I’m Harry.”

“Oh my! The accent!” Anthony gushes, clearly already a fan of Harry’s. “I was really afraid Y/N just said that she is bringing someone so we would get out of her hair this time.”

“I feel offended,” you give him a look, but he just shrugs it off, even though he is more right than he knows.

“Come on, let’s get you guys a drink, we are all sitting over there!”

Joining all your coworkers at the table, you get a head start on the food and drinks, not shying away from stacking everything you like onto your plate. Talking, mixing and mingling, Harry stays right next to you, charming everyone the two of you meet, earning you some approving looks from your colleagues that usually try to set you up with someone they know. This time, you’re left in peace the moment they see Harry with you, his hand always somewhere on you, holding your hand, the small of your back, your hips or waist or, your personal favorite, the back of your neck under your hair. His presence is uplifting already, but his tiny touches just warm you even more on the inside.

“I have to say, Y/N, you are absolutely glowing!” Dianne, one of the editors compliment you when the two of you are at the bar waiting for your drinks to be refilled. Harry stayed back at the table, deep in conversation with Pete about guitars, from what you could understand from their conversation.

“Oh, thank you!” you chuckle softly.

“This man is for sure treating you well. It’s so great to see you finally finding your person.”

She meant well with her comment, but it’s what brings everything you kept hidden in the back of your head out to the front. Tonight was supposed to be all pretending, making everyone believe something that’s not even there, but then why do you feel like it’s real? Like you fooled yourself with everyone else as well?

Your eyes fall back to Harry at the table, who is intently listening to something Pete is telling him and as if he had a sixth sense, his eyes snap at you, a smile stretching across his pretty face at an instant that makes you stomach dance again, heart beating oddly fast.

What is happening to you? This cannot be real, you can’t be having feelings, especially not for Harry. No, you do not allow that for yourself, emotions are off limits for you, because if you fall for someone that gives them the chance to leave you and break you and you’ve seen what it does to a woman. You got enough of the suffering through your mother and you vowed not to let it happen to you. And not even Harry Styles will change that. This is about sex and nothing else, no feelings are involved and that will not change. You won’t let it.

Excusing yourself from Dianne you quickly go back to the table, the refills long forgotten as you take your seat next to Harry. His hand instantly finds your leg as he looks at you with a sweet smile at first that turns into slight confusion.

“Thought you went for a refill?”

“Forget the drinks,” you shake your head, leaning closer to his ear. “You promised me bathroom sex.”

You feel the shift in him right away, how he bites into his bottom lip, his bright green irises darkening at your words, his hold on your leg tightening. His gaze flickers to your eyes and you want to devour him, you want him to take you here and there to prove you that this is all it’s about: sex.

Clearing his throat he mumbles a lame excuse as he pulls you from your chair, tugging you towards the restrooms, you try to keep up with his pace in your heels, but you also can’t wait for him to slam you against the door and fuck you quick and hard.

As soon as you’re locked away from the party in one of the bathrooms, your lips collide with his as he pushes you up against the door, a leg coming between your thighs and you can’t stop yourself from grinding on him.

“Fuck,” he rasps out, hands cupping your jaw as he angles your head just right while your hands are already traveling down his body to reach his pants, eager to get them undone as fast as possible.

However the sudden rush and desperation catches Harry’s eyes and he grabs your hands, stopping you mid-action.

“Hey, everything alright?” he asks, out of breath, concern filling his eyes.

“I just need you to fuck me,” you bluntly reply, but he doesn’t move.

“Okay, but why do you look so shaken up? Did something happen?”

“Harry, stop babying me! I said I’m fine, I just want you to fuck me!” you snap, losing your patience. Not sure if it’s with him or with yourself though.

“You’re obviously not fine! You are snapping at me for being decent and making sure you’re okay!” Harry steps away from you, the moment completely ruined as all physical contact ends with him, his eyes staring back at you in disbelief and you feel like a ticking bomb that’s about to explode.

“It’s not your concern if I’m okay or not. We have a deal, just go with that and leave the rest to me!”

“But above the deal we are friends too. I’m not gonna just… fuck you senseless when you’re obviously upset about something. You’re not in the right mindset.”

“Oh my God, stop being so fucking nice! Stop making these grand gestures and stop pretending like you give a fuck!” You raise your voice and it surely surprises him, but he is still more concerned than angry at your outburst.

“What do you mean pretending? I do care about you! Is that a fucking crime now?!”

“It is because it is for the wrong reasons!” you retort, feeling your throat closing up at the same time. Oh God, you hope you won’t start crying, that will make it even worse. “I think you are taking this pretending a little too far tonight. We are not a couple, this is not real, Harry,” you remind him.

He stares back at you for what feels like eternity and you wish you could read his mind, because you can’t read anything from his eyes, he just stands there like a statue and you feel panic crawling up your spine, slowly digging its claws into your flesh.

And then he finally breaks his silence.

“And would it be so bad if it was real?”

You can’t help a sob that emits from you, feeling like your guts are in a tight grip by his words. This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen.

“No, take that back!” you whine.

“I’m not taking it back! Y/N, what we’ve been doing these past weeks is exactly what a relationship is like and you didn’t seem to have a problem with it until a label was put on it. It doesn’t have to change anything!”

“But it is! And you know I don’t do this!”

“Don’t do what? Feelings? You don’t get to choose that!” he chuckles bitterly.

“I do! I fucking do! And I chose not to have them so… this is ending here, because you clearly caught feelings,” you pant in desperate need of getting out of the bathroom, but when you are about to open the door Harry’s hand snaps against it, keeping it closed. You rest your forehead against the cool surface of it, feeling Harry stand so close to you behind, his chest is touching your back.

“Don’t just walk away, we are in the middle of a conversation,” he growls, his voice filled with anger and warning.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” you whisper, shaking your head as you turn around and face him, your back pressing against the door.

“But I do,” he simply replies. “Why do you think you can just run away from feeling anything for the rest of your life? Why would it be so bad if you fell for someone, huh? I know you do have feelings, I know you well, Y/N. You’re not some cold hearted jerk, you are a caring and loving person, so why won’t you let yourself be happy?”

“I am happy the way I am, have you thought about that?”

“No, you’re not. I’ve known you half my life, I know that you want to be cared for, you want to be loved and cherished, yet you push away everyone who wants to give you that.”

“Because it’s not that easy, Harry!” you snap at him. “It’s never just the lovey-dovey shit! Feelings come with hurt and pain and heartbreaks and I don’t need that! I can’t handle that!”

“It’s not always the case! But if you never put yourself out there, you’ll never find the happiness you’re seeking!”

“Well, for me, it doesn’t worth it! I don’t want to fall for someone, plan my future with them and open up to them completely only for them to fall out of love with me one day and decide they don’t want anything to do with me! I don’t want to give anyone the chance to hurt me like that, because I’ve seen what it does to a person! I witnessed it all, Harry! I will not be a victim to that!”

You’re full on shouting, tears rolling down your cheeks at this point. You are letting everything out that’s been bottled up deep inside of you all this time. Nothing can make you believe in the fairytale that will never become your reality and you rather save the time and pain than experiment with it.

What really hurts is that now you are losing your friend. Your best friend. Because the way Harry is looking at you makes it obvious that you’ll never be like before the deal. The hurt, the shock, the panic and the anger, it all mixes in his wide-eyed gaze and it’s like a knife into your chest.

“You promised me, Harry,” you sob, voice now barely more than just a whisper. “You swore you wouldn’t catch feelings but you lied!”

“I didn’t lie,” he simply answers clenching his jaw. “I said I wouldn’t catch feelings for you, but truth is… I already had them. I was already in love with you, have been for a while. And you know what? I think you love me too, but you’re just too afraid to admit it. I know it because I can feel it. The way you touch me, look at me, the way you talk to me, it’s written all over you, but you choose to ignore it.”

“You don’t know shit,” you shake your head vigorously. “You think you know it, but you don’t.”

“Stop denying it, Y/N! You can’t just switch it off! Loving is not as horrendous as you think it is! Yes, it comes with pain too, but the good is always there to make you forget about it. You have to give it… you have to give yourself a chance!”

“I don’t have to do anything, Harry,” you sass back, pushing him away so you have the chance to sneak out of the room before he could stop you. But he doesn’t let it end that easily. Running after you he catches your wrist before you could get out of the hallway, pulling you back.

“Don’t just fucking walk away, Y/N! We need to talk about this!”

“No, we don’t. And I’m done with this. Done with… you.”

It hurts. The words rolling off of your tongue hurt, but you choose to ignore it once again as you shake his hand off of yourself, marching back to your table to grab your bag and leave.

“What do you mean you’re done with me? Don’t do this, Y/N! Let’s just fucking talk!”

Harry keeps trying to stop you, but you’re determined to leave. Your coworkers notice the little scene, but you don’t pay it any attention as you head out of the room, knowing well they’ll talk shit about you behind your back as soon as you’re out of the building.

“Y/N for fuck’s sake just stop already!” Harry snaps, grabbing your arm once again when you’re outside, pulling you back, but you’ve had enough.

“No! I’m not stopping, you need to stop! Stop trying to make yourself believe this is anything more than just the deal we made! It’s not and it will never be, because you don’t get to have the privilege of hurting me, nobody gets to do that!”

“Who said I want to hurt you?! That’s the last thing I would want to do! It’s not as cruel as you imagine it, Y/N. I know that your mum had a terrible love life when you were younger, but that’s not the only side to love! There are so much good about it, so much to fight for and endure with the bad sides, you can’t just throw all of it out the window because you decided love is just not for you!”

“I can and I will. Watch me!” you bite back, tearing your arm out of his hold as you step to the side of the pavement and wave a taxi down.

“Please don’t get into that car, Y/N, let’s talk!”

“We talked enough,” you huff as the car stops in front of you and you hop inside, but just as you are about to close the door Harry once again stops you.

“Y/N, I love you. Please don’t do this!” he begs, so much sorrow and pain radiating from his face and for a moment you fall weak. You almost reach out to him, because part of you hates seeing him like this, especially knowing that it’s because of you. You just want him to be happy, but you know it’s not gonna be with you. You can never give him what he wants and needs. He’ll be better off without you.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out before pulling the door closed and the car drives away. Turning around you see him stand on the pavement, completely broken and shaken, his hands tangling into his hair as he angrily kicks at the dirt before the car melts into the traffic and he falls out of your sight.

You did it for your and Harry’s sake. It had to be done and you are both better off this way. At least that’s what you’ve been trying to convince you to believe.

But why does it hurt so badly then?

Harry tried you calling a million times after you left him at the party, he even came after you and banged on your door for thirty minutes straight, begging you to let him in and just talk, but you didn’t even answer him. Just waited until he left before you curled up in the shower and cried for about an hour.

The calls and texts kept coming in the next few days, but after a while he gave up. He got nothing but silence from your side and one last, long ass text that you didn’t even read because you knew you’d just start crying again, he finally gave up.

You were left alone with all the pain and emptiness and you realized how big part of your life Harry played before. Somehow, everything reminded you of him and you couldn’t do anything without wishing he was with you.

You truly believed that time will heal you, that soon you’ll realize that you made the right decision, but days turned into weeks and nothing changed, you just learned to live with the pain. You stopped going out with your friends and not just because you were afraid of seeing Harry, but because you genuinely couldn’t get yourself to leave the house. Your evenings consisted of binge eating all the ice-cream you could find in your freezer and watching reruns of your favorite shows, but nothing could really take your mind off of Harry.

Day after day you cancelled on Leticia as well until she had enough of your hermit life. She got fed up watching you sink into your pit of sorrow and decided to take things into her own hands and not let you run away from her.

A Friday evening you’re doing what you’ve been doing for weeks now, lying on your couch in sweatpants, scrolling through Netflix when there’s a knock on your door. You wait, hoping whoever it is will think you’re not home and go away, but another obnoxious knock rips through the apartment and you growl.

“I know you’re in there bitch, open the fucking door!” Leticia shouts from outside and you curse the day you became friends with her. Maybe you would have been better off as enemies.

“I’m busy!” you call out, but make your way to the front door anyway, opening it to reveal her.

“Yeah, I can see that. Busy with being a bag of trash,” she comments on your appearance, walking inside without an invitation.

“Jeez, you really did wake up today and chose violence,” you mutter under your breath as you shut the door closed.

Leticia is quick to turn the TV off and open up the windows as you just stand there, not sure what she is doing here.

“When did you clean this place? And when was the last time you took a shower?” she asks, her nose scrunching when she takes a better look at you.

“Okay, did you come here to offend me? Because I don’t need that so please leave.”

“No, I’m here to beat some sense into you.”

“Good luck with that,” you scoff, taking your spot on the couch once again. You reach for the remote with the intention of turning the TV back on, but Leticia stands in front of the screen, blocking the device completely as she stares down at you with a disapproving look, arms folded on her chest.

“You’re acting like a child, Y/N. Avoiding everyone and being mad at the whole world, are you an emo teenager now or what?”

“I’m not mad at the whole world!”

“Okay, then you’re mad at just Harry, still, it’s a mistake.”

“I’m not mad at only Harry either,” you admit truthfully.

“Who else then?”

“Myself?” you mumble, eyes falling closed as you slide lower down on the couch.

“That makes the two of us, but why are you mad at yourself?” she asks, finally moving from her spot in front of the TV as she sits next to you on the couch, crossing her legs as she waits for your answer.

“Because…” you start with a sigh, opening your eyes, but you avoid looking at her, instead, you stare at the wall across you. “Because I can’t fucking stop thinking about him,” you admit and your lips start trembling instantly, just like every time you think about him. “I miss him so fucking badly, Tish! I miss our conversations, I miss his stupid jokes, I miss him raiding my fucking fridge and I miss…”

You bite your tongue, not wanting to admit the next thoughts loudly. Because you miss kissing him, you miss holding him and be held by him. You miss sex too, but you miss the tiny things even more, the way his lips feel against yours, how he smiles against them when you whimper his name and you miss the awkward little things the most. When he accidentally bumps his head against yours or when say random shit right before he pushes into you just to make you laugh, or when he leans in for a kiss but misses it and ends up kissing your nose or just the corner of your mouth. You miss everything about him and you hate him for that, but you hate yourself even more. It feels like your own conscious has betrayed you.

Shutting your eyes closed you let the tears roll down your cheeks as Leticia scoots closer and wraps her arms around you, cooing soothingly at you.

“It’s alright. It’s totally normal, Y/N.”

“It is not! Not for me at least!” you protest pulling back, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hands.

“Stop with the bullshit already!” she growls in annoyance. “You are not some kind of ice queen who is incapable of loving! You love me, right?”

“Yeah, but that’s different,” you roll your eyes.

“Not really. You love your other friends as well, right?” You nod. “And you love your mom,” she adds and you nod again. “Would you do anything for these people?”

“Of course.”

“Do you like spending time with them? Do you care about them in all kinds of ways?”

“Yes,” you sigh, fumbling with the hem of your shirt.

“Do you feel the same way about Harry? Do you care about him, would you do anything for him to make him happy?”

“Yes,” you whisper truthfully.

“Then don’t complicate it. You love him, no big deal! And he surely loves you back, because he told you, right?” You nod. “Then pull your head out of your ass and just let yourself be happy for once.”

“Why are you coming with this too? I was happy on my own too!”

“No, you were getting by,” she points it out. “You were doing good, but you weren’t… a whole. Harry gave you everything you missed, but for some fucked up reason you think it’s the end of the world to depend on someone else partially when it comes to your happiness. Which can be a smart thing, it’s important to be your own person and be independent, but sometimes we need some help from others. From people that love us and we love them back. It’s not a crime, Y/N.”

“No, but it’s gonna end up with me being heartbroken.”

“You already are,” she ruthlessly replies, bringing your attention to what you’ve been trying to ignore all this time. “Hate to break it to you, but this is what that feels like. So why not just go with it, you already felt the pain, now you could go for the good parts as well.”

“I don’t know if I can do it, Tish,” you breathe out, resting your head against the back of the couch. “Even if I did it, I know I would mess it up and hurt him or maybe he’ll do something stupid and hurt me and I don’t think I can handle that.”

“So what? It’s part of the deal. And besides, you’re already hurting each other, so you better get your shit together,” she scoffs, poking your side playfully.

It’s part of the deal. Are you ready to make a new deal? One that you’ve been avoiding your whole life? Are you ready to cut yourself open for someone else and just hope for the best?

Probably not. And probably you’ll never be. But your tactics didn’t succeed so far, you still ended up in pain so why not give it a chance? Even if it’s gonna be the hardest thing you’ve ever done?

“Do you think he hates me now?” you ask quietly, peeking at her scared of her answer.

“He is a bit mad at you for shutting him out, but he could never hate you. That man loves you so much, it’s almost disgusting,” she admits, making you chuckle. “Just… be honest with him and talk to him. You need it. You both need it.”

Harry’s fingers strum against the chords again, trying to get the tune right, but he fails again, a frustrated growl leaving his lips as he lets his head fall forwards. He’s been trying to finish the song for hours, but it still hasn’t come together the way he imagined and his patience is running short.

It’s been hard for him to focus on writing, with you on his mind all the time, everything seems like a hard task. He has written plenty of songs since the night at the party, but he could never use them for his job. One, because they are so fucking sad and depressive and they asked for upbeat hits from him, and two, because they are all so personal, he could never give them to someone else. He can’t let anyone else sing the lines he wrote to you, but you’ll probably never hear them.

Giving up on finishing the song today, he puts the guitar aside and calls it a day. Walking into the kitchen he opens the fridge and realizes that it’s completely empty aside from a bottle of ketchup and a single banana. He’s been such a mess lately, he forgot to go grocery shopping yesterday. Huffing to himself he grabs the banana and reaches for his phone to order something right when his doorbell rings. He is not expecting anyone, but Mitch has been popping in every few days to check in on him since everything that went down with you, so Harry is convinced it’s him again.

“Great timing, do you want Italian or Chinese?” he asks, walking up to the door, but as he swings it open he freezes when he sees you standing on the doormat. “Y/N…” he breathes out as if he was seeing a ghost.

“Hi! I-I hope I’m not bothering you o-or anything…” you ramble nervously.

“No! No, come on in!” He snaps out of his trance and steps aside, letting you walk inside. A feeling of nostalgia hits you right away as you think back at the last time you were here. Just a few days before the party, when everything was different.

“I’m sorry I came without asking, I just… I would say I was nearby, but that’s not true,” you chuckle anxiously as the two of you walk into the living room. You notice that his place is a little messier than usually, but it’s not nearly as bad as yours was before you did a deep cleaning yesterday after Leticia’s comments on it.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. What… What brought you here?”

“I, uhh… I’ve been thinking. A lot. And I have a few things I need to tell you.”

For a moment Harry’s stomach drops, because he thinks you came here to tell him off one more time for breaking your deal, for everything that happened at the party. He is already bracing himself to just let you lash out on him, but it never comes. And when you speak up again, he nearly faints.

“I love you.”

It’s a strong start, definitely a surprising one. Harry’s lips part and his eyes widen, his look almost comical, but you’re not laughing, not now. You have a lot to tell him and you can only hope he won’t throw you out after everything is said.

“I love you and I’m sorry it took me so long to stop ignoring it, but I promise you I’m done with that. And I’m sorry for everything I said to you that night, I was… mad and confused and I didn’t know how to deal with everything at once. I was delusional and ignorant and… a fool for thinking that I could just choose to never have feelings, especially for you,” you add with a tiny, nervous chuckle. “You were right. About everything. That I can’t live without ever putting myself out there and risking it. And I think deep down I knew that, but I was so afraid of getting hurt that I made myself believe I’m good on my own, but I’m not. Not entirely, to be precise. Because sometimes it is worth risking it and… and I realized that you are the person for me who is worth this risk.”

The tears are already blurring your vision, for the millionth time these past weeks, but it feels right now. Opening up to Harry and telling him all of this is hard, but with every spoken word you feel lighter and more relieved.

“I’m sorry if I made you think that I don’t love you, because I do. I really do. You are my best friend and these past weeks have been hell for me without you. I was so keen on avoiding a heart break that I ended up breaking my own heart,” you chuckle bitterly, the first tear running down your cheek.

Harry reaches out and wipes it away with his thumb and you involuntarily melt into his touch. You’ve been starved for it and now it feels like home. When you look up and your eyes meet his, you see that they are red too and it just makes you want to cry even more.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just thought that I was doing the right thing, but I was so far from that. So I’m really sorry and I understand if you don’t want to see me again for the way I acted. I was… a horrible friend and… an even worse girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah. Because you were right, we were more than just the deal and… if you choose not to throw me out after this, I would… I would love to give it a try with you. I want to be the girlfriend you deserve and though I’m sure I’ll mess it up a lot of times, I promise I’ll try my best, becau—“

He makes your rambling stop in the best way possible, lips smashing against yours as he cups your tear-soaked cheeks in his warm palms, pulling you close to him, your arms curling around his waist immediately.

Harry has kissed you several times before, but none of them compares to this. It’s messy and salty from both your tears, but you wouldn’t change a thing about it, the way his lips move against yours, tongues meeting, devouring each other, making up for the lost time and full of promises for the future. You hold onto his shirt at his back for dear life as he just keeps kissing you over and over again until you both run out of breath.

“So, does this mean you’re not throwing me out?” you joke, breaking the silence once you’ve pulled back.

“Fuck no,” he laughs, pecking your lips a few more times before his lips meet your forehead. “You are not leaving this place, ever. You’re trapped,” he adds to the joke and you break out in a relieved laughter.

“Wait, so I’m stuck with you now?” you whine playfully, but all you get is another kiss on the lips, hard and demanding.

“Yeah, forever, baby. You won’t get rid of me now, not after the speech you just gave me,” he smirks down at you, his arms coming to curl around your shoulders as he keeps you pressed against him tightly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you reply, your heart soaring as you hear those words again from him, this time, not even trying to dodge them in any way. In fact, you just want to hear him say it every minute over and over again for the rest of your life. “And I’m happy to be stuck with you,” you add with a shy smile as his grin widens at your words.

“Yeah? So we have a new deal then?” he teases, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Absolutely.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[imthebadguyyy]

Loved your first fic of Lewis!💛

Can you make one where Lewis Hamilton and Y/N have a fight and have been living separately and then Lewis comes to meet Y/N one evening and makes an excuse that his toothbrush is with Y/N? And then Lewis confronts Y/N that he knows Y/N still love him but won't admit?

..

* I know this is a very specific prompt. Bare with me. I just wanted more Angst/ Fluff with Longing for each other and Deep feelings and keep it Non-explicit. *

A/N - I'm so glad you liked the fic 😊

We're Meant To Be

Pairing - Lewis Hamilton x Reader (female)

Fandom - F1

Summary - After a messy fight, you don't know where your relationship stands. But when love is that strong, an argument can't stand in the way.

Warnings - Angst, fighting, swearing

Angered shouts. Tears of frustration. White noise. Desperate pleads. And then silence. That's what your neighbours would describe if they were asked to describe what they had heard from your house. An argument that seemed to have started over nothing, had blown up into a full scale fight. When had it become this bad? Only yesterday, you two had had a date night at home, with movies and wine. Everything was perfect. But then, suddenly everything seemed to go down a downward spiral.

Your relationship with your boyfriend had always been calm, it had been the type of love where you just loved each other with all your hearts, where fights were an incredibly rare appearance. You were both working, and he was away at races most of the time, so usually, you didn't waste time fighting, something that was an unnecessary waste of time in your opinion. But then, something had just switched for a second. It was after the race in Baku, and it hadn't gone well. Lewis had been heartbroken, after coming P15, and had heavily berated himself for it. To make him feel better, you had taken a couple of days off work. to just be with him and give him company to feel better.

It had been on the third day of you spending time with him that he had made an offhand comment that had struck a nerve with you. "I wish you could be there at race weekends more often. It's like you don't care enough about the races" The comment had pissed you off, to put it lightly. "What do you mean, I don't care about the races? I watch all of them Lewis, I'm always supporting you" you had practically seethed at him. "Don't get all huffy, darling, all I'm saying is that the other girlfriends and wives come quite often, but you only come to like three races a year" he had said, already regretting his words. "Maybe that's because I have a job?! I work for my living, and I love my job. I don't have time to fly around the world to accompany you to your races, and its damn hard to get leave off of work anyway, I was lucky to even get a week off of work, and you want me to be there every weekend? It's not possible for a working person, Lewis" you had said, anger bubbling in your voice, pulling away from him to sit up straight. "I know, I just meant-" "No, I know what you meant. I'm sorry I can't always be there, and don't you think I feel bad when I can't be there for you ?" "I know you do, I shouldn't have brought this up. But can you come for the next race?" He had asked, not looking at your eyes, regretting the answer. "I... can't. I have a really big meeting coming up and-" "And you can't come I get it"

And he had just left. You had felt your heart shatter, hating yourself for being so harsh with him. But it was true, you were a very hardworking person, and you had worked damn hard to get to where you were, successful at your job, one of the best in your field. It took years of hard work and perseverance and you were proud of it. But a part of you also knew that Lewis didn't deserve any of the crap you had given him, and you also knew that he was right, the other guys had their partners to support them during various race weekends, and you only showed up to one or two of them. He was well in his rights to tell you that. And you hated how it had ended.

You all alone, in your house, in a cold and empty bed, in a quiet house with silence that was much, much more deafening than words ever could be. It was heartbreaking, to see a future you had dreamed of just shattering in front of your eyes, dreams of having a family of your own with him fluttering away like wisps of smoke, the burning flames leaving only a heartbroken mess of a human being behind. Was that what it felt like? To be burned and left to turn to ashes, when a person that knew exactly how to ignite your flame just left you to burn away? To have someone who could ignite your all consuming passion, and turn you to putty in his hands, who could mould you back into shape, leave you to melt into a liquid through his fingers to just lay on the ground, a sad, broken, person.

And here you were, lying on your bed, the sheets that had warmed the both of you on cold nights, or been home to your pleasure laced activities now offering only some of the warmth it used to, cold and unforgiving, as you turned your pillow for the fifteenth time, neither side cool anymore. Even the pillow didn't want to forgive you, the sweat settling in on your neck again, beads of sweat running down your forehead again. The pulled curtains shielded you from the over bright sunshine, your damp hair sticking to your shoulders and neck. Your eyes, red rimmed and tired, shut to protect them from the faint light in the room, the tiredness not permitting you to even open them to look in the dim light of your room.

Somewhere near you, your phone buzzed again, for what felt like the hundredth time in three days. It had been three days, three long, painful days since you and Lewis had fought and not seen each other, and those 72 hours had ripped a part of your soul out. You had spent those three days in bed, your leave days still saving you from getting out of bed and dragging your body to office. Was your relationship over? Were you never going to meet the love of your life, the man you were destined to be with again? Sighing, you rolled over, pushing the damp strands of hair away from your face. Using strength you didn't know you had, you pulled yourself up, feeling your head spin.

Slowly, you made yourself walk into the kitchen, grabbing a piece of bread and popping it into the toaster. Then you splashed some water on your tired face, shuffling over to the bathroom to brush your teeth. After finishing your toast, you peeled off the sweaty shirt you had pulled on when he had left, realising with a pang that it was Lewis's nightshirt you were wearing, a purple one he loved. Dropping it into the laundry basket, you turned on the shower, stepping under the warm shower. The warm spray untangled the knots in your matted hair, as you soaped your body and hair, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks as memories of your showers together with Lewis came flooding back, as heartbroken sobs wracked your form again.

An hour after the not so great shower, you found yourself in another shirt belonging to Lewis, the bed in fresh sheets and covers, your pillow finally cool on both sides. You were clean and refreshed, albeit heartbroken, waiting on your takeout Chinese food and ice cream. Just as you lay there, scrolling through your Netflix account to watch some episode of FRIENDS to help you keep your spirits up, the doorbell rang. The thought of flavourful Chinese food and ice cream was enough to lure you out of your bed again, bare feet padding across the wooden floor to go to the door. You grabbed your wallet, opening the door, to find not your dinner, but Lewis, at the door, in one of your favourite sweatshirts on him. Did the clothes make you feel better? No. In fact, it just shattered your heart further.

"What are you doing here?" was the predictable line that left your lips. "I um, I left my toothbrush at your place. Can I have it back?"

"I beg your pardon? You left your toothbrush? You came back for a toothbrush, but not for me? Is that all I mean to you?!" you said, anger and a hint of sadness creeping into your tone. "You do mean a lot to me" he replied in a sigh. "Look, I didn't actually leave my toothbrush. That was a lie, and wow, I'm just realising how stupid that sounded, I'm sorry" His words were met with silence. The sadness in your eyes said it all. You were upset. Of course you were. "I don't have any toothbrushes except mine, so please leave" Before you could shut the door in his face, he pushed it back open, stepping into the house on his own.

"No do not come in here, please just get out!"

"No" was his frustrating reply. "What do you mean no? I said get out of my house!" "Not until we stop fighting and talk about what the hell happened!" Lewis yelled back, matching your tone. "Why the hell do you care?!" "Because I still love you damn it, I always have, and this stupid fight cannot, and should not break us apart!"

Your burst into tears. Sliding down against the wall, you buried your face in your hands, the sweatshirt arms covering your face as you sobbed. In an instant, Lewis was walking across to you, strong muscled arms wrapping around your shaking frame. "I'm sorry" you managed to blubber out, "I thought it over, and I don't go to support as often as I feel I should, and I'm sorry"

"No my darling, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said all that to you. You work so hard baby, and I'm so proud of you. And I know that you try to come whenever you can, and I love you so much for that. I'm sorry, and I never shouldv'e asked you to prioritize my passion over yours" rubbing your shoulders softly, he let his chin rest on top of yours. Sniffling, you let your head rest on his shoulder. The soft hiccups that left your lips broke his heart even further, something he hadn't thought possible.

The last 3 days had been pure hell for him. He had missed you, God, he had missed you. He had missed having you in his bed in the morning, tracing patterns on your bare skin. He had missed leaving kisses on your soft cheeks and hands and on your cute nose, missed smiling against your skin as you giggled. He had missed you playing with Roscoe, the doggo following the both of you around the house. Even Roscoe had missed you, sniffing around the house for your familiar smell, cocking his ears up and looking at his dad questioningly.

He had missed your perfume, the scent filling his senses, intoxicating him in the best way possible. He missed you curling up to him, playing with his hair or tracing his tattoos, leaving little kisses around the compass tattoo, tracing his 'Still I Rise' tattoo, missing the goosebumps that would rise on his skin when you traced Michelangelo's Pieta on his skin, and kissed the family and faith tattoos on his sternum. He missed you everywhere, and it had taken three days for him to realize that your presence grounded him. Your presence was something he needed, not to survive, he had done that before, he needed you for his happiness.

And having you in his arms, crying over what he had said? It shattered his heart. And he wanted to just fix everything, to bring everything back to normal. Stroking your hair softly, he kept his lips pressed to your ear, whispering soft "I love you's" and "I'm so sorry baby's" and "I'm here for you's" into your ear, feeling his heart lighten ever so softly when your sniffles decreased and your grip on yourself relaxed.

Moving up to meet his eyes, you moved so you were at eye level with him. "So we're both idiots who are sorry?" You murmured, running your hand up to his collarbone. With a soft laugh, he nodded taking your hand into his, rubbing his thumb over yours. "Fighting sucks" he mumbled pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "It really does" your replied, moving so you were straddling his waist. "Let's never do that again, and let's just make a schedule. We can figure out when you can come and visit me, and I'll just deal with the fact that my ethereal girlfriend won't grace the race tracks every race weekend-" "It all sounds lovely but all I want right now is your lips on mine" you interrupted, bringing a smirk to his lips.

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to yours, hand moving to maneuver your head closer to his, your hands moving up to cup his cheek, as your traced his jawline, his thumb running over your waist. Breaking apart softly, he let his forehead rest on yours. "I love you" he whispered softly. "I love you too" you mumbled back. Before he could lean back in, the doorbell rang again.

"Damn it. That's my chinese food and ice cream" you sighed, smiling when he laughed. "Was it that bad?" He asked, letting you get up to open the door. "Like you wouldn't believe it"

After getting the food and paying for it, you set two plates on the table and put enough on your plates. "You know what the worst part was about fighting?" "What was?" "Not waking up to you tracing my tattoos" "Aww that's what you missed?" You giggled, walking up to kiss the tattoos on his hands. "I really did. You're cute and adorable and you're all mine. That's why I don't wanna fight. Let's keep it that way" "I love you so much" "I love you too"

***

A/N - I'm so, so sorry I took so long to write this, I really suck at angst, and I hope this is what you wanted, the last thing I want to do is give you subpar work 😭😭

Anyways, have a great day 💙

[estherdedlock]

I admit it: I still don’t know what “Dark Academia” is. I’ve been deep into this for almost a year and I’ve watched all the video essays about it and looked at all the moodboards and read all the quotes and I still could not give you a quick, “elevator pitch” summary of what it is.

Now, I think Dark Academia is pretty easy to define when you’re talking about clothes, movies, or decor. I could probably put together a Dark Academia moodboard in five minutes, any of us could. But when it comes to books...that’s where things get cloudy. It seems to me that Dark Academia reading can pretty much be anything that gives you those DA feelings, however you define them.

So with that said, here are a couple of books I’ve read recently that could be categorized as Dark Academia. Some spoilers ahead, too.

* * * * * *

The first is Olivie Blake’s "BookTok sensation,” The Atlas Six, which is generally touted as pure, unequivocal Dark Academia. If you like DA, you’ve got to read this book, or so people say.

I’ll admit I’m only halfway through it and I went and spoiled myself on Goodreads to find out if the second half was going to be better than the first. It doesn’t appear that it will be, but I think I might slog through it anyway. 

The setting is the magical Alexandria Society, where, once every decade, six potential new initiates are brought together to compete for lifetime membership.

I’ve seen TA6 compared to The Secret History here and there but there is literally no similarity at all. To me, this is not even Dark Academia. One of the characters even says to the new recruits: “This is not a school, and I am not your teacher.” And he’s right! It’s really more of a Survivor-type competition, where only five of the six will make the cut. It happens to take place in a library-ish setting, but Blake doesn’t seem interested in creating a broody, academic atmosphere. Quite the opposite, actually. Just a few chapters in, there’s a long, Jason Bourne-style action sequence in which the initiates have to fight a black ops team of trained assassins from the CIA, MI6, and Chinese intelligence. I don’t think you could get less Dark Academia than that! (It’s also a scene that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, because several of these characters just shouldn’t have these kinds of combat skills, even with magic, but whatever).

Most of the rest of the book is scheming. At least, the first 170 pages or so have essentially been nothing but scheming, with the characters trying to suss out each other’s skills, strengths, and weaknesses to form alliances. There are a great many internal monologues and a lot of hinting about people’s powers...you know, a lot of If they knew what she really was, what she was capable of... That sort of thing. This gets pretty annoying after a while. Just frigging tell me already. Most of the characters are quite flat. My favorite so far is a bit player, an amoral grifter of a mermaid who can bubble up through the plumbing. But I suspect I’m not going to see much more of her.

The book does boast one of the worst sentences I’ve ever read:

“Libby’s brow remained annoyingly lost to the span of her forehead.��

What does this mean? I think the author is trying to say that Libby raised her eyebrows to express exaggerated disbelief, but I’m honestly not sure. I know this book was originally self-published, but I don’t think an editor touched it before the traditional publisher re-issued it this year. The author actually has a weird obsession with Libby’s forehead in general, specifically, her bangs (or “fringe” -- the book is full of Britishisms, even though the author is American). In fact, Libby’s bangs seem to be her primary personality trait. Anyway, that’s all I have to say about The Atlas Six.

* * * * * *

The next book is The Holy Innocents, by Gilbert Adair. This book has an odd backstory because Adair wrote two different versions of it. He published the first in 1988. In 2003, it was made into a movie starring Eva Green, The Dreamers (and yes, I discovered this movie via Dark Academia moodboards because I’m just that garbagey sort of a person). Then, Adair rewrote his own book to function as a novelization of the movie and published it as The Dreamers. The one I read was the 1988, pre-movie, original version.

About two-thirds of this book was a dark, broody, aesthetic trip. A 19-year-old Californian, Matthew, goes to France in 1968 to study film. There, he meets two passionate and pretentious movie buffs, the 17-year-old twins Guillaume and Danielle. He winds up living with them in the great gloom of the Parisian apartment owned by their father, an eccentric poet. The lodgings are so expansive that the kids have their own, isolated wing of it called le quartier des enfants. All sorts of things are going on in le quartier des enfants. So far, so Dark Academic!

The twins’ parents go out of town, leaving the enfants to their own devices. That’s when things get really freaky. Imagine this: If Richard Papen moved in with Charles and Camilla and they completely cut themselves off from the rest of the world up in that attic apartment. For a while they just sit around in front of a roaring fire, listening to old records and acting out their favorite bits of Greek tragedy. One thing leads to another and then...they all start fucking. I mean, they’re all fucking. A lot. It’s very filthy but also very atmospheric and aesthetic and dark, dark, dark.

The book gets even darker and more aesthetic when the erotic teenage trio decamps to Normandy for a stay in the decaying château owned by the twins’ clueless grandmother. This unfortunately didn’t last long enough. Upon their return to Paris, shit gets even weirder. I use the word “shit” deliberately. There is literal shit involved.

Adair invests a lot of energy in hinting, repeatedly, that these kids are going to keep descending into a hell of their own making until something truly terrible happens. What happens is that things get pretty gross. I began wondering if I was just reading some guy’s sex fantasies about polyamorous teenagers.

Then, in the last 20 pages or so, The Holy Innocents becomes a completely different book! The kids are roused from their surreal sex fugue by the student uprising of May 1968! They rush out into the streets to man the barricades Les Miz-style! It’s one of the biggest, whiplash what the fucks I’ve ever encountered in a book.

I understand that the movie (and I suppose, Adair’s novelization of the movie) diverged quite a lot from the original novel, and I can see why. This isn’t really a novel at all. It’s more like a lengthy short story with no real beginning, middle, or end. A series of atmospheric, erotic vignettes that seem to be leading to some great personal cataclysm. The last thing I expected was a sudden burst of 1960s youthquake activism.

So, Dark Academically speaking, I can recommend about the first two-thirds of The Holy Innocents, for the atmosphere, provided the sex doesn’t put you off. The last third, I’d say...proceed at your own risk. And maybe not on a full stomach.

Ugh, I apologize for the rambling length of this. I’m afraid I’m avoiding other things that I’m supposed to be doing.

[moostaronce]

Late Nights

Requested

Pairing: Handong x Gen neutral!Reader

Word Count: 650

A/N Hey so I did my best to do some research and found that Qīn (亲 ) means something like ‘Dear’ or ‘Bae’ and Měi nǚ (美女) means something like ‘beautiful woman’. If you are chinese or speak it fluently and I’m incorrect please let me know!

Tip Jar

“Qīn.” Dong calls for you in the darkness of your shared bedroom. She listens for a response with a delicate hand resting on your chest, where she had only moments ago been sleeping. When you don’t stir she shakes your body as gently as possible in an attempt not to frighten you awake.

Once you start to come out of your slumber Dongie caresses one side of your face and kisses the cheek closest to her. Your hand finds hers and you place a light kiss on her palm trying to subtly shake the grogginess.

“Měi nǚ what’s wrong?” Your voice is riddled with sleep and Dong takes a moment to coo at how cute you look fighting to keep your eyes open for her.

“I can’t get back to sleep. Let’s watch something.” This isn’t an unusual occurrence for either of you. You both promised if one of you couldn’t sleep and needed the other’s conscious company then you could wake each other.

“Sure, go ahead and get some snacks going while I get my life together.” You bring both hands up to rub them over your eyes trying to get your bearings.

She doesn’t leave the room until you at least sit up just in case she has to wake you a second time. There’s a lingering kiss placed on the top of your head before she heads out into the kitchen to get your snacks ready. She’s waiting for the popcorn to finish when she feels your arms wrapping around her spreading a familiar and calming warmth through her entire body.

Neither of you speaks for now, just relaxing in the serenity of each others presence. When the microwave beeps, you release her and let her pour the popcorn into a bowl. On the way to the living room you grab a bag of chips and plop down next to your girlfriend.

Dong turns on a Chinese drama that the two of you started a month and a half ago that you never finished and the two of you sit impossibly close to each under the same electric blanket, and cuddle while you snack.

Every now and then you take a look at her to see if she’s enjoying the show and smile when you see how focused she is. Giving her a periodical kiss on the cheek or the side of her temple is common place and while she doesn’t bat an eye, she does squeeze your hand that she grabbed in the middle of the first episode and hasn’t let go of since.

There is always a certain level of comfortability between you two. Her friends always make fun of you because you’re both always so loved up even when they are around. Times like these though, these times where it was just the two of you in private were the best. Times where you can just hold her without a care and she never hesitates to hold you right back.

You always joked that it was fate that brought you together the way it did. Dong literally fell into your arms like one of those cheesy romance comedy movie openings. A slip and a fall and suddenly she was in a beautiful stranger’s arms with a flourish. Hearts pounded, words were stuttered and before you know it the two of you are moving into a brand new apartment together.

The first was a disaster because you had roommates and no privacy. You both have come a long way but you’ve always said it was worth it to be here with her now.

So here you are with the girl of your literal dreams eating popcorn and engrossed in a popular C-drama that’s taken you forever to start and even longer to finish, but it’s perfect because you’re together. Perfect because of Dongie. Who cares that it’s 2am on a Wednesday? There is no where you could possibly rather be right now than in this very moment.

[duskwoodgirl4life]

Chapter 5

Jake's POV

I don't know how much more I can take I found myself reaching out too an old acquaintance, I met with them last night while MC was sleeping. I feel the bottle inside my pocket I keep fighting the urge too take them. With MC taking a shower I find myself alone, with the bottle I take the cap off and put two of the pills in my hand. I grab a bottle of water and down the pills, I relied on them so much in the past now I find myself taking them once again.

I feel the effects of the pills kicking in I start too relax, my mind is now focusing on the task at hand. As I am typing away I hear MC coming out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel she walks over too me and kisses my cheek. The way she looks at me with such loving eyes I know talking these pills wasn't a good idea. I was left with no choice MC can only hold me together so much the pills can now do the rest.

I have been taking these pills for a few days now, I don't think MC suspect's anything. I have been doing my best too keep this from her, I don't want her too worry anymore about me. I must meet with my acquaintance late tonight I need too get more pills. I can feel them taking over my body but I do not care I need too feel this way. Hannah continues too send me messages asking me too meet her and be with her in a romantic way.

Lost in his thoughts Jake didn't notice MC put a cup of coffee down next too him the noise from the mug hitting his desk snapped him out of his thoughts.

MC: hey, are you okay?

Jake: I'm doing okay

MC: you don't seem your self what's wrong?

Jake: what do you thinks wrong!! I keep getting crazy messages from my sister!!

MC: Jake, I'm only trying too help I'm worried about you

Jake: I need too go out for a bit I will be back soon, stay here and don't open the door too anyone

MC: you are not walking out of here until you tell me what the hell is going on with you

Jake: please MC let me go i will explain when I return

Jake kissed MC on the lips and headed for the door, MC had tears in her eyes she knew that he didn't mean too be like this. Jake was acting really strange, MC sat on the bed trying too work out what too do.

MCs POV

Jake as been acting really strange the past couple of days, I've never seen him like this before. I wish I could take away all his pain and carry it on my shoulders I do love him so much. I need too do something too try and lift his spirit's I will order Chinese, get a bottle of wine and rent his favourite movie.

As MC went too get the takeout menu from the draw she found an empty bottle of pills, she picked up the bottle and looked at the lable. It was a bottle of ecstacy tablets, a million thoughts running through her head. Why was Jake taking ecstacy? I thought he could talk too me I need too speak too him about this.

A little while after Jake had come back too the room, MC was lay on the bed with the TV on. She wasn't really paying any attention too what was on, she didn't even notice that Jake had come back.

Jake: MC, about before I am so sorry I didn't mean too snap at you like that

MC: you know what Jake just forget it why don't you take some more of these fucking pills!! they seem too be helping you better than I can

MC threw the empty bottle at Jake and got up off the bed, she went too grab her jacket but Jake stopped her. He grabbed hold of her arms and pulled her close too him closing any gap between them.

MC: what the hell is going on Jake? I thought we could tell each other everything

Jake: MC I'm so sorry, I just couldn't see a way out and I contacted someone I know too get some pills.

MC: how long did you think you could get away with me not knowing about this? I want too help you Jake

Jake wrapped his arms around MC and just broke down in tears, sinking too the floor in floods of tears. MC sat down next too him just holding him close and running her hand up and down his back.

Lilly: are we all decided? We all stay away from MC? and get Jake away from her so he can see Hannah

Thomas: I am all for it I don't want her anywhere near Hannah

Hannah: I only want too see my brother I don't understand where she's getting all this from

Phil: I thought she was okay but my views on her have changed

Lilly: I will see if I can message Jake and get him too meet up

Hannah: Lilly let me do it please

Lilly: okay, let us know what he says

Hannah: I will keep you all posted

Hannah: hello my handsome hacker, I've been missing you today more than anything. I was really hoping you could meet up this time with me and Lilly and afterwards me and you can sneak off somewhere. Just you and me getting too know each others bodys I love you Jake so much xxxxxxx

After Jake had claimed down he was able too tell MC everything, how in the past he relied on these pills. How they made him feel something again even if it was not for long. While they were both talking Jake's phone buzzed it was another message from Hannah.

Jake: I think I am going too have too do this, will you come with me MC I can't do this alone

MC: I will be with you every single step of the way Jake, I won't let you do this alone your my forever remember

Jake: something I will never ever forget you being my forever is something I hold close too my heart.

MC: text Hannah back and say you will meet but only if I come with you, I won't say anything unless I am forced too

Jake picked up his phone his hands shaking MC took hold of his hands too try and steady them, so he could type the message back too Hannah.

Jake: hello Hannah, I will meet with you and Lilly tomorrow afternoon at the fountain in the square. I want MC too come with me I can't do this with out her.

Hannah: my love, you have wrote back this makes my heart so happy, of course we will be there. If that's what it takes too finally get too see you then so be it see you tomorrow my handsome hacker

Hannah was so excited she couldn't contain her happiness any longer, while Thomas was still at work she decided too grab her new toy.

[writer-monster]

11 reasons why cap 4 should reintroduce Bucky Barnes as the love interest, an essay

to start this off, i am not writing this essay from a shipping place nor do i believe that this would have any influence at all over the upcoming movie. i expect nothing. this is simply something that i would personally like to see. (of course no hate to anybody who thinks differently)

here are 11 reasons why i think making Bucky into Sam Wilson's love interest in Cap 4 would be a good move for Disney.

-

1. on the Chinese film market - and why it's an irrelevant argument against the inclusion of homosexual themes in Cap 4

the Chinese film market is something that has been blamed for a lack of diversity in Hollywood films a lot lately. many people claim that this market with a lot of buying power has been responsible for the lack of gay and black representation in particular within Hollywood films.

and we have certainly seen Hollywood treating it as such, going so far as to cut gay scenes from movies for their Chinese releases, and vastly minimising John Boyega's (a black actor's) presence in the Chinese poster of Star Wars The Force Awakens.

[image ID: on the left is an image of the American poster for Star Wars The Force Awakens, featuring John Boyega prominently on the right-hand side. And on the right is the Chinese poster for the same movie, in which John Boyega is barely visible.]

so we know at the very least that Disney believes this through their own actions and efforts to self-censor for the different markets.

but Captain America 4 is a black-led movie, don't you forget. and Disney can't minimise Sam Wilson/Anthony Mackie in the movie or the poster because it's his movie and his poster. and no amount of creativity in the editing room can change that (thank God!).

so if by their own argument the film is already going to be either banned, panned or slammed in China... then what do they have to fear from making it a gay movie too?

-

2. oh, the queerbaiting

queerbaiting is an unusual cultural idea. and sometimes i find myself thinking that the term is far too easily used, but then all of a sudden i will stumble upon a movie or show that is so quintessentially cruel and overt in it's... well... queerbaiting that i will start to wonder what the hell kind of a bizarre relationship all these straight people seem to have with their friends. take Troy and Abed from Community or John and Sherlock from Sherlock as the perfect examples of this. (in which my reaction to the show's creators saying the show wasn't gay was to ask so then why did you make it so gay?!)

i felt that Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes in tfatws were getting quite close to this level of queerbaiting.

there was the field scene, the couple's counselling scene, the boat scene, the couple's counselling scene, Bucky going with Sam to face Karli when she told Sam to come alone, the couple's counselling scene, ALL the staring scenes, Sam checking out Bucky's ass here as they said goodbye, the "i would move in with him but" hidden scene, "Uncle Bucky" showing up at the cookout scene, the romantic walking off together into the sunset together ending scene, and the couple's counselling scene. did i forget anything? but i mean seriously, the couple's counselling scene!!! that thing they did with their legs and their crotches while staring deep into each other's eyes, would any straight guy willingly do that? do straight guys crotch-snuggle now?

[image ID: an image of Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes during the therapy scene with the quote, "Isn't anybody going to drag me into impromptu couple's therapy and slot my legs firmly between theirs before staring deeply into my eyes?"]

(yeah i stole this image from a buzzfeed article on the fan reactions to the couple's therapy scene. but given that they stole 80% of the content of that article from fandom tumblr, i think it's pretty even-steven.)

there's also the fact that people started talking about bisexual Bucky Barnes a lot after the tiger pictures line, and the lead writer Malcom Spellman responded to the talk of Bucky's bisexuality with "just keep watching". well we watched, Malcolm. but it's beginning to feel like you were just jerking us around.

-

3. the writing

seriously though, what else is Bucky Barnes doing right now in the MCU? his only remaining connection to anything going on right now is through Sam. there is literally nothing else established that's left for him to do that doesn't involve Sam. he moved to Louisiana to be closer to Sam (canonically), he hangs out with Sam's family (canonically), and Steve is presumably gone and is definitely not coming back for more adventures.

he has no villains or loose ends left. he has no other superheroes that he appears to be in contact with. he has no girlfriend or potential love interest, or even other friends or family. he is living in a tent that he has secretly set up in Sam's backyard and is mysteriously appearing from the bushes when it's time for dinner like a stray cat.

in my opinion there is no other meaningful and pre-established progression for Bucky's character that wouldn't just feel cheap.

plus, i don't think the general audience would be all that surprised if they kissed. i think a LOT of people picked up on all that tension. i think a lot of straight people picked up on all that tension too.

-

4. the chemistry between the actors & the chemistry between the characters

the original pitch for tfatws was essentially just this, it was the chemistry between Sebastian Stan and Anthony Mackie and their respective MCU characters of Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson.

now obviously Anthony and Sebastian are simply friends, and i wouldn't mean to imply anything more. but they are also not their characters.

Sam and Bucky's scenes together before tfatws were both limited and short, and yet audiences still fell in love with the dynamic between the two characters.

in interviews, these two actors are constantly slipping into character and flirting with each other and frankly it's adorable. plus it's really entertaining. i'd love to see that dynamic, unfiltered, in a movie.

because believe it or not the flirting is actually even more open in their interviews than it was in tfatws. and i'm leaving some links as proof.

this here is known as the "married" compilation

and here's a "lucky dip" selection of interviews - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5,

and here's Anthony trying to get Seb to take his jacket off.

i'm just saying, why not let their chemistry shine? these two are so talented and so entertaining, especially when you put them in a room together. and can you imagine how absolutely hilarious and brilliant it would be to watch them navigate being a couple?

(and for those who bring up the "friends would be uncomfortable pretending to be dating" argument, i'm not here asking for a sex scene or anything. i don't think anyone would expect them to show any more intimacy (physical or emotional) while playing a couple than what they've already shown together in say... tfatws or in their own interviews. not that i actually expect anything regardless.)

-

5. if they were a man and a woman they would've gotten together in tfatws

i have no more to add here. just that... yeah, they would've.

-

6. and i'm not talking about the comics here, i'm talking about the MCU.

i understand fully that none of what i'm saying here falls in line with these characters from the comics. but the mcu itself doesn't fall much in line with the comics either, and these two characters especially are very different from their comics counterparts.

i'm not asking for these two to get together in the comics. tbh i don't think that it would work.

but the mcu Sam and Bucky are different and closer than their comics counterparts. they've got different histories, different backstories, and a very different dynamic. please rest assured that i am only talking about them in the mcu.

-

7. Bucky Barnes is believably bisexual. and Sam Wilson has never been proven to be straight in the mcu, nor has he had a love interest.

(now please continue to keep in mind that these points only stand for the mcu versions of Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson, and not at all for their comics counterparts.)

Sam Wilson has never had a love interest, which is crazy because have you seen that man! he has had two blink and you'll miss it moments of verbal expression of attraction to women, both in TWS. and that's the extent of it, through his entire history in the mcu.

Bucky Barnes has had a number of surface-level female love interests, but none of them even came close to the level of connection and chemistry that Bucky shares with Sam.

and i'm sorry SarahBucky fans, but i just don't think there's very much to their relationship either. i love Sarah, i really do. but it's Sam who shares all the meaningful moments and history and chemistry with Bucky. and i don't see what making her into a love interest would do for Sarah's character either, what would that add to her story?

[Picture ID: Bucky at the cookout with Sam, Sarah, Cass and AJ. Bucky and Sam are looking at each other and smiling.]

and also there is the whole tiger pictures thing... again. which does strongly suggest that Bucky is bisexual whether this was intentional on behalf of the writers or not.

-

8. it's representation... AND it feels natural

marvel hasn't had a lot of queer representation that's been noticeably present in the MCU at the time of writing this.

there have been a lot of failures so far, from the bisexual erasure of Valkyrie in Thor Ragnarok to the wlw erasure in Black Panther.

there was queerbaiting almost identical to the bisexual Bucky baiting for Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2. when asked if he had considered featuring a gay hero in gotg2, director James Gunn stated that "We might have already done that. I say, watch the movie." after the movie's release audiences were understandably confused about the lack of queer representation. To which the director followed up his comments with, "But we don't really know who's gay and who's not. It could be any of them."

there is also Loki, considered by most fans after the airing of his six episode series on Disney+ to be both a poor attempt at both genderfluid representation and bisexual representation. with both attempts being summed up fairly well by the term "blink-and-you'll-miss-it". (also it's just terribly written and Loki doesn't wear any interesting clothes! fanficcers are a Goddamn blessing in this hard time!)

and let us not forget that Andrew Garfield was apparently FIRED for pushing for a bisexual spiderman. a bisexual spiderman within an interracial mlm relationship no less.

so for all these failures, marvel, why not allow us queer fans this? two brilliant and heroic men in a loving interracial relationship. two heroes that we can look up to.

now, one of the biggest detractions from the argument for representation is the idea of "forced diversity". and some poorly written characters certainly do end up feeling forced into the narrative. take Iceman in the comics for example, with Jean Grey just straight up suddenly telling him he's gay. like, marvel, sweetie, that's not how this works! and i don't know a lot of queer people who thought much of that "representation".

but the crux of the "forced diversity" argument is almost always that it feels unnatural within the story, right? and i don't think that anyone could say that about MCU Sam and Bucky ending up together, given these characters' existing chemistry and their history. they've both played characters in gay relationships before so we know that it's not outside of either actor's wheelhouse. and y'all know that Anthony and Seb can act, people. if it's in the script i believe that they'll make it seem like the most natural thing on earth.

-

9. it'd be a nice change

there's been an ongoing meme lately about "Disney's first gay character", the joke being that they continually announce gay characters without really ever including gay characters in their films.

this is to the point where Disney has formed a reputation amongst queer audiences of being homophobic.

if Sam and Bucky were to become a couple, then Disney could have its first actual gay character within a gay relationship. AND have him be in the lead of his own movie, no less.

it's also worth keeping in mind that there's likely an overlap between the people who were outraged by a Sam Wilson Captain America, and the people who'd be outraged by a gay Captain America. and if they were already not seeing the film, then i don't think much is gonna change that.

queer audiences would definitely love it, and the media attention would be guaranteed to be huge. i mean, simply look at the amount of media attention mere rumours of a character's queerness gets you and multiply that by a canon confirmation of said rumours.

but i'm pretty sure that Disney already knows this.

-

10. and yet, in truth, it's not about the representation

in truth i've never felt that i had any trouble relating to characters of any sexual orientation, race, gender, sex, body type, etc. (although that is not to throw any shade at all on people who do wish to see themselves represented) but for me, i think it's more about the story than the packaging.

and yet, a love story is still just a story. straight or queer, monoethnic or interracial. when two characters have chemistry and history and have sacrificed for each other time and time again, and they also can't keep their hands or their eyes off each other, then i'm pretty sure that that's a love story.

straight or queer, monoethnic or interracial, it shouldn't be about these simple labels. it should be about how well written the relationship is. it should be about chemistry, and history, and sacrifice.

because i'm fucking sick of all the hollow, forced romances in media no matter the genders of the participants. i'm sick of lazily written, shallow relationships where any two people sharing the same space for any extended period of time will simply fall in love. it's boring, it's repetitive, and as a writer myself it drives me up the wall!

romance stories suck! and everyone knows that romance stories suck. between twilight, and most of the entire YA genre, and love triangles (so boring), and romance used as poorly-written throwaway subplots in Hollywood movies, the world is in agreement that the romance in western media is simply dreadful. and yet we still want love stories. it's an entire genre that sits at the heart of the human experience (<3), and yet one which so few of today's best known writers seem truly able to capture.

i don't think that i'm the only one who feels this way, either. i suspect it's actually a large part of why fandom is so romance-centred in the first place, that we're all just starving for a good love story.

(btw i think fandom has a reputation for being something that as a whole that it is not. it has this reputation for straight up demanding things and harassing people until they get their way. while unfortunately there are a few people who do this, they're fucking annoying and i swear that they're far from the majority.

in my experience fandom is mostly about writing a five thousand word story at three am while drunk off your ass because it might make someone whom you've never met smile, editing it in the cold light of day, and then posting it. expecting nothing. sometimes getting nothing. and sometimes getting someone send you kudos or a comment so heartbreakingly wonderful that it makes you smile in return.)

-

11. so once again, it is all about the writing.

i want to see Sam and Bucky get together in the mcu, not because they would be a gay couple but because i genuinely believe that their story has potential to be an amazing love story.

and i know the mcu isn't about the romance. it's why in my personal opinion we haven't gotten a lot of good canon romances besides Peter Quill and Gamora. and i don't think that the mcu should be all about the romance either. i fucking love the action and the fighting scenes. i love the comedy. Captain America: The Winter Soldier had no romance and it was a fucking treasure, it was an amazing spy-action-thriller and it made my little gay heart dance. Thor Ragnarok had no romance, and it was an utterly brilliant comedic spectacle action film. not every movie needs romance.

but mcu Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes were doing couple's therapy and fixing a boat and walking off into the sunset together in tfatws. they were inseparable on the battlefield. they've got a dynamic. it's beautiful, it's romantic, and it's gold.

a budding relationship between them in the next movie would be a good way to explore both characters more without the narrative feeling too stilted and separate. at the end of tfatws, both Sam and Bucky fans found that their respective fave felt somewhat underutilised and that their characters were underexplored.

now, that problem would be even more difficult to remedy in a movie, because the plotline of a movie needs to be really tight to work (giggity). and we know that the central conflict of the movie is gonna be action-based (which is good), but we still need each character's personal journey and growth to tie into the main conflict. (which is another issue that some fans found with tfatws, that these characters didn't really feel connected to the action-based plot on a more personal level.)

if Sam and Bucky are already in a relationship, however, this whole dynamic changes. first, their relationship has already been set up for nicely since TWS and through tfatws and they would officially be the best-fleshed-out couple in the mcu. but most importantly, a relationship gives them a perfect vehicle to explore both of their pasts comparatively and connect them personally to the action-based plot.

do you want to establish that Sam is a little too trusting and naïve? then establish this through his relationship with Bucky, and through showing his placing his trust in Bucky. (rather than through having him sympathise with a villain who threatened to murder his sister and his nephews).

perhaps you want to show Bucky recovering from his trauma? show us how comfortable he is with Sam. they get along, they're enjoying each other's presence, we see more of Sam's life and of his family, and then let Bucky tell Sam something that's raw and dark and honest about his life as The Winter Soldier. something about a memory, one that he only just recalled. he's opening up. and maybe what he tells Sam is even something that sets up the future action-based conflict, to ground that in something real.

you want to explore that Sam has trauma too? do this through Bucky. he tells Bucky a story about his time in the military. in the form of a flashback, he shares his own story of loss to evoke before the audience the shared theme of feeling at fault even when you're simply a helpless bystander to an act of pure destruction.

then, action sequence! and it's directly connected to Bucky's time as the Winter Soldier. explore the grief of someone whose life the Winter Soldier tore apart manifesting into a villain perpetuating the cycle of pain. establish your villain.

Later, Sam is dragged into battle against this villain for protecting Bucky. But Bucky doesn't want Sam to protect him. He feels guilt for what he can't control and he doesn't want Sam getting hurt because of him. Bucky reminds Sam that he has a family, one who needs him and who loves him. He tells him to go home.

Sam reminds Bucky that he's a part of that family. And that sure Sam's a hero and his job is to protect anyone and everyone, but that he's doing it because he wants to. It's not simply to prove that he can, or to prove that he's not a bystander (this connects to Sam's trauma here), but that he's doing it to help people.

and this gets Bucky thinking about who he is and what he's doing here. is he a hero who stands by Sam's side? or is he an ordinary man who stands aside? or perhaps, does he stand alone? what does he stand for? Maybe Sam knows. But does Bucky?

Sam and Bucky fight off the villain again, and for the first time Bucky meets this adversary face to face. And Bucky recognises this villain, and has a flashback to the genuine pain that he inflicted upon them in the form of the Winter Soldier. Bucky freezes mid-fight, he almost dies, and Sam has to save him.

Sam chews Bucky out for almost getting killed because he was afraid for him. but Bucky takes this the wrong way and goes off to fight the villain alone, or perhaps to die alone, he's not quite sure.

He puts up a half-hearted fight. He apologises for what the Winter Soldier has done, and he waits for the killing blow, when Sam swoops down and he saves him. He asks Sam why he saved him and Sam calls him a moron. And then, Sam asks him what sacrificing himself would solve. He tells him that you can't choose your past but you can choose your future (connecting to his own experience of loss and guilt and grief). And that no matter what Bucky Barnes still has a future, whether that's as the Winter Soldier or the White Wolf or just some dork with a day job. And that he has a future as a part of Sam's family too.

Sam fights the villain, and it's toe to toe. He delivers a few good blows, but receives a fair few himself. And then the villain tears off his wings, first one and then the other, in a manner reminiscent of what the Winter Soldier did to him in TWS. Through Bucky's eyes there's a flashback to highlight the parallels. Sam gets back on his feet and he fights his best fight, but is now losing.

And then the heavily injured Bucky steps up and fights by Sam's side, and only together do they take down the villain.

"So... I inspired you, huh?" Sam teases with a smile, utterly exhausted. "With my heroism and-"

"You inspired me." Bucky said, equally exhausted. "Let's leave it at that."

Together, Sam and Bucky go back to the safety and warmth of their family. Sam fixes his wings. Sam goes back to being Captain America. And Bucky... he's around, but it's unclear what he's doing.

That is, until the very end. When Sam is in a fight, and suddenly Bucky shows up and helps him out.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asks.

"I've made up my mind." Bucky says. "I'm the Winter Soldier. But now I'll save lives, Sam. Now, like you, I'll be a hero."

Sam smirks. "So does this make you my sidekick, then?"

Bucky smiles. "C'mon, at least make me a partner." He says.

"How about co-workers." Sam says (in flashback, he remembers back to the death of his last on-the-job partner).

"How about friends." Bucky says, with a wry look.

"Bucky... I don't want to see you put your dumbass self in danger." Sam says.

"Oh, and it's ok for you to go running off into danger on your own all the time?" Bucky asks.

"Yes." Sam says stubbornly. "Absolutely it is."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not a dumbass?!"

"Sam, if you think I'm not gonna be watching your back for the rest of time... then you're the biggest dumbass I know. And I don't care if you need me or not, I will be there for you."

"Because Sam, you're more than Captain America. You're more than a good soldier. You're a good man. And I think sometimes, the world forgets what the difference is."

-

...or something like that.

(i only spent like 15 minutes on that. you know if i were actually writing this movie i would come up with something much better. and if anyone from marvel is seeing this, yes i can come work for you. i will make the time, let's do this thing right!)

-

finale

at the end of the day, whether or not the mcu chooses to make Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes a couple, it's their decision. and they don't owe me anything.

i'm just some random person on the internet. who thinks that Captain America 4 should #givecaptainamericaaboyfriend

[anonymousfiction211]

Handcuffed together

Summary: Loki and you hate each other, but are both part of the Avengers. They are fed up with you two fighitng all the time and hancuff you together, so you can learn to tolerate each other.  Word count: 3.132 words Warnings: Smut, dubious consent (it is consentual, but not specificly said), angry Loki, degrading  A/N: Based on a idea from @the-best-phineas. Hope you like it! If anyone has an idea, or suggestion just let me know :)

Click here for chapter 2 Click here for chapter 3

With a loud click the handcuff around your wrist closed. You immediately tried to unlock the cuff, but it wouldn’t give. “Like that would work” Loki commented. You gave him a glare but turned your attention back to Tony. “Seriously, this is not necessary. Give us another chance” you begged him. “Look, we are all sick of the two of you constant fighting, it is effecting the team and the missions we’re on. And all that magic-crap makes everything worse. So, until the two of you can tolerate each other you’re cuffed together. And you’re both not allowed on missions before you finish this one” You sighed heavily but knew that arguing more was futile.

“I must say, you’re taking this better than I thought you would” Tony said to Loki. “Escaping handcuffs isn’t that difficult, Stark” Loki replied. Tony secured the cuff on Loki’s wrist. He then walked hastily to the door. “Oh, one more thing. These handcuffs are designed so you can’t use your powers” Tony said and quickly exit the room. Loki immediately tried to escape his cuff with magic, but nothing was happening. You tried as well, but got the same result, nothing. You met his eyes, which were full of anger. “I thought escaping from handcuffs wasn’t that difficult” you said sarcastically. Loki didn’t break eye contact. The anger was radiating off him, you swore you could physically feel it. He didn’t say anything but turned around and walked away. When you didn’t move he yanked at his side of the cuffs and you were forced to take a few steps in his direction. “What the… LOKI..” you started angrily, but he didn’t react. He kept walking while ignoring you. Right now, you had no other choice than to follow him, trying to keep up.

He pushed his bedroom door open with so much force, you thought it would break. He walked towards his bookcase and was taking out different books, flipping through them. You had enough and yanked at the handcuffs, making the book in his hand fall on the ground. “STOP. WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING” you yelled at him. He gave you his angriest look, the one he said he reserved specially for you, because he never met anyone who was as stupid and annoying as you were. And that included his oaf of a brother. “I am finding a way to free myself from you” he spat. “So, just stand there and try not to get in the way” he turned his attention back to the bookcase. “You can’t just walk away and drag me along” you grumbled. “Apparently I can” he said with a sly small on his face. You yanked at the cuffs again, making Loki drop his book again. He turned to face you, grabbed your throat with the cuffed hand and pushed you hard against the wall behind you. Your scream was cut off by his other hand covering your mouth. He wasn’t chocking you, but the tightness off his grip wasn’t comfortable enough for you to relax. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, which was weird. It shouldn’t.

He pulled his hand away from your mouth after standing there for what felt like eternity. “Look, I’m much stronger than you are. So, I’m going to find a way to free myself. The only thing you have to do is staying out of my way” he growled. He let go of your throat, but still stood extremely close to you. “Yeah, this whole act doesn’t scare me” your voice hoarser than you would have liked. Loki chuckled “Look, when you had your powers you had some sort of defense, even tough it was weak. Without your powers.. you don’t stand a chance against me” You slapped him hard across his face. His face turned sideways, but his cheek didn’t show any red mark. He slowly turned his head to face you, giving you a wicked smile that sends chills trough your body. He didn’t say anything, just stared at you. But both of you knew, you had just proofed his point.

The rest of the morning you two sat on his bed. Loki was busy reading different books and he sometimes grumbled in annoyance. You were playing a game on your phone, trying to ignore him. Loki snaped his book shut and threw it across the room. You looked up from your phone “I assume the search is not going well then?” you couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at his frustration. “Just shut up, it’s not like you are any useful” he replied. He sighed and laid down on his bed. His put his cuffed hand on his chest, which meant that your hand also touched his chest. When he felt your hand, he puts his hand down beside him, pretending it didn’t happen. “We could pretend to like each other for this afternoon, and we surely will be free before dinner” you said. Loki didn’t reply. He sighed heavily “Fine” he muttered. He got up from the bed, which mean that you had to crawl to his side to get up as well. When it took to long he grabbed your arm and pulled you to your feet in front of him. Not anticipating this move, you stumbled and fell into his chest. His free hand immediately grabbed you by your hip to steady you. A weird feeling was spreading from your hip through your body, you couldn’t quite place it. When he dropped his hand you still felt his touch. “Shall we?” he said. You nodded and followed him towards the living room. But there was no one there. Loki walked towards the kitchen, with you close behind him. There was a note on the kitchen table.

Loki and (Y/N), The team had to leave for a mission. We will be back in two days. Don’t kill each other. - Natasha

Loki crumbled up the piece of paper and threw it through the kitchen. “Great, just great. Two day stuck with you” he said angrily. “Lucky me, two days in the presence of a god” you replied with as much sarcasm as you could. Loki gave you an angry glare, which you ignored. He stormed out of the kitchen, yet again dragging you along. After a few steps you yanked at the cuffs and halted in your track. “Look, we both want nothing more than the be free of each other. But we’re at least stuck with each other for two day, so how about some rules?” you started. Loki didn’t say anything but nodded.

“First, discussing where we are going, no more dragging me along and doing whatever you want” you started.

“No talking unless absolutely necessary” Loki replied.

“No more threats, or throat grabbing”

“No more punching”

“How about no touching of any form?” you said.

“Fine by me. Also, no more singing. You are really bad at it”

“No more insulting me!!” you half yelled

“Don’t make insulting you so easy then!”

There was a long silence. “We sleep in my room” Loki said. “IF you behave this day, I MIGHT consider letting you sleep in the bed” you rolled your eyes at that comment. “I accept that we sleep in your room, but only IF I sleep in the bed too. Otherwise, we sleep in my room” you said. He smirked “If you weren’t so insufferable I might even enjoy this little negotiation” You couldn’t help but smile at his comment “same for me” you replied.

The rest of the afternoon went by rather peacefully. Loki was reading books and you were watching a series on tv. There was one awkward moment when you had to use the toilet, but you had to admit that Loki did his best to give you all the privacy you needed. So, you did the same when he had to go. Your stomach started to rumble, you were getting hungry. “Shall we order food?” you asked Loki. After a very long discussion you both finally agreed on Chinese food. In hindsight it wasn’t the best idea to eat Chinese food when you only have one hand. During dinner, your hands sometimes touched each other, by accident. But every time you felt his hand against yours spark like electricity shot through your body. You suddenly forgot how to breathe and didn’t know where this was coming from. You were hoping Loki didn’t notice and try to ignore the feeling.

After dinner things basically stayed the same. You put on a movie and halfway through Loki decided to watch it too. But none of you said a word to each other. After the movie you were getting tired. “Can we go to bed?” you asked. Loki nodded and the two of you walked to his bedroom. That was when things got a little awkward. You both turned your back towards each other when the other undressed. Loki had pulled down his pants and his shirt, which was now hanging on the chain of the cuffs. You were currently undressing yourself, getting rid of your own pants and pulling your T-shirt over your head, hanging it next to Loki’s on the chain. You currently were in a bra and thong, mentally slapping yourself for not thinking this through this morning. Worst off all was that it was in dark green, which was a colour you wore often before Loki joined the team. When Loki turned around you saw his eyes roam your body, suddenly you felt extremely exposed. You noticed that Loki was more muscular than you thought, if he were any other man on the planet you would have thought his body was attractive. You cleared your throat, snapping Loki’s eyes to meet yours. If you didn’t know any better you thought you saw a slight blush on his cheeks.

He walked towards his doors and turned down the light. His room was completely dark, and you couldn’t see a thing anymore. You heard Loki walk and felt your hand pulled towards his direction. You were hesitant to move, not wanting to trip or bump into something. “Why are you not moving?” Loki asked annoyed. “I- I can’t see a thing” you replied. Loki walked closer to you, his free arm grabbed your shoulder, and he took your cuffed hand with his. You flinched from the sudden touch, not expecting it. “Relax, I’m not going to hurt you” he said. “I know, you just startled me” you replied. He guided you towards his bed and let you get in first. “Thanks” you whispered. “Just go to sleep” he replied. But sleep did not come easily. It was difficult to find a comfortable position, because of the handcuffs. But somehow you managed.

The light shining through the curtains woke you up. Loki was still fast asleep, he looked peaceful. He was laying on his side, facing you with his free hand underneath his head. His cuffed hand was on top of yours. You slowly moved your hand from underneath his. His eyes snapped open, and he looked at you. You were both silent. He cleared his throat “Breakfast?” he asked, you nodded. You both decided it was a good idea to make pancakes. However, cooking with handcuffs on was more difficult than anticipated. Especially since Loki wasn’t much of a cook. You got frustrated and told him to just get out of your way. You finally had the batter how you wanted and picked up the bowl to bring it near the stove. Loki, wanting to get out of your way, choose the wrong direction making the two of you bump into each other. You lost your grip on the bowl and it fell on the ground.

“Seriously?!” you asked angrily. “It’s not my fault you don’t watch where you’re going” Loki replied equally angry. “Why are you incapable of just admitting you’re not perfect and say sorry?”

“Why do you always look to me when someone has to take blame for your actions?” he spat back.

“You are the most insufferable person I’ve ever met!”

“God” Loki corrected.

“What?”

“I’m not a person, I’m a God!”

“Some God you are, you can’t free yourself, you can’t even make your own pancakes” you replied sarcastically.

“I suggest you chose your next words very carefully” he warned you.

You being you, decided to ignore the warning. “You might think yourself a God, but you are the only one who does” you said, knowing it would get some sort of reaction out of him. Loki used to cuffs to spin you around, your back against his chest. His cuffed arm was around your throat and his free hand around your stomach, holding you in place. “If you don’t shut up know, I make you” he whispered in your ear with a dangerous tone in his voice. Your whole body felt on fire, yet again. Before you knew that you did it, you pressed your ass against his groin. “Oh, you like this don’t you?” he purred in your ear. “Shut up and let me go” you said, trying to squirm out his grip. “No, you want this” he said.

“I don’t” you replied.

“That’s a lie”

“Like you would know. You may have the title God of Lies, but like we established... you’re no God” you laughed.

“I don’t need to be the God of Lies to know. You heart rate is up, your pupils yesterday dilated when you saw me shirtless, and your voice is higher. And the best thing is, your needy body betrays you” he laughed back.

You had enough. You kicked the back of your foot against his shin, but Loki didn’t even flinch. “Bad choice, kitten” he said. Without warning his teeth sunk into your neck. Instead of making your scream it made you moan louder than you would have liked. His hand on your stomach travelled downwards, going straight for your core. He cupped your heat with his hand and one of his fingers strokes between your folds. Revealing that you indeed were turned on, and already extremely wet. “Hmm.. such a needy slut you are” he hummed. You wanted to protest, you should protest, but alle words had escaped you. Your breathe was ragged and you knew you what was going to happen.

Loki spun you around, pushing your upper body on the kitchen counter. He held his cuffed hand in your hair, forcing your hand behind your back and your head down. You tried to squirm away, but Loki wouldn’t budge. “We both know you can’t escape and we both know you don’t want to. So now I’m going to fuck you, maybe you think twice next time you talk to me like that” he growled. His free hand hovered over the buttons of your pants and in one smooth motion he opened them. He pulled your pants down, caressing your butt. Goosebumps were starting to form, and you felt yourself grow wetter from his touch. Loki had freed his erection through his zipper, still wearing his pants. He stroked his shaft up and down your slid. Slightly dipping through your folds, coating himself in your wetness.

Without warning he thrusted inside of you, making you cry out in pleasure. He started thrusting in and almost out of you in a very quick pace. His cock filled you up completely, even reaching your g-spot when he was fully inside of you. You started to rock your hips, meeting his pace. “That’s it, good girl” he praised you. It made you blush and clench your walls around his cock. He left darkly at your reaction. You felt your orgasm starting to build up inside of you. Loki’s animalistic way of fucking you was becoming too much. Right before you reached your high you moaned out loud “Oh my God” Loki stilted deep inside of you. “What did you say, darling?” he mused. “I- .. just keep going” you replied, hoping he would let you come undone. He leaned his upper body over yours, his lips right by your ear. “Just repeat it, if you want to come of course” he purred. You didn’t respond and thought about giving up your climax. Loki slowly moved pulled out and back inside of you. He knew you were close and was using that against you at the moment. “What’s wrong, kitten? Usually you’re so talkative” he chuckled. He was keeping his slow pace, keeping you on the edge but not pushing you over it.

You groaned in frustration. “Fine, I said oh my God” you said annoyed. Loki picked his pace up slightly, but nowhere near how fast you needed him. “So, you do admit that I’m a God?” even tough you couldn’t see his face, you just knew he had his signature smirk on his face. “Yes” you said to gritted teeth. Loki just laughed “Now, was that so difficult?” before you could answer he was thrusting at a fast pace. To your surprise Loki himself was starting to moan slightly, muttering things under his breath about how tight you were and how good you feel around his cock. It didn’t take long before you reached your climax. When you reached your high you couldn’t help but cry out “Oh my God Loki” adding fuel to his thrusts. He came right after you.

He collapsed on top of you, leaving feather light kisses on your neck. He pulled out of you and handed you a kitchen towel to clean yourself up. You pulled up your underwear and pants, not being able to look Loki in his eyes. You grabbed another bowl and started on a new pancake batter. Loki stood right behind you, hands on either side of you. He was nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck. “If I knew this would shut you up, I would’ve done it much sooner” he mused. “That was a one-time thing, don’t get any ideas. I still hate you” you replied. “Oh no, new rule. Every time you anger me, I’m going to fuck you like the slut you are” You knew it shouldn’t, but you felt yourself get excited again. “It’s only for a day and a half, so I just won’t make you angry” you replied dryly. Loki laughed “Kitten, even if we’re free from these cuffs I am still going to fuck you. You laid with a God and now you’re mine” You scoffed “That’s not how it works” Loki pulled you closer against his chest and cupped your breast with his free hand. He chuckled when you gasped and closed your eyes. “It is. By the time, the team is back, you will worship me like you should”

Click here for chapter 2

[i-lovethatforme]

A pregnancy reveal that does not go to plan at all. Like peter doesn’t realize what she is talking about and the realizes and freaks out. Please.

i switched it up! hope you don't miiiiiiind <33333

"Peter's going to break up with me," MJ finally blurts out twisting her fork loosely through her pasta. Her lunch is nice, there's nothing wrong with it. But the heartache is making her nauseous and she's been struggling to eat for the past few days.

"As if," May scoffs. "I spend a good ninety percent of the time I see Peter listening to everything you've been doing for the past week. What even makes you think that?"

MJ always backs up her arguments with facts, so she pulls her phone out and pulls up the notes app. Sue her, she's been waking up in the middle of the night lately, feeling restless and she's always greeted with a cold side of the bed.

"He's avoiding me," she starts, holding her finger up, annoyed at the number of things she's written down. "He hasn't slept in our bed all week. He hasn't been home for dinner. He's hiding things from me and somehow, he's doing it well because I can't find anything in the apartment."

"Michelle," May says, her voice soft and her eyes kind.

"He's not talking to me," MJ continues, her voice breaking as she lets the emotions she's been feeling at the fact she's about to lose the love of her life, wash over her.

"He's supposed to be here," she sniffs, running her hand over her face. It's true. They're sitting at a three-seater and getting glares from people that need the space more than them, but she was adamant she didn't want to move. Peter was always late. But he never let her down.

"Oh sweetie, it's probably just -"

"I know," MJ says quickly, trying to control herself. She doesn't want to put May in an awkward position even though MJ knows May would call Peter out on his shit if she needed to. "I know, it's just - a rough patch I guess."

MJ has heard of them, they're in the books she reads, the movies Peter makes her watch. Everyone has a rough patch. She guesses she's just lucky she's never had one with Peter. And she'll suffer through it if it means she gets to keep him in the end.

The thought of them not together makes her heart physically hurt. The thought that he doesn't want her anymore. That the same thing he fell in love with her for, is now the thing he can't stand. That he doesn't browse Pinterest for nursery colours even though they haven't been trying very long.

Mainly, it's the thought of having the rest of her life without him. That she'll do the food shop with someone else that doesn't buy their own body weight in peanut butter. That she'll sleep next to someone that doesn't hog the covers and that she doesn't wake up wrapped around.

"Sorry, May," she huffs. "I'm just - tired I guess and grouchy."

"It's okay honey, I know you don't sleep as well unless Peter is there," she says with a wink.

"The Parker's are menaces," MJ says with a roll of her eyes. The thought lingering in the back of her mind that she'll never get to be a Parker either.

---

MJ doesn't wallow on her walk home. She just happens to stop and grab a carton of ice cream and some Chinese food that she had to walk eight blocks for but she's just had a craving for it.

Besides, she knows Peter won't be home anyway. It's not as if she's rushing back for anything other than an empty apartment and her own thoughts.

She just really misses him. She pulls her phone out as she walks up the stairs and there are no new messages. Though to be fair, she hasn't been messaging him first for a few days because she's petty and if he's avoiding her then she's avoiding him right back.

But she's bored of the burning sensation at the back of her throat and she hates the way her eyes mist up whenever she thinks about him, which is all the time. So she opens his contact anyway.

MJ: I miss you.

It's not like she's expecting him to reply. But when it comes down to it, she wants to know she tried everything she could.

But when she opens the apartment door, she's greeted with a million lights, the pretty kind with the warm glow. There are flowers everywhere, she's a little overwhelmed by the smell but she shoves that thought down as she looks for him.

"I miss you, too," he says, finally emerging from their bedroom. He's in a suit because of course he is.

"What's going on?" she asks, the tears welling up in her eyes quicker than she cares for. But she doesn't care - not now he's here.

"I wanted it to be special," he whispers, then, "because I found out first and that's not how it's supposed to go."

"Found what out?"

"But then I realised I could surprise you and I never get to surprise you," he continues, entirely ignoring her question but she'll let him get away with it because she's like 97% sure this isn't a spectacular break up. The 3% plays on her mind.

"So you're not breaking up with me?"

"What?!"

"I just - it doesn't matter," she laughs, shaking her head because she's insane for even thinking it. But Peter is right there, his hands tilting her face.

"MJ. You're - you're the love of my life. I think about you when I'm not even thinking. I could never - I would never want to lose you."

"I know," she whispers. "My minds just been all over the place and you've been gone, planning this I guess."

"Yeah," he frowns. "I shouldn't have - I didn't want you to think it was anything bad."

"It's not your fault I'm emotional at the moment," she says, rolling her eyes as she leans against him.

"I mean... it kind of is," he teases, the happiness in his voice making her pull back.

"What?"

"Well, you know how much you love me? And how sometimes there's just too much for you to keep in your chest?"

"Oookay," she laughs, pushing him away but he doesn't let her go anywhere.

"Okay, okay," he relents, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. God, she does love him.

"You know how much I love you? And how I think you're perfect?"

"That's more like it," she whispers, leaning to kiss him. He lets her.

"And you know how good a team we are?" he mutters against her lips as she hums. "Well, we're getting a new addition."

"You better not have found another stray in the dumpster, Pete, I'm serious."

"You wanted to keep him! We just found his owners instead, don't make me bring up the tears," he says, laughing as she groans.

"This one will be cuter," he promises, his hands tightening against her waist. "Hopefully like 90% you and 10% me. Maybe 95..."

"What?" she asks, her voice full of a hope she daren't think about. "How do you know?"

It's obvious to her now. The emotions, the appetite, the mind fog. How much Peter loves her.

"I can hear them."

"Yeah?" she says, kissing him quickly. He spins her in his arms, holding onto her tightly. It's weird, going from the aching sadness to feeling on top of the world. But Peter's always been able to make her smile.

"Mhmm, baby Jones, reporting for duty," he laughs, his voice wet as he beams at her.

"Baby Jones Parker."