#and idk if ill have time to go home and get my car so i might be stuck walking over a mile in the dark

[pup-pee]

my father telling me how scared he was when i ran away from the house but i cant express how scared i was 2 b in the house

hey, whats up w/that?

[ofcowardiceandkings]

everything just happens so much i need a break from ... yeah lol

[bibleofficial]

Don't you reckon it'd be easier to sort it by it's location within the grocery store

PROBABLY ? but i dont use a real grocery, ive only access to small shops so i just scavenge for whats available then try another, so idk layouts for anything

[imfuckingtired-psyschizfreak]

Having a paranoia attack at work and trying to look up Anything to help with it and everything on google is just about ‘normal’ people having to Deal with schizophrenics like we’re lepers

And everything about schizophrenia on YouTube even without searching that term specifically is either only about anxiety or dickheads using mental illness as clickbait

Fuck you if you watch those videos out of genuine enjoyment or whatever

[sturnsmadl]

bf!matt headcannons!

warnings!- swearing, angst (light ig), mostly fluff, some smut, not proof read, lover boy matt tbh, cuddling, kissing, idk what else :).

bf!matt who loves holding hands.

bf!matt who is possessive at parties.

"who's that?"

"some drunk guy. thought i was his girl."

"right.."

kisses you

bf!matt who refuses to let you do anything.

"the laundry.."

"nuh uh. move."

bf!matt who ties your shoelaces for you.

"i can do it matt."

"so can i."

bf!matt who keeps his hands warm in your jeans back pocket.

bf!matt who loves physical touch.

bf!matt who always drags you on late night walks during fall.

"we went last nightt!!"

"babe. fall doesn't last forever."

bf!matt who wipe your tears and hugs you when your upset.

"shh..your okay.."

bf!matt who adores carrying you.

"matt i can walk."

"i knowww. but carrying you is fun."

bf!matt who gets you a cat.

"its for you!"

"is it..?"

"i mean...mainly me..but yeah.."

bf!matt who can't stop touching you.

"matt its too hot. let go."

"your too hot."

"fuck off matt."

laughs

bf!matt who isn't massive on PDA but will do small touches.

bf!matt who loves hooking up in his car.

"fuck...yes baby.."

"matt! yes..fuck! yes!"

bf!matt who gets hard from you just sitting in his lap.

bf!matt who is definite that you're the mother of his children.

"we all have that phase matt."

"its not a phase. she's gonna be the mother of my kids chris."

"okay buddy.."

bf!matt who buys you a lot of makeup.

bf!matt who loves giving you hugs and cuddling.

"hi baby."

"oh hi. your back early huh?"

"yep..cuddles?"

bf!matt who made you your own drawer in his room.

bf!matt who always wants to be helping you.

"okay..lets wash this hair. huh?"

"i can wash it.."

"your tired and i love you so im gonna help."

bf!matt who needs to be near you at all times.

"where'd you go?!"

"to the bathroom.."

"jesus..could've told me.."

"wha- yeah..okay. go to sleep."

bf!matt who sits outside the shower door while you shower.

"and i was thinking. what if i just taught you to drive?"

"do we need to talk about this while im showering?"

bf!matt who loves filming sex tapes, especially backshots.

bf!matt who is extremely moody when you're gone.

"matt can you take the-"

"fuck off!"

"jesus..the fuck happened to you.."

bf!matt who hates arguing but you clearly pushed too far.

"probably my other man."

"what...?"

"what? i was kidding..matt.."

bf!matt who gives you silent treatment all day.

"can we talk..matt? come on.."

bf!matt who just cooks for himself he's so mad.

"you made my favourite? oh.."

walks away with a plate for himself

"fucking hell.."

bf!matt who doesn't pay attention to your apologies.

bf!matt who shoves past you, not realising how strong he is.

bf!matt who feels horrible when he accidentally hurts you.

"ow.."

"oh shit.. sorry baby. im so sorry okay? you're okay.."

bf!matt who finds you crying and is immediatley there.

"hey..is it still hurting? im so sorry.."

"no..im pregnant.."

bf!matt who attacks you with a hug when he finds out your pregnant.

"what?! oh my..oh my god! yes yes yes!"

bf!matt who is obsessed with your bump.

"so cute. a whole life's in there.."

"yep..you excited?"

"so."

bf!matt who is extremely overprotective while your pregnant.

"no!!"

"jesus..what?!"

"i can load the dishwasher. you sit."

"you made it sound like i was commiting a crime.."

bf!matt who always texts you while he's filming/streaming.

"can you put your phone down for 2 minutes??"

"yeah one second.."

"you said that 5 minutes ago!"

bf!matt who lets you force him into doing a tiktok dance with him.

bf!matt who freaks out at the birth.

bf!matt who takes the drive home a bit too carefully.

"babe, i know your nervous but we are barely moving."

"im not hurting the baby. im doing 20.."

"thats the problem."

a/n- this is just general bf matt unlike my others but yeah so this may push me back into my break because its absoulutely awful!! but im thinking of doing a halloween theme, doubt ill pull throught though! im so tired :)

taglist! @bellaonthelow @hrtsdollie @sturnclouds @christophersgf @ellizzyy @moonk1ss3d @phoenix062 @pixxiies @conspiracy-ash @blahbel668 @monroesturnns @gwennybenny @sturnobsessedwh0re @xoxo4chriss @pixie-sticks-are-good @wurlibydominicfike @anitahunt @ilusa @mattstrombolii @stvrlighht @asherrisrandom @amelia-sturniolo3 @lianomer

[papaya-twinks]

Okay so what about Lando dressing all slutty at the club and then reader getting triggered because lets be for real, we all are. And then when they get back home he takes her against the wall? Like rough and hard? Idk I don’t do this a lot 🫣 Sorry if this is weird, have a good day

Warnings: Smut, 18+, praise, degradation, brattiness, spanking, choking

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Lando had never looked this good in his entire life. Well, you thought that, like, about every outfit. But this one. The white button-up shirt, open at the top, revealing his necklaces and a cross chain on his bare, tan chest. Fuck, you’d need that cross for forgive you for all those unholy thoughts in your head. 

He deserved the party, after his race, but you wanted nothing more than for him to grab you by your neck and pump you full of him. So you were forced to sit on the little sofa in the club, his arm round your neck casually as he talked to Max and other drivers, blissfully unaware of the heat pooling between your legs. 

“You good? You keep wriggling,” Lando asked, interrupting his own conversation with Max. “Yeah, just wanna go home,” you mumbled, looking at the floor firmly. “Hey. You feeling. Sick or something? You ill?” he asked, worried. You didn’t say anything, shooting him a look which spoke many words. “Horny,” he said, the ghost of a smirk approaching his lips.

You nodded, cheeks flushing as he stood up. “Sorry, guys, got a little thing to do,” Lando said, faking an apology, his arm round your waist. “Hm, let me guess, the thing you gotta do is Y/N?” Max snorted, rolling his eyes as Lando scoffed. “And what?”. Lando led you to the car, opening the passenger door for you, his hand gliding over the curves of your ass in the process, before he sat in his own seat.

 “Needy, hm?” he grinned as your hand came to his thigh, tugging at his belt. An incoherent mumble left your lips at his words, his hand coming to yours and pulling you off. “Wait,” was all he said, pushing your hands away. You whined, trying to move your hands back, but he didn’t let you, starting up the car and driving. The entire journey, his hand was on your thigh, stroking the soft skin, your eyes closed. 

Finally, you rolled into the driveway, Lando’s hand on your hip as he led you in, his grasp firm on you. As soon as he stepped into the house, he pushed you against the door, locking it behind you, his hand on your neck, squeezing softly. “Made me end my party early,” he whispered in your ear, teeth playing along your neck. “I was having fun,” Lando added, teeth tugging at your earlobe. 

A soft moan left your lips at the sensation, his hand coming to cup your tit in your minidress, the other one trailing along the hem. “Fuck, you’re soaking,” he raised an eyebrow, finger playing against you from your thong. “Lando,” you gasped, the slightest touch of him already sending you feral. “I’m not taking you against the front door,” he commented, taking your hand. 

You’d probably cum right there and then by the time you got to the bedroom, so he led you to the kitchen, sitting you on the counter. “Alright, baby,” Lando said, a look of triumph on his face. “You’re a desperate one, aren’t you?” he snorted, lifting your dress over your head. You leaned down to remove your platform heels, but Lando stopped you. 

“Keep them on,” he said, throwing your legs over his shoulders as he leaned down, teeth grazing your damp thong. You didn’t even try and stop the filthy moan that escaped your lips at the feeling, his hand holding both your wrists to the surface of the counter top. You shrieked, bucking your hips upwards as he moved your thong to the side, tongue flicking against your clit, lips coating in your juices. 

“Don’t,” he warned, pulling off of you, a groan leaving your lips. His hands came to your bare stomach, lifting you into his arms, as he walked up the stairs, your lips sucking and tugging at the skin of his neck. A shriek left your mouth as he threw you roughly onto the bed, taking his shirt off in one tug, pulling you against him by your thighs. 

Your legs were once again thrown over his shoulders, your soaked throng pressed to his crotch. A groan left his lips at the feeling, eyes wide at your ass against his stomach. You couldn’t help but roll your hips slightly against him, making him frown and raise an eyebrow. 

“Did I say to do that?” he pushed on your hip, his hand coming to your neck, the other unbuckling his pants. You gasped as his cock sprung against his abdomen, a thick vein throbbing along the underside. Lando moved his hand from your throat, bringing it to his dick, the other hand cupping yours bring it to his length. He was heavy on your hand, twitching at the feeling of your soft hands. 

“Fuck Y/N,” he groaned, pushing your hand up and down his cock, his other hand pulling you forwards on your hands and knees. “Open,” he demanded, pushing his thumb against the roof of your mouth. You obeyed, parting your lips, only for him to frown. “You’ve had me in your mouth multiple times,” he leaned forwards, wrapping your hair round his large hand, “long enough to know that’s not big enough for me,”. 

You nodded, parting your lips further, as you felt him push the head of his dick against your lips. One hand in your hair, Lando placed the other on your cheek, running his finger over the lump in your throat. Your eyes half-rolled as his length forced your mouth open, his throbbing tip hitting the back of your throat at an ever increasing pace. 

“Fuck Y/N,” he held your head still, pushing in a few times, his groans filthy as he did so, before he pulled out, your gags lost in the heated, passionate kiss he pulled you into. “Lando,” you gasped, his finger playing at your clothed clit. “Mmm? You like that?” he cooed, hands coming to grip your thighs, pulling you onto his lap. 

You didn’t expect his fingers to sink into you as you straddled him, his digits long and thick. “Lando,” you gasped as he added another finger, his thumb stroking at your clit. “Oh fuck,” you moaned, his fingers curling inside of you, your back half-arching at the feeling. 

“Lift,” he commanded, raiding your body, before aligning his cock with you. He stood against the edge of the bed, your legs over his shoulder, his hand pinning your wrists down as you groaned, his cock stretching you wider. “Fuck Lan,” you mumbled, clutching at air as the bump formed in your stomach. 

“You don’t ever stop moving, do you?” he growled, lifting you up, sliding out of you despite your protests. You shrieked as he pressed your body against a wall, your back on the cold beige walls, his hands groping at your tits. You felt his arms snake round your waist, lifting you against the walls firmly, your legs still over his shoulders.

“Lando!” you shrieked as he pushed in, your legs swinging up and down with his motions. This was one of your favourite ways you had was with Lando - when he held you up effortlessly, fucking you upwards, rough and fast. Your head lolled slightly, his other hand moving from your waist to your chin to roughly bring you back.

“Look at me,” he groaned, both hands slapping onto your ass as you half shrieked, half moaned. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked, eyes trailing over your figure as he slammed upwards into you, your body shaking with each movement. “Got a fucking bump, hm?” his eyes fell to your stomach, his cock bulging through your body as he slammed into you.

You felt the knot in your stomach unravelling at his rapit pace, your hands clutching at his curls as he chuckled. “Gonna cum for me, hm?” he asked, cradling your cheek softly. That was one thing he loved to do. Ask you questions whilst he knew you couldn’t answer. Make you tell him what you were doing, or how you felt. It was hot, he could have that.

“Lando!” you moaned, your eyes rolling as you felt yourself come undone, his orgasm following shortly. “Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, head thrown back as he bucked his hips into you, his thrusts sloppy and wasted. “Fuck,” he mumbled again, hands tangling in your hair as he pulled you into a heated kiss.

[cryptic--writing]

Hiya 👋🏻

It’s not really a kinktober request, but maybe you’ll consider doing it? No pressure though))

Ajaf era James, where he was drinking a lot. He understands that that affects him and turns him into a monster. He’s afraid he’s going to hurt reader, but he can’t break up with her for her safety, he loves her too much. So he comes up with stupid plan of making her break up with him because of his behavior? So he starts to undermine her efforts, e.g. the meals she cooks “could have been better”; makes fun of her simple 9-5 job , saying that’s she lucky she can have a relaxed job cause he’s earning most of the money and covering the bills. Although she’s hurt, she is staying as she loves him and thinks it’s the alcohol talking. James, realizing his plan doesn’t work, makes the final move: after they have sex one evening, he tells her that groupies do a much better job. That’s too much for her to take so she leaves him.

Unfortunately, after break up he feels even worse. Lars is worried so he interrogates him, and drunken James confesses. So Lars finds reader and locks her in the studio with James for them to reconcile (can we have smut here)?

Few weeks later when they start recording black album, James plays her a song (which will become nothing else matters), saying that it’s his way of telling everyone how much she means to him?

I’m sorry I can’t write short asks 🥲🥲🥹🥹

You are a great writer so I really hope this will become a story 🙏🏻

hihi!

and omg its here. took me 9 days to write it lmao but yeah

i cant explain how much I loved this idea pls marry me annon

also ~~~ means POV change (yes there is James and reader pov)

this fic has legit everything so I hope y'all enjoy it bc I busted my ass on it

some parts may be confusing idk

anyways

word count: 10623

warnings: mentions of achohol/drugs, death is mentioned, toxic relationship, break up, angst, smut, fluff, I'm prob forgetting smth

OR SO I THOUGHT (1989)

It had been a rough couple months with James. I felt determined to help him with his only worsening alcoholism, though he only continued to shut me out. I could feel the guilt when he was around, but it didn't make him stop. I tried, I really did, encouraging him to talk to me, to help me help him. 

It was the same sad scene every night. James would come home, probably around midnight, and I couldn't sleep without him next to me, so I was up, all those hours, wondering as I tossed and turned as to where he might be. All I knew is I was in for a scary time when he got back, but I eventually grew tough skin to deal with this.  Understood that this wasn't safe for me, or him, and I stressed that so, so much to him, but James never understood. Well, he never told me he did. Maybe there was more going on in his heart I never knew about. But, of course, I could never discover as he would always close himself off so much.

It was another day where the cycle would repeat. I woke up at three am to the sound of James stumbling in, mumbling something under his breath before he plopped down on the bed beside me, and I knew well enough to hold my tongue, to not provoke him. I pretended I was asleep, which he believed, trying, or at least I think he was trying, to snuggly up next to me, but he had his back to me. His arms weren't around me. Maybe that's all I yearn for now, to be loved and held.

Once I could finally go back to sleep, I was awoken not much later by the sound of my blaring alarm. It was seven am, time to get ready for work. James is a heavy sleeper, he never woke up from my alarms, though I always rushed to turn them off, just in case they would wake him. Slipping out of bed with a groan, I observed his sprawled out body, his shoes still on. I'm glad he made it to the bed this night, as others he would end up on the couch, or in his car, or somewhere I had no idea of.

I pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, like a mother caring for her ill son on a school day. I slipped off his shoes, trying to get him more comfortable. I scurried towards the closet to grab my work clothes for the day before getting changed in the bathroom and rummaging through our medicine cabinet, finding some pain killers and then getting him a cold glass of water, leaving the items on our bedside table. I paused to watch over him as he slept, his slow, steady breaths that rose and fell from his chest. I loved him too much to change this lifestyle. I loved every part of him, and if this was part of him, then so be it. I'll help him get better. He loves every part of me, no matter what, right?

Or so I thought.

I slipped on my heels, walking into our messy kitchen, the sink filled with unwashed dishes James was supposed to do. But, he isn't well, so I must do them for him. After washing the dishes, I brewed coffee, poured myself a cup and left some for him and began to make breakfast. James had been off lately, different to how he already was off, but that slowly became part of our normal, so one new change did not stick out too much, but this one did. I don't know what it is. He just felt… lifeless, cold, I guess. I decided to make one of his favorite breakfast meals, a nice, warm and fluffy stack of pancakes with eggs and bacon, cooked just the way he liked it. I spent extra time trying to make it the best I had. I knew they would probably be cold by the time he woke up, but hopefully he'd appreciate my effort. I ate some eggs before scrambling for a notepad, getting a pen to write him a sweet good morning note, explaining I was at work, when I'd be home, how much I loved him, and where the other meds were if he needed them. I wrote these notes almost daily, but this one I made longer and more love filled. I figured he would want my love.

Or so I thought.

I came home around six pm, the evening traffic being worse than usual. Instead of seeing James' car out of the driveway and the house dark, he was still home. The soft sound of the TV buzzing was easy to hear as I unlocked the door, walking in to see him on the couch, leaning against the couch arm and holding his head up with his hand. He was too engrossed in whatever he was watching to nice me walk in, so I tried to have him notice my presence.

“Im back, Jamie,” I said softly to not startle him, my voice filled with love as I moved to sit next to him, he looked over at me, like a confused puppy. “How are you feeling?” I asked, gently stroking his back, though he moved from my touch.

“Oh, hi. Yeah, I'm fine. Busy right now, yeah?” He mumbled as a response as he resumed watching TV once more, brushing me off with his simple, cold words. I knew I had to respect his space and not probe at him, so I just nodded with a sigh and got up, slipping off my shoes and setting my bags down,

“Are you hungry?” I asked, digging through the fridge to get things to make dinner. He didn't answer. “James, are you hungry? I can make dinner,” I offered again, noticing the cleared plate that I had made him for breakfast, the note missing. I assumed he threw it away, just like the others. I never saw them in the trash cans, but after everything piles up, you can just assume. I heard James sigh from the couch, “Uh, yeah, sure, whatever. Breakfast was cold, so I threw most of it away anyways,” He admitted, and I felt a small ache in my heart. I thought he liked the dish since there was none left on his plate, but clearly he proved me different. Why I even put effort in these things, I don't know. THats a lie, I do. I love him, and want him to know it, to feel it. I should’ve been doing this as part of my own insecurities, but to make sure he knows I'm there for him, always.

I thought of what to make for dinner, seeing if he had eaten anything since breakfast, only finding empty beer bottles and a half eaten bag of chips. It was probably only the alcohol making him act like this. I decided to make steak with potatoes, something he normally liked and said I made pretty well. It was easy to make, and I know it was one of his favorites I made him, but normally I would wait for a bigger step in life, like celebrating something about the band, or something in my career, but I knew he deserved it still.

I finished after 45 minutes, preparing the plate to be gorgeous, something I wish I could hear from his lips for once. But, he loved me. I know he thinks I'm gorgeous, he wouldn't have to tell me. Right?

“Jamie, the food's ready, I made steak,” I said warmly with a smile, setting a dinner table for us. I didn't get a response, just a grunt as he stood from the couch and walked his near empty bottle of beer, finishing it off and grabbing another from the fridge. I sat at the table, waiting for him to come and join me. His eyes landed on the plate, pulling out the chair to sit down. I couldn't read his emotions, he didn't look too happy, but he didn't look mad. He just looked.. plain. James grabbed his fork and began to eat, the metal scraping against the porcelain plate, waiting for his nod of approval. It never came. He didn't talk, but not in a way like he was mad. He just didn't speak. But he didn't need to, he didn't need to say the things I knew already. I took a breath and began to eat, and it might've been one of the best I had cooked in awhile. Perfect tenderness, juiciness, seasoning, and cooked perfectly, something you could get at a restaurant, now in our home. 

“What do you think, baby? I think it's pretty good, no?” I inquired, seeking the validation I craved from him. He just shrugged.

“It's fine, I guess. It could've been better.”

It shouldn't have hurt. It really shouldn't. He just didn't like the dinner I cooked. The dinner I poured my time into. The dinner I made was special. Special for him. But, what did I know? I doubt he meant it. That's why it definitely shouldn't have hurt. He was drinking. ITs just the alcohol making him act like this. He would never say something like that to me. Why did tears prick at my eyes. Why did it actually hurt?

“Oh, uhm…. I'm sorry, I'll do better next time, do you want me to make you something else..?” I choked out, fighting back my tears.

“No, don't waste your time making something mediocre, yeah?” James insisted, insulting me bitterly once again.

I took a shaky breath, another sting to my heart. Hes. Drunk. This can't be what he means, right?

Or so I thought.

“Alright, uh, do you wanna cuddle on the couch..? We can watch anything you want? Or not watch anything, just sit together.” I offered again, pleading to get love from my partner.

“I was probably gonna go to bed. You mind cleaning up?” He pushed me away again, and every word stung. I want him to see me, to notice me, just to love me. But I reminded myself again and again, he's drunk, he doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean it. I'm just being sensitive and pathetic. Maybe it's just my hormones.

I nodded, forcing a smile, “Sure, yeah, go ahead and  go to bed, I'll clean up and join you in a bit, ok?” I informed him and he just nodded and got up, walking to the bedroom, still carrying his battle with him. My eyes stung, and once he was out of sight, I felt tears streak my face, but I continued to fight them away. I quickly got up to clear James’ and my own plate, then  cleaning the kitchen, washing everything with great care to keep it tidy.

I came into the bedroom, James half asleep under the sheets. His hair was astray as he slept near the edge, his limbs tight together. The now empty beer bottle sat on the nightstand, another reminder of James’ habits. I glanced around before getting changed into my sleep clothes, a nice little night dress James had gotten me for Valentines Day earlier that year. It was nice and pink with some fluffy pieces at the bottom and lace dancing across it. It flowed nicely and hugged my body in the right places, going down to a bit above my knees. It had some other pieces, like stockings and a garter. In reality, it was more so lingerie than a bed set. But, it was one of James’ favorites for me to wear. Maybe this would make him open up more, or just show me the love I'm craving. I crawled in beside him, though I doubt he noticed the weight accompanying him, trying to cuddle closer, pressing myself against his back.

“Jamie?” I asked softly, kissing the back of his head.

“Hm.” James answered in a sleepy tone, barely aware of my presence.

“You doing ok? You've been acting differently…” I kept a quiet tone, my hands gently running down his arms and back as I pondered on what may be hurting him so much.

He took a deep and large breath, sighing, “Yeah, I'm fine… why do you ask..?” James mumbled in response.

“Nothing, you just seem off, I guess,” I rushed out. I didn't want to upset him, but he just seemed so soft and sweet, something I hadn't seen from him awhile.

“Oh, well, alright then… love you..” He mumbled out, slowly succumbing to sleep after saying the words I knew were true.

Or so I thought.

The office today was exhausting. Absurdly exhausting. And infuriating. A stuck up and snotty boss whos full of himself ordering me around to do his mundane dirty work, my co workers giving me side glances of judgment for my more rushed than normal appearance, not having as much time this morning as I had to help James with yet another hangover, getting him to the bathroom in time before he painted our bed green in vomit, making him some foods to keep him comfortable and having to buy more pain killers, my 3rd trip this month, all before heading to work. All I wanted was to come home, sleep, relax, and be held by the love of my life. 

As simple as an office job 9-5 may seem, how it is not. No one else wants to do their own work, always needing some kind of assistance, and of course, I none the wiser, agree to help them.

It was another late evening with heavy traffic, not allowing me to come home until seven, again. I had stopped at the market, grabbing food and other supplies we were running low on. And more beer. 

The door to the house was locked, something that had been happening more and more as I came home, only growing worries on James' worsening habits, the idea of drugs coming to mind, but I tried to shake it from my head, just wanting a nice time at home. 

I unlocked the door, the house quiet except for the soft strum of a guitar in James’ mini studio, which was just an extra bedroom we had turned into a spot for him to store his instruments and for his practeing. We hoped one day for it to become a nursery, a room for our future child.

I followed the music, the half open door allowing me to peek at James, hunched over one of his explorers, fiddling with the strings as he danced around the fretboard with his talented fingers. I smiled at the sweet sight, slowly entering the room.

“Whatcha working on?” I asked, announcing my arrival home. James looked up at me, at first a smile on his face, but he quickly dropped it. His actions only confused me further.

“Uhm, not much, just… a couple riffs and stuff for the new album..” He answered, still picking at the strings with something unreadable in his eyes.

I nodded, smiling at him, “It sounds good, I'm excited to hear it,” I responded before speaking again, “Work was so exhausting today, I don't know how I put up with it anymore,” I said with a laughy sigh, trying to lighten the statement.

James just shrugged. “I mean, I don't really see how a nine to five can really be that tiring,” He disputed, but his tone sounded unsure, shaky like how it did when we first met. But there was a force, an anger of some kind.

I was even more lost with his shift in attitude, “Well, what do you mean? You don't work one, you wouldn't know,” I argued back with more aggression than I meant.

“Yeah, I don't work one. Your job is light and relaxing feather work compared to the shit I do. You are out doing twelve hours a day for months on end at a studio, being out for a year just to tour and shit, you don't make anything working that job, I'm the one paying the bills with my money.” James spat, cold and bitter. His words rung in my ears, repeating each syllable like a painful stab. My brain scrambled for reasons to understand his reaction and response to my complaint of work.

James' piercing blue eyes still starred up and me, my mouth agape in shock. Why would he act like this? He loved me. He just told me he did the other week before we went to bed. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. What is wrong in his life that I don't know about, that he wont tell me about.

My eyes scanned the room, searching for anything that might explain this behavior of his. Truly, anything that would help explain such a swift and sudden change in his mood, but deep down ZI knew, I was just looking for bottles, cans, cups, glasses, anything that would contain the fizzy and bitter liquid he loved. The only thing I could find was a half empty bottle, freshly opened next to the chair he sat in. That's it, that's why he's acting like this. He's just drunk. He doesn't mean it. He doesn't mean it.

Or so I thought.

Even with my new found reasoning, his words still hurt a great amount, the pain struggling to leave. A simple insult, just telling me how I don't work as hard as him, that my job isn't as crucial as his. I took a breath, trying to control and reign in my emotions before I could meltdown in front of him for such a stupid reason. Drunken words, not filled or backed by any true thoughts. Right?

But they do say drunk words are sober thoughts.

“I- well,” I tried to speak, but I couldn't come up with the words. What would I say? I didn't want to make him any more upset than he seemed to be, but I didn't want to submit to him so easily, especially after such disrespect. But I knew better. I don't lash out, I keep him happy. We will work this out together, we have to.

“I'm just gonna go to bed,” I muttered under my breath, fighting back tears that needed to spill out, James rude comments only adding fuel to the fire that had been burning in me all day. Not a fire of anger, passion or desire, but a fire of hurt. Once I shut the bedroom door behind me silently, I broke. The bottle shattered, and my tears overflowed my face, covering my mouth as I cried, trying to calm myself down as I got ready for bed at such an early hour, even forgetting to make James something for dinner.

It was my day off, a relaxing Saturday I could use to have some me time, as James was gonna be out with the band all day as the brainstormed for the new album, which was still taking its baby steps into production, nowhere near any concept for songs yet. At Least that I knew of. 

James had been really tense this week, and I had tried everything to get him to relax and cheer up. Taking him out to his favorite restaurants after I came home, making him home cooked meals, getting him gifts and all things. Though there was one thing I hadn't tried. Sex.

I spent all day dolling myself up, wanting to be as bare and beautiful as possible for James. I shaved everywhere, leaving not a single trace of hair anywhere except for my head,, of course. I scrubbed every nook and cranny of my body, putting on James’ favorite set we bought together, doing my makeup just the way he liked it, lighting the candles he got for my birthday, and dousing myself in his favorite perfume I owned. All the lights were out, except for the lowlights of the candles in the bedroom. I laid on the mattress, waiting for James to come home, hoping this would finally get him to unwind from his stress.

I heard James’ keys jingle in the door, and I could feel myself getting more and more excited for his arrival. This would be one of the few times I would have him sober, as when they worked on material they rarely drank or did anything crazy, thankfully. His shoes thudded on the wooden floors, a sigh escaping his lips as I heard him slowly walk towards the bedroom.

“Are you home?” He called out to me before approaching the bedroom door, taking in the sight of me and the room I had spent the evening preparing for this moment.

“Hey baby,” I mused with a smirk, looking up at him with loving eyes. His eyes met mine, looking warm for the first time in awhile.

“What's all this for?” He asked,  still taking in the well decorated bedroom and my sexy form.

“Wanted to help you relax… you've been so stressed,” I replied, grabbing his hand to try and bring him closer, to get into the bed with me.

It didn't take much more conniving, and James had given in pretty quickly to my offer. He was being more loud than normal, probably because we hadn't had the chance to be intimate like this in awhile. I loved this so much. Well, I loved being close to James again. He wasn't hitting the right spots or focussing on pleasuring me much, but that's fine, he's the one who needed to relax anyways, and I have enough time on my hands if I wanted to please myself, I guess. It didn't take long for him to come, pulling out and painting himself on my abdomen and my breath labored, coming down from…. Well, not an orgasm, but being close to one. James was beat after that, and I don't blame him for that. He had been so busy recently, I was happy we just got to share a moment like this together again. 

I laid close to him under the sheets as we both recovered, James already half asleep. I had his hand in mine, kissing each knuckle of his and more, pouting all of my love into that moment. I looked up, having felt James’ eyes on me for a while. I met his blues, and there was a slight guilt in them, a gestation and regret. But, it didn't last long as he blinked it all away, taking another breath. 

“How are you feeling now? Did it make it any better?” I asked, my voice heavy with sleep as I lazily continued to press kisses to his hand.

“I mean, yeah, I guess… It wasn't like, amazing though… I've had better, normally the groupies can do a bit more than that, y’know?” James said cooly, acting as if the words he just said didn't mean anything and had no weight to them.

“What?” Was all I could muster out, the tears already filling my eyes as I tried to process all of this.

“You heard me, the groupies normally do better.” 

The words came so normally from his mouth, as if he was just telling me the date and time. But no, he was comparing me to prostitutes, previous women he has slept with. I began to cry, not just out of hurt and sadness, but this time anger. How could he say something like that to me?

And then the worst part hit.

He was sober.

Something I would've wanted more than anything else just a few days ago is now what is causing this experience to be even worse than it is with the horrible comparison and insults James had spewn at me. He meant it. Alcohol was toying with his brain, making him into the aggravated man I had grown to know quite well over the years.

“Are… are you serious? After everything? I put myself through hell to deal with this, to go to work, to do EVERYTHING for you! I have tried so hard James. And Yet you still compare me to them?! Sluts with prices on their heads?!” I cried, anger and hurt filling the fire in my eyes, and I could swear I saw Jamw\es’ cold attitude falter for just a moment. Maybe it was what I was hoping for, that it was all an act, that he truly did love me deep down, but maybe he didn't. Maybe this is the truth I had been hiding from all these months.

James didn't res;ond, just sighing with a shrug.

That's what pushed me over the edge.

“Are you fucki ng serious? You're not even gonna try and fight for this? Get out of here! We're done. Since you don't appreciate anything I do for you nowadays, I don't want you in here anymore. Pack your shit and leave.” I cursed at him as I continued to sob, processing the moments that passed, feeling as if the earth was slowing, each second hitting me hard and heavy.

I could see a slight guilt in James’ eyes, and as much I wanted to believe it was true, I couldn't give it in myself to do that anymore. I couldn't keep living this lie. He nodded, staying silent as I cried, slipping on his clothes and grabbing some things he'd need for the night.

“I loved you because you loved me, or so I thought you loved me, truly you don't give a shit!” I called out again, hearing James breath hitch at my harsh words, but he just left. No goodbye, the final words spoken to us only filled with hate and hurt, though millions went unspoken.

— —- — —> A FEW MONTHS LATER…

Not a lot has happened since I broke up with James, but a lot has changed. Maybe for the better. I miss him terribly, but a lot of weight is off of my shoulders now. I'm no longer worrying about having to make elaborate meals for him, or to do everything in my power to make him happy as [possible, watching my words at all times to make sure I wont say anything that might upset him. It was a large change. The house is still cold like how it was with him, but its a different kind of cold. There is no warmth of another body. Its quiet, no more TV static and laughter or guitar. Work had only gotten more tiring, but I had recently gotten promoted, something I had wanted for a long, long time.

I haven't spoken to James since we broke up. I know he had come by the next day, as when he left that night he only took clothes to last him the night, and when I came home from work, all of his belongings were gone, and his spare key was left on the counter, all of his music gear out of the house, leaving me a now empty room, not to house his guitars, and no longer holding the hopes and dreams of a future child.

Or so I thought all of his stuff was gone.

I came home after work, the house dark and silent, turning on the lights before going into the former music room, which had now become my office for the time being, as I needed one for the promotion, to be able to have a comfortable spot where I could do other work tasks from home. I set down my purse, sitting in my computer chair and sliding off my heels. I saw something in the corner of my eye, something that somehow had never caught my eye all these months. 

An ashtray, repurposed to hold James’ many guitar picks. It was behind a lamp that was in the corner of the room on an end table. There was more than just guitar pics, but one of his rings. Like the ones he always wore on stage, the cool reflective metal that shone brightly under the spotlight. I paused, only having gotten one heel off, so confused as to how I never noticed. I sat in this same chair, facing the same direction, taking my heels off the same each day. I quickly got the other off before walking towards the table, picking up the ashtray, having remnants of cigarette butts and ash, some of which covered the pics. There had to be at least 20 of those pics, I don't know how James could forget such a thing, along with one of his more favorite rings. He wore it when we met, but I never made the connection as to that being the reason he left it. I missed him, yes, but having these almost made it worse. Like the world was teasing me that he is gone, that I won't be able to be held by him again, because he doesnt love me anymore. How I still love him, I don't know. Part of me still wants to believe he never meant any of it, but the chances of that being true is slim now. But, I didn't have the heart to call him, to return them to him. He would have come to get them by now, right? 

I picked up the cold metal, holding it in my hand before slipping it on my ring finger. It was too large, slipping off quite easily. I tried the next, my middle finger, and it fit well enough to not fall off. It felt so wrong to wear, but it made me feel closer to him. I hated it, but I loved it. A little piece of him to be with me always. ‘God, I sound like a wife mourning her husband who died in a war.’ Was all I could think to myself, setting back down the ash tray and taking off the ring before sitting back down in my office chair, trying to shake my head of the matter so I could focus on the important task at hand, work.

I spent about two hours on the assignment before finishing it among other things, now exhausted even further. I stumbled towards the bedroom, changing into my pajama pants and a sleep shirt. Since the break up, I have refused to wear or even look at the clothes sJames had bought me. I didn't feel any desire to wear those things now that I knew he would be the one to see me in them. I never really wanted to wear clothes like that, but knowing he liked it made me like it. Now that he's gone, so is that enjoyment. I layed down on the mattress, sinking down as it swallowed me and the day whole. I had gotten used to the loneliness of sleeping alone, even after having a body next to me for the last four years. Maybe it was an easier adjustment as towards the end it was like sleeping next to no one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The last few months are hard to describe. I can't explain it, I really can't. I've never been more lonely in my life, drowning all of my sorrows in the bitter bottles that wasted away each night and day. I've tried putting my energy elsewhere, focusing more on the band than I was earlier, trying to pour my emotions into guitar and lyrics, but nothing works. Nothing matches what I once had. What I threw away. What I ruined. Though, all my life, through all my struggles, there was one thing I learned.

Mask your emotions, hide your turmoil. It's something I had quickly gotten good at from a young age.

Or so I thought.

I went out for drinks with Lars to discuss lyrics and other parts of music for the record, as we normally had for our other productions and everything. We had another few weeks before we went into the studio, where we planned to record for many months, wanting this release to be the best we ever had. 

Before I had even gone out to the bar with Lars, I had already had a few bars at home, or what I had tried to make into my home. It was a home, yeah, but it didn't feel homey. There was no warmth or touch to it to make it seem whimsical or joyful. I know I have a problem, but what is there I can do. 

When I got there, Lars’s car was already outside, and I knew I was late by thirty minutes, having to build up the motivation to leave the house for a reason other than food, so trying to get up and socialize and talk about important stuff was not on my top choices to do.

I trudged in, my eyes darting around for the Danish, who was never that hard to find. And as I expected, I found him somewhat quickly, taking a seat next to him and ordering a drink for myself.

“Hey man, where the fock have you been? Been waiting here ages for ya,” Lars commented with his laugh, sipping on his own drink.

I just shrugged, “Sorry man, there was just…” I tried to think of a reasonable excuse, but none could come to mind. “Traffic, y’know, it gets bad around five or six, all those people getting off of work,” I explained, thinking I was an expert at this facade.

“Alright, whatever you say. Let's get to work now, yeah?” Lars tried to believe me, but it was clear he knew there was something more to what I said. 

I just nodded, “Yeah,” I answered, and Lars took out his notepad where he already had some ideas for songs. The mask was as strong as stone, no way to see in.

Or so I thought.

 Lars looked back to me, a thought popping back in his mind, “Traffic? There's normally not much in this area, I mean before you moved out of that place, shit, traffic was bad, but here? No way,” Lars questioned me, no longer believing a word I had said. 

“Well, I guess it was just different today…” I muttered, “Let's just start now, leave it be,”. Lars agreed reluctantly, and soon we were sharing ideas sas I jotted down lyrics, Lars taking turns as we debated on the new project.

Of course, as we worked, we were drinking. Me more than him, and it was getting me tipsy, and then drunk. Normally we wouldn't get drunk during lyric writing, just a bit.. Wobbly, I guess. We were just reviewing the lyrics for the third song we were jotting up and I had ordered another drink.

“Jesus man, you only focused on drinking? We got shit to do!” Lars complained to me, and I just shrugged. “Sorry, got my priorities here…” I joked, and Lars only gave a pity laugh.

“Is something up? You've been acting weird as hell for the last few months. We barely see you anymore, and when we do, you're late.” He informed me firmly, clearly not wanting to put up with my demeanor much longer.

“I'm fine, didn't I already tell you that?” I responded, and at this point I just wanted to go home. “Well, you can tell me it a million fuckin’ times and that doesnyt mean Ill believe you,” He rebuttled, and I sighed. “So, what's up with you?”

I didn't want to answer, well sober me would've deflected. But drunk me? He doesn't have much of a filter. Who does when they're drunk anyways?

“Nothings up with me, just dealing with shit…” I answered, taking another sip of my drink.

“Ok, well dealing with what?” 

“The breakup, and everything,” I answered, my eyes avoiding Lars’s own.

“Ohh, yeah, I see. What happened anyways? You never went into detail, just saying she kicked you out in the middle of the night. The fuck did you do to her?” He laughed, but the sting of the memories still remained.

“I.. well, I told her she was a shit cook, lazy, didnt work as hard me, and that groupies fuck better,” I admitted. Lars' face changed from a small smile to a look of shock.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah”

“What would make you say something like that?! That's totally messed up!” I knew this would be shocking, especially coming from me to say something like that. But I didn't expect him to be this shocked.

“No, I did it for a reason, I'm not just some asshole! I didn't want to break up with her, and I didnt want her to break up with me, but I knew I had to get her to break up with me. I keep drinking, and it makes me into… I don't know, I'm a different person and I don't want to hurt her. The only option was to force her to break up with me.” I tried to explain, but Lars was quick to respond.

“Only option?! Have you heard of rehab? Getting help? Did she just let you waste away?”

“I didn't want to go to rehab either, and no, she did try to help, but I don't want help…” It was getting embarrassing at this point, showing how weak I had become.

“James, not everything is about what you want! There's things you need to do, but you don't want to. Those are just as important.” He paused, hoping my worlds would process through me as he thought of an idea. “How about this, clean up your act a bit and I'll get her back over here and you can go back to paradise, alright?” Lars offered and I perked up a bit.

“How the hell do you expect her to come back to me after all of that?”

“I never said she'd come back to you, I said I can get her over here, make you guys talk or something.” He corrected me, and I just rolled my eyes.

“Well how are you gonna get her to come here? She probably hates me at this point,” 

“I have my ways, we were closer friends than you probably remember,” Lars’ words didn't help. He could never explain his plan, and that's what always ticked me off about him.

“Fine, whatever, work your midget magic or something,” I muttered under my breath.

“What did you just say to me?” 

“Nothing, nothing, just do whatever it is, alright?” 

“Fine.”

— — — — > A WEEK LATER…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time moves slow these days. But not in a bad way, it was nice that life was hitting the breaks a bit instead of the pedal. Though, that joy wouldn't last long.

I sat in my office chair at work, working on some papers my boss had handed me a few minutes ago. He was giving me stack after stack after stack of papers today, all coming with my promotion I got a bit back. More money means more work, and more work means more money, so I guess it isn't all too bad in the long run. I glanced up from my paper, eyeing the now double repurposed ashtray, one being made for the intents of cigarette butts, then guitar pics, and now it held my keys and some other trinkets, including one singular guitar pic of James, one of his favorites. 

I was startled out of my thoughts by hearing the office phone ring, quickly reaching to grab it, assuming it was a customer call.

“Hi, this is Capital Advisors, how can I help you?” I offered in a cheery tone, but the voice I heard response was not what I had expected.

“Hey man, look, it's Lars, something happened to James, you mind heading down to the studio?”

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Sure, Lars and I were close, but we haven't talked much since James and I’s break up. My words caught in my throat, processing the second half. “Something happened to James? What happened? Is he ok?” Even though he proved himself worthy of a break up, I still couldn't shake my love and worry for him.

“Uhhhh, yeah, no, sure he's fine, but you just needa come to the studio?” Lars rambled, not sure how to keep up his lie.

“Ok, yeah, of course, when do I need to be there?” My mind was racing, Lars wasn't being direct with what happened, so my mind could only think of the worst. He always poland things off to make them not seem as bad as they were. What if James fell and hurt himself? Overdosed on something? Only darker thoughts hit my mind.

“Like, now, this can't wait,” Lars demanded, and I had no choice but to agree.

“Yeah, I will be there as soon as I can, ok? Tell him I’ll be there soon, I don't want him to worry,” I gave in and then Lars thanked me and hung up. 

Now I don't know what to do. My boss wasn't the type of person to just let me leave whenever I want, and I had already promised to Lars I would be there immediately. Though, my worries got the best of me and I quickly began to gather my stuff together. I grabbed my keys and my purse, quickly heading to my boss's office. 

I always hated going in here, it was freezing since the AC was always blasted, and it reeked of musty air freshener. I gently knocked on the door before I heard his baritone voice respond, telling me to come in. I entered, seeing him sitting there, filing papers. 

“Can I help you?” He said in a monotone voice, opening and shutting cabinets.

“Yes, I need to leave, like right now. ITs an emergency, family matter,” I tried to briefly explain, but it didn't take long for him to come up with a new response.

“Emergency? Of what? Is someone dying?” His eyes looked up from his papers, meeting mine as he waited for an answer.

“I… Well, I don't know,” I muttered, and it was true, I really didn't. With Lars’ vagueness, I tru;y didn't have a reason to not assume James was already on his deathbed.

“How can you not know?” He questioned me as if I was stupid, then noticing my pale and shaky look of true worry, “Fine, yes, you can go, but you're leaving three hours early. I want you working those hours back tomorrow. Understood?” He finally made an offer, and I quickly accepted without hesitation.

“Yes, thank you, and I'm sorry,” I responded with a smile and a nod, quickly leaving the office and getting to my car as fast as possible. Lars never specified where exactly the studio was, but I had been there a few times with James to hear them practice and record. I did my best to remember the way there, speeding in some places and having to make a couple U turns to figure out the exact spot. The whole time my head was buzzing, I could not think of one normal reason as to why James would want me there. He clearly didn’t like me much towards the end, even though I still like to think he never meant it and that it was only the alcohol talking, but I was probably wrong. Why did I still care so much after being so wrongfully disrespected? Part of me still loved him. Still wanted to wake up next to him every morning, hear the faint strumming of a guitar whenever I came home from work. Now those days were gone, and never looked like they would return. I still worried for the worst for James, endless horrid possibilities arising in my brain, all trying to piece the puzzle together.

When I finally pulled up, I saw two other cars out in front, not seeing James’ car, assuming Lars gave him a ride and KIrk giving Jason one. No cop cars or ambulances or fire trucks, so he isn't dying, or maybe they already left. Maybe I was too late? 

I quickly got out of the car, almost running to the studio door, knocking until Lars came and opened it for me.

“Hey! There you are, took ya long eno-” Lars was quickly cut off by my own anxieties.

“Where is he? Is he ok? Was I not fast enough?” I quickly voiced out, my eyes darting around the inside and searching for him.

“Yeah, relax. He's fine. He's inside-”

“If he's fine then why did you make me come here from work?! I thought he was dying or something crazy,” I cut him off, questioning his efforts.

“No, none of that, you worry too much. He just wants to talk with you,” Lars answered, and my previous worries and a new suspicion grew in me.

“Just want to talk? Last time I talked with him he was critiquing me! He hates me! He doesn't want anything to do with me!” I voiced the feelings that had been clawing at me for months, never having anyone to tell them to.

“Or so you think. Look, just talk to him, that's all this is, ok?” Lars grew tired of my attitude and clearly I would have to give in soon.

“I want to, I want to talk to him, but I doubt he wants to talk to me,” I responded, trying to further explain my hesitations.

“I just told you that he wants to talk to you! Go in there, please!” Lars pleaded with me, and I sighed, finally agreeing.

“Ok, ok, I will,” I answered, beginning to head into the studio.

“Thank you! He's just down the hall, in that room with the sound equipment and everything,” Lars informed me, and I followed him, seeing James hunched over a table, scribbling down on a piece of paper. My heart was racing now. I hadn't seen him since that night. I didn't know what I would say to him, I was worried what he would say to me.

Then he looked up at me.

His cold, piercing blue eyes, a newfound softness in them as our eyes met. I avoided his eyes, but felt his lingering on me. Lars guided me in, shutting the door behind himself, leaving us alone. I was unsure of what to say, my eyes lingering on the floor, hearing James set down his pen.

“Uh… hi…” He started, probably just as unsure as I was.

“Hi,” I responded back shyly, avoiding his gaze, though I could still feel his own on me. The sound of footsteps approached me, instantly recognizing them as James’, and then I heard a click. Lars had locked us in here, now forced to talk.

“I.. I'm sorry, I really am,” He mumbled, and I looked up at him, seeing a true guilt in his eyes, “I wish I didn't do it, that I didn't say those things, that I didn't make you hurt so much like that… I should’ve been much more, well, mature about it. I feel like shit for everything,” James explained to me, but this only caused me to have more and more questions.  

“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice still a hushed whisper as a wave of various emotions crashed down on me. “I had reasons for what I did, I just wish I went about it differently. I wish I had listened to you when you had offered me help. I didn't want to hurt you with my habits, and I couldn't break up with you, I didn't want to be the one to do that, so… so I tried to make you break up with me, and you did. Everything I said, it was a lie. I never meant it. You're a great cook, you work hard, you're just… you're amazing, you're too good for me.” James confessed, and I could feel a bit of the cold melt away, though still a hurt in my heart.

“Then why make me come and tell me all of this? This would only pour salt in that wound, no?” I was still confused at why he would make such an effort, but I still found it touching.

“Because I still love you. I want things back the way they were. I swear on everything, I've changed. I miss you more than anything-” I cut him off with a sweet kiss to his lips, and he melted into me, wrapping his arms around me in a comforting and loving embrace.

After James pulled away, he looked me in my eyes, “How could you forgive me for saying all of that to you?” He began, “Id think you would just… hate me, I was a total jerk,”

“Or so you'd think. I still love you and miss you more than you could imagine,” I responded with a  small smile, and James matched mine, kissing me again. “Can… can I show you how much I've missed you?” James asked in a mumbled tone, clearly a bit embarrassed. My cheeks heated up at his offer and I giggled, nodding as our lips met a third time, a new hunger and desire now displayed. Slowly, he walked me to the table until I had backed up into it, his hands trailing up my sides until we broke away, his lips now going down my neck, eliciting a needy whine from the back of my throat, my hands pulling him closer, snaking under his shirt to trace his skin. 

James’s fingers slipped under my shirt, working to get it off of my head, leaving my neck for only a second to remove the fabric before attaching himself to my sensitive flesh, feeling him suck and nibble, definitely leaving bruises. He gave a more harsh bite, causing me to whimper, then soothing it over with his tongue before pulling away. Soon his gaze focused on my breasts, still confined with my bra. His eyes met mine again, “Can I take it off?” He asked ,already reaching around my back to work on the clasp, which had become an easy task for him. I nodded, and soon the garment was now on the floor with my shirt. The cold air caused my nipples to erect immediately, and James’ eyes were locked on them, cupping the in his hands as he squeezed them and pinched at my nipples, making me make high needy sounds, causing him to smirk, kissing around the soft flesh, teasing me with every movement he made. 

I began to claw at his shirt, trying to take it off of him, so he reluctantly pulled away from my chest, removing his own shirt, giving me a view I had missed more than I care to admit. My eyes dragged slowly over the newly exposed skin, and his lips crashed down on mine again, pushing me back so far I was now laying down on the table, the cold wood causing goosebumps to rise on my skin. I tugged at James’ pants, feeling myself grow wetter at the moment. He slipped down his pants, leaving him in only his boxers as you pulled down my skirt, leaving me in only my panties. I could see the bulge in his final layer grow at the new sight, and then he got on his knees, gripping the sides of my aunties and taking them off in a swift motion, leaving my glistening folds exposed to his hungry view.. His warm lips teased my thighs, kissing around the area I needed him most, making me writhe with desire. Eventually, his tongue found my center, giving it soft licks at first, parting my folds with his tongue. A moan escaped my throat, and James took it as his sign to keep going, burying his face between my thighs. He licked and sucked at my hole, probing at it with his tongue as his nose nudged my sensitive clit. My hand snaked into his long blonde locks, gripping his scalp tightly as I pulled him closer. I could hear him groan into my flesh, causing a vibration to coarse through me, making me moan again as I came closer to my first high. Eventually James moved further up, giving more attention to my aching clit, giving it gentle licks first to tease me before sucking it into his mouth, biting it softly, making me squeal from his ministrations.

“Jamei, fuck, Im gonna cum,” I whined out, tugging on hair harder, causing him to let out another low groan as he continued to feast on me. “Cum for me pretty girl,” He mumbled into my flesh, and like that my orgasm washed over me, a breathy moan falling my lips, feeling my core pulsate , releasing my grip on James’ head, allowing him to pull back.

James chin was drenched in my essence and his spit, some caught in his facial hair, wiping it off on the back of his hand. I dont think Ive seen anything hotter. His eyes landed on mine, and I noticed a lustful darkness in them, kissing me again as our tongues tangled in a battle for dominance, James winning in the end, and soon his boxers were on the ground, both of us bare in front of each other again.

JAmes broke the kiss, trailing his lips down my neck, leaving new hickeys and bruises in his wake as they now peppered my neck. I felt his tip at my entrance and I squirmed, his lips leaving my bruised flesh. “You ready, baby?” He asked, taking my hand in his, and I nodded, feeling him slowly push into me, the stretching sensation stinging my insides, a delicious stretch my body had missed as I tried to accommodate his size. Once he was to the hilt, I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, squeezing his hand tightly.

I gave him a look of a need, and he gook note, slowly beginning to pump his hips, untwining our fingers as he positioned himself with better support, placing his arms on either side of my head. With every thrust a moan escaped my throat, tears pricking at my eyes from the pleasure. “Fuck, you’re so tight… haven't had anything since me, hmmm?” James whispered to me, and I could only whine in response, his calloused fingers sneaking down to my clit, brushing the bud lightly with the pad of thumb, and I began to squirm around his cock, feeling his thrusts increase with speed, more grunts falling from James.

The table I laid on creaked beneath from our frevorus movements of need, completely forgetting we were still in the studio. The band was still in that studio. This room wasn't for recording, very little sound blockers. Anyone in this building could hear us. The thought didn't pass my mind once throughout the whole experience, only focused and becoming closer with James once again, not just in body, but in our connection reforming with every minstration from either of us.

James' thrusts grew relentless, only increasing the pleasure for both of us as he chased his own high, helping me with mine, continuing to toy with and stroke my clit, moans and whines leaving me with any movement he made. “So pretty like this, baby, taking me so well,” He groaned, his small grunts and moans filling my ears like sweet music. I began to buck my hips, knowing that my orgasm was approaching, James not far behind, his vocal expression of pleasure growing in number and volume, mixing with my own mewls and moans, that and the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room, my nails clawing his back.

My eyes began to roll back, James’ name falling from my lips a thousand times as my legs wrapped around his waist, trying to pull him deeper to finally bring me to edge. James noticed and thrusted harder, hitting that special spot with every movement, making me have to cover my mouth with my hand, the unholy noises escaping me growing too loud for us to stay secret. James disapproved, “Mmmm, don't do that baby, let me hear you cum around my cock,” He cooed, and that was all the encouragement I needed to come over the edge, a high pitched moan coming from me, feeling my walls clamp down on James’ length, pulsating as waves of pleasure cascaded over me. James helped me ride through it, still rubbing my sensitive nub, his thrusts losing rhythm as he approached his own high.

“Fuck, sweetie, gonna cum inside you…” He grunted, his pace increasing as his movement became erratic with pleasure. “Take it, take it like a good girl, baby,” He moaned, his load shooting deep inside of me and painting my walls white with his seed. His hips sputtered, bucking into me as he collapsed on top of me, our sweaty foreheads clinging together as we both recovered from the intense orgasms, trying to catch our breath. James pressed soft, lazy kisses around my face, reminding me how much he loved me and how he'd never hurt me again if given the chance.

After a moment, we both had come down from our highs, James’ softening member sliding out of me with a pop. He looked down at the mess between my thighs, all evidence of our pleasure with each other. “Youre fuckin’ perfect,” He muttered, his eyes dragging over me.

“Are the groupies still better?” I teased him, remembering our bickering that was one real, or so I thought it was real fighting.

“Oh, hell no, they don't stand a chance to this,” He responded with a smile, and I smiled back.

We cleaned up, slipping back on our clothes so we were somewhat presentable. Only now did the realization that we were never once alone in this studio and the rest of the band was outside had hit me. A wave of embarrassment flowed over me, my cheeks flushing even more than they were before given the previous activities. Both James and I looked quite disheveled, our hair a mess and clothes wrinkled. I tried to shake off whatever nervousness I had in me as James put his arm around me. We went to reach for the door handle, only to find out it was still locked. Now it would be even more awkward. James knocked on the door from the inside, calling out to Lars, or anyone else in the studio.

“Guys? Lars? Can someone unlock the door?” And it wasn't long before footsteps approached, hearing a key click as the door swung open, Lars, more curious than ever eyed both my own and James’ appearance, noticing the hickeys, the slight wobble I gave, and any other imperfections that we might have displayed.

“I take it you two worked things out?”

— — — — > A FEW WEEKS LATER…

It had taken some time, a lot of talking, and more than just one hook up for James and I to work out any other issues that we had with each other. We met up a lot in the recent weeks after that, discussing different ways on how to help James with his drinking, and just trying to regain eachothers trust.

Soon enough though, James had moved back in with me. I kept my office space, but now the room was split in two halves. I worked in one half, while James did his guitar work in the other half. It was a fairly large room, so we both had our own spaces and rarely bothered each other. If I had a work call or anything that required silence, James would just migrate to the living room.

It was the same old schedule we had all those months ago, and I was now returning from work. It was Friday, now I would have plenty of time to relax and be with James. I pulled into the driveway, parking and getting out of my car as I walked up to the porch, the click of my heels following my steps on the cement. The lights were on, the door unlocked. I could hear a faint strumming coming from inside, meaning James was hard at work on new material for the album. It was my favorite thing to listen to while doing work assignments at home.

I walked in with a huff, setting down my purse and keys on the counter before heading to the shared office space. James wasn't playing much, just sounded like scales and chords for his warm ups. “How was work, baby?” James greeted me, still focused on his guitar. “It was a bit tiring, but it was good. I think my boss is starting to like me,” I answered, settling into my chair. He nodded in response, going back to fiddling with the strings.

It wasn't until a little later a soft, sweet and melodic tune had hit my ears. Much different than what Metallica normally plates. James hummed along to it, almost like he had lyrics already written out. But knowing him, he probably did.

“What are you playing? It sounds really nice,” I started, listening to a few more notes before continuing, “It's not what you guys normally play,” I commented, and James let out a deep hum in response. “Just something new I'm working on,” He replied, and I nodded, getting back to work.

Only this time, I couldn't focus. Normally James’s music helped me to focus, becoming a comforting background noise. This time though, I couldn't get my mind off of that melody. He kept going, and each second I kept getting more and more captivated by it. 

“That songs really pretty, I like it,” I said, scribbling down whatever notes I couldnt on a piece of paper. “Thanks, it's actually, uhm..” He trailed off, and I knew something was up. I spun around in my chair, going to face him. “It's what?” I asked, confused by his shy demeanor. 

“It's called ‘Nothing Else Matters’,” He stated, finally stopping picking at the strings. “Nothing Else Matters?” I repeated, connecting whatever the lyrics might be in my head to the melody. Normally their slower, melodic songs were dark and heavy topics, so I expected the same with this one.

“Yeah,” James answered, “I wrote the lyrics about you, actually,” He muttered softly, though I still picked it up. “About me?” I questioned, slightly shocked. “Yeah… I've thought a lot about, well, everything recently. Ever since that point a few months back I've reflected and everything… Rumors spread, and I just want everyone out there to get the right idea,” He paused, searching for the right words, “I want people out there to know that you're all I care about, you mean more than the world to me, and I want everyone to know that,” He stated, his tone true and emotional. I had never heard him say sweeter words to me, and I knew that he was speaking nothing other than the truth, I could see it in his eyes, there's a way to read people, and James wasn't easy to read, but you soon could learn the lingo.

“That means a lot to me, Jamie,” I answered, smiling at him. I got up from my chair to sit next to him on the couch, leaning against him. “Thank you,” I said, kissing him on the cheek. “You don't need to thank me, sweetheart,” James responded, wrapping his arm around me.

And now, I knew my whole world was whole again. What was once hatred, or so I thought was hatred, was once again love, everything as it should be.

[oacest]

My thoughts on the audio are that I genuinely cannot come up with a sane explanation. I don't think Liam was necessarily in the studio but he has to be talking about him, right? Like IDK there was some visual effect or whatever, literally who else could be the cunt Noel doesn't want to see. Beyond which I am not a proper scholar so please let me know if I'm way off base but I have an extended divorce theory that goes:

2009: Breakup, they're both big mad for a minute

201?-2012: They are texting and like, sending their kids to the same school. possibly the most normal they've ever been.

2013-2015: Liam blows his entire life up and is extremely sad about the consequences of his own actions. I saw actual video footage of Noel saying that he's shocked beady eye broke up and he's actually sweet about it and tells Liam not to give up? who is this man. anyway while Liam will later claim Noel wasn't there for him during the divorce but as a general rule they're much nicer about each other when they're divorcing other people. this is where I become extremely conspiratorial because at some point they had to get the documentary off the ground and a second, more personal breakup is clearly going down around this time. I believe in their ability to deeply wound each other by playing cryptic telephone through the press but I think it genuinely makes more sense if they were actually talking, perhaps about a potential reunion.

2016-2020: supersonic documentary and also (coincidentally?) the apocalypse. Liam launches his solo career, Noel hates it and is pretty relentlessly mean about it and about Liam more generally. we are gearing up for the kind of tweeting/podcast commenting where you call your brother your ex-wife. I think this is also when Noel decides to drag Molly into it for some reason. Liam says publicly that he thinks Noel was waiting for him to hit rock bottom so he could be magnanimous about saving him. whether he thinks this because of something concrete noel did or said or because he's liam is a mystery. the Anais incident goes down, the vogue article comes out. we are never ever getting back together for real this time. noel says a bunch of normal and well adjusted stuff about how he wants Liam to die in a self driving car crash with Donald Trump and seeing his face makes him want to shoot up a MacDonalds.

2020-2022: the pandemic saves oasis. I'm serious. they're both stuck sitting at home with nothing to distract them from themselves and think of brighter days. apparently being trapped in a house with noel is genuinely so unbearable that Sara calls it quits (in the matter of Sara v. Noel I'm on her side). presumably this was cause for at least some self reflection. divorce is a lonely and difficult experience, sara and liam seem to legit hate each other in a way that would be a barrier to reconciliation (in the matter of Sara v. Liam I am also on her side but less so bcs she didn't get trapped in a house with him). at the same time Liam pulls off Knebworth 2022, demonstrating he can handle big events without headcasing (and without noel, and he will be doing those big events solo or otherwise). at this point I genuinely think it was just a matter of time before we were back, baybeee! let's hope they can keep it together.

bro your brain is so huge and deeply wrinkled, profoundly agree with all of this. why you on anon when your opinions are so correct and you could be sharing them with us directly tbh 👀.

but yeah, 100% covid saved oasis lmao. noel's divorce saved oasis. noel's miserable midlife crisis (ongoing) saved oasis 🥰🥰🥰. and it juuuuuust really seems like all those insane highs and lows that went on publicly in the media between them over the years probably, or at least quite possibly, had irl personal catalysts rather than just a general holdover of ill will from the 2000s. there are so many random little times one or both of them casually mentioned they were in contact, and any one of those instances can be disregarded, but when considered in retrospect from a collective standpoint..... AWFULLY DAMNING!!!

lots more to say about all of this actually, every point you've made is legit af and could be expounded upon for a hundred years, but it's midnight and im coming down with a flu (punishment for some kind of hubris im sure), so. thank you for all of this and goodnight 🙏

[mangosrar]

never say never.

matt sturniolo x fem reader.

warnings: smut. angst idk????

an: not proof read. more parts coming soon 😛😛😛

"matt have you seen my car keys" she hollered at him as she scurried around the kitchen.

"where are you going?" he asked as he peaked his head aoundd the door.

"i have to go home" she tilted her head and watched as he walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his hands on the small of her back, pulling her close.

"you dont have to go home, just move in with me" he brought his face closer to hers as her hands fiddled with the buttons on his dress shirt that was now creased and exposing his chest.

"i cant matt you know this, i need my studio" she told him.

"ill build you a studio here, hell id build you a whole art gallery if it meant i got to live with you doll" he moved his face to her cheek and planted a soft kiss there.

7 months ago.

just as she was bending down to press a display sticker to one of the signs, she felt a hard slap to her ass, spinning around she was met with violet smirking, leaned back against nathan. the two of them looked picturesque together. she wore a shimmery champagne dress while he wore a black suit.

"you look great rue" violet gushed.

"thanks vee" she wore a white dress tonight. it was a little more showy than she wouldve liked, low cut and short, but she had bought it last minute and didnt have time to change her mind. violet loved it, of course, she lived for dressing sexy.

"you did all this rory?" nate asked. gesturing to the room around them as he spoke. the place was heaving, every single piece of art in there was either already sold, or bring inquired for, thr room was decorated 'diligently' as her boss byron described. never once had that man complimented her so she was taking whatever she could get.

"yeah, worked my little ass of and byron wont let me display one piece of my art in here" she huffed out a breath rolling her eyes.

"Douch bag knows yours would sell for more than hes ever made" violet uttered.

she didnt even get the chance to reply before one of the artists was tapping on her shoulder making her spin around. "someone would like to make an offer on one of my pieces downstairs."

"oh yes of course" she turned back around. "drink, mingle, have fun. ill find you guys in a bit"

after an hour of running up and down the stairs, about half the pieces were sold and the place was completely packed. the smell of liquor wafted through the air, mixing with the loud conversations.

"hey rory" voilet called from across the crowd. she gently made her way through the sea of people muttering soft 'excuse me's to everyone. when she finally made it to violet she had a wicked smile on her face that made her suspiciously squint her eyes.

"what?" she asked apprehensively.

"nate has a friend here that he wants you to meet. voilets words were saturated with intent, but rory couldnt place it. she tugged on her arm, walking them across the room.

she could see the back of nate, standing and talking to someone. as he turned to face them she saw who she was talking to.

the man was taller than nathan, and more built. his stare was intense. shockingly blue eyes and a strong stubbled jaw. he had dark hair that fanned out around his head perfectly. he wore a flawlessly tailored suit, designer by the looks of it. she could see tattoos peaking out from under his sleeves onto his hands, gripping a hilariously small looking glass.

"sorry to pull you away from your fun, but this is my childhood best friend, matthew sturniolo" nate reached over, patting his friend on the back. "matt this is aroura jovans" he introduced her by her full name, keeping it formal for the time being.

matt stared cooly down at her, extending his hand. "nice to meet you aroura"

despite hating the sound of her full name, hearing it on matts tongue made her swoon. she had never seen a man so handsome in her entire life.

finding her head, rory reached out, placing her hand over his, the size difference was stark and it made his cock jump. "nice to meet you too Matthew" she replied looking up at him. "you can call me rory"

he had picked up on the colour of her cheeks when they touched. this bookish little sweetheart was the last thing he expected to find when nate invited him here. to say he was intrigued was an understatement.

now.

he continued his trail of kissed down her neck. her hands came up to tug on his hair, earning a hum from matt.

"stay here with me" he muttered as he sucked dark circles into her skin. she sighed and leaned her head back, giving him better access. she wanted to give in so bad, she wanted to let him have his way with her right now.

"i cant matt, i have things to do" her chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace as she desperately tried to keep it together, but matts groping hands and his mouth were proving to be a real challenge.

"let me take care of you baby" and before she could even protest. he had hiked her up onto the kitchen counter and shoved his hand into her panties, his lip between his teeth, eyes watching her face intensely. his fingers traced up her folds making him let out a low groan as he left light circles on her clit, pulling a shaky whine from rorys mouth.

"look at that honey, youre soaked" she couldnt help but whine at his words. his fingers quickened and his touch became firmer, prompting her head to lull back as she gripped one hand on his shoulder and the other smacked down onto the counter behind her. her hips started rocking in rhythm with his hand. he knew just how to work her.

"it would be so mean of me to leave you like this doll" his voice was patronizing and cocky. matt once again brought his mouth to her neck and licked a stripe up her throat, pulling a lewd moan from her.

"dont stop matt ngh- pl-" and before she could even finish her sentence, he cut her off by yanking his hand away from her and plopping his fingers into his mouth.

she stared at him wide eyed, mouth hanging open and the feeling of her approaching high fizzling out.

matt gripped her hips and pulled her off the counter, standing her back on her own, now shaky legs before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out her keys. he placed them in her hand before pressing a firm kiss to her lips.

"have a great day baby ill see you for dinner" and with that he was off, sauntering back off into his office.

matt returning to a normal life once he met aroura never seemed like anything out of the ordinary, business was well, he was going to dinner parties, he had fake manners, all prepared for a complete disregard for his past life. he wondered if the straw would ever come and he would return to his late affairs, then again he wondered if that straw had already been pulled. he knew he couldnt hide from himself much longer. his biggest enemy was the man he saw in the mirror. he was filtered with anger and disgust for himself. each day, in and out, he knew what rory didnt. surely the truth would come out, it was just a matter of when. every time his phone rang and her face came up he was sure this was it, thinking of some excuse or lie he could tell before answering and of course each time he was wrong, after a few months of him fighting with himself he gave up. realising there was no way she would ever find out. but never say never.

taglist: @christinarowie332 @biimpanicking @soursturniolo @freshlovehacker @urmyslxt @kitaysworld @kvtie444 @mattsd0ll @flowerxbunnie @itsjennarose @lovingsturniolo @mattslolita @chrisenthusiast

also if i forgot u from my taglist or u wanna be added lmk!!!!

[abbs-writes]

chronically ill | Tara yummy and Jake Webber

Pairings: bsf!tara yummy x reader, friend!jake Webber x reader

Warnings: mentions of a chronic illness, vomiting, migraines, MRIs, doctors appointments, parties, drinking, Tara practically takes care of you, Jake's a lovable idiot per usual but he cares a lot

Authors note: this is very self indulgent and basically my experience with being chronically ill and wishing someone had been there for me (though my best friend was right by my side and I'll forever be grateful for her) but yeah idk it's self indulgent so yeah.

You'd been sick your whole life, it was something you'd unfortunately grown accustomed to. It wasn't until recently that it started getting worse, the headaches used to be manageable but now they would turn into migraines that lasted days at a time. You used to be able to fight through the nausea like a champ, forcing yourself to go to sleep rather than throwing up. The tremors were annoying but manageable. But recently something changed, everything had gotten so much worse. You were missing work more than usually, your boss started to believe you were faking it, along with many of your friends. So you stopped telling people and you quit your job. The only person who stuck by your side was your best friend Tara, she was there for all the doctor's visits and blood tests and everything else.

First you started with your general practitioner who ran a blood test and sent you to the rheumatologist. Then from the rheumatologist, who found nothing and claimed you were just severely depressed, you were sent to a neurologist. It was months and months of tests and they found nothing. They started you on migraine medication that you'd take every other day, along with two more migraine medications to use as 'saviors' as the neurologist called it. But that didn't stop the nausea or the tremors and the migraines would still leave you bedridden for days. So, the neurologist suggested an MRI. It was anxiety inducing, the thought of an MRI and finding out something could be wrong but you knew you had to do it. Without the support of Tara, you swore you wouldn't have been able to do it.

She drove you to your appointments, sat through some of the doctors visits, kept you distracted as they drew blood by showing you funny tiktoks. But she couldn't be there for the MRI, no you had to sit in the metal tube alone with your thoughts. Thankfully they let you listen to music, keeping your mind occupied. It was oddly calming, the music and sounds of the machine. You expected to have full blown panic attacks or for your tremors to get worse but that didn't happen. You closed your eyes, focused on the music and relaxed.

It wasnt until the nurses came back in and wanted to do a contrast with your MRI. You hated needles, IVs, blood tests, all of it. At first the contrast wasn't so bad, the IV went in smoothly and so did the dye. But the second the IV was out, you got nauseous. It came over you like a wave and you couldn't stop from vomiting. The nurses helped you sit up, holding the vomit bag for you as you threw up over and over again. As a child you hated throwing up, it hurt, your body convulsing as you gagged and threw up. It was a terrifying and uncomfortable experience but you fought through it. Now you were throwing up almost every week, multiple times a week, you grew used to it. But still you felt horrible, having the nurses hold you up and hold a vomit bag, scrambling around and getting you a cold water and tissues. Finally, after you were done, you wiped your mouth, drank some water and took some gum offered to you before laying back down to be sent back into the machine.

Tara picked you up from the MRI, asking you how it was but not pushing when you said it was horrible. She drove you home, "I can stay," she offered. "It's okay, I think I'm gonna go to bed." You responded. "Okay, then I'll stay and do the laundry." Tara said as she parked the car. You sighed but knew it wasn't worth fighting, Tara was the sweetest girl, always offering to help you even when you told her it was okay and she didn't have to. There was no stopping the kindness of that girl.

You walked into your home, crawled into bed and let Tara do whatever she wanted to do to help, sometimes it would be doing the laundry, cleaning out the fridge from expired food and doing whatever else she could to help. You slept most of the day, only being woken up by Tara who came into your room. "You need to eat," she said softly. You groaned, burying your face in the pillows. You worried your stomach was too messed up to eat. "Come on, I'll make soup," Tara grabbed your arm, pulling you up. You sat up, groaning again. "Come onnnnn," Tara said, practically pulling you out of bed and dragging you to the living room.

"Sit," she said, and you sat on the couch. She went to the kitchen, she had already made the soup. You wondered what she would've done if you refused to get up. She came back with the bowl full of soup and a water, setting them down on the coffee table. "What're we watching?" Tara asked as she sat down next to you. You shrugged, leaning forward to eat some soup. Tara's phone buzzed making her look down, "shit," she muttered. "What?" You asked, looking over at her. "It's Jake, he's having a party tonight, he's asking if we're coming," she said.

That was one thing you loved about Tara, she invited you to every single thing she was doing, parties, shopping, you name it and she'd bring you with her. "You should go," you said, going back to eating soup. "Nah, we have movies to watch," Tara said, setting down her phone and grabbing the remote. "Tara, I'm not going to let you skip a party because I'm sick. I'm always sick." You sighed. "That's not true, you're not always sick. You're sometimes sick. Plus, a party without you? I'll pass." She said, giving you a smile. "Tara, if I say I'll go, will you go?" You asked. You weren't feeling 100% but you could handle a party. You just wouldn't drink and you'd probably wear sunglasses the whole time to hide your tired eyes. "You don't feel well," Tara frowned. "I can handle a party, I've been to plenty of parties with headaches. I can handle it." You said. "Fine, but I'm not drinking and I'm not letting you out of my site." She said, reluctantly agreeing. "Fine, if you wanna have a lame time, then that's fine." You giggled, playfully rolling your eyes.

Tara borrowed some of your clothes, sure you didn't have as good of clothes as she did but she knew how to make them work. You just threw on jeans and a hoodie and a pair of sunglasses. You grabbed your bag, the one full of medications, your 'just in case bag' as you called it. Tara told you to bring it, so you did. You two piled into an Uber and headed to Jake's house. You two arrived late, but that was Tara's style so you didn't mind it. Usually you hated being late to places but it was a party, there was no set time to be there.

You got out of the Uber, following Tara inside where you two greeted everyone. She stuck to not drinking which was a little surprising, even after you insisted to her it was okay to drink. It was going well, until a wave of nausea hit you. Used to you would fight it off and choke it down but you knew you couldn't fight it currently. Tara was talking to Johnnie, you didn't want to grab her attention so you made your way to the bathroom but it was locked. You didn't think you could make it to the other bathroom so the closest place was outside. You made a b-line to the backyard. Going around the corner where to one was. You bent over, pushing your hair back as you threw up. "Fuck," you whimpered.

You didn't realize Jake had seen you. He was outside, talking to Carrington and smoking a cigarette. "One sec," he said to Carrington, tossing the cigarette on the ground and following you around the corner where he saw you bent over, throwing up. He quickly grabbed your hair. You were a bit too out of it to care who it was, you were just thankful someone was holding your hair back as you pulled off the sunglasses. You threw up again, coughing as well as you spit out whatever remained in your mouth before standing back up. "Thanks," you mumbled, taking deep breaths. "No problem," Jake said, letting go of your hair. You turned looking up at him and your face flushed red.

You didn't realize it was Jake, you thought maybe it was Tara or some other random person, but no, it was Jake. It just had to be Jake, someone you had a raging crush on and now you looking like a fucking idiot. Another wave of nausea hit you, making you turn back around and bend over. Jake grabbed your hair again, watching as you threw up once more. He'd seen many things at his party and throwing up wasn't a first so he truly didn't mind.

"Shit, are you okay?" Tara came around the corner. "Give me your bag," she said, you held out the bag as you tried to take deep breaths. She took your bag, looking through it. "How much did she drink?" Jake asked. "Nothing," Tara said. She pulled out a pull bottle, "Found it." She said, opening the nausea medication. You held out your hand and she put the pill in your hand. You waited till you were good before standing back up and taking the pill. Jake once again let go of your hair. "Are you sick?" He asked. You felt bad, knowing exactly what Jake was probably thinking. What kind of sick girl comes to a party?

"It's not contagious, Jake. She's fine." Tara said, taking the sunglasses from your hand and putting your bag over her shoulder. She rubbed your back, "are you okay?" She asked softly. "I'm okay, I'm good." You said, wiping your mouth with the sleeve of your hoodie. You knew it was nasty but you'd clean it later. "I'll call an Uber," Tara said, pulling out her phone. "I can drive you," Jake piped up, you almost forgot he was there. "Jake, how much have you had to drink?" Tara asked. "None, I was waiting till you two got here. How can I drink without my girls?" Jake laughed. "That's weird Jake," Tara said, playfully glaring at him. She was joking but in her usual way. "Come on, I'll give you two a ride." He said.

Tara put her arm around you, leading you through the party, following Jake to his garage. Tara climbed in the back with you. "What am I? An Uber driver?" Jake joked as he got in. "Unpaid uber driver." Tara retorted. You giggled softly, shaking your head. "You can lay down," Tara said, you nodded, too tired to say anything or fight her. You put your head in her lap and she played with your hair as Jake drove. Jake played music softly, tapping the steering wheel and singing softly as he drove. Tara every now and then would make a comment making both you and Jake laugh but mostly it was quiet.

Jake was very gentlemanly, parking in your driveway and opening the back door for you and Tara. "Here, I'll take the bag," he offered. Tara hanging him the bag and he put it on. Tara helped you out of the car. "I don't need help," you said. "Yeah, well you're getting it." Tara said, putting her arm around your waist and walking you to the door. You grabbed your keys and opened the door, the three of you walked in and Tara walked you to your bedroom, helping you lay down to sleep.

Jake stood awkwardly. He'd been to your house plenty of times. But he was just awkward sometimes. He sat your bag on the counter, hearing the sound of pills rattling around. He knew it was wrong but he was curious. He opened the bag, seeing at least 3 pill bottles. He took them out, unable to read the names since they were long and confusing. Tara came out of the room, shutting the door quietly. "Jake!" She whisper shouted, walking over and taking the pills from his hand and shoving them back in the bag. "Is she okay?" Jake asked, seeming very concerned now. "She's fine, why are you still here?" Tara asked, sounding a bit annoyed with him.

She'd always been very protective over you. Especially since you told her about your mystery illness and how you didn't want anyone else to know. "Because- I don't- I don't know," Jake stumbled over his words. Tara sighed, she knew he cared about you. She wasn't blind, she knew he liked you. She wasn't upset about it either, but she knew it was a weird position for both of you to be in. "Jake, if I tell you something, do you promise- and I mean swear on your life, you won't tell anyone? Not even Johnnie, or Carrington." She said, looking and sounding extremely serious. "Yes- yeah? I promise." He said, nodding.

Tara sighed, "She's sick, and not like a cold or the stomach flu. She has some sort of mystery illness that we don't know what it is. She had an MRI today, and- and I told her we shouldn't go to the party but she insisted. But you can't tell anybody." Tara said. "I won't.. how long has this been happening?" Jake asked. "Her whole life, just recently it's gotten worse." Tara sighed, she never wanted to admit that it stressed her out, all the things going on with you but it did. It worried her beyond belief and she didn't want to lose her best friend. "You know, I noticed a while ago her hands shake, is that part of it?" Jake asked. "You noticed that?" Tara asked. "Yeah, we were at a party, she was pouring herself a drink and her hand started to shake so- I kinda took the drink from her. I thought she was going to drop it or spill it." Jake said. "I didn't realize you noticed that, you don't notice things usually." Tara said. Jake's face heated up, he was blushing, hoping that Tara wouldn't realize that he actually noticed a lot about her but didn't say anything.

Tara giggled, rolling her eyes, "I know you like her, you idiot. I'm not blind. I just didn't realize how much you liked her." Jake's eyes widened, "What?" He said, high pitched, "I do not- I have never in my life liked a girl." He said, making Tara laugh, "you're such an idiot. Go home," she said, pushing him towards the door. "Will she be okay?" He asked as he walked towards the door. "She'll be okay, I'm here." Tara said. Jake turned around, "I wanna be here too, if I can," he said. "One step at a time, okay? She can't know you know. Just give her time and maybe she'll tell you but right now, you have to act normal which I know is impossible for you." Tara said, giggling again. "I'll be as normal as I usually am." He said. "So not normal at all, got it." She nodded, "now go," she said, practically pushing him out the door. He left, albeit, reluctantly, but he did leave. Now he just had a bunch on his mind.

[durrtydawg]

hey gorl! idk how cereal you were about headcanons, but can i request something domestic? like what the uncharted boys are like when they're at home and not treasure hunting for once? (can be as clean/dirty as you like hehe)

Hey lovely! Thanks for waiting for so long, and sorry if this isn't what you had in mind, but I've spewed some domestic Sam headcanons into my notes that I think about too often. A lot of them are very random, so if you want something more specific, please let me know 👹❤️

I started writing Nate, too, but honestly, if you want some good Nate hcs, you should ask @nathandrakeisabottom bc she's gonna have them done to a T.

[Masterlist]

Without further ado,

Domestic Sam Drake Headcanons...

Sam likes to rotate his 'at-home wardrobe' between two pairs of ill-fitting jeans, raglan shirts, the odd henley, and a fuck tonne of minimalistic graphic tees with references that he has no clue about. Boots are abandoned for trainers. (- sneakers, for those who are anglo-challenged)

If it's cold-cold, he adds his trusty sherpa-plaid shirt combo.

If it's hot-hot, he opts for his slutty vests and perhaps some track shorts if he's feeling... frisky.

And fucking baseball caps. He wears them lots, and he wears them well. I do NOT make the rules.

Whenever the weather is good, Sam is outside working on his bike. Whether he's cleaning it, fixing it up, or just revving it for the attention, he'll be out there in aforementioned slutty little vest, cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth, tinkering away because he can't sit still for long at all.

When the weather isn't good, he's miserable. As soon as Winter rolls around, he contracts at least one cold a month, and whilst he gets surprisingly over dramatic about it, he also refuses to take any meds for it. Stubborn man.

Untidy- but never unclean. Being stuck in that grotty old prison for so long, it's clear that Sam wants nothing to remind him of his disgusting cell. He always cleans up after himself in terms of dirt and grime, BUT he's also become a bit of a hoarder, which also makes wherever he lives constantly untidy. Books, ugly little ornaments, and also clothes that he buys and never wears are scattered all over the place.

The idea of owning his own stuff remains seemingly overwhelming; he grows attached to whatever he gets his hands on because he's lived for so long without things of his own.

Continuing down the cleanliness route, Sam takes the longest showers you could imagine. The warmth? The privacy? They'll forever be luxuries to him that he wants to take complete advantage of.

Uses some sort of 250 in 1 body wash/shampoo/car brake fluid concoction, and is in complete refusal of the fact that he needs anything else... though once or twice his intrigue and thieving nature have gotten the better of him, and he's left the bathroom with an oddly feminine aroma that's dangerously similar to the scent of whatever it is his partner's using. Not that he'd ever use a girl's body wash.

Sam whistles around the house. A lot. Also sings quietly to himself throughout the day. He keeps it hushed, mostly, but for some reason, he thinks the shower is soundproof. Lucky for any cohabitors, he's got a pretty good set of pipes on him, and it's actually really sweet. ('We Didn't Start the Fire' by Billy Joel is one of his go-to's. He definitely brags about his ability to remember all of the words.)

He's a dab hand in the kitchen. Well. Sometimes. Sam's got a selection of about three dishes that he makes to Michelin star standard. Other than that he's fucking useless, which can be frustrating since he eats like an animal. Guys of his stature need fuel!

Many times has a frozen lasagna or a teaspoon that's been absentmindedly left in the microwave ended up almost burning the house down. Though, his mind is always in about six places at once, so you can't really blame the poor guy.

But those that he's good at? He's really good at. It's not often that he can be found in the kitchen with a tea towel strewn over his shoulder, four different pots and pans bubbling away on the stove, whilst he bops his head along to a crackly radio station, but when he is? You know you're in for a treat.

He can't scramble eggs for shit (he does it in the microwave and insists it tastes fine💀 it does not.) but can poach 'em good. Expect eggs benedict in the morning, or banana pancakes if you've got a sweet tooth. Not the type to eat brekkie? You are now.

Speaking of breakfast in bed:

Morning 👏 sex. Like... more than any other time of day. Sam wakes up with insane levels of energy in the morning, and the first two hours of his day are more productive than the other twenty-two combined. So if he's not out for a morning jog (eugh.) or busy finding out what recipe he wants to try out for breakfast, he's got it in you. End of. Perhaps you used to grumble about the time... but he's got a thing for your early-am laziness, and you've probably woken up with his head between your thighs more times than you can count. I suppose that feeds in to the somnoph1lia he's most definitely privy to.

That, of course, is not to say that he's exclusively into morning sex.

Is verrrry cuddly with partners when they're visiting or living together. Sam craves touch, so even if it's not a super committed relationship, lingering shoulder squeezes, resting his chin on your head whilst his arms are wrapped around your middle, and gentle strokes to the small of the back are staples- half the time he doesn't even realise he's doing them.

Overall, he’s one handsy bastard, and at his cockiest will take any opportunity he can to smack, squeeze, and even bite your ass if it's convenient enough, offering you nothing but a complacent grin when you try to snap at him. Best you save your moaning for the bedroom. He knows you love it.

Hear me out. He has a weird fascination with teleshopping channels. Not because he wants to buy any of it. Moreso because he enjoys criticising some of the ridiculous stuff they try to flog on there. With a mouthful of cereal, he'll be mocking whatever poor sod has a slot to sell their item, calling you to come and watch in hopes that you find it just as ludicrous as he does.

With TV in general, he has a very stereotypical 'dad' stance on it. Does the whole "what's this crap you're watching? Don't you wanna do something more productive with your day?", only to be glued to the screen within minutes, asking about characters and plot alike.

Unfortunately, this also includes Hallmark Christmas movies.

Sam loves loves LOVES 90's-00's british sitcoms (And no, that's not self-indulgent). I genuinely believe he would binge watch Father Ted and Peep Show happily, especially because he enjoys satire and absorbs the dry sense of humour like a happy sponge. He'd try to impress you with the accent too. Doesn't work.

Falls asleep on the sofa more than anywhere. Since he's often up at the crack of dawn, as soon as 5pm rolls around, he's yawning and 'resting his eyes'. That, and the fact that he finds it hard to get to sleep in bed unless he's totally fucked out. Something about being left alone with nothing but the view of the ceiling and his thoughts makes it difficult for him to switch off. Trauma, eh?

When he does sleep, though, he's precious. Definitely fidgets throughout the night, waking up all stiff because he's been in all sorts of weird positions. He doesn't snore... but he definitely mumbles in his sleep. And it's always nonsense.

Never plans a big groceries run. Sam's trips to the supermarket are solely made on an ad hoc basis, and every time he returns with something that definitely wasn't on the list, i.e. he'll go out to buy pasta but returns with a novelty kitchen timer shaped like a lemon, and a new wooden spoon because he doesn't like the turmeric stains on his current one.

Big porch dweller. Will idle away the hours smoking on his porch or balcony when he's exhausted all of his other options, and will draw little smiley faces on the railings with the burnt out end of the cigarette before throwing it away. Awh.

[kiidcosmic]

ok im gonna vent in the tags cause im literallt crying in a walgreens parking lot and idk whst else to do ill delete it later or something

hey everyone! (collapses on the floor sobbing)

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of Both worlds (part 8)

tw: like nasty living conditions implied

vote on da poll below ill start writing after 20 votes, next chapter will b focusing on monty

part 9

You can't do it. You can't say no to Yves without going through mental hoops. So you sigh as you let him conquer your room.

You had posters of your favorite artists, but they were all lost in the clutter long ago. It reemerged dusty and damaged, but Yves repaired it the best he could. It looks decent enough to hang.

You watched him cover his mouth in contemplation as he looked around the room, trying to figure out the best place to hang it.

Yves has done more for you than everyone else combined in your life. He cleaned, he cooked, he took care of your sickness, he cleaned you, he fed you, and now he's decorating your room to make it more habitable. All of this and you never said a word, neither protest nor request. You just let him do his thing.

From what you read in the group chat, he also replenished your section of the fridge with groceries.

Your housemate took a picture of the things he bought, all of them were labelled with your name. His handwriting is black marker ink undoubtedly beautiful.

Your housemate did warn him that you're not one for cooking, the perishables could potentially go to waste. He replied that he will be visiting over for the next few days to make your meals. One of them even broke the landlord's rules and gave him a spare key to the front door.

Eventually, Yves found the perfect places to position your posters' forever home. Who knew just the strategic placement of some piece of laminated paper would elevate a room? It looks much better and oddly bigger now... well maybe the latter due to his cleanup.

He clasped his hands and admired his work. As he should.

After that, he turned to you. Which made you jolt out of surprise.

"It's been an hour and a half. Do you still want to eat?" He asked.

You checked the time. He's right, it's now half past eleven. You're not hungry anymore, so you told him that you're full. He nodded and left your room again.

Your housemates blew up the group chat due to another wild Yves sighting around the house. Is this how it's going to be from now on?

This time, you received a picture of him portioning the leftover congee in disposable containers. He has his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing his lean forearms. You're surprised to see that they were riddled in old scars. It was captioned: "He's freezing the rest"

You squinted and it looks like he's weighing them on an electronic scale. There's a marker pen in this picture.

You sent a message to the group chat asking if he's using his own items.

"I think so??? Idk i have never seen these containers b4" "well theyre not stained yellow yet, he has gotta have these brand new" "yea n hes using rich people sharpies, like none of us here can afford it, all of us get offbrands"

You wonder if he managed to fit them into his handbag.

Yves came back into your room, explaining that the congee will last up to 3 months in the freezer. He also walked you through the steps on how to reheat them by yourself, using the microwave or otherwise. Yves told you not to worry if you couldn't remember what to do, he wrote it down and attached it to the containers- or you could call him instead.

You nodded and waited to see what he would do. Yves seem to be doing the same thing to you for the next few seconds. Eventually though, he deem that you didn't need anything from him at the moment.

"I have to retrieve something from my car." He informed you, walking towards his bag and fishing out his keys. He checked the contents of his thermos cup, it's empty. The metal straw clanked around the walls as he picked it up and carried it with him.

You paid no mind to your housemates' frantic messages enquiring about his departure. You're too tired to care anymore, and you're too tired to know if you actually wanted him here or gone. It's nice to have company for once, but it's from a questionable source.

So you tucked yourself under your blanket and curled up into a ball. Hiding your head under your pillow so you wouldn't need to see Yves when he comes in.

You heard footsteps. And sure enough, Yves is now breathing the same diseased air as you.

But this time, he says nothing. Yves flicked the switch to your lights off and set whatever he has down on your desk.

There was a long period of silence accompanied by the soft sounds of typing. A dim glow from his computer screen illuminated his face and reflected on his reading glasses. He's logging in all the events, the observations and other pieces of data he collected from you today.

Yet you're not awake to see any of it. Blissfully sleeping and snoring away as Yves kept you company throughout the night.

__

You woke up the next morning feeling much better. But still not as healthy as usual. You should be fit enough to go to the university today.

Yves is gone and so are his belongings. However, you found a handwritten note addressed to you on your night stand.

"Your breakfast is in the fridge. Look for a mason jar with your name. It is ready to eat. -Yves"

You stretched and yawned, crumpling the paper and shooting it into the trash can.

You peeled the blanket off yourself and set your feet down onto the floor. That was when you realized he left something on the foot of your bed.

Another note resting on top of a set of neatly folded clothes and a bottle of sunscreen.

"The weather today will be reaching 90⁰F/32.2⁰C, take care of yourself and avoid the sun. -Yves"

The clothes he picked for you were the ones you forgot you had. It was breathable and cooling, but in your daily, personal style. He must have found it yesterday when he did your laundry.

You carried it in your arms and walked to your door to see yet another note- this time it was a folded A4 sized paper, attached to your bag, which looked noticeably lighter and... newer.

"I do not recommend leaving yet. But if you do, I packed an umbrella for you. Please wash your water bottle regularly, it is growing mold. Your bag was full of unnecessary paper scraps, wrappers, food crumbs, and other garbage. I had to hand wash it as I found a dried house lizard pressed between a dictionary and a magazine. Some of the notes and textbooks you carry were not even required for this semester or the next, hence I kept it away on your shelf. Your bag had holes at the bottom and was already falling apart at the seams. I sewed the best I could, but replacing and upgrading is the better option. Be mindful of your belongings.-Yves"

Your face became bright red after reading the last line. You never asked him to do this for you! Why is he judging? He chose to stick around! You don't like being told you're pathetic, directly or indirectly!

Did he really have to underline the word "mold" more than thrice? And why did he switch to red ink for that one word?

You took a deep breath and sighed. Exiting your room to pay a visit to the bathroom.

You were taken aback by the cleanliness. It looked like how it was in the listing, shiny and grime free. The shampoo and soap bottles were arranged neatly with no trace of dark sludge coating it.

There is another note stuck to the mirror.

This time, there were crude drawings depicting penises urinating on your name, no doubt vandalized by your housemates. You went ahead to read what Yves had to say.

"To (name), I replaced your toothbrush as that too, was growing mold. Pay attention to your hygiene or else you will be prone to sickness.- Yves"

There were hearts drawn all around his name, no doubt the culprit was your housemate who took a liking to him.

After taking a shower and changing into your new set of clothes, you left the bathroom to eat breakfast in the kitchen.

You opened the now pristine fridge and sure enough, there is a mason jar with a sticker of your name on its side.

You rotated it to see that he has written something else:

"Banana chia pudding: Chia seeds, almond milk, banana slices, vanilla extract, maple syrup, granola. Gluten-free and lactose-free. Do not heat, eat as is."

You're not sure how to feel about the taste, texture and temperature. It is "sick people" food after all. Perhaps you liked it, perhaps you don't. But you are definitely grateful that you have a free meal from Yves.

One of your housemates entered the kitchen, she greeted you as she began preparing her own meal.

You asked her what time Yves left.

"Beats me. His car was already gone when I woke up at 4am to take a piss. He did leave us a note though."

You asked her what she meant by that.

She shoved her hand in her pant pocket and handed a crumpled piece of paper to you.

"I will visit at 6pm, please take care of (name) for me. -Yves"

You asked where did she find this note.

"Next to the light switch in the living room" She cracked open an egg on her skillet.

You looked at the wall clock. It says 12:03pm

You have around 6 hours left before Yves comes back. There is nothing much to do in your house because the Internet runs at a snail's pace and there is no air conditioning. So you would be boiling in your room.

You think you're well enough to move around and you definitely do not want to spend time with your housemates.

You don't have to go to the university, since your exams are over and so are your classes for the semester. But all the study spots, including the library, have air conditioning.

[transmascanakin]

For the varmitech bro au

1. Does Martin remember Chris? Does he know how he could've/should've looked like?

2. How brainwashed is Chris? How much does he actually believe?

3. Do the Kratt parents take any role in the au?

4. Can we get more Tortuga crew??? How does Martin deal with missions alone, how do the others react to him?

Ty for the ask anon ! Honestly some of these questions are things i originally wanted to include in the explanation post but ended up deleting because i didnt want to make it too lengthy so Im glad to talk about them now!

1. Martin doesnt remember Chris clearly, he has some blurry memories and flashes but its mostly the feelings he remembers if that makes sense. Like how he was close with Chris and loved him a lot, the feeling of fear everyone felt when Chris went missing and the despair when no one could give them closure, how lonely he felt after.

He doesnt really know what Chris could look like, maybe he likes to imagine, but you cant really get accurate answers like that. Also with cases like his you often see detectives constructing images of what the missing kids could look like now years later and I thought about Chris getting one of these done but he probably would only do that if he sorted through everything else because while Martin thinks his brother is alive, Chris firmly believes that he died a long time ago. He doesnt really think the image would be useful

2. Hes half brainwashed and half doesnt remember a lot of things naturally because of a traumatic reaction. What he has been told was that they have been through a traumatic accident (like a car crash) of some kind that damaged his brain temporarily and thats why he barely remembers anything from his early childhood and has some memories that never actually happened (the memories of the Kratt family) and he believes thats true because frankly, he has no reason not to. Maybe he questioned it when he was younger, but as an adult your childhood memories get really blurry (especially if youve been through something traumatic) so he kind of just accepted the car crash excuse to be true. He suspects there's something hes not being told but he doesn't even think of him being kidnapped as a possibility

3. A little, yes ! The reason Martin wanted his brothers case to be investigated again was actually because of how bad it affected his parents even after 20 years, which is just the sad reality of missing child cases. This part is unfortunately not that well developped yet, but maybe the Kratt brothers father fell really ill and Martin was worried hed have to pass away without knowing what happened to Chris, or maybe they got divorced after not being able to move on from the incident evem after all that time, ill have to think about it but whatever happened motivated Marin to contact detective Chris.

Either way I do have 2 scenes in my head that include atleast one of them ! The first one is where Chris and Martin go back to Martins childhood home to search the area again, and they briefly talk to mama Kratt who still lives here, and she takes one look at Chris with a mothers eye and thinks "wow he looks exactly like Chris" and although she doesnt believe its actually him she does think its some sign from the universe or idk something sentimental !! I just rhink itd be sweet of her. I also think itd be interesting from the pov of Chris because this is a maternal figure who treats him really nice and he just cant help but notice how different his mom is from Martins yk sad feelings...

Also Chris gets to reunite with his parents after everything goes down :)

4. Hell Yeah!!

Martins missions here are a bit more professional as he doesnt really have anyone to goof around with but he still has fun because he gets to gush about animals to the team.!! (He definitely wishes he had someone with him out in the field) Also i guess the villains are also interesting here because dealing with them alone causes confrontations to drag out, and they also become harder and more serious, especially with Zach as he got a big advantage with 'the crawler'. Aviva does jump in to help a lot but shes a bit limited because at this point she hasnt finished making her own cps yet (this might become relevant later i havent decided yet.)

In the last part I assume you were asking about how they feel about Chris, and they do meet a lot while Martin and Chris are working on the investigation, and Koki actually helps them a lot with her computer skills. The crew also grows pretty close to Chris, i mean he kinda just clicks with them, and he latches onto them a lot as he hasnt really had proper friends before. Like ever. Basically theyre just found family i love them. !!!

Sorry for making this so long haha I just love talking about this au... I hope these answers satisfied!

[hyunsvngs]

my brain is rotted. incest tw, gender neutral

the thought of single dad!chan and the other 7 being your brothers. being the free use fucktoy of the household. being in the kitchen and one of your brothers woke up with morning wood that won't go away :( so he fucks you onto the counter while you're trying to eat cereal before class.

staying home sick from school, dad!chan has to stay home from work and you know what it means for you. if he has to take a day off work, you're his toy for the day!

sharing a room with some of your brothers always ends well.. for them.

felix fucking you in the shower, to "save water". jeongin fucking you under the covers, "helps him sleep better". minho in the car, "payment for driving you to school". et cetera. BRAIN ROT!!

TW INCEST RP KINK!!! i’m changing this to step daddy n step bro tho i’m sorry…

that first one is soooo jisung core to me idk. like ur just in the kitchen and he comes in with 0 shame and decides to rail u. that’s so him.

and ohhh staying home ‘sick’… like let’s be honest, you have such a sweet setup getting railed by seven men, why would you move away to go to uni? maybe you’ve faked illness deliberately so stepdad!chan will have to take care of you! he has to look after his sick little baby, considering you treat them all so damn well. he’s suspicious when you’re up and about, strutting around the place with zero sign of illness, and then you perch on his lap with that saccharine sweet smile of yours.

“oh, i see,” he’d coo, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “did my baby want some alone time with daddy?”

[intosnarkness]

So my cat died today.

(tw:pet illness, death)

idk I might try and write the whole story later, but 15 years is a lot to try and boil down. (NB, I got him when he was 2, which you might have figured out because he was 17.)

But long story short, in February of 22 I was in Florida setting up an expo for work when the vet called me. Nat had taken the boys for a dental cleaning, and Peri lost like, a pound in a few weeks.

I was 900 miles away and could do nothing as they did scans and blood tests and I hid behind a shipping crate and cried.

They found a mass in his stomach and he's been on steroids since. We didn't know what it was, because I didn't want to do the exploratory on a cat his age. The vet agreed. I thought at the time that I had 3 months left. I got 18.

Recently Pman has had less appetite. This came to a head on Wednesday when I got home from work to feed the cats and he didn't come when I opened the can. He was also leaving more and more food uneaten.

I called the vet yesterday but it didn't feel emergent so when i got voicemail I gave up. Called again around 11 this morning and they asked me to bring him in ASAP. I had a Feeling then that today was going to end with a cremation.

Nat was headed home early from work because they're doing construction on his building and he was Done so I called and asked him to take Peri in. He agreed.

When he got to the house, Peri had found a bobbin for embroidery floss at some point between when I left at 7:45am and when he got home at 11:45am and eaten the thread off of it.

Nat called me and I just.. left. I just got up and left work and called the people I needed to call from the car to tell them I had a pet emergency and was leaving for the day. Nat and I met at the vet.

The issues came down to this:

When a cat eats string, your concern is it being in the intestine. If you pull on the string you can tear the intestine with the pressure. If you don't know how long it's been, you need to scope the cat or do exploratory surgery.

Our vet did not have anyone to scope the cat. They called every other vet in town, apparently. Time ticked by. They found one about 40 minutes away.

At this point it was close to 1:30. In the best scenario, it had been at least 2 hours since the thread entered his system. It would be another hour before we could get the scope in him. I kept saying to Nat, as we sat and waited, that there was no world where it wasn't in the intestine by the time we got him there. This is when I started to really fucking lose it.

If the string was in the intestine, they were going to have to do exploratory abdominal surgery on a 17-year-old cat to get it out. I remember what his recovery was like when he was 3 and did this. I was not sure it was fair to do that to a cat as old as him. I was pretty sure I had murdered my best friend with embroidery floss, which is going to be funny in retrospect but right now it isn't.

I know Peri has eaten string before. I remember the night he did it in the Laurel apartment like it was yesterday. I was usually vigilant about not leaving shit around for him to eat. The number of times I nagged Nat about spools of thread, or shoelaces, or twist ties. I looked at that bobbin yesterday and thought "I should put that away before Peri gets at it." I did not put it away. I was starting to convince myself that I killed my cat. That this whole thing was my fault. Poor Nat sitting next to me in this vet room. He is not an affectionate person. He does not touch. I doubt we have ever hugged. Here we are, and I'm holding my cat and crying. He mustered up all his courage and touched my shoulder. We stan one emotionally unavailable roommate.

As it turned out, it didn't matter. The x-ray revealed that the mass in his stomach had moved to his chest. His lungs were scalloped around the edges and there was fluid around his heart.

Nat and I both cried and killed an entire box of tissues. Peri let me hold him and he even gave us some moops. The vet told me to just keep talking. And the only thing I remember saying was that he had been such a good mommy to those ferals we fostered because he did such a good job of raising me, first.

So best boy, lover of Popsicle sticks, Wrong Tail haver, spottiest cat and cattiest spot, Peri Pants McGee, the Periman, Pman, Mr. Mooperman, and any other name I called him over the last 15 years was the best cat that most of you never got to meet.

His favorite thing in the world was when I put a blanket over my legs and then he laid on the blanket. He liked to lick my toes and ankles, which was the worst. He was a very good reason to stay alive on certain days when that didn't seem to be a priority. He was my best friend, and I love him.