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inkdrippeddreams · 25 days ago
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In Your Corner 3
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Pairing: Adonis Creed x Black Journalist OC
Word count: 5.9K (hot DAYUM)
Warnings: dry humping/ grinding, heavy making out, petting?? other than that just fluff and Donnie being a charm warning
Summary: Athena hadn't seen Adonis since their interview, but their flirty daily texts, late-night FaceTime calls, and a surprise for her made it clear he was serious about pursuing her, but Athena isn't sure she believes it. Torn between her growing feelings and letting him pursue her, Athena agrees to a private dinner at her place. When Adonis shows up wearing his heart on his sleeve and dancing with her in the kitchen, Athena thinks it might be more than just a small crush.
Notes: song that inspired this chapter: There Is Something on Your Mind- Big Jay McNeely. Guys I tried, I hope you enjoy part 3, this has turned into a series and IDK if I'm going to continue it as a series or just turn it into a bunch of drabbles. I also will be making a masterlist soon! As always, tell me if you want to be tagged in part 4 (hopefully there will be one, work has been smth serious) I'd love feedback and support <3 Enjoy!!! Song for the chapter
Part One, Part Two
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It had been almost two weeks since the interview with Adonis Creed, and Athena hadn’t seen him since. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t made himself known. What started as a simple “You make it home okay?” had snowballed into a string of increasingly warm, and increasingly flirty messages.
“Good morning, pretty girl.” “Sleep tight, mama.” “Can I call you when I wake up?”
She hadn’t meant to look forward to them, but her heart still did a little leap every time her phone lit up.
This… whatever it was… didn’t make much sense. But it felt like a friendship, a real one. Something Athena hadn’t had much of back home. Or even in L.A., if she was being honest. Still, this thing with Adonis didn’t feel like just friendship. Not when his “good morning” texts made her smile like an idiot in the mirror, or when she’d spend half her lunch break teasing him on FaceTime about his obsessive ranking of ‘90s action movies.
The calls became routine, her curled up on the couch after work, clothes from the day still clinging to her skin haphazardly, curls escaping the updo she had to wake up 3 hours before work just to do perfectly,  him sprawled across his bed or parked in his car outside the gym. He told her all the ridiculous drama that went down in the gym,complete with impressions, her favorite was the one of Duke, where Donnie’s voice would drop 2 octaves, but he’d always circle back to ask about her day, her article, her take on whatever random movie he’d just seen.
She never turned on her camera, but that didn’t stop him. Oh no. Adonis stayed front and center. One night he leaned back on his couch in a hoodie and beanie, the next he was fresh from training, glistening with sweat in a wife beater, muscles flexing as he reached for a water bottle. Athena had stared so long when she answered the phone that she almost let her dinner burn, cursing at herself and the stove while he laughed, oblivious to what was unfolding.
Even today, the first thing she saw when she woke up was: “Have a good day at work, mama.”
She’d been staring at the message the entire walk to her office, typing and retyping a reply, deleting it before she could send anything that sounded too eager. She was still fussing with it in the elevator when,
“Thena! Good morning!” Of course. Sherri.
“Hi Sherri,” Athena mumbled, barely lifting her eyes from her phone.
“Christian said he liked the interview, but he’ll follow up about the release tomorrow. Oh! I had something else to tell you. What was it again? My mom always said I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached—”
Athena half-listened as they walked through the office, finally settling on a simple: “Morning Donnie. Have a good day.” No emoji. No exclamation mark. Casual.
Sherri was still chattering behind her when they turned the corner to Athena’s office.
“—I swear I don’t know how Christian expects me to remember everything for him. But he keeps me around. Oh! That’s it! Some guy came by super early this morning with something for you.”
Athena opened her door—and stopped.
Her breath hitched.
Sitting on her desk was the largest bouquet she had ever seen. Deep red roses peeking out between lush white and golden blooms. She stepped closer, fingers brushing against the petals. Cherokee roses.
Her chest tightened. Her home state’s flower. Georgia.
“That’s what it was!” Sherri squealed, practically bouncing behind her. “Flowers! Someone brought you flowers!”
“Who?” Athena whispered, eyes still fixed on the bouquet.
“ Oh, he gave me a name… Come on Sheridan. Oh! I remember. Delivery guy said they were from someone named… ‘Donnie’ It could have been Ronnie too, I’m not entirely sure.”
A jolt ran through her.
“There’s a card too,” Sherri chirped, rushing to grab it from a drawer. “I didn’t want Christian snooping—figured it might be personal. Or romantic.” She winked and handed Athena the envelope.
Athena opened it with shaking fingers.
To the Georgia Peach, Thank you for such an amazing interview. I can’t wait to read the article, I already know it’s fire. I’ve read everything else you’ve written. You’re a breath of fresh air for me. So here’s a little breath of fresh air from home. Breathe easy,
~ Donnie
“Oh,” Athena breathed, heart doing somersaults.
“What’s it say?” Sherri pressed. “Don’t leave me hanging.”
“It’s nothing,” Athena lied—badly. “Just someone thanking me.”
Sherri narrowed her eyes, unconvinced, but backed off. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave you to your secret admirer.” She shot Athena a smirk and disappeared.
Alone now, Athena dropped into her chair, still stunned, the scent of the roses filling the room. She picked up her phone and typed quickly:
| Cherokee roses? Sent 9:42 AM
A second later: | wanted you to get a glimpse of home, plus I figured out what the state flower was. I hope you like them, pretty girl.
Her smile bloomed so fast it made her cheeks ache. That pet name again.
| I love them, Donnie, thank you. The note was beautiful too. How did you even get Cherokee roses to L.A.? they’re usually crazy expensive Read 9:46 AM
| Called in a favor with my ma’s gardener. Training for my next match is gonna include digging flower beds now but if it puts a smile on your face, i’ll do it...
Her fingers hovered before replying.
| Donnie you didn’t have to Read 9:48 AM
| But I wanted to. I still want to take you out, Athena.
Athena nearly dropped her phone.
He wasn’t playing.
Whatever she thought this was—casual texts, sweet calls, harmless attention—it wasn’t casual to him. Adonis Creed wanted her. Wanted to know her. Wanted her. And suddenly, that didn’t feel so impossible anymore, but this was thin ice for her. Christian had already been on her ass about the article, and if she went out with Donnie and something broke in the press, especially before the article even broke, she was up shits creek.
| Donnie, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.
Read 9:51 AM
Adonis read the message quickly, but he wasn’t responding in the text thread. Athena sighed about to place her phone down when it began vibrating with a Facetime call from Adonis. She let it ring for a moment so she didn’t seem too desperate to answer. When she finally did she was met with Adonis’ face directly in the camera. He was laid back on his gray couch with a brown hoodie on, face moisturized and beard full. His phone rested on his lower stomach, pointing towards his upper body. 
“Hello Adonis,” Athena wheezed at how fine he looked, pointing her camera at the ceiling.
“Uh uh, girl. Prop that phone up somewhere, I gotta talk to you,” Adonis lifted his hand up and shook it in the camera, his eyes and voice low with sleep.
“Adonis, I do have a job to do.”
“You didn’t when you were texting me back,” he teased, playfully showing his dimple.
“I was thanking you for the flowers, that’s it Donnie,”  She said, powering up her computer, making herself seem busy.
“Prop the phone up, so I can see you, mama.”
She was almost sure she stopped breathing at that moment, her mouth dry as hell and she tried to gather herself. But she listened, propping the phone up against her office computer. Adonis smiled at her, his arm now resting behind his head. 
“Thank you pretty girl.” Athena rolled her eyes at him, typing aimlessly on her computer.
“Now,” Adonis cleared his throat, “why is it a bad idea to go out with me?”
“Adonis,” Athena sighed, “If something breaks before the interview, which drops in 2 days, Christian will have my ass. You’re a celebrity, regardless and Christian wants to be able to control everything the outside media gets. We’re dropping that we got an exclusive with you tomorrow, he doesn’t even know we’re still talking and I really don’t care to deal with him right now.”
“As much as I want to say, ‘who cares?’ I get it. But I still can see you, Athena. How about you come to my apartment or I’ll come to yours, I can cook, and we’ll watch a movie or something?” Adonis was practically begging now. Athena was weary, she was nervous about these feelings she was having for Adonis, even more nervous about what it would change in her career, but she owed it to herself to let someone in besides the one man she had dated years ago.
“Okay, Donnie,” she breathed, “But I'd be more comfortable if you came to my apartment, instead.”
Adonis grinned and licked his lips, “That’s okay with me beautiful. I’ll pick some stuff up and do the cooking. Do you have wine?”
“I mean I do. But I buy the cheap pink Moscato from the grocery store, so if you want something better, you might need to pick yourself up a bottle,” Athena laughed.
“We’ll drink Moscato, pretty girl. What do you want me to cook? I can make a mean alfredo,” responded, giving a laugh of his own. 
“Alfredo is fine, Donnie,” Athena surprised her sigh of contentment, as Donnie smiled at her.
“Okay, baby girl. Call me when you go to lunch.” Athena rolled her eyes and grabbed her phone mumbling a ‘good bye Donnie,’ as she hung up the phone. Athena did not get a moment of peace before her office door swung wide open, Sherri barreling through, almost tripping on her own heels.
“Was that him?” Sherri exclaimed.
“Who?” Athena swallowed.
“The guy that sent the flowers, Athena! Don’t hold out on me! I swear I won’t tell anyone.”
“Sherri, keep your voice down,” she gritted in response, “if you must know, Adonis Creed sent these. We’ve been talking since the interview, but you cannot say anything to Christian.” Sherri squealed at Athena.
“Athena oh my gosh he’s so fine, girl, how did that happen?” She plopped down into one of the chairs across from Athena.
“We ate lunch together during his interview, he was insistent that we talked about things other than him. He’s a huge flirt and he kept complimenting me and basically was just being charismatic. He asked for my number so he could check when I made it home, then he just kept texting me, tonight he’s coming over to cook dinner because he wants to see me again,” Athena heaved, her words jumbling. Sherri listened intently, a wide grin stretching across her tawny shaded cheeks as Athena spoke.
“Girl, if you don’t get on that Athena!” Athena hushed her in response.
“Keep your voice down Sherri! Christian can’t know.”
“Wait,” Sherri waved Athena off as she leaned back in the chair, “why is it a big deal if you get to know Adonis? Why can’t Christian find out?”
Athena sighed, “This is an exclusive, right after his biggest fight, Christian wants us to be quiet about it because we’re the only interview he’s given like this besides the press run at the end of the fight. Christian had to pull some serious strings to get this and that’s why he was so pissed about the article. Plus Donnie is still a celebrity and that’s paparazzi and I don’t want Christian to think that I'm unprofessional. This is one of the biggest articles I’ve ever done Sherri. If I start dating a guy that I interviewed, imagine what I’d look like, people would hate me.”
Sherri giggled and rubbed her forehead, “Athena, respectively, that’s such a bullshit answer.” Athena shook her head in surprise at the bluntness. “I doubt Christian would give a fuck, ‘scuse my language. The guy likes you. I understand where you’re coming from but that doesn’t make you seem unprofessional, the guy just liked you so he asked you out, period. Love you down girly pop, but you’re just scared and that’s okay. All Christian really cares about is just a good article, and you got it for him, he likes what you’ve written. Yes, he might be a bit weirded out but I don’t think he’s gonna think that you’re hooking up with every celebrity we’ve interviewed. Even if he did Thena, the man can’t afford to lose you, that threatening he did the other day was such bull. He got back to his office and immediately freaked out about not wanting to let you go.”
Athena gaped at Sherri as she ranted. 
“What did Donnie, as you call him, say when you explained this to him, Athena?” Sherri crossed her arms, lifting her eyebrow, beckoning Athena for a response.
“He said that he would just cook for us if I didn’t want to go in public but he still wanted to see me. So he’s coming over tonight and making pasta.”
Sherri grabbed her chest and gritted her teeth at Athena, “Girl! Get on that man right now! And if you don’t, I will! Athena you’re about to let Adonis Creed slip through your fingers because you’re too scared to like him? Athena- Renee, you are insane! The guy likes you dummy.”
Athena rolled her eyes before she opened her mouth to respond to her. Before she could, her office door swung open Christian entering.
“Does anyone here knock, Lord?” She mumbled, slipping back into her chair.
“Funny, Athena,” Christians voice boomed through the office, “Sheridan, I need you to come with me to a meeting in 10, I don’t need you in here slacking.”
“Yes, sir,” Sherri stood, brushing her skirt and balling her lips at Athena, wordlessly telling her to go through with Adonis.
“By the way, Athena, I enjoyed the article, it was great. Keep up the good work,” Christian held the door open for Sherri as she walked through, “Come on, beautiful,” he spoke to Sherri and she had the nerve to blush. Athena furrowed her eyebrows and jutted her head outwards. Since when did Christian and Sherri flirt? Sherri turned and looked towards Athena’s office as she walked off, sticking her tongue out at Athena. She sat there for a moment. Since when did Christian call her Sheridan? No one did besides her mother. Also, when did Sherri have enough time to get to know Christian to the point that he confided in her about being scared to fire Athena? She was gagged, she picked up her pen and began clicking it while she stared at her desktop. She needed to have a long conversation with Sherri, and soon.
“What the actual fuck?” she breathed.
******************************************************************************
When Athena got home from work, the first thing she did was deep-clean the entire apartment, after she put her delicate Cherokee Roses on display in her favorite vase, of course. She had about an hour before Donnie would show up, so she watered her plants, cleaned her bathroom, vacuumed and dusted everything she could, she even lit her good Bath and Body Works 3-wick Vanilla bean candle. After she was done cleaning she showered and put on a beige 2-piece loungewear set that hugged her gracious hips, just so she didn’t have to sit in her work clothes while Adonis was there. The tension headache from her curly bun was too much for her to handle so she let the bun down, having to fluff it out because of the stiff state. Athena walked into her living room and sat down on her plush sofa but before she could get comfortable, her door buzzed. She huffed, as she stood and walked to the door, pressing her buzzer.
“Yes?” She hummed into the buzzer.
“Hi, Ms Athena, I got a ‘Donnie’, here to see you. Send him up?” The voice of her doorman, Tony filled the room. Athena swallowed and pressed the buzzer again.
“You can send him up Tony,” She sounded.
A crackling noise filled the buzzer before Tony’s voice spoke again, “Sure thing, Princess.”
*************************************************************************
Not even five minutes later, a knock landed on her door—three quick taps, almost like he was teasing her with his own rhythm. Athena took her time answering, trying not to seem too eager, even though her pulse was thumping like it knew exactly who was on the other side.
She opened the door to find Adonis standing there, arms full with three Trader Joe’s bags that looked like they were cutting his biceps. He was in a matching grey sweatsuit, the hoodie hood still up, and his feet, Lord help her, were in slides with long white socks.
Athena bit back a giggle. “You couldn’t commit to shoes?”
He grinned, eyes trailing over her slowly, deliberately. “You judging my socks when you answer the door looking like that?”
Her oversized tee had slipped slightly off one shoulder, and the soft  pants she wore did nothing to hide the curve of her hips. She folded her arms across her chest, pretending not to notice the way his gaze lingered low before traveling, almost reluctantly, back up to her face.
“You coming in or are you gonna keep standing there letting the bags cut off your circulation?” she teased, stepping aside.
He walked past her, brushing shoulders as he did. “Hard not to stare. You make this whole hallway look good.” He slipped his sandals off neatly at the door.
Athena closed the door a little harder than necessary just to keep from blushing.
“This place is beautiful, pretty girl. It’s really nicely decorated, screams you,” he said, already glancing around at the cozy earth aesthetic of the apartment, his eyes landed on the Cherokee rose bouquet decorating one side of her kitchen island, a glint hit his eyes “ I’m glad you liked the roses baby girl, Where should I put these?”
She pointed toward the kitchen with a soft hum blushing. “Thanks, Adonis.”
That grin again, the one that showed his dimple and made her stomach flip. He walked to the kitchen, hoodie stretched across his back and shoulders in a way that had no business being so distracting. Athena followed, eyes locked on the fabric clinging to his arms.
As he set the bags down, she moved to help, reaching into one just before his hand shot out and swatted her hand gently away.
“Uh uh. Nope,” he said, shaking his head with a smirk.
Athena narrowed her eyes. “I can help—”
“Girl, I came here to cook for you,” he said, stepping closer and grabbing her hands before she could argue again. His touch was warm and easy, his thumbs brushed lightly over her knuckles. “Now don’t mess up my plan. C’mon.”
He led her around the counter to the cushioned green bar stools, his fingers still wrapped around hers. “These look cozy. Sit,” he said as he pulled the chair out for her.
She arched an eyebrow as she took her time to slide into the seat, but he waited, patient and still holding her eyes. Once she was settled, he leaned down and, without warning, pressed a kiss to her cheek, his lips soft and lingering just long enough to make her breath hitch.
Athena blinked as he pulled away like it was nothing, already turning back to unpack the groceries. Athena was sure you’d be able to see her heartbeat in her chest.
“I didn’t know which one you’d prefer, so I bought chicken and shrimp. Your choice, or I can add both,” he said as he finished taking everything out of the bags, voice casual but with a little extra warmth to it. He made his way around the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves before washing his hands.
Athena smiled slowly, her gaze following every move he made, “Chicken will be fine, Donnie.”
“Alright, baby girl,” he turned and smiled at her, his eyes sparkling, “point me to your seasoning cabinet, and where your pans are.”
Athena bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling, “Pots and pans are in the bottom cabinet, left of the stove. Seasoning is right above it. Also, Adonis?” She prodded when she looked at the bags he had placed on the ground next to her trash can. He hummed his response, as he moved to the cabinets taking what he needed. 
“Since when did you shop at Trader Joe’s?” she grinned. Adonis stood and glanced over his shoulder.
“I’m a boxer, and Publix groceries are too expensive for me to buy every week for my meal prep. Plus, their food is good and fresh,” he shrugged, moving back to the counter to be face-to-face with Athena, now leaning over the counter. 
Athena squinted as she studied his face, “ your hair has grown too; beard coming in.”
Adonis scoffed playfully, “My hair always gets a little unruly when I’m training for a fight.” Adonis turned and began to wash the chicken. He placed it on the cutting board, washed his hands and began cutting it into smaller chunks.
“Another fight? It’s barely been a month since your last one.”
“Oh so you’ve been paying attention?” He cut the chicken, glancing up at her with a smile on his face. She shook her head and rolled her eyes as she spoke her reply.
“I just interviewed you, I kind of had to study your life.”
Adonis pressed his lips into a thin smile and nodded his head.
“Yeah, I have another fight but it’s not for another 8 weeks. It’s not a huge one either. Duke told me to go ahead and do it, just so I had an excuse for my title to not be challenged for a while after that, so I could take more time to heal.” She nodded her understanding as she watched him move through her kitchen, seasoning the chicken and placing it in a saucepan before bringing a pot of water to a boil. A pregnant, yet comfortable silence fell over the two of them.
“Baby girl?” Adonis tossed over his shoulder a minute later. Athena hummed. “You keep staring a hole in my back, I might catch fire.” 
The embarrassment that filled her chest was something fierce. She hadn’t even noticed that she was staring. She mumbled a quick apology, one that he waved off.
“Don’t apologize, pretty girl, I stare at you all the time, surprised you haven’t burned the whole building down. I like your hair like this by the way,” Her cheeks heated in response.
“Do you have a speaker?” He spoke again. “Nah, I actually just have a record player,” Athena pointed to the stand next to her window facing the LA skyline. 
“Record player? Oh you old school,” Adonis chortled.
“It was my Grandma’s housewarming gift when I moved to Atlanta. I used to love going to her house during the summer, she’d be cleaning with the records playing something from the 60s. Summertime in Georgia means the screen door would be open, because the A/C hardly worked,  so I’d go outside and just twirl around on her porch pretending my husband was dancing with me at our wedding or something. Granny had Bradford pear trees in her yard so these little white blooms would fly up, like I was actually at my wedding. Smelled so bad when she would make me sweep em’ off the porch though,” Athena’s accent slipped out as she recalled her childhood summers in Georgia. She didn’t like talking much about her life growing up, but anytime she could talk about being around her Granny, she would in a heartbeat. Adonis smiled at her, studying the way her face lit as she spoke about her grandmother. Something about it made his lower stomach hot, and the more he spent time with her, the more enamored he became.
“What records do you listen to?” 
“Mostly the ones from the 60s that my Granny gave me when her record player stopped working. But I also have Lauryn Hill and an Erykah Badu Vinyl.” She said.
“Can I choose one?” He asked, rounding the corner. She nodded, “Help yourself.” Adonis went through the basket full of Vinyls before he slid his hand over one with a blue cover. He grabbed it and slid the vinyl out carefully and placed it on the record player before pressing play. The record player whirled to life, coughing a mechanical whir as it did so. Athena swiveled in her chair to face Donnie as he read the back of the album casing.
There is something on your mind,
By the way you look at me
A strange feeling washed over Athena as she realized what song was playing. He had unironically chosen the album that her Granny used to play that she would dance to. Big Jay McNeely, specifically his song titled There is Something on Your Mind. She looked up at Adonis as he held his hands outstretched towards her.
“This isn’t your wedding,” he shared, “But, dance with me?” 
There is something on your mind, 
pretty baby, by the way you look at me
Athena stood and grabbed Adonis’ hands which he trailed up to wrap around his neck before he dropped her hands to her lower waist as he pushed her lower torso into his. They moved through the living room dancing as the lyrics filled the space.  Athena couldn’t; wouldn’t meet Donnie’s eyes, which were staring down at her, intensely. She decided to just turn her head away from his.
Can what you're thinking bring happiness, or will it bring misery
No, no, please don't try to tell me, 'cause I may not understand
Adonis tried to will her eyes up at his face, but instead he just closed his eyes and turned his head to the side, pressing it into the side of her head.
No, no, you don't have to tell me, pretty baby, 'cause I may not understand
You want me to try and forget you, but I'll do the best I can
They rocked back and forth to the music as the sound of the trumpet filled the room.
If you ever think about me, if I ever cross your mind
Adonis twirled Athena out, surprising her and making her let out a surprised laugh. He pulled her back into his chest before rocking her back and forth. She looked up and met his gaze, a sheepish smile on her face.
“This was the song my Granny used to play on the record,” she smiled.
He looked down at her before letting out a soft hum at her revelation. His eyes got lost in hers for a moment. Before Athena knew it, Donnie’s lips were slotting over her own, like a puzzle piece that was finally returned to its rightful place. Her eyes fluttered closed. The kiss was soft and warm, and ignited goosebumps on both of their skins. Donnie’s hands traveled lower, finding the small of her back and pulling her impossibly close to him as the kiss continued. The kiss was measured, and while slow was so intense, like Adonis was finally saying to Athena what he had wanted to for the two weeks she had known him, and she was reciprocating it. The buzz that Athena felt was only the one that she would get from that cheap store bought wine she bought. They moved together, Athena’s hand landed on his face holding his jaw as the kiss picked up in heat, which was filling her lower abdomen quickly. In a moment of needed breath, she broke the kiss, his head fell into her neck.
A burning smell filled her nostrils.
“Adonis….” she started.
“Hmm?” 
“Did you just burn the chicken?”
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When Adonis had gotten done cooking the shrimp since he decided to leave the chicken in the saucepan for too long and charred it, the two ate in mostly silence, Athena with her Moscato and Adonis with a simple water. Neither of the two knew what to say about the kiss, just that they liked it really. The food was amazing, but Athena couldn’t gush about it with the way the awkwardness felt in the room, so she just settled for a “foods really good Donnie,” and continued to eat quietly.
After dinner, Athena cleared the table while Adonis insisted on cleaning the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves and promising to wash every dish before he left. She didn’t argue, mostly because she couldn’t stop replaying the way he’d looked at her while they danced in the kitchen, like she was the only thing in the room that mattered, like she meant something more than what she had always thought of herself to be.
She had just sunk into her usual spot on the couch, curling into the corner, turning on the Tv to a random show, when Adonis walked in, drying his hands on a towel before tossing it over the armrest. He sat down beside her, closer than usual. His knee brushed against hers, and neither of them moved away.
“We gone talk about it?” he said suddenly, his voice low and serious.
Athena blinked, surprised. “Talk about what?” She was hoping he’d make the rejection quick so she could move on with her life. Drop the article and pretend that Adonis is no longer.
He licked his lips slowly, staring ahead, then turned his body toward her, his dimple out, but his expression was anything but playful.
“The kiss, Athena.”
She looked away, heart racing. “What about it, Adonis?”
He let out a breath, frustrated but soft, like he’d been holding this in for too long. “Everything about it. You act like it didn’t mean anything, but I know you felt it. I know you did. I heard the way your heart was beating when I was holding you while we danced. That kiss wasn’t just some moment. That was me laying it out there. I’ve been trying to show you how I feel, in every way I know how. And I can’t keep pretending I don’t want more than just your number in my phone or your voice on FaceTime.”
Athena opened her mouth to speak, but he wasn’t done.
“I’m not done, Athena,” her mouth clamped shut, “I like you, Athena. More than I probably should already. And I kissed you because I couldn’t help it. You make me lose focus in a way that’s scary as hell but so damn good. And you… you just froze. You didn’t say anything. You ran.”
He leaned in, his hand brushing against hers as he searched her face.
“You’re awkward, and guarded, and complicated as hell, and I swear to God, I find it all so damn attractive. You drive me crazy. But I want to know you, like really know you. Listen to you for hours talk about your childhood in the country, dancing on your Granny’s porch, but you have to let me. So yeah, let’s talk about the kiss. Tell me you felt it too. Tell me I’m not out here falling for you alone.”
His voice dropped to almost a whisper.
“Please.”
And in that moment, with the way he was looking at her, like she held every answer he’d ever needed, Athena felt the wall she’d been hiding behind begin to crack. Her breath caught. The fire in his eyes was too warm to ignore. Too real.
She couldn’t hold herself back anymore.
Athena was on him in a second, this time the kiss was rushed and hot, painfully so. Adonis’ tongue prodded into her mouth as they continued, hot and heavy. They battled for dominance in the kiss, it was only when Adonis sucked her bottom lip into his mouth that she whimpered, which made him grow painfully hard in his sweats. He let out his own groan of approval as she sought his mouth out further, climbing onto him so she was straddling him. They continued this battle for dominance until Donnie’s hand slid down to one of her butt cheeks, while the other hand came up to grip the back of her head through the mane of curled ringlets to push her head closer to his own. He leaned back into the couch, melting into the pillow, Athena chasing his lips as he did so. He groaned low and deep in his chest, the noise making Athena gasp.
This wasn’t like Athena. if she was describing herself, blunt, yes, hard headed, yes, spontaneous, sometimes, but willing to hook up with a guy she met two weeks ago, who happened to be obsessed with her and a celebrity? Hell no. She did have to admit though, she was insanely attracted to Adonis, She hummed as she began to rock her hips into his in order to feel closer to him, in order to get some sort of friction going. Adonis let out a noise, and it wasn’t a whimper this time, it was a full on moan, which only made her grind herself harder, arousal now pooling itself in the seat of her panties. 
Donnie pushed her hips down further to continue to rock against his as he damn near inspected her entire mouth with his tongue, only breaking the kiss to place wet kisses on her neck down to her exposed chest, where her shirt had slipped off of her shoulder. He hit a point that made her back arch, and he started to suck. It was only when she did the same to him and it sent another rush of blood south that he stopped, realizing that they were moving way too fast, and that she meant a lot more to him than a quick fuck on her couch while a random record played in the background. He began grabbing at her hips to stop her slow grinding, as good as it did feel.
“Athena, baby, stop.” He announced breathily. She was in her own world, mouthing aggressively against his neck. He held back another moan, “Athena.” She only hummed in response as she stopped kissing, breathlessly hiding her face in Donnie’s neck in shame. They both sat there for a moment to catch their breath. Athena swallowed before speaking.
“I’m sorry.”
Adonis pulled her head away from his neck gently and studied her face. Her cheeks were red with warmth and her eyes were shiny and wide as if she was on the brink of crying. Her  dark curly hair that flowed past her shoulders was disheveled  with the way his fingers had run through it only moments ago, and yet the tight curls  still framed her face. Still Adonis thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her shirt, falling off of her shoulder and wrinkled, hugged her heaving chest. He searched her face.
“Apologizing is something you do when you are wrong. And nothing about what we just did was wrong, Athena,” he cupped her jaw, “When I confessed that I wanted you I meant it, and as much as I want to ruin you in this moment and make you forget everything else but my name, you deserve a foundation. That’s what I’ll give you first. This can wait until we’re both ready.” His voice lowered and so did his eyes to her lips. He licked his own as he stared. Heat blossomed in her chest at his words.
He leaned in and kissed her slowly but passionately, jaw still gripped into his palm. He leaned back out of the kiss, tugging her lip before letting it go. He smiled up at her, her eyes now low with passion and heart racing again. 
“I like your hair like this, pretty girl.” He spoke, letting the compliment hang in the air, “Get cleaned up and I’ll pick a movie okay?” Athena nodded as she slid out of his lap and started towards her bathroom. She looked at Adonis over her shoulder, who was smiling at her, his dimple ever so present and his eyes soft with something she hadn’t experienced until tonight.
*********************************************************************
As always LMK if you want to tagged pretty people🤍 Hope you guys enjoyed! Love, Peace, and Hair Grease <3
Taglist: @jazziejax @5starsativa @foxybrownsugababe @thickemadame @venusesworld @yornayyy @daughterofapollo-7 @wettbaby
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Hydration 💧
Alexia x Reader
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warning : fluffy 💭💗
summary :
You’ve always been a little forgetful when it comes to hydration, and Alexia, being the ever-attentive girlfriend she is, has made it her mission to ensure you drink enough water throughout the day.
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It's a warm afternoon, and you’re at work, scrolling through your endless to-do list, completely absorbed in your tasks. Your phone buzzes, pulling you out of your focus for a moment. You smile, already knowing who it is before you even look at the screen.
Hey amor, have you had any water today? ❤️
You roll your eyes playfully but feel a warmth spread through your chest. She always remembers to check up on you, even when she’s in the middle of training.
I’m getting some now, promise. Good luck with training, captain 💪❤️
A few seconds later, another buzz. She’s quick to respond, as always.
Good. And thank you, love ❤️. I’ll check in later.
Later in the day, you’re at the gym, trying to push through the last few minutes on the treadmill. You’re exhausted, sweat dripping down your forehead, and your bottle sits untouched beside you. Almost as if on cue, your phone lights up with another message.
Bebé, don’t forget to drink water during your workout. You need to stay hydrated 🫶
You chuckle to yourself, shaking your head. It’s like she has a sixth sense for this. You pick up the bottle and take a long drink, sending her a quick selfie of you mid-gulp.
Happy now? 😂❤️
A minute later, your phone buzzes again.
Very. Now finish strong 💪, then hydrate some more. Love you ❤️
It’s game night, and you’re at the stadium, surrounded by the loud, energetic crowd. Alexia is on the pitch, focused and intense, but you still get a vibration in your pocket during halftime. You pull out your phone and see her name.
Have you been drinking water, amor ?❤️
You grin, shaking your head in disbelief. Even in the middle of a match, she doesn’t forget.
Yes, yes, I’ve got a bottle right here! Now go focus on winning 🏆❤️
She sends back a quick selfie from the locker room, a playful smirk on her face, hair slightly damp with sweat.
Good. Now scream extra loud when I score❤️
Back home, you’re curled up on the couch, half-asleep when you feel your phone buzz against your leg. It’s late, but you smile when you see it’s from Alexia again.
Made it home, finally. Have you been drinking water before bed?❤️
You roll your eyes fondly and send a voice note this time.
Alexia Putellas, I love you, but if you ask me about water one more time tonight, I’m going to—
Before you can finish, there’s a knock on your door. You scramble to answer, and there she is, standing with a grin, holding a bottle of water.
“I thought I’d make sure in person this time,” she teases, stepping inside and wrapping you in a hug. “Now, drink up.”
You laugh, burying your face in her neck. “I think I’m plenty hydrated now, thank you very much.”
She pulls back to look at you, her eyes twinkling. “Good. Because I plan on keeping you around for a long time, and you’re not allowed to get dehydrated on my watch.”
She presses a quick kiss to your forehead, and you sigh happily, already reaching for the bottle. “Yes, captain.”
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itsnesss · 5 months ago
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Please ignore if I’ve already sent this. If you are able to, I’d love to request a story about Min Ho and reader where they are both students at university (or just students at KISS- whichever you want). He notices that she isn’t acting like herself and is just not having him teasingly flirting with her. He discovers that she has a fever high fever after she collapses while trying to get her bike from the bike stand (a la “My Love Story at Level 99 with Yamada- I love that scene.) he takes her to her dorm/apartment but she’s unable to keep water down, so he takes her to the hospital. Eventually he takes her back to rest at her dorm/apartment and he falls asleep resting against the window. Honestly, as long as he takes care of feverish reader I’m all in!
𝐟𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 | minho (xo,kitty) × fem!reader
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summary | the request. you fall ill and faint, but minho quickly steps in, carrying you to his room and later to the hospital. he takes care of you with constant concern, offering comfort and protection as you rest, creating a warm, caring atmosphere
warnings | fluff (comforting moments, caring gestures), fever, fainting, illness, hospital visit, physical care
word count | 1.0 k
author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩
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The day had started like any other at KISS. The sun shone through the large windows of the building, and the students of your university walked the halls between classes. But something was wrong with you. Since the morning, you had felt a strange discomfort, a kind of weakness you couldn’t identify, but you thought it was just tiredness. It wasn’t until you went out to the courtyard to take your bike from the rack that you knew for sure: something wasn’t right.
You wobbled slightly as you tried to balance yourself on your bike, the air felt dense, and your legs were giving out. Sweat trickled down your forehead, and the world around you seemed to spin. That was when everything went dark. The ground came toward you with alarming speed, and you closed your eyes, bracing for the impact.
Min Ho had been nearby, close enough to see you lose your balance and fall. His reaction was immediate, running to you within seconds, his face showing a look of concern.
“Hey! Are you okay?” he asked, his voice filled with alarm as he helped you sit up.
The world kept spinning, and it took you a moment to find words. You could only whisper, “I’m fine,” but your voice sounded much weaker than you wanted.
Min Ho looked at you closely, and that was when his expression changed. He noticed the paleness of your face and the sweat on your forehead. What worried him the most, however, was the heat radiating from you. Without hesitation, he scooped you up in his arms.
“Come on, I’ll take you,” he said firmly, but with a gentleness that surprised you.
Despite your resistance, you couldn’t deny that just the thought of moving made you feel worse. His arms were strong yet careful, and before you could protest, you were already on your way to his destination. He took you to his room, though you knew that what you really needed was rest. It was clear something else was happening with your body, and the fever wasn’t something you could ignore.
Once you arrived, he laid you down on his bed without commenting on your state. He handed you a glass of water, but you barely managed to take a sip before the liquid came right back up. A knot formed in your stomach.
“Don’t worry,” Min Ho said, placing his hand on your forehead to check your temperature. “You have a fever, but I’ll make sure you’re okay.”
The seconds seemed to stretch as you looked at him. He didn’t leave your side for even a moment, and your mind felt completely foggy. The fever made you feel weak, dazed, and unable to think clearly. Still, you felt comforted by his presence.
Min Ho went to the kitchen for a moment, returning with some medicine and a bottle of water that, for some reason, seemed easier to swallow. He helped you take the pills, his protective attitude leaving no doubt about how seriously he took the situation.
“Now, stay here. I’ll take you to the hospital if this doesn’t get better,” he said, but his soft tone indicated he would rather not do that. He didn’t want things to get that serious.
Despite your exhaustion and the nightmares that seemed to haunt you with each blink, you managed to keep the water inside you for a little longer. Min Ho didn’t leave your side for a second. He sat in the chair by the window, watching you in silence as you settled under the blankets.
The silence you shared was different from before, when you’d joke and laugh. Now, everything felt much more personal, much more peaceful. His concern for you was palpable, and although he didn’t say it, you could see that nothing mattered more to him than making sure you were feeling better.
As the hours passed, the fever didn’t break, and he, true to his word, finally took you to the hospital. The ride was uncomfortable and long, but he never left your side. His eyes didn’t leave you for a single moment. In the clinic, they gave you a quick checkup, confirming you had a high fever, but it wasn’t anything too serious.
“We’ll prescribe you some antibiotics. You should rest as much as possible,” the doctor said, handing you the medicine. Min Ho, not wasting a second, helped you out of the place and guided you back to his apartment.
Although the fever didn’t go away completely, your body began to relax a little. The night approached, and exhaustion slowly overtook you. Min Ho settled by the window, his body leaning against the wall as he watched the city lights.
“Sleep,” he whispered to you. “I’ll be here.
You felt the weight of the fever, but the warmth of his presence gave you a sense of security. Finally, you fell into a deep sleep, with the soft sound of his breathing as your only companion.
Min Ho didn’t move from his spot. He only watched you while you rested, the concern still visible on his face. But as the minutes passed, his own eyes began to close, the exhaustion from all the care taking its toll.
In the end, both of you slept soundly, the fever slowly subsiding under the constant watch of someone who had shown, in every small gesture, what it meant to take care of someone.
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renehall-pharroe · 16 days ago
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After the Mistake
The whiskey was Rhysand’s and Elain had used a stepstool to get it from the shelf. She wasn’t even sure when she’d wandered into the River House cellar, only that she’d felt like her lungs were collapsing, and her heart was two sizes too big and bruising her ribs from the inside out.
She’d been so sure.
So stupid.
Azriel had looked at her, Solstice lights soft in his hazel eyes, his scent of mist and cedar between them and when she’d leaned in, breath trembling…
“This is a mistake.”
He hadn’t even said it cruelly. Just quietly. Sadly.
Elain had nodded, smiled, pretended she understood. Because she did. Really.
And then she’d walked out of the room before he could see the devastation behind her smile.
Now she was three glasses in, bare feet cold on the wooden floor, and she couldn’t stop thinking about Lucien.
Lucien, who was upstairs, probably asleep. Hopefully asleep. Gods, let him be asleep. Lucien, who was her mate. Lucien, who she had avoided and pushed aside and maybe, just maybe, didn’t even deserve.
The house was quiet. Shadows whispered in the hallway. Her bottle sloshed in her hand as she crept upstairs, weaving slightly.
She paused in front of his door.
Her other hand hovered in the air for a long moment before she knocked. Softly. Then again, harder.
There was a long pause. Then a groggy voice: “Unless someone is dying or the roof is on fire, I swear to the Mother—”
He opened the door shirtless, blinking, ruby hair mussed and tousled from sleep.
“Elain?” he said, confused.
She held up the bottle. “Hi, mate.”
Lucien stared at her. Slowly took in the sight of her rumpled dress, flushed cheeks, and a very obvious tipsy sway.
“Well,” he said, rubbing his face, “this is either a dream or the beginning of a very complicated story.”
She giggled. Giggled. “Can I come in?”
He stepped aside instinctively. “Should I be concerned? Am I about to get stabbed?”
“No,” she said solemnly, walking past him. “I came to apologize…I mean… to talk,” she corrected with a hiccup.
Lucien closed the door behind her, glancing at the bottle. “I see you’ve come armed.”
“I am a disaster,” Elain announced, plopping down unceremoniously on the edge of his bed and pulling her knees to her chest. The whiskey sloshed recklessly. “I tried to seduce Azriel.”
Lucien arched a brow. “…Should I be pouring a drink?”
“You’re taking this very well,” she muttered and then passed him the bottle.
“I’m mostly asleep. And I suspect you’ll be horrified by all of this in the morning, so I’m soaking it in as well as I can,” he set the bottle to the side.
Elain groaned and buried her face in her arms. “He said it was a mistake.”
Lucien winced. “Oof.”
“I just…” Her voice wavered and she let out a deep sigh. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I mean, I did. I’ve been pushing you away for so long and trying not to feel anything and I thought maybe if I just… focused on someone else… maybe I’d stop dreaming about you.”
The room went silent.
Lucien’s voice, when it came, was very soft. “You dream about me?”
Elain peeked over her knees. “And they’re not always nice.”
“I don’t deserve nice ones,” he said with a wide smile, but something dark flickered across his face. “Especially not from you.”
"Sometimes they're scandalous." Her eyes went wide, surprised at her own words. She shook her head quickly as if to ground herself in this moment and forget the stupid thing she just uttered. "Oh gods! I can't believe I told you that," she giggled, then snorted, quickly covering her face. Lucien laughed, and Elain bit her lip. "I'm sorry I've been so cruel."
“You’ve been scared,” he replied, easing down to sit beside her on the bed. “I scare you. The bond scares you. That’s not cruelty. That’s… survival.”
“I don’t mean to be so standoffish. I’m just…” she laughed, a little helplessly, “I’m afraid I’m going to do something completely unladylike. Like…climb you like a tree.”
She clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide in disbelief at her own words then dissolved into giggles.
Lucien watched her laugh, cheeks flushed, hands covering her face in playful mortification, and he couldn’t help the slow grin that spread across his face.
This had to be the best dream of his entire life.
Because surely it was a dream. Elain Archeron, in front of him, albeit drunk and blushing but saying things that made his pulse thunder in his ears.
If he was asleep, he didn’t ever want to wake.
He blinked. Once. Twice.
Then inhaled, deeply like he’d forgotten how to breathe for a moment.
Her drunken thoughts twisted around her words like vines. “And You’re always so kind to me.”
"Well..." he began. His heart pounding in his chest. "You clearly haven't heard the things I say about you to Jurian."
She laughed again, sudden and bright. “Such as?”
“I say you’re dangerous,” he added. “A sweet little menace with eyes full of judgment.”
Elain gave him a faux gasp of outrage. “I am not a menace.”
“You just wandered into my room in the middle of the night holding a bottle of whiskey and trauma. If that’s not a menace, I don’t know what is.”
She couldn’t stop smiling. “I didn’t know you were funny.”
“I’m hilarious,” Lucien said, placing a hand dramatically over his heart, his russet eye gleaming with mischief. “You just never give me a chance to dazzle you. And honestly, my brain doesn’t know how to work when you’re around.”
Elain blinked up at him, swaying slightly as she tried to focus. Her lips parted in a dazed smile, cheeks flushed, eyes shining with tipsy wonder.
“You’re dazzling me now,” she said, voice soft and utterly sincere.
Lucien went still. Again.
She could feel his breath. The heat of him, too close and not close enough.
He didn’t move, didn’t lean away or toward her. Just let her rest there, the quiet settling around them like a blanket.
“I don’t love him,” she whispered. “Azriel.”
Lucien was quiet for a long moment. “I know.”
“You know?”
“You wouldn’t be here if you did.”
A silent moment passed before she spoke, her brow furrowed in thought, “I knew you. In the throne room.”
He met her gaze, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.
“I had seen you before," she continued, a wistful smile playing on her lips. "In my dreams when I was a girl. So many times.”
Shock washed over him, his expression a mix of disbelief and dawning understanding as he tried to process her revelation.
She leaned in toward him, both of him, apparently, and tried to focus, breathing in his scent deeply. She sniffed loudly. Almost comically.
He watched her, still shocked but clearly amused. “Are you all right, Lady?”
“You smell like a cinnamon roll,” she murmured, eyes slightly glazed. “A giant, gorgeous, cinnamon roll.”
Lucien chuckled under his breath. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Don’t touch me,” she said suddenly.
Lucien froze, startled. He met her gaze, eyes searching.
“I wasn’t going to,” he said quietly. “You’re safe here.”
She shook her head, biting her lip. “We’re not, though.”
His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I think we’re… carra, carra, carranum,” she blurted, fumbling over the word.
Lucien’s eyes widened. “Carranam?“
She nodded, looking both deadly serious and completely overwhelmed. “I’ve seen you in my visions. Not like… seeing you, exactly. Well, that too. But us. Together. Inside the vision. Watching it together. I’ve had visions of my visions.” She frowned, then groaned. “Ugh, that didn’t make any sense, did it? I’m really drunk.”
Then she laughed helpless and tipsy and beautiful. “Cauldron, this is insane.”
Lucien just stared at her, as if the ground had shifted beneath his feet.
“I just wanted a normal, quiet life and now look,” she gestured dramatically to everything.
“Carranum? Who told you that?” he asked again still trying to process.
“I loved celebrating Solstice when I was a girl,” she said softly completely disregarding his worry. “We’d hang cinnamon sticks on the mantel and leave little bundles of herbs for good luck. My mother would make spiced cider, and Nesta would pretend to hate it, but she always drank three mugs.” A pause. “And I used to knit scarves for my father and my sisters. I wasn’t very good then. In fact, I was horrible. One end was always twice as wide as the other.”
Lucien decided having a discussion about the Carranum bond when she was drunk wasn’t wise. He decided to stick to the current topic of conversation. “I would’ve worn it.”
Elain looked up at him, surprised. “Even the lumpy end?”
“Especially the lumpy end.” He smiled with a flirtatious shrug. “Gives it character.”
She stared at him a moment, something warm and unnameable twisting in her chest.
Then perhaps to deflect the feeling she blurted, “Have you ever seen a rainbow eel?”
Lucien blinked. “A what?”
“You know,” she said airily. “They shimmer in the sun. Little fangs. Tails like ribbons. I dreamed about one once.”
Lucien raised a brow. “That’s either a hallucination or a myth from a children’s story.”
“It’s real,” she insisted. “I know it is. Somewhere in Prythian there’s a rainbow eel and it’s waiting to be discovered. By me. I need this .”
“Well, now I have to find it,” Lucien declared solemnly. “I’ll go on a harrowing quest. Brave deadly waters. Battle cranky kelpies and spiteful sprites. And when I return, I’ll present it to you in a bucket like a true romantic.”
Elain grinned, warm and wide. “That might be the strangest proposal I’ve ever heard.”
“I didn’t say anything about a proposal,” he replied smoothly. “I’m just wooing you with aquatic oddities. It’s a very specific courting tradition. Rare. Exclusive.”
She laughed again freely, fully.
Lucien watched her for a moment, the glow of her eyes, the easy joy in her expression. And even though she was still nestled too close for comfort if they really did share the Carranum bond,
He didn’t move.
Because this, this quiet, meandering conversation in the dark was the closest he’d ever been to hope.
And he didn’t dare break it.
And sometime later , her breathing slowed.
Lucien turned just enough to see her eyes flutter closed, her head slowly tipping as sleep overtook her. With a quiet sigh, she stretched out and burrowed into his blankets, curling up like she belonged there.
He stood, watching her for a moment, then whispered with a faint smile,
“Sleep, menace.”
__
Elain woke to the unmistakable scent of him. For one blissful second, she wished she could melt into the bed and never leave.
Then realization hit.
She was in his bed.
And she’d made a complete ass of herself the night before.
Slowly, carefully, she glanced around the room. Lucien was dozing in a nearby chair, feet propped on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, head tipped back. Peaceful. Infuriatingly handsome. She reminded herself not to stare .
She slipped off the mattress as quietly as possible, trying not to wake him. But her foot clipped a small table and a bottle of whiskey crashed to the floor.
“Heavens!” she spat way too loudly and flung herself toward the bottle now emptying itself out on the rug.
Lucien stirred, then opened his eyes, his mouth already curling into a smirk.
She scrunched her nose. “So , so sorry. I was trying to leave without waking you. And I just spilled Rhysand’s obscenely overpriced whiskey. There’s some still left in the bottle if you want it. For a souvenir?” She shrugged and waved a hand with a dramatic little flourish, clearly exasperated with herself.
Lucien huffed a laugh, the sound low and sleepy and way too attractive for this hour.
“Also,” she added, brushing hair out of her face, “sorry for waking you in the middle of the night and for being… a bit tipsy.”
“A bit?” he echoed, grinning wide now. Again. He chuckled. “It’s fine. Honestly, it’s the most fun I’ve had in a while.”
Elain’s fingers fumbled on the doorknob like it was some ancient riddle only a sober mind could solve and she was pretty sure she was still a little drunk. Her cheeks were already burning from the string of awkward mishaps this morning.
Solstice whiskey. Never again.
Lucien, still lounging and still shirtless, looked like he was enjoying every second of her unraveling.
She finally got the door open, but paused, something sticking in her chest like thorns in a rose stem. She turned around.
Lucien’s mismatched eyes met hers.
“I…” she began, voice wobbling and quickly said, “do you want to have dinner sometime?”
There was a beat. His brows lifted, stunned. Then a slow smile curved over his mouth real, soft, and utterly sincere.
“I would love to,” he said.
Her brain fizzled like soda water. “Oh. Okay. Well. Good night!”
His smile widened just as the confusion set into her own words. She froze.
“It’s morning,” he offered gently, amused.
She visibly winced. “Right. Good. Morning.”
She didn’t wait for a response. Just bolted through the door like a spooked deer, nearly tripping on the threshold in her rush. She yelped as the door clicked shut behind her with finality.
Inside, Lucien stared at the door a moment longer, then laughed softly to himself.
He had been sure this had been the worst Solstice of his life feeling her with Azriel like a phantom pain he couldn’t shake. But then she’d stumbled into his room, whiskey-sweet and blushing. And then the shocking realization that they shared Carranum bond.
He was still shocked she had suggested dinner. And just like that, it became the best night of his existence. So far.
Read it on A03
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the-cauldron-witch · 6 months ago
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Howdy T'Witch! It makes me so happy that you got your blog all up and designed! Those are big days and I’m happy that it looks so good! Hopefully you think so too!
I say that your writing requests were open and I’d love to pick your brain on some light angst if you’re up for it! No worries if you ain’t because hey understandable. The holidays be crazyyyyyy 🤪
But maybe to something to think about if you’re bored and whatever. But I wanted to ask on how do you think the Bayverse Boys would respond to you (y/n) getting amnesia and forgetting about them completely for whatever reason for how ever long? Do you think they’d try to rejog their memory or try to love them better with the chance of a fresh start? Or something else entirely. I am curious and I’d love to hear your thoughts if you’ve got the time and energy. Thanks for existing!
Hey Anon! (It’s weird to type this and have you not actually be an anon lmao)
I am very happy I finally have my blog up and running how I like, it finally feels like a little home to me. Thank you for noticing! 🫂🫂🫂
Thank you so much for sending an ask, I’m going to have fun with this one! I’m giving them a happy ending though, cause I can’t write angst and not give my boys a good ending. (Also completely unedited and not proof read lol)
Leonardo
The worry and anxiety he feels in the pit of his stomach like he swallowed a lead weight is one thing, but the chest-clenching heartbreak when you shriek at the sight of him and had no recollection of his existence is another.
He keeps a stoic face once you’ve calmed down and while explaining who he is to you, but really this poor guy is absolutely gutted. It takes so much of him to keep a straight face.
Still a bit of a helicopter, using any subtle opportunity to jog your memory of himself. He’ll make a cup of tea for you in the exact way he did on your first date, subtly comment on your outfit when he recognizes it’s something he bought you, anything he could think of to hopefully remind you.
This man does not sleep the entire time. You aren’t sleeping in his bed, how could he anyway? Once he is sure you are fully asleep, he comes to check on you. Listen to see if you talk in your sleep, mumbling about memories or just in case a nightmare decides to haunt you.
When he can’t check on you or do really anything else, he’s meditating in order to keep his emotions in line. He’s completely destroyed, so meditating for hours on end is the only way he can keep himself in check.
Although he’s snappy, irritable, and driving everyone but you away, what Leo really needs is one of his brothers to ignore the attitude and just stand there and let him get it out. By the time he’s done he’s already apologized a hundred times, he’s just lost and broken hearted.
Out of all his brothers, Raph is probably the one that cracks him and gets him to just spit it out. They all know what’s going on and how much Leo’s hurting from it all, but he still needs to let it out. Raph can handle the attitude with ease, brushing it aside and letting Leo get himself together
After what feels like an eternity, you gain your memory back at the most random of times while you happened to be watching him practice his kata. When you start babbling memories excitedly, he picks you up in a hug and cries into you.
It doesn’t matter if anyone’s watching, he’s crying and just so grateful that you remember who he is. Weeping tears of joy and the bottled anxiety finally burst as he holds you. Bear with this poor guy, it’s been a ride for both of you really.
Raphael
This poor guy is so surprised and in shock when you don’t remember him, he thinks you’re playing some sort of prank on him at first.
“Heh- babe, c’mon…don’t joke around like dat”
Once it hits him that this isn’t a prank or joke, you genuinely do not know who he is, Raph practically shuts down.
The love of his life doesn’t remember who he is, even looks at him like he’s the monster he felt he was before meeting you. It breaks his heart so much he locks himself away for a day or two, unfortunately leaving you more confused.
When you start wanting to be near him- no, needing to be near him, is when he starts coming around. He found you pacing back and forth in front of his bedroom door like a cat waiting to enter a closed off room one night.
You couldn’t explain it, but you have this invisible pull and primal need to be near him somehow. To be close, even touching him. Although you don’t remember why, you just know you need to,
Raph starts coming out of his room and trying to act normal, but when his brothers look him in the face an see how red and raw his eyes are, the dark circles, and the heartbreak in his eyes, they know it’s just an act but wisely choose not to comment.
He catches you staring at him while he’s working out, chuckling as you bashfully try to shy away. He doesn’t tease or joke though, instead encourages you to come watch
“I miss my favorite spotting partner,” Raph admits, hoping that will help jog your memory a little. It doesn’t outright, but you do find yourself already knowing how to spot him.
After a few days of you following Raph around like a lost puppy, your memory finally comes crashing back to you when Raph slipped the boxing gloves on you for practice.
Relief. So much relief it washes over Raph like a tidal wave that nearly knocks him off his feet. He holds you and kisses you, telling you repeatedly how grateful and happy he is you have your memory and you’re here. The tears will come at night while the two of you are in bed for the night, but he holds you and everything is okay.
Donatello
Initiate full on analytical mode. He is immediately going through a thousand different scenarios and cures in his head, he almost forgets that *you forgot* who he was all together, so his babbling did nothing to calm you down.
Even with all his knowledge and abilities, it still doesn’t negate the overwhelming emotions he feels when you don’t recognize him. It hurts, makes it hard for Donnie to even breathe, but he hides it behind his science and research.
Sitting in front of his computer for days on end in between checking up on your, it becomes almost like an obsession for Donnie to get your memory back. At the risk of his own health and wellbeing, he does not stop.
From using scents he knows you enjoy, like that cologne you bought for him as a gift or your favorite body wash, tasting your favorite coffee or the tiramisu Donnie bought for the two of you on a date once.
Let’s put on that movie we watched on that one Valentine’s weekend; you were obsessed with it for weeks!
Oh, what if Donnie took you to that rooftop the two of you saw a comet in the night sky once? It was absolutely beautiful, but wasn’t nearly as beautiful as you, he confided.
Countless hours of research keep Donnie from sleeping, honestly at one point contemplating how he could just straight main-line caffeine into his blood stream to stay awake.
Without warning one night, you come into his lab and demand he sleep. Not ask, not coax, you demand Donnie to get in bad with you and get some sleep. He questions if you’ve finally gotten your memory back, but sadly no. And he’s crushed. But you still demand he lay down in bed with you.
Crawling into bed with you with awkward limbs, Donnie is surprised that you lay down exactly as you always do with him. Even without memory, it was like your body still remembered how you fit together.
Quiet tears fall as Donnie holds onto you, sleep mercifully taking him into a deep slumber. Guilt crawled its way into your stomach while trying to sleep, wishing that your memory would just return so you could stop all of this.
Waking up in the morning, you blinked with shock as you look at Donnie- looked at him like you knew him again. And you did. You had woken up with your memory by some miracle.
Kissing and hugging you with love and relief, Donnie can’t keep his hands off of you or keep the tears from smudging his glasses. It was all so hard to believe while it was happening that now it was over, it felt like the end of a tornado.
The two of you decide to sleep in a little longer, only because Donnie could barely hold his eyes open. Frankly, sleep was probably what you needed too after all this.
Michelangelo
Confused. Downright, no jokes confused. How could you not remember him so suddenly? Time just doesn’t erase like that right?
Mikey asks Donnie a million and one questions, repeating or re-wording them or giving scenarios. It drives his brother mad, but he tries to be lenient because Donnie knows how terrified his younger brother is.
He caters to you in every way; offers to get you a drink, make you something to eat, get you a pillow, it becomes a little overwhelming, but you don’t know how to tell him to stop.
When Mikey tries to kiss you and pull away, it was like you could practically hear the way his heart shatters like glass. But he hides it with a smile and flirts, telling you he won you over once, he could do it again.
This is when he starts to flirt with you like he did before the two of you started dating, but with far more strategy and knowledge. Comments about how sweet you are while making your favorite chocolate pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream
Tells you how amazing you look in that shirt or those pants, mostly because he was the one to buy them.
He’ll give you your favorite kind of gifts; favorite flowers, candy, stuffed animals, anything he can think of giving you and jog your memory. Each time it doesn’t work, he’s crushed a little bit more, but he keeps trying.
Plays movies that you and Mikey watched together, shared music playlists the two of you built together over the period of your relationship, and whatever else he could possibly think of. But it still didn’t work.
When you aren’t anywhere near to see, Mikey with let himself cry for a moment out of frustration and sadness that you don’t remember him. It hurts, but by the time you are near he has a smile back on his face.
He thought you were sleeping one night when you found him crying down one of the sewer tunnels away from the lair. The sight broke your heart, which for some reason jogged your memory. Rushing to hug and kiss him, you damn near scared Mikey out of his shell.
“Angelcakes, you remember!?” Mikey shouts, picking you up and spinning you in a massive hug. Thank the pizza Gods, he had you back!
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jayceofprogress · 2 months ago
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Journal entry: 13.0.12.9.10/995AN
Env. Cond. T = 26° RH = 61%
Result # = Nil
Observations: N/A
Note: Want to make sure I write this all down so I don’t forget any of it. Been a few weeks since the last entry, because Sky found my journal on the lab floor (long story), and I’ve been too paranoid to write anything. As a result…a lot’s happened.
Testing’s been on hold. Still have the S sample, but haven’t been able to do anything with it yet—once the upgrades for the Gates are done, hoping to get started in the next few days.
The gala Cassandra hosted went well. Spoke to the investors from Bolbok’s division—nothing much there worth pursuing; they’re only looking for steel and raw mineral for trade, which I’ve told Bolbok about ten times isn’t us. I’m pretty sure he turns off whatever mechanism he uses for listening during half our meetings so he can doze in his seat.
I’d managed to convince V to come. Guilt-tripped him that I didn’t want to go alone, more like, but hell, it worked. Felt bad I had to leave him to go rub shoulders with half of House Andrille. Nobody had anything of substance to ask or say to me, they all just wanted to be close to me, laughing at jokes even I knew weren’t funny, leaning in close to touch my arm, fluttering eyelashes, licking their lips. Would’ve been flattering if I didn’t know it wasn’t for me. Not really. It was for the posters, and the speeches, and that other guy that gets up on the stage to wave and smile and talk about things like Progress and Innovation like they’re brand labels slapped on empty bottles.
Every time I glanced over to check on V, all I wanted to do was go sit down beside him. I wished I could’ve listened to him taking apart all the stupid, self-absorbed diplomats in the room, and brought him something from the canapé trays all the servers were holding out of his reach, and pretended not to be staring at how good he looked in his nice going-out suit.
By the time I did actually make it over to him, it was late and neither of us were in much of a mood to stay any longer. He’d had a lot to drink—way more than me, by the looks of all his empty glasses, though it didn’t make him any less articulate than usual.
Offered to walk him home. Then insisted on it. Pretended it was a manners thing, even though it wasn’t; just me being selfish, wanting to soak up his company for as many minutes as I could. Maybe it was because of the champagne, or how pretty the stars were that night, or just something finally breaking in my head, but I agreed to come inside. Just for a drink. I never imagined anything else would happen. Well, okay, maybe I’d imagined it, but I never thought it’d actually happen.
We talked. About nothing, really, just work, and then V mentioned he’d wanted to invite me over before, and…
I told him how I felt about him. Not completely, not right away, but. Enough, I think, that he understood. Said there was nobody in the world I’d rather spend my time with. And that he was the best part of me. That losing him would be like cutting all the worthwhile parts out of myself. His reaction scared the shit out of me. He looked horrified, or upset, or something. I thought I’d fucked everything up. Felt like the worst kind of idiot, cursing myself for drinking so much and letting my mouth run away from me. Was ready to die of embarrassment, wanted to leave and throw myself off a bridge, but then.
He kissed me.
The rest of the night’s kind of a blur. I took him to bed. Or maybe he took me. Maybe it was fucked up of me to do that when we were both drunk. I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about it; the way he sank his teeth into my shoulder, tugged his fingers in my hair. The mark he left on my neck is still fading. The way his voice sounded, breaking on my name. I told him I loved him. I didn’t mean to. It just came out, like being inside him made my brain forget there’d be consequences for all of it the next day.
I stayed the night, and woke up with him coughing—it was bad, frankly, there was blood—and it doesn’t seem to be getting better. I’ve been keeping an eye on him ever since, even though he was adamant it was nothing. And now it’s awkward as hell. We’re tiptoeing around each other in the lab; all ‘Please, Viktor’ and ‘Thank-you, Jayce’ and cool professional civility. It’s killing me. I feel like we need to talk, but the thought of that is killing me even more.
How would I try to explain it to him? That for seven years, it’s felt like life began and ended in the hours we spent making impossible things real together, holding magic in our hands, his eyes on mine over the light of it all. I don’t know how to tell him that I’m tired of those in-between hours where everything’s just a shade of what it could be. We could come home together at the end of the day, instead of watching each other moving in opposite directions. I could cook for him, instead of just myself, and let him oversweeten both our teas, and wrap his cold, bony feet up in my hands on the couch while he reads, or talks, or laughs at me so hard his eyes crease closed.
I could take him apart at the end of the day—braces first, letting him breathe again, easing his skin with my mouth and holding him up through however much pain he’s in—and then put him together again in bed. In our bed—a place I could share with him. I could hold him together, in my arms, in his sleep.
Council meeting this afternoon, then I need to do more speech prep. Feels like a huge fucking waste of time when I could be here instead.
I’m tired of being Jayce Talis, whatever that even means now—someone I don’t recognize anymore. I just want…whatever I am, and whatever that’s worth, to be Viktor’s. He can do with it as he wishes.
- J.T.
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Text
Wilbur spins John as they dance around the kitchen. The music playing drowns out John’s soft laughter. When he completes the rotation, John smiles up at his boyfriend. “I love you.”
“I love you too, honey,” Wilbur croons as he smiles. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to John’s forehead. 
John grins, resting his head against Wilbur’s shoulder. He closes his eyes, just basking in the warmth of Wilbur’s arms. The scent of sandalwood and cinnamon from Wilbur’s cologne makes him relax.
He feels at home.
John blinks awake. Warm arms wrap around him and, for a split second, he forgets that it’s not Wilbur holding him.
It’s Eric.
Gently, he removes Eric’s arms from around him before sliding off the bed. He heads to the bathroom and turns on the water.
Once steam begins to fill the room, John steps into the shower and attempts to scrub the dream away.
By the time he finishes showering and getting ready, he can smell coffee. He steps out of the bedroom and heads down to the kitchen.
Eric stands at the stove in his robe, his hair messy from sleep. He glances over when he hears John enter. “Good morning, my love.”
“Good morning, dearest.” John stops to give Eric a kiss before going to pour himself a mug of coffee.
Once he has his coffee, he settles at the table. He watches Eric cook for a few minutes before speaking. “I’m surprised you’re awake. You don’t normally wake up this early on weekends.”
“Well,” Eric starts, looking back over his shoulder to look at John. “I thought it might be nice to have breakfast together before I leave for the week.”
Guilt twists a knot into John’s stomach. “Right. Your high school reunion trip.”
“Yeah.” Eric turns his attention back to the bacon he’s frying on the stove.
John looks down at his coffee, his grip tightening around the mug. He remembers their last fight about it, can still hear it ringing in his ears. He takes a sip of coffee.
An awkward air lingers between them as Eric sets a plate in front of John. “Here you go.” Eric brushes back John’s hair before stepping away to fix his own meal.
“It looks great.” John waits until Eric sits across from him and takes a bite before digging into his own meal.
The silence between them continues. John finishes before Eric does. He stays seated, fidgeting with his fork. He keeps his eyes down, staring at the tabletop.
“...be safe, okay?” John finally speaks. He lifts his eyes to gaze solemnly at his husband. 
Eric smiles gently. “You too,” he bids. A hand reaches across the table to take John’s, giving it a quick squeeze. “I’ll text you when I make it to my parents’.”
“I’d appreciate it.” John gives a soft grin in return.
When John walks into the empty house that evening after work, he sighs heavily. A week without Eric home.
He’s not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.
He makes it up the stairs to the bedroom. He strips off his uniform. He pulls a pair of loose sweats from his dresser, tugging them on. He starts for the dresser again to get a shirt but pauses.
His eyes dart to the closet. Taking a deep breath, he pushes the drawer closed and heads to the closet. He opens the door, staring at the depths of clothes.
He takes exactly five steps into the walk-in before turning to the left. He kneels, moving and shifting around shoeboxes until a large tote comes into view. Tugging it closer, he pulls off the lid.
The scent of sandalwood and cinnamon wafts up from the contents. John relaxes almost immediately at the smell as he reaches in. He pulls out a neatly folded t-shirt. The cotton feels soft under his fingers as he gingerly unfolds it. The front of the shirt is plain so John turns it over so he can read the name Cross on the back.
It’s okay. Eric won’t know.
That’s what John tells himself as he tugs the shirt on. It hangs long on his frame, but it always did. John closes his eyes for a moment. For a split second, he can pretend nothing ever went wrong.
He reaches into the tote again, feeling around until he feels cool, smooth glass. He pulls out a bottle of cologne. As he sprays it, the scent of sandalwood and cinnamon grows stronger.
Inhaling deeply, John places the bottle back into the tote. He’ll put everything back later. He has time.
He heads back downstairs, intent on finding something for dinner.
When he enters the kitchen, he stops dead in his tracks.
Wiley sits at the kitchen table, in the exact seat Eric occupied that morning. His dark eyes rake over John’s form, a smirk crossing his lips. “You’re still adorable in that shirt.”
John’s heart threatens to beat out of his chest. “What are you doing here?” he demands, “You don’t belong here.”
“Oh, Johnny, you wound me.” Wiley brings a hand up to his chest. “My home is wherever you are, honey.”
Oh. Oh no. John feels his knees weaken at the almost forgotten pet name. How long has it been since Wilbur called him that?
He struggles to find his resolve. This is crossing a line. This is his and his husband’s house. He can’t-
In the blink of an eye, Wiley moves from the chair to stand in front of John. One of his hands falls to John’s waist, the other taking his hand as he begins to lead him in a dance across the kitchen floor.
Wiley’s hums sound like John’s favorite song. He spins John around before pulling him close.
This is wrong.
John rests his head against Wiley’s shoulder, eyes closing.
This is wrong, he repeats silently to himself.
Wiley’s lips press a kiss to his temple.
This is wrong.
The scent of cinnamon and sandalwood envelop John as Wiley’s arms do the same. It feels so warm, so familiar.
It feels like home.
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cas-kingdom · 2 years ago
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I’m in love with your criminal minds Drabbles!! If possible I’d love to see some bonding between hotch and Reid’s sister <333
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You sleeping in arbitrary places wasn't exactly a rarity around the BAU. Not quite yet an official member of the team—though somehow Hotch had enrolled you in some sort of experience programme you were pretty sure he'd made up for your benefit—you had to make do with stiff seats and tucked away corners on the daily as you waited for Spencer to finish his work. Surprisingly, the long days and even longer nights hadn't seemed to sway your wish to join the team just yet, though no one had placed any bets that it would.
Even so, said arbitrary places weren't exactly made use of at nearing midnight on a Friday. Having returned from Gideon's case just that evening, Hotch had sent everyone home with their promises of sleep before hiding himself away in his office to complete some work before the weekend. By the time he'd finished, the bureau had settled into the usual ambience consisting of the few late night workers and janitors.
He headed into the break room with the intention of grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and heading straight home, but the sudden sight of you and yet another of your arbitrary sleeping spots told him that might not be achievable just yet.
You were curled up on the break room couch, a stack of pillows under your head and what looked to be your brother's tweed jacket doing its best to act as a blanket. Hotch stared for a moment, concern slowly pushing away his brief amusement at the situation, and rose a brow when one of your eyes opened to stare at him.
"Hotch," you greeted, not at all groggily, which told him you probably hadn't slept.
Hotch put his bag down and seated himself on the end of the couch. "Y/N, what’re you still doing here?" he asked gently. He put a comforting hand on your ankle under the jacket and you sat up, tucking your frizzy hair behind your ears.
You yawned and shrugged. "Sleeping. Or, lying down, rather."
“I mean in the building." He smiled at your belated look of realisation. "Is Spencer still here?"
The expression on your face grew from tired to exhausted at the mere mention of your brother. Hotch sat back and crossed his arms, an instinctive movement when he figured some profiling may have to come into play. Those lines settled against his brow as he waited for your response.
You picked at a loose thread in the couch. “Playing chess," you said, then looked knowingly up at him. "I know what you’re gonna say, Hotch, but it’s easier to just leave him and let him do his thing. Gideon’s death hit him hard.”
Hotch nodded slowly. “I know. But what about you?”
“I don’t remember Gideon much.”
A corner of his lips curved upwards. Trust you to worry the least about yourself.
"I don’t mean that," he said gently, wondering how his next words would be taken. "Spencer has a tendency to forget about the people around him when he gets himself into one of these states. Now—" He pointed a finger at you before you could rise to your brother's defense "—that's not his fault, and he'll come out of it soon enough. But in the meantime, I don’t want you sleeping here until morning, Y/N." His fatherly instincts long having kicked in, his eyebrows rose in solemnity. "You need some proper rest in your own bed. The couch isn't going to cut it.”
You breathed a dubious laugh, still pulling at the thread. “Spencer has no plans on coming home tonight. Rossi’s already tried.”
“Then let me drive you home?" Your fingers paused and your mouth twisted in thought. Your face was hidden by a curtain of hair, but Hotch dipped his head enough to see your expression. He smiled knowingly. You didn't want to be alone. "Or…I can set up the spare room at mine?”
You peered up at him and for the first time he noted your level of exhaustion. Not only had you been kept physically awake by Spencer's turmoil, but your anxiety about the situation had mentally drained you, too. With your mother states away in a facility and your father completely written out of the picture, Spencer was your person and had been since he'd taken custody of you at four years old. When he wasn't himself, neither were you, and Hotch had always known it.
You took a second to respond, looking past him and out the open door for a moment before returning your gaze to his. "You don't mind?"
Hotch smiled and squeezed your shoulder in reassurance. The end of your storm was near, he was sure.
"Of course not," he said. "You get yourself ready and I'll tell Spencer."
Criminal Minds Masterpost
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listofwhyyouloveher · 10 months ago
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Ok, I don’t have any specific direction for you but, I love your Bob Hughes smut. You’re the only blog I see post abt him and he’s so underrated!! Plus the plots you make for the one shots are so good<3 So yea I’d love to see more bob content. That’s all a wanted to say ily.💋
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Summary: going off the adrenaline rush of a nice jackpot of a pharmacy store, Bob finally gives you the time of day you deserve
Warnings: shameless smut, slight voyeurism, mentions of drugs, mentions of doing drugs, fingering, p in v, unprotected.
Authors nore: I love bob soooo much
Bob flopped on the bed lazily, stretching out after sitting in the uncomfortable car seat for the 30 minute ride to and from the last drugstore you robbed. He carefully turned each bottle, inspecting the lable and then the ingredients. He tossed different bottles into 2 separate piles, one for Nadine and Rick, and on for Bob and you, his wife.
"Looks like we're set for a couple of days," Bob smiled, picking out a bottle from your pile.
"Oh, gosh, Bob. We just got the biggest jackpot in a while, don't you want to celebrate?" You asked, a hint of a pout playing on your lips.
"I am celebrating, doll. Come celebrate with me," He winked, tossing you a pill bottle. You three it back at his chest lightly, choosing to lay down over his arm rather than shooting up the drugs you just got.
"Please..?" You batted your eyelashes and he sighed.
"Fine, but straight after we're taking these," he pressed the bottle into your hand, before rolling over your body and ending up on top.
You dropped the pills by your pillow and placed your hands onto his shoulder, desperately pulling him towards your lips. Your lips met in an fiery kiss, pent up temptation and adrenaline pressing at your self control. It was Bob who rocked his hips into you first, pressing his obvious arousal against your core. You pressed back, a push-pull that had you dangerously close to the edge. Bob's hand tangled itself into the waistline of your dress pants, hurriedly trying to ge them off.
As soon as your were stripped of your underthings, Bob's hands were on you again, tracing every inch and outline of your body. His hand hovered over your core, making you increasingly frustrated with how slow everything wa going.
"Goddamnit Bob, do you want to take those pills soon or not?!" You cried in frustration.
"Quiet, baby, Rick'll hear ya." He whispered, pressing his fingers into your tightening cunt. He curled his fingers slowly, letting you taste the delicious stretch of each movement. He had you seeing stars in under a minute, back arching and years threatening to spill.
"I think that's enough prep, Bob," you moaned in a hoarse voice, trying to keep quiet.
"So goddamn needy," he grunted, unbuckling his belt and pressing his tip against your opening. He lifted your leg slightly, propping it up against his shoulder before sliding in with little resistance.
Slowly, Bob started pistoning his hips, his hands moving with each thrust. You let louder and louder moans out each rock of his hips, completely forgetting yourself in pleasure. Your head was drooping and your vision was clouding.
"That's right doll, let them hear how good I make you feel." He whispered, which sent you orgasming around him. Soon after he pulled out and let his seed leak onto your stomach.
"Now can we shoot up some damn drugs?" He huffed, running a hand through his hair to tame it. You laughed and reached for the bottle.
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clumsiestgiantess · 2 years ago
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The sixth chapter of the Other-world Universe; Erica finally gets the chance to be rightfully pissed off. (A bit more bad language than usual, just a warning)
all chapters linked here
[The truth comes out]
I spent the day in my own world, afraid to go back to the awful scene I’d left.  Did Erica call the government after me?  I don’t want to go through that again.  If I end up in the hospital like last time, I won't be able to explain what happened without revealing the other-world.  After a night of almost no sleep and the constant press of thoughts and pain, I could barely function.  Thankfully the weekend started tomorrow, so I could spare a day for my trauma.  
How did she know I was there?  I sat buried in bed, refusing to acknowledge the rest of the world.  Did Erica know I was controlling her the whole time?  What if she's been trying to get away from me since day one and I just never knew?  I groaned into a pillow and rolled over, forgetting about my recent injuries.  The second my back hit the bed, searing pain tensed through me.  It felt like knives were repeatedly jabbing into my back.  Cursing, I sat upright, trying to ease my agonizing wounds.  I popped another pain reliever and carefully sat back down, exhausted.
The next day, though my back still ached, I worked up the stamina and courage to visit the mansion.  I can’t just leave.  I had to find out if Erica had known all along, for starters, and apologize for scaring the shit out of her the night before.  As soon as I got into the other-world, I checked and double checked that I was invisible before going anywhere.  Dodging the usual traffic and housing, I made it there in quick time.  However, as I approached the cliffside, I stopped dead in my tracks.  Is this really a good idea?  What if the government set traps for me?  I stood at a distance, trying to spot anything unusual.  
Even when I finally deemed it safe, I decided to wait until the darkest part of night to visit.  It would be the least likely time for someone to spot me.  On the ground below the mansion, I carefully rested my back on the cliff face like the back of a chair, wary of my recent injuries.  I sat feeling more alone than usual, watching and waiting for the sun to set completely.  I was determined to tell Erica the truth, or at least part of it.  She didn’t have to know about the fake version of everything that I see in my world, or that her city is a plaything of both me and my brother.  Oh boy, that’s definitely not something I want to bring up.  Finally, when the sky was completely dark, I stood and turned to face the mansion, still invisible.
Erica was sitting at the kitchen counter, slumped over next to a bottle of something that was probably alcoholic.  Maybe I should come back another night, when she hasn't been drinking.  Just as the thought occurred to me, Erica sat up and looked around warily.  It seemed like she could tell I was watching her.  Staying under my control for months must’ve heightened some sense of me being here, just like I gained a keener sense of where she was wherever I went to control her.  
That’s not creepy at all, I thought sarcastically, feeling something huge and invisible watching you from who knows where.  No wonder she ran from me.  Not knowing what else to do, I reached out and tentatively knocked on the wall beside her.  Erica flinched and slowly crept to the glass door nearby, looking cautiously out from a few feet back.  I slid it open, ridding myself of invisibility in the process.  She gasped and stumbled backwards slightly as I returned my arm to my side.  Erica now froze where she was, understandably too scared to move.  “I.. um” I stuttered, unsure what to say.  “I won’t hurt you, you can come out.”  I retreated to the cliff edge, giving her space to step onto the lawn.
An awkward silence hung in the air as neither of us moved.  “What are you?” Erica finally asked me from inside the house.  “What are you doing here?”  "I'm just a person," I answered, ducking down to see her from the outside.  "And I.. I came to show you the truth about things."  Erica hesitantly stepped into the doorway, looking out and up at me.  "But you're not.  You- you can't be just a person," she gestured vaguely at me, towering above her.  "And I sure as hell hope you're here to tell me the truth, because I've been dying to know what the fuck you thought you were doing!"  I flinched at the sudden shift in her voice.  "For the last eight months I've been living without a single shred of free will.  You're the one who was controlling me, right?  And giving me money, this house.  I suspected someone was behind all of it but I…  How are you even real?"
Erica shuttered, glancing down at the cliff edge.  "I mean, you're standing at ground level right now and I still have to look up at you.  Nevermind the fact that you can control my fucking life, and apparently generate an infinite supply of money."  So she did know I was behind everything.  That's not going to make this very easy.  
"Well," I explained cautiously, "I saw you needed help so I gave you the money, but you spent it all on crap so-"  "I did not!" Erica interrupted, "How the hell did you even get that much money in the first place?"  She stormed out onto the lawn, then abruptly stopped, eyes going wide in realization.  "Wait, when I came out to the balcony of my apartment and I asked if this was a test, did you hear me?  You did, didn't you?  Because then you started making me go to those dumbass therapy sessions!  Which I did NOT need, by the way."
Despite Erica's furious protests against me, I sneered.  "Yeah, right.  Every time I left you with enough cash to help you out, you always managed to end up in bigger debt than you started with."  Huffing, I leaned down over the cliffside to get closer, trying to read the expressions of someone so small from a distance.  It didn't occur to me that I was then looming over her.  "If it weren't for me, you would've been kicked out of your apartment, living on the side of the road somewhere, or with your awful ex.  You're lucky I stepped in when I did.  In fact, you should be thanking me."
Erica gawked, looking up at my looming form in slight terror.  "What- How-  How do you know about John?  Have you been watching me for that long!?  What else do you know about me!?”  She paused, glancing around at the mansion’s long open windows that were basically just walls of glass.  It was designed so you could have a panoramic view of the scenery beyond the cliff — too high up for anyone to see into.  Anyone besides me.  
“You- You weren’t watching me every second, were you?"  Erica backpedaled quickly, tripping on the threshold into the house.  I shrugged, "Your little breakup was the first night I found you, actually," I told her matter-of-factly.  "Yes, I have been watching you for that long.  Think back through everything that's happened since then, I was there.  I watched you wreck your life over and over again.  Finally I just couldn't take it anymore!  Every time I tried to help you, you only made things worse.  How is it that you can't live a normal life without me there forcing you to?"  I practically spat the last words in frustration while I glared down at Erica, who now stood in the doorway, appalled.
"You fucking psycopath!   Are you listening to yourself!?  What the hell do you mean 'force me to live a normal life'?  I HAD A LIFE, YOU SCREWED IT UP!  YOU TOOK IT FROM ME!  IT'S MY GODDAMN LIFE, NOT YOURS!  WHO THE HELL PUT YOU IN CHARGE OF WHAT I CAN OR CAN'T DO?!  YOU SICK BITCH, I-  AHH!"  Seething, I slammed my hand down in front of her, snatching her up by the back of her shirt.  In one swift movement, I dragged her through the air up to my face.  
"WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?!"  Erica threw her hands over her ears, legs kicking at the open space beneath her.  Being so small, it was a long — and likely deadly — drop down.  "I COULD END YOU RIGHT NOW IF I WANTED TO!" I threatened.  "DON'T TALK TO ME LIKE THAT OR I'LL-"  "ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, FINE!" she managed to yell over me, "Please, just put me down!  I- I'll do whatever you want, please!"  
Erica desperately grasped at my fingers, trying to secure herself without falling to her death.  The lights of the house reflected off her tear-streaked face.  Noticing this, I felt a sudden pang of guilt.  What am I doing?  I came here to apologize, not threaten her.  Carefully, I lowered Erica to the ground, tucking a few fingers beneath her so she wouldn't fall.  Shit.  I took it too far.  She scrambled out of my hand the second it touched the ground and raced into the house, flinging the glass door closed so violently it shattered.  I stood there stunned, a pit forming in my stomach as I watched her disappear inside.  "I'm sorry," I murmured solemnly, "I shouldn't have done that.  I didn't-  I wouldn't have hurt you."  There was no response.  Erica was nowhere to be seen.
I backed away from the house and looked down at the hand I’d just grabbed her with.  It was shaking so badly, I could barely steady it without pressing it flat against myself.  With that same hand, I'd crushed someone to death.  Just then, I'd almost condemned Erica to a similar fate.  That was the first time I'd really contemplated just how small they were.  Erica was only a bit taller than the length of my palm.  She'd been doing everything in her power to stop me from controlling her for the last several months, and I had been ignoring her.  I had the audacity to think she was toying with me when she was just trying to get away.
Guiltily, I glanced back over at the mansion.  I got so pissed at her for yelling at me, but she's right.  I've been denying her everything she wanted since day one, forcing her to make decisions that weren't her own.  Why did I even think that was a good idea?  Didn't I have a rule about not controlling people unless it was absolutely necessary?  Aren’t these people supposed to be toys?  Why are they so.. life-like?  I sighed, desperately wanting to go back to the mansion and apologize.  However, I doubted Erica would want to listen to anything I said after that.  Later, after I returned home, I tried to remember how everything had even started.  Maybe it's best if I don't go back, or just leave Erica alone.  It's the least I could do to make up for tonight.  For everything, really.
That evening, I slept with the grim satisfaction that I'd finally made the right decision.  When I woke up the next day, I went on an early morning jog to clear my head, forcing out all thoughts of the other-world.  I won’t be drawn back there anymore, no matter what.  Not a single good thing has come out of me being there.  
However, as I was eating lunch that same day, a thought struck me out of the blue.  Me, a giant invisible monster, must have given Erica so much paranoia.  At first I shook off the thought.  She doesn't need to worry about me anymore, so she'll be fine now.  Though, for all she knows I could still be lurking around invisibly, waiting for her to let her guard down again.  It took a few seconds for me to process the thought; I choked on the sandwich I was eating at that last notion.
No!  That's true!  I facepalmed in realization.  I can't just leave without saying anything!  If some giant who could become invisible at will threatened MY life and then disappeared, I would be terrified they'd be back to finish the job.  As much as I wanted to avoid a situation like last night, I knew I had to go back.  If only to convince Erica that I wasn't a threat anymore, and save her the stress of believing I would one day come back to either control her again or finish her off.  
Scarfing down the last of my lunch, I rushed downstairs only to realize that it would also be midday in the other-world like it was in my own world.  Damn, I can't go back now.  Surely, Erica would rather have me be visible so she won’t freak out, and I can't do that in broad daylight.  I sat around doing homework and chores, waiting for night to fall, impatiently doing random tasks to keep me busy while I waited.  It seemed like days before the sun finally set and I could safely return.  I made it all the way to the doorway of the basement before my dad stopped me.  “Alexis, come join your brother in the family room.  We’re watching that new movie you wanted to see,” he told me.  “But I-“  “Whatever you want to do can wait till tomorrow.  Come spend some quality time with your family.”  I reluctantly followed him into another room, knowing I couldn’t win that argument.  The other-world can wait until tomorrow, I guess.
By the same time the next day, I was already doubting my plan to return.  I decided it was best to go straight there, assure Erica I was leaving her alone, and go quickly before I screwed up again.  Taking the most direct route I could, again checking that I was invisible, I made it to the mansion.  Peering through the back, I noticed a few boxes stacked in corners.  The house was almost barren inside.  What's going on in there?  
Again, it was like Erica could sense my arrival.  She nervously glanced outside before drawing all the blinds closed so I couldn't see in.  I became visible again, deciding the best thing to do was knock like I had the first time.  I'd barely tapped once on the now duct taped door before she shouted, "Leave me alone!"  I was taken aback by the aggression in her tiny voice, but I knew I had to get this final message out of the way.  
"I just want to talk to you," I responded, trying not to sound too threatening.  "That's what you said last time before you almost threw me off a cliff!" Erica retorted.  Sighing, I tried again.  "Alright, fair point.  You can stay inside if you want, but could you at least open the blinds?"  "I don't have to do shit.  I'm leaving tomorrow and you won't be able to find me."  So that's what the boxes were for.  "Fuck, forget I said anything!  Do NOT follow me when I leave."
"But you don't have to leave!” I called, words tumbling out faster than I wanted.  “I came back to tell you that I'm sorry for, well, a lot of things, but I'm sorry about yesterday and I came to tell you that I’m the one who's leaving.  You don't have to worry about me ever again.  Keep the mansion.  Hell, keep the box of infinite money.  I’m giving it up.  You win."  Everything was silent, then the duct taped door opened slightly.  Erica peered around it.  She scrutinized my face for a while, squinting up at me.  “After everything you've done to me, why should I believe you?"  
I thought it over, trying to come up with something logical.  "Well, you seem to be able to tell when I'm nearby, so I guess you'll believe me when you don't sense me around anymore."  Erica still looked at me dubiously, so I added, "I really am sorry about this.  About everything.  You were right, I was taking over your life and I'm so sorry.  But I'm done now, you don't need to worry."  Erica slid the door all the way open and took one tentative step onto the back lawn.  "If you really are sorry, then you'll leave me alone and you won't come back."  I nodded, "I guess this is goodbye then."  I turned to leave, finally doing the right thing.  Why did it take me this long to do something decently good?
"Wait!" Erica called after me.  I turned around, surprised.  "I thought you said you wanted me to leave."  "I did.  I do, but I.. don't even know who you are.  Or what you are for that matter."  Pacing a few steps back to the mansion, I stopped just short of the cliff face.  Carefully, I lowered myself closer to Erica's height, trying to make myself seem a bit less threatening.  Erica retreated only slightly, her curiosity outweighing her fear.  "And.. I really need to know how closely you were actually watching me.  Did you see-"  I shook my head, cutting her off before she could bring up anything embarrassing.  Even before the moment I thought to control her, I never considered watching her very closely.  Most of the time, I’d left her on her own with nothing but my vague commands to get her work done and whatnot.  
“I wasn’t watching you that closely,” I assured her.  “Don’t worry about me seeing anything too important.  All I did was chauffeur you from one place to another with instructions on what to do.  Half the time I was miles away from you.”  I couldn’t tell from Erica's stony expression whether or not she believed me.  It made me worried that despite my efforts here, she would still be stuck believing that she wasn’t safe from me.  The thought made my stomach queasy.  “Please don’t work yourself up about it.  I’m done messing with your life, I swear.”  
My explanation must’ve sounded suspiciously like a string of excuses, because Erica’s expression only darkened.  I just wanted her to understand that I hadn’t meant to hurt her.  Then again, could I honestly look at what I’d done to her and believe she was happy living like that?  Yes.  Yes, I can.  She’s fake.  That’s the whole reason I can do that to her in the first place… right?
“Ok, well even if you weren’t stalking me at all hours, what about everything you did for me before you controlled my life?  Where did all that money come from?  Was it all just some sick experiment on me?”  "No!" I interjected a bit too loudly, making her flinch.  "Of course it wasn't!  I- I honestly don't know how it escalated to this."  Sighing, I thought back to my original intentions.  "When I first saw you, you were complaining about how you needed money, so I gave you all that cash.  Then, well, I guess I overreacted a bit when I came back and found out you spent it all on frivolous things."  Erica looked as if she wanted to correct my last statement, but she held her tongue, likely remembering what happened the night before last.  "So I tried a bunch of different ways to get you to use the money I gave you the way I wanted you to use it.  Now I realize how stupid I was to try and change you so much I had to.. you know.."  "Take over my life?" Erica finished.  I nodded solemnly.
"I really am sorry," I said yet again, "I promise I was genuinely just trying to help you.  I just.. got carried away with using my stupid powers."  Erica stepped out of the doorway a little further and considered what I'd said.  "So.. one more question before you leave forever."  I nodded expectantly.  "Why do you have powers?  How can you be invisible and control people and be so.. big?"  
I had wanted to give her answers.  Also, I felt like knowing my side of things might help Erica understand me a bit better.  "Well, it all started with a giant storm.."  I began to relay everything that happened to me since I arrived, starting with my horrific first day, and ending with when I first decided to control her, conveniently leaving out the crushed house, multiple destroyed cars, and the origin of her world.  I didn’t think she was quite ready to hear about those things.  "So wait.  The government is after you?" Erica asked after listening to my story.  "Yeah, they were; I don't know if they are anymore."  "And you.. killed someone.  By accident?"  She was referring to the first time I came here — the man in the mountains on my first night.  I looked away guiltily, suddenly doubting whether I should’ve told Erica any of that story.  But if I wanted her to trust me, I needed to tell her the truth.  Your world’s a plastic toy in my world.  Ok, most of the truth.  
"Y- yeah.  I grabbed him a bit too tightly.  Oh, and I've definitely amassed a decent amount of property damage walking around."  "You mean like the parking garage?"  My mind briefly went blank in fear.  "Shit!  I left my blood on that thing!" I shot to my full height in alarm, making Erica practically fall over, terrified.  "The government's going to start looking for me again when they see that!"  I started towards the city in a panic.  "No, it's fine!  Don't go barge into the city, it's fine!"  I stopped abruptly, "What do you mean?"  Erica shakily stood back up, and I mumbled an apology for moving so quickly.  "When you disappeared that night, the blood disappeared too."  "Really?" I asked incredulously, turning back in disbelief.  “It probably had something to do with me returning to my own world.”  I wish the cuts on my back had disappeared too.   "That's a relief.  But either way, I really should be going.  You have your own life now, I should leave you to it."  Erica nodded, staring thoughtfully up at me for a long moment before waving a hand as if to shoo me away.  That time, I left without a call to return.  A strange melancholy feeling rested in my gut when I realized that I hadn’t even spoken to Erica in about a year — not even once since the day I first saw her.  It was crazy enough that it had been that long since I’d found the other-world.  13 months to be exact.  I vanished into the night hoping that Erica believed me, or at the very least would eventually believe me.  At last I was returning to my own world for good.
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I know this looks like the end, but there is so much more coming y’all can’t even imagine.
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rh3ar1pl3y · 1 year ago
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Energy Drink (Vampire!Joey Logano/Ryan Blaney)
(A/N: Teen and up fic. No spice. Hope yall like it. :3)
Thunder rumbled gently in the distance, rain splashing the windows with a steady downpour. Joey sat shirtless on the edge of the bed, watching the rain hitting the small window of the RV. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He had about five hundred texts from crew members, all saying “Race postponed. You good?” He couldn’t figure out why they were asking that. Had something happened? He tried to remember through the tiredness, but his mind was so foggy with hunger. Joey grabbed a shirt and put it on before heading to the small kitchen. 
“You’ve been sleepin’ in, huh?” Ryan said with a grin as he sat on the couch, casually watching Joey as he walked out of the bedroom.  “No shit.” Joey said with a small smirk, moving his head side to side. He definitely slept wrong, that was for sure. “What happened last night?” Ryan asked with a raised eyebrow. Joey shrugged and opened the fridge, looking for his special cocktail of blood and a hint of oil.  “You tell me.” Joey told him as he still searched through the small fridge. The bottle had been sitting right in the front of the top shelf, or at least that’s what Joey had remembered. Was he so out of it that he didn’t remember setting it somewhere else? 
Ryan laughed suspiciously, as though he didn’t believe Joey’s words. “What, you mean you don’t remember?” He questioned. “It’d be kinda hard to forget, I’d imagine.”  Joey groaned, still tired and still unable to find his blood. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to wipe the tired feeling from his being. “Just tell me.”  “Some guy was flirting with you, and he said he liked your fangs.” Ryan chuckled. “You do have fangs.”  “Yeah. And?” Joey asked, running his tongue gently over his pointy teeth. He had had them even before Brad had turned him, only now they were slightly longer and much sharper. “Is that all?” 
Ryan picked up the bottle he was drinking from off the table. He took a sip and grimaced as though it tasted off. Setting it back down, he spoke. “No. He asked if you’d bite his neck and you went wild. You were gonna do it man. And then we had to pull you off the guy, and then you just straight up disappeared…” Ryan smiled. “You’re kinky, Logano. I didn’t realize.”  “Shut up.” Joey sighed. “Have you been in my fridge?” He asked, standing up straight and looking at his teammate with a hunger in his eyes. He kept reminding himself to not feed off Ryan. He didn’t know that Joey was a vampire. In fact, he wasn’t sure that Ryan was aware of real life vampires at all. If anything, he’d probably think it’d just be some kink thing. 
Ryan sat up and picked the bottle up from the table yet again. “Uh yeah. Had some V8.”  “V8?” Joey asked, looking at the bottle before he realized with a fear in his soul. “Oh fuck.”  Ryan held up the bottle  in front of his face that said “ONLY for Joey” on it. The bottle had been completely full to the brim, but was now empty save a few drops at the bottom. He shrugged and sat the bottle back down, only for Joey to run and grab it, drinking the remaining drops from it as though he was a rabid animal. He growled and shook the bottle, trying to get as much of the blood out as he possibly could.  “Whoa dude. Didn’t know you liked V8 that much.” Ryan laughed.  “It’s not V8.” Joey moans almost in pleasure as the blood starts to take effect. It wasn’t enough. It never was, but especially now. Just a few drops would never satiate the hunger. He’d have to think of something.  “...what is it?” Ryan questioned.  “...it’s…uh…an energy drink.” Joey lied. Ryan raised his eyebrows and smirked.  “An energy drink…right…” He said standing up and heading to the door. “Well it tasted like somethin’ weird. Like blood or somethin’.”
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peppermintmochafem · 2 years ago
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Alright, I’ll tell you an embarrassing story for your entertainment. So due to the ADHD, I can be a himbo of a butch sometimes.
A couple months ago, I was getting ready to take a shower. Everyone had just been excused from dinner and I’d had my sights set on a shower after dinner and then I’d hopefully have enough time to call my then-gf before bed. Because my little brother and I share a bathroom and he goes to bed earlier than me, it’s normally a race against each other after dinner to get to the shower first. So I get to the shower and I start it and realize I forgot my clothes. So I close the door to the bathroom and think, “wouldn’t it be funny if I forgot to come back because the door is closed…”
So I get my clothes and run upstairs to refill my water bottle and I run back downstairs and I see the closed bathroom door and hear the shower running and I go, “dammit! He stole my shower when I ran upstairs!” So I decide he can’t take that long and I’m gonna pop out and scare him when he opens that bathroom door. So I’m waiting for 30ish minutes complaining about my brother and how long he’s taking in the shower to my gf. They then asks me if they can call and I agree because waiting for my brother is taking too long. So I talk to them for about an hour and a half, peaking my head out every so often to see if I can take a shower yet. It’s about 10 at night now so my brother is probably in bed but the shower is running. My parents’ shower was broken so my dad would use the basement shower that week. And he wasn’t watching TV down there when I walked past the bathroom and light was on and the shower running, so I thought my dad showering. I was like, “what the hell?! Why is everyone showering this evening!” So after a little while, my ex and I hung up and we were texting (had to keep them updated on the situation). At this point I was walking back and forth in front of the bathroom door, wondering if I should knock now or if they’d even hear me over the water when I notice condensation dripping from the door and the door frame. The realization HIT me like a freight train. I was the sucker who was taking the shower! I’d been waiting for my own shower for 3 HOURS!!! 🤦‍♂️ I immediately told my ex and they got such a kick out of that. 😆 I was in such disbelief that I wasted so much water, possibly damaged the paint and wood trim in the bathroom and that I actually forgot my shower (like I worried I would). It felt like the ending of a mystery or “Inception” or “Fight Club” or one of those movies with a major paradigm-shifting twist at the end. I WAS TYLER DURDEN THIS ENTIRE TIME 🤦‍♂️ smh
Hii beloved mutual 🫶 this is so himbo with adhd core of you omg! I also think it's very cute that you would try to scare your brother for stealing your shower mwhaha!
But that also sounds very stressful! I am not very forgetful at all really. One time, before I had a microwave, I would heat up all my drink in a little pot for camping on the stove and I was heating up a peppermint mocha. Completely forgot about it, it boiled over and set off the fire alarms :) and that was so hard to clean up omg. Omg also as a kid I would forget to wear shoes places and I would get very embarrassed about that. I never had those like stress dreams of going to school naked that people talk about but in grade school I did have stress dreams of going to school barefoot heheheh
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clone-anon-after-dark · 2 years ago
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Coming Home (Sinker x M!Reader)
Sinker x M!Reader
Word Count: 1212
Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI, handjobs, unprotected PiA, aftercare
A/N: brief description of how you met before getting to the goods
Note: There are two versions of this fic. The f!reader version can be found here.
For Sinker, it all started the day after a great date.  He thought it went well, but ultimately that person’s heart belonged to someone else.  Feeling out of sorts over it, he decided to treat himself to some decent food before shipping out and relying on ration bars for however long.  He stopped in a cafe.  He’d never been there before, but had heard the food was very good.  He noticed everyone else standing around and gazing at the menu, but you stood next to him in line, looking ahead and clearly knew what you wanted.  
He turned and asked, “Do you have any suggestions for someone who is about to have to eat a bunch of ration bars for the next few weeks?”
He received an amused huff from you before you made several suggestions.  You ended up eating together and when he got back, he took you on a proper date.  You’d been together ever since.
Outside of his brothers and general, he didn’t have anyone he was close to, at least not in the ways he wanted.  It took him time to open up, but once he started to and saw you embraced him as he was, you saw a whole new, amazing side of him.  Months later he was practically living with you when he wasn’t off fighting the war. 
Today he was back from a mission and while he loved you, he was a bit annoyed that the first thing you asked was for him to bring home take out food.  Sure, he was hungry, but he wanted to be home, curled in bed around you and one more stop just made him wait longer.  He still picked up the food after agreeing with an eye roll and a “yes, cyare.”  He came home to find you sitting on the couch in a t-shirt and only a t-shirt.  He smirked at the playfulness and put the food down on the counter.
“I thought about it,” you said, standing up and coming over to him as he placed the food on the kitchen counter.  “We can always reheat this.  You sounded like you needed some tender loving care and I’d like to provide that.”
You smiled, held his hand in your own, and kissed each knuckle while making playful eye contact.  This was not what he was expecting.  Sinker was a little breathless, heart beating faster as his eyes scanned your form. You weren’t completely naked, but he could help with that.  
“I missed you,” he said, his vulnerable expression betraying the emotion at the heart of his desire.
Dinner forgotten, you started kissing him and walked him to the couch, a line of his clothes left along your path. You still kept your shirt on, but he was completely naked as you pushed him onto the couch.  He deepened the kiss as you straddled him.
“Wait,” you said, clearly forgetting something.  Sinker looked at you, amused, as you got up and hurried down the hallway. He had to laugh when you returned and triumphantly held up the bottle of lube.  
“Okay,” you said as you sat down next to him. “Continue.”
He shook his head and cupped your cheek as he kissed you again.  You enjoyed long kisses as your tongues danced together.  You could feel the tension in his jaw start to leave, smiling to yourself that he was starting to let go of his stresses.  He let out a sigh as you pumped his length with your hand, the delicious slippery feel causing him to groan.  He looked down to see the end of your cock poking out from underneath your shirt.  He grinned and helped you out of your shirt, insisting you wouldn’t need it.  You let out a pant of air as he cupped your balls and started swirling circles around your tip with his thumb.  He stood perfectly at attention and you slowed the movement of your hand up his length just enough to draw out the feeling.
“Oh,” you gasped. “You know what I need?”
“What’s that,” he replied between groans.
“I think it’s the same thing you need,” you said.
“Oh really?”
“Yes. It’s your cock in my ass.”
“I can never say no to that,” he answered.
Sinker adjusted his position on the couch and you straddled him again.  He groaned as you sank onto his length, taking your time as he filled you up.  His hands roamed your chest, reaching around to squeeze your ass cheek in one hand and give proper attention to your own cock with his other.  You could see the tension leaving his body as you started grinding your hips against him.  You didn’t go too fast, trying to let the feeling last.  He knitted his eyebrows in that way he did when his toes curled and you smiled at him beneath you.  You picked up the pace, your body craving the sensation.  He continued to pump your length, but as he got closer to his own release, he didn’t want to leave you behind.  He stopped working over your cock, moaning louder as you squeezed against him a little tighter.  He lightly stroked your balls, leaving your length bouncing, and whispered “come for me.”  Your body responded and within a few strokes of his hand he had your spend landing on your abdomen.  Sinker licked his lips, a fire inside him with the knowledge that he could make you come like that.
“Now it’s your turn,” you said, leaning forward a little and gazing into his beautiful eyes.  “Come in my ass.” 
You made more fervent motions, nearly letting him leave your body before taking him all back in, continuing to ride him until he held your ass firmly against his hips and shot his load into you with a soft grunt.  You panted together, smiling with love in your eyes as you both caught your breath.
“Better,” you asked.
Sinker carefully sat up a bit, embracing you and kissed you wildly, responding, “Better.”  He studied your face like you were the most interesting being in the galaxy, like he was seeing you for the first time.  You couldn’t help but feel a slight heat bloom on your cheeks.  Even now he made you feel a little giddy.  You picked up his hand and kissed the palm.
“You’re so good to me,” he said quietly.
You could only respond with, “I’m so very in love with you.”  You kissed his forehead and felt him melt even further.
“I love you too.”
You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, sitting on his lap, leaving little kisses, and coming down off your high.  After some time, he looked at you both.
“We could use a shower,” he said. “Let me take care of you.”
You nodded, accepting his help getting up and getting clean.  Every movement was a sign of affection from holding your hand and helping you into the shower, to using a soft washcloth all over you, to hugging you and kissing your temple under the water just because. After you dried off, you both threw on underwear and t-shirts and reheated dinner.  You sat together on the couch, enjoying your meal, snuggled up to each other while an old holomovie played.
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keepsmok1ngiloveyou · 1 month ago
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Friction: Chapter II
Chapter 2:
Wordcount: ~5800
Throughout the night, I kept waking up. It wasn’t anything new -- insomnia had been a part of my life for as long as I could remember -- but that didn’t make it any less frustrating.
Each time, I’d groan quietly, toss the blanket over my head, and try to will myself back to sleep.
By the third time I blinked myself awake, I knew it was pointless. My body was tired, but my mind wouldn’t let me rest.
I rolled onto my side and glanced out the window. The streetlights cast a soft, amber haze through the glass, painting faint shadows across my room. Everything felt still.
With a sigh, I reached over, yanked my phone off the charger, and lit up the screen.
4:03 AM.
"Early enough..." I muttered with a half-hearted yawn. I didn’t have anything to do today. Being tired wouldn’t ruin anything -- just another day of drifting through the hours, a little sleep-deprived and a little dazed. It was fine, I guess.
Like every other morning, I dragged myself out of bed and wandered into the kitchen, half-asleep, already craving coffee. However, this morning wasn’t like the others.
Ezra was still passed out on the couch.
Empty beer bottles lay scattered around him, some tipped over, the sharp scent of stale alcohol already beginning to sour the air. I sighed -- if I didn’t clean it, it’d sit there for days. He never really noticed messes until they got unbearable, then he'd make me clean it anyway.
I shuffled toward the couch, careful not to make noise as I crouched to collect the bottles. As I reached for the last one, he stirred.
Shit.
“Baby…? That you…?” His voice was slurred, thick with sleep. “Mmm… c’mere…”
I froze. What? Baby?
My breath hitched as his hand reached out, blindly grabbing my shirt. Before I could react, he tugged me down -- hard -- until I landed beside him on the couch, bottles clattering to the floor around us.
“Agh -- Ezra, what the fuck?” I gasped, squirming against his iron grip.
My voice seemed to have snapped him back to reality. His eyes flew open--horrified, disgusted. He shoved me away hard, like I was contagious. Like he was about to be sick.
"Agh- Dude, what the hell?! What are you doing? I thought -- fuck. I-I thought you were goddamn Amanda!" Ezra’s face turned bright red, his expression twisted in disgust. “Why the hell did you just go along with that? Ew!” He scrambled upright, brushing himself off like I was radioactive.
My nose wrinkled. I clenched my jaw. “...I what? You grabbed me, man!” I shot to my feet, brushing off my shirt, heart pounding in my ears. “I was literally just cleaning up your mess and you pulled me down like it was nothing!”
Ezra blinked, like reality had just caught up to him, and ran a hand down his face. “Tch… fucking forget it. You're the one always lurking around anyway.”
“I live here,” I snapped, voice shaking, fury brimming beneath it. “You must think your girlfriend’s real ugly if you mistook her for a guy.”
His mouth opened, then closed again. “I-- f-fuck…” He buried his head in his hands, groaning like he couldn’t believe any of this happened.
“Seriously? Just... fuck off, man. It’s just ‘cause you’re skinny. I mean, fuck. You look like a girl in the dark. You need to gain some goddamn muscles or something.”
The words hit me like a punch and my stomach sank.
Ezra, I was pretty sure, had no clue.
He didn't know I was trans. I never told him -- I didn't want to tell him.
I knew if he found out, he'd be horrible to me about it. I knew how he was.
My whole body locked up. That little comment made me go completely silent. It hurt more than it should've. My throat tightened. I stared at the ground, twiddling my fingers, trying my hardest to come up with a good comeback -- but nothing came. Just that awkward silence.
Ezra looked at me again, registering something in my silence. He didn’t apologize though. He just shook his head and muttered, “God... I’m going to my room. Don’t ever sneak up on me like that again.”
Before I could even react, he turned and walked off, slamming his door behind him.
I stood there for a long time, the taste of bile crawling up my throat.
What the hell just happened?
I forgot what I'd even come in there for in the first place. I went back to my room in a daze. Wrapped myself in a blanket. Curled up in the quiet. Tried to forget it.
Sleep finally took me before I realized I’d stopped trying.
Only a few hours later, hazy morning air filled my room as Ezra stood in the doorway, arms crossed, dressed in his usual work uniform--black tank top, loose basketball shorts, and obnoxiously expensive sneakers.
It was weird, though. I knew he didn't have work today. His light brown hair was still messy from the night before, but the bags under his eyes had vanished like they'd never even existed.
"Get dressed. You're coming with me." He spoke monotonously, his face expressionless.
I blinked at him from my bed, still half-swaddled in my blanket -- same position as I'd fallen asleep in. "What..?" I yawned, covering my mouth gently.
"The gym." He clarified in a matter-of-fact tone. "You need it."
I stared at him, unblinking, and furrowed my brows slightly. "That's rude."
"Not trying to be nice. I'm trying to help." He said it like he deserved a medal for being so damn generous.
I groaned and turned over, trying to go back to sleep, despite his presence. "I'm not going to the gym with you, man. I'm tired."
He stepped into the room uninvited, snatched the corner of my blanket and yanked it off like he was excorsising a demon.
Cold morning air pricked at my now exposed skin, giving me goosebumps. I curled up into a ball, trying to shield myself from it.
"You're always fucking tired. Maybe if you stopped laying around all the damn time, you'd feel better."
I sat up sharply, a tired scowl plastered across my face. "Why do you suddenly care, huh?"
"I don't," he said, tossing me a spare water bottle. "But I'm tired of watching you sulk around like a sad, wet rat. Plus, you clearly need to bulk up." He looked me up and down, his eyes flickering over me in a way that made my skin crawl. "Can't mistake you for Amanda again, can I?" He said with a smirk, sharp -- insidious.
There was something else under it. Something unreadable in his voice. Not quite cruel. Not quite playful. Just… measured. Like he was studying me.
My chest tightened and I gritted my teeth. "You're an asshole."
"Yeah, but I'm right."
I wanted to punch him, or maybe just crawl back into bed and pretend like he didn't exist.
Despite that, however, some stupid part of me didn't want to give him the satisfaction of being right -- so, against every voice in my head telling me just to lay down, go back to bed, I stood up and got dressed.
Ezra had left the room at this point, leaving me alone to shuffle through my closet and find proper workout attire -- none of which I owned.
I managed to dig out a pair of decent gray sweatpants and threw on a dark tank top over my binder. It was tight -- suffocating, really -- and the idea of working out in it made my ribs ache just thinking about it, but there was no way in hell I was walking into a gym with Ezra without it. Not like this.
Grabbing the water bottle he'd so generously lent me, I stepped out into the living room, where he was already waiting.
“You look... a mess,” he said, voice laced with that usual bite. There was something else there too -- something narrowed, like he was sizing me up.
I let out a sleepy exhale, still half-blind with exhaustion. “And so do you. But you don’t hear me complaining… Ugh. Let’s just hurry up and go, I wanna get this over with.”
His lips curled into a smug, malicious smile as he slung his gym bag over one shoulder and pushed out the door without waiting. I trailed behind, a couple steps slower, trying not to let my nerves show.
In his truck, I climbed into the passenger seat, fumbling with the seatbelt as he tossed his gear onto the floorboard -- right under my legs, like I wasn’t even there. Typical.
The drive was silent. I pressed my forehead to the cool window, pretending to care about the blur of street signs and pedestrians outside. I didn’t know how to talk to him -- not without ruining it again, not after everything that happened the night before.
Eventually, the bumpy ride eased into a stop, and we pulled into the massive lot of his gym -- Pulse24. The bold letters glared down at me from the side of the building, sterile and daunting. My stomach sank.
It was bustling. The crowd there seemed like the type of people to lean heavily into the whole alpha-male aesthetic. Overbuilt bodies, dead stares, and the faint scent of testosterone and ego.
I was a little surprised, honestly -- Ezra wasn’t nearly as jacked as some of the guys I saw filing into the building. For someone who made his living as a personal trainer, he was fit, sure, but not the kind of absurdly ripped that made your arms look like they had veins growing their own veins.
Maybe he wasn’t trying to be that guy. Maybe he didn’t care to buy into the full lifestyle, even if he sold it to other people.
I stepped out of his truck and let the cool wind comb through my hair, eyes rising slowly to the towering blue building in front of me.
“Already intimidated, huh?” Ezra’s voice cut in like a smirk. “Seems about right. A guy like you’d get eaten alive in there if you came alone. Be glad I’m here.”
I shot him a look, but my voice came out softer than I wanted. “I’m not… intimidated. Just --” I hesitated, eyes flicking back to the steady stream of gymgoers, all confident and built and glowing with that disgusting post-workout smugness. “I don’t think I’ve been to a gym since..."
Ezra didn’t press, just slung his bag back over his shoulder and started walking toward the entrance.
I stood there a second longer. My legs felt like they didn’t quite belong to me. This wasn’t my kind of place. Too loud, too bright, too exposed. All mirrors and sweat and judgment. My heart thudded in my chest, heavy and uncertain.
I don’t know why I’d said yes to this. Maybe I thought it’d help. Maybe I thought I could impress him, maybe make him less cold if I went along with it.
But now that I was standing here, about to follow him into his world, I wasn’t so sure it was a good idea after all.
He and I strolled up to the entrance together, though I stayed a few paces behind. I didn’t really know what I was walking into -- only that it already smelled like something I wouldn’t enjoy. Ezra glanced back at me with that insufferable smirk on his face, the kind that said he was thinking something mean and probably about to say it.
“Ladies first…” he murmured, holding the door open with a mockingly polite gesture.
I scoffed, shooting him a glare and brushing past him without a word. I played it cool -- acted like it didn’t bother me -- but inside, it was a different story. That comment dug under my skin more than I wanted it to. His comments always did. I kept walking, jaw tight, willing my expression to stay neutral.
The moment I stepped inside, I regretted it. The air was thick with the sour smell of sweat, metal, and whatever godawful pre-workout powder these people were clearly chugging like holy water.
The lights were too bright -- cold, artificial, and humming just loud enough to feel like they were burrowing into my skull.
The walls were lined with mirrors that reflected every angle of everyone’s bodies, like funhouse versions of self-consciousness. I hated it already.
Still, I kept my face blank, tried not to let it show. I didn’t want to look like I didn’t belong. Even if that’s exactly how I felt.
At the front desk stood the only person in the entire building who didn’t look like they belonged in a protein shake commercial. A woman with long, curly brown hair tucked into a dark pantsuit -- she looked like she had somewhere more important to be.
Ezra approached her first, that fake, charming grin sliding over his face like a well-worn mask. He always had that look when he was talking to women -- confident, disarming, like he knew exactly what to say to get what he wanted.
“Good morning, Mr. Ivanov!” she greeted him brightly, clearly familiar.
He chuckled low in his throat and leaned casually on the counter, giving her his best I’m harmless but also hot look.
Meanwhile, I stood awkwardly off to the side, like some weird kid being dropped off at daycare. Like I didn’t belong in his world, but somehow ended up there anyway.
When Ezra was finished charming her, I stepped up hesitantly, shifting my gaze to the framed portraits of Olympic athletes lining the wall behind the desk. I wasn’t exactly sure what the protocol was here.
“Membership card?” Her voice cut through the quiet, flat and disinterested. It was a sharp contrast to how she’d been seconds ago -- giggling, glowing, basically fawning over Ezra like he was the second coming of Schwarzenegger. Now, she couldn’t even be bothered to look me in the eye.
Ezra stood just a few feet away, scrolling on his phone, completely detached. He didn’t even glance up. I was alone here, in more ways than one.
“Um… no, ma’am. I’m just here for the day,” I mumbled.
“That’ll be twenty dollars for two hours,” she replied, like I was inconveniencing her. “Cash or card?”
I blinked. Twenty dollars? My eyes darted to Ezra, who was still absorbed in his phone like none of this involved him. I glared at him, hoping to catch his attention, to get at least a raised brow of acknowledgment, but all I got was a lopsided smirk when he finally did glance up. Like this was funny to him.
I hadn’t even wanted to come. And now I was paying to be humiliated in fluorescent lighting?
He gave me a half-assed shrug. No offer to cover it. Not even a joke.
“Ugh… card, I guess.” I pulled my wallet out, already regretting every decision that led me to this moment. I slid my card across the counter, trying to ignore the way my stomach knotted. I hated how easily I caved to him -- how he could drag me out of bed, toss me into his world, and I’d just... go along with it.
I could’ve walked out right then. Told him to fuck off and taken my twenty bucks somewhere -- anywhere else. But I didn’t, and I hated that even more.
After checking in, I trailed Ezra into the locker room. He moved with that same smug air he always had -- shoulders back, chin up, tossing smiles and half-nods to the gym’s regulars like he was the goddamn mayor. He might as well have been. Everyone looked at him like he was their golden boy. Their coach. Their friend.
He never looked at me like that.
I'd never been in a men's locker room -- the second we stepped inside, I felt like I’d walked into a bizarre alternate reality. The walls were a blinding white, plastered with bold-lettered motivational posters like NO PAIN, NO GAIN and TRAIN LIKE A BEAST. The air smelled like sweat, rubber, and something vaguely medicinal.
And the men -- God, the men -- were just walking around naked. Like it was no big deal. Like this was some weird, nudist hellscape.
I kept my head down, staring at the tile like it was the most interesting thing in the world. I didn't dare let my eyes wander. Not even a little. My face burned with embarrassment. It wasn’t just the nudity -- it was being here. Like I didn’t belong. Like any second someone might point at me and go, Hey, you don’t fit. What are you even doing here?
Ezra stopped in front of his locker and started tossing his stuff in, completely unfazed by the chaos around us. I hovered awkwardly beside him, my hands jammed deep in my pockets.
Then came his voice. Sharp and smug. “Careful, you might get a nosebleed. You look a bit flustered, hm?” He cast a glance over his shoulder, eyes gleaming. “Should’ve figured you’d be like this. So many shirtless dudes...”
I stiffened. “A-and what’s that supposed to mean?” I snapped, my voice a little too high-pitched to be convincing. My arms crossed on instinct. I knew exactly what he was implying.
He wasn’t wrong -- but he didn’t know that, or at least, I hoped he didn’t.
I always tried so hard to act like a normal, typical guy around him. Mask everything. Keep it neutral, but in moments like this, it felt like he could see through all of it. Like he knew something I didn’t want him to.
Ezra just smirked again, smug and knowing, before slamming his locker shut with a clang. We turned toward the exit of the room.
Just as we stepped into the hallway, he slowed. His hand hovered near the door, and his voice dropped -- quieter, softer, not quite apologetic, but... not cruel either.
“...You’ll get used to it,” he muttered, eyes focused ahead.
Huh? What the hell did that mean?
I raised an eyebrow at him, uncertain. His face was unreadable. And just like that, he pushed the door open and strode out, like nothing had happened.
I was left standing there, just a little more confused than before.
I trailed behind Ezra as he led me through the gym like a predator surveying his territory. His eyes scanned the rows of machines with cold calculation -- lingering on treadmills, eyeing bench presses -- like he was deciding which brand of torture to throw me into first.
Then, as if out of mercy, or more likely mockery, his gaze settled on something simple.
“Why don’t we start with pushups, huh?” he said, smirking. “Get a good idea of your limits.” His tone made it clear he didn’t expect much. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to prove him wrong, or curl up and disappear.
We stopped beside a bench, a rubbery blue mat sprawled out next to it like a trap. Ezra gestured to it with a dramatic sweep of his hand.
“So?” He raised an eyebrow. “Get down and show me what you’ve got.”
With a loud, theatrical groan, I dropped onto the mat. My hands pressed against the rubber, the weird chemical scent of latex wafting up into my nose as I lowered myself into a pushup position. I forced my body to cooperate, arms already trembling with the first few reps. My form was garbage and I knew it -- but Ezra was watching. Judging. Waiting.
His eyes bore into me -- sharp and clinical, moving over my back, my shoulders, the way my muscles strained under the effort. I felt weirdly exposed. Self-conscious. Like every inch of me was under a microscope.
My breathing started to hitch. The tightness in my chest wasn’t just from exertion -- my binder clung to my ribs like a vice, refusing to let me take a full breath. My cheeks burned and sweat prickled at my brow, but I kept going.
I had to. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
By the seventh pushup, my arms were jelly. My head swam. Each breath came short and shallow, panic edging in around the discomfort.
Ezra’s voice sliced through it.
“You seriously can’t even do ten?” he scoffed, crossing his arms as he looked down at me with barely disguised amusement. “Hah, I thought you’d be at least a little tougher than that.”
I swallowed hard, fists pressing into the mat, teeth grit against the growing ache in my chest.
Goddamnit.
I kept going, even as every voice in my head screamed at me to stop.
My arms shook violently under the strain, binder suffocating me with every breath. I forced out a few more -- pain blinding -- before I finally dropped to my knees, clutching my chest, gasping like I’d just crawled out of the ocean.
“F-fuck...” I wheezed. “I need a second…”
Ezra nudged me with his foot, casual and cruel. “C’mon, man. You’re seriously that weak?”
That lit something ugly in me. I didn’t even think. I just shoved the pain down, teeth clenched, and got back to it. My body screamed at me to stop, but I wouldn’t -- couldn’t. I pushed through the blur, through the burn, through the tightening in my chest...
...Until everything dimmed.
My vision went black at the edges, and then -- nothing.
When I came to, Ezra was crouched beside me, eyes darting nervously around the gym. He looked... scared. Not for me, probably, but scared someone had seen.
“...Shit,” he muttered. “Hey. Sit up.”
His hands steadied me by the shoulders, holding me upright. It was jarring -- how gentle he was, even if it was brief. His eyes kept flicking anywhere but my face.
“I... uh... didn’t mean to push so hard.”
"I'm... I'm fine," I panted, wiping the sweat from my face as my vision cleared.
Without a word, he handed me my water bottle.
I took it, more confused than anything. I chugged it down, throat burning, lungs still catching up.
When I glanced over, Ezra was watching me -- quiet, unreadable.
I had to say something to explain. Anything but the truth.
"Um... asthma." I manged to mumble out between breaths. "S-sorry..."
"Asthma? Since when? You don't carry an inhaler, do you? You need me to grab it, or..?"
His voice dropped at the end, quieter, unsure, like he was trying to care without sounding like he cared. It didn’t fit him. None of this did.
I let out a breathy, awkward laugh. “Why are you being so... nice? It’s weird.”
He looked like I’d insulted him. His face twisted, scowl returning like a reflex.
“I’m not,” he snapped. "You pass out, and I get fired or some shit. You do realize I work here, right? If my boss sees me pushing someone so hard they collapse, I'm screwed- even if I'm off the clock." He shook his head.
There it was. The Ezra I knew. The one who made everything about him.
I scoffed, the flicker of hope I didn’t even realize I had snuffed out instantly.
“Yeah. Okay, man.”
Of course he didn’t care. Not about me. Just his image. His job. His perfect record.
Stupid of me to think it could’ve been anything else.
Ezra went quiet.
Not the usual smug silence, either. Just… blank. Still. His silence said more than anything he could’ve said out loud and it hit harder than any of his insults ever had. My stomach sank.
I hated it here.
The smell of rubber and sweat clung to my nose. The fluorescent lights burned straight through my skull. Every sound -- dumbbells hitting the floor, shoes squeaking, machines humming -- drilled into my head like static.
But the people…? I felt their eyes.
Felt their stares as I tried to push myself up off the mat, trembling, broken. Laughed at, pitied. I couldn’t tell which was worse.
But more than that, more than the gym or the pain or the humiliation, I hated how much I cared.
I hated how badly I wanted Ezra to see me, to see how hard I was trying, to believe -- even just once -- that I was worth something.
Every comment he made chipped away at me a little more. Every jab, every smirk, every goddamn scoff. But still, I wanted to prove him wrong. I wanted him to like me.
I shouldn’t. I knew that.
I should’ve ignored him, kept my head down, waited until I could get out from under his roof and never look back, but... he had this pull -- this strange gravity I didn’t understand.
Maybe it was the way he looked at me sometimes, like there was something more behind his eyes, just for a second.
Maybe it was the way he stood next to me, tall and composed, everything I wasn’t but desperately wanted to be.
Jealousy? Longing?
I didn’t know.
I just knew I wanted him to see me. Not as a joke. Not as weak. As something. Someone.
I buried my face in my hands. My head pounded. My skin buzzed with heat. The lights felt brighter, the noise louder, the pressure worse.
Ezra walked away without a word, leaving me on the mat like I didn’t exist. I curled into myself, knees to my chest, hugging tight.
The machines clanked louder. The fluorescent lights buzzed. My ears rang. My vision pulsed.
Too much. It’s too much.
I pulled my hands away from my face. They were shaking. I stared at them, panicked, like they belonged to someone else. My heart raced. My chest tightened.
I looked toward the entrance -- the big glass doors, just past the desk.
Ezra was there.
Flirting again. Laughing with that receptionist like nothing had happened, like I hadn’t just collapsed in front of him, like I wasn’t even real.
Something in me cracked.
I stood up -- barely felt it. My legs moved on their own. Before I could even think, I was pushing through the crowd, past the weights, past the front desk.
Slamming through the heavy doors, breath ragged, lungs burning.
I ran.
"Atlas, wait!"
I heard Ezra shouting behind me, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. I needed to get out. My heart was in my throat. Every step I took felt like it was being watched, judged.
"...what’s wrong with that kid...?"
Murmurs followed me like shadows as I bolted through the gym and out into the daylight.
A stranger tried to stop me near the lot -- asked if I was okay -- but I couldn’t even answer. I shoved past them, breath catching in my chest, and made a beeline straight for Ezra’s truck.
I flung the door open, climbed in, and slammed it shut behind me. The echo of it rattled louder than it should’ve.
I curled into myself, trembling.
I knew he’d be mad, furious, probably, but I’d rather deal with Ezra’s wrath than face those strangers’ pity or their laughter.
Then it hit. The humiliation. The shame. All of it crashing over me in waves.
Tears burned their way down my cheeks before I could stop them. I tried to wipe them away, but more came, hot and relentless. My shoulders shook, and small, broken sobs slipped out of me.
I gasped for breath, my chest tightening like it was being crushed from the inside out. No matter how hard I tried to pull myself together, I couldn’t. I was drenched in it. Shame, panic, self-loathing.
Eventually, minutes or maybe lifetimes later, I forced myself to breathe slower. Calmer. Just a little. The sobs slowed. My hands stopped shaking. I wiped my face, checked the mirror. Eyes red, puffy. No hiding it.
That’s when I saw him. Ezra, storming across the parking lot. My stomach dropped.
He yanked the door open and climbed inside, slamming it behind him so hard the whole truck jolted.
His fists were clenched. His eyes locked forward, boring into the steering wheel.
He didn’t speak at first. Just breathed. Sharp, angry exhales that said everything without words.
Then finally -- "What the hell was that?" His voice was low, cold, venomous. "You just had to cause a scene, huh?"
He turned to glare at me, his expression unreadable -- but not kind. Not even close.
I kept my eyes down. Staring at the floor mats, at my shoes, at anything that wasn’t him.
I knew if I tried to say even one word, I’d break again, and I knew he’d use that against me.
"...You almost got me in trouble, man. My boss was there." He snapped, his words harsh and fast. "He asked me, 'Why did the guy you were helping run out like that? He looked pretty upset.'"
Ezra scoffed bitterly, shaking his head like it physically hurt to recount it.
"He looked at me like I hurt you or something. Do not ever pull some shit like that again. I’m fucking lucky I managed to lie on the spot. Told him you hurt yourself on a machine." He exhaled sharply through his nose. "And don’t expect me to bring you back. I can’t believe you’re so weak that a couple pushups had you running off like that."
His eyes flicked to me, narrowing. His face came closer, like he needed to see the damage for himself.
"Jesus," he muttered, voice low and disgusted, "Have you been fucking crying?"
I couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t meet that look in his eyes. I tried to speak, even if my throat tightened around every word.
“Please stop talking to me like that, Ezra. I-I didn’t mean to-”
“Oh, please.” He cut me off, practically snarling. “I knew this was a fucking mistake. I knew you couldn’t take it. You are so goddamn pathetic.”
He jammed the key into the ignition, the engine roaring to life with a growl.
I said nothing. I felt I was caving in on myself, folding tighter and tighter just to stay in one piece.
I turned toward the window. Watched the world blur by as the truck tore through the streets. The sky, once a clear blue, was now gray and roiling. Clouds stacked heavy over the horizon like something ready to break.
It looked like rain. It felt like drowning.
Ezra didn’t say a word for the rest of the drive. Didn’t look at me, didn’t have to. The silence between us screamed louder than anything he’d said.
He sped the whole way home, like he couldn’t stand being in the truck with me a second longer than necessary. The tires hummed, the engine whined, and my stomach churned.
It was only a five-minute drive, but with him next to me -- boiling over in his own quiet rage -- it felt like an eternity.
Still not speaking to me, we pulled into the driveway. Ezra killed the engine and practically launched himself out of the truck, like being near me any longer might set him off.
I followed behind at a distance, keeping a few hesitant feet between us. My arms wrapped around my chest, like I could somehow shield myself from the atmosphere pressing in on me.
Something about walking up those steps felt like marching toward an execution. My stomach twisted.
Ezra got to the apartment door first and shoved it open, only to slam it shut again right in my face.
I flinched.
For a second, I just stood there, staring at the chipped wood on the door. I didn’t need him to say it -- I wasn’t welcome right now, if I ever was.
With slow, quiet hands, I turned the knob and slipped inside.
He didn’t even look at me.
Instead, I watched from the hallway as he marched to the kitchen. The sound of glass bottles clinking together, then a sharp pop as a cap hit the counter.
I took that as my cue to vanish. I padded back to my room, shutting the door gently behind me like any louder sound might provoke a blow-up. I felt like a scolded kid again, like I’d done something terrible -- but I didn’t even know what.
I felt the tears rise up again, burning at the back of my throat. I pressed my fingers to my face and tried to breathe. This was too much. All of it. I couldn’t do this.
I had to leave -- now.
With shaking fingers, I reached for my phone. My contacts blurred as I scrolled, but then I found her name -- Audrey.
We hadn’t talked in years. High school had come and gone, and life had swept us in different directions, but we were close once. She’d get it.
Back then, we used to trade stories about our messed up homes. We bonded over broken family dinners and hiding out in each other's rooms. If anyone would understand why I needed out -- fast -- it was her.
My thumb hovered for just a second, then tapped out a message.
"Hey girl, I know it's been forever, but do you feel like going out tonight? My roommate's mad about something and he's being kind of a dick. I don't really wanna be here right now."
Only seconds later, her response pinged onto my screen.
"Duh! I've been dying 2 see u anyway! Text me ur addy and I'll be over in 20. We can go to the club or something :)"
A weary smile tugged at the corners of my lips. She actually wanted to see me. Relief rushed in like air after being underwater. For once, I wasn’t trapped.
I jumped up, ignoring Ezra’s distant grumbling from the living room. I'd let him stew. This time, I wasn’t sticking around to mop up the mess. He could sit in the bitterness he brewed himself. He needed to calm down. This whole thing was all his fault, anyway.
I rifled through my drawers, pulling out a pair of loose ripped jeans and my favorite old band tee -- the one that always made me feel like myself.
When Audrey texted that she was outside, I smudged on a little black eyeliner and gave myself a once-over in the mirror. I smirked.
For once, I looked really good.
I made for the front door, but of course, Ezra was still there. Sitting on the couch, beer in hand. He glanced up when I passed.
He eyed me up and down, not saying a word. Something in his eyes caught me, though. Not just anger. Something else -- something I didn’t want to understand right now.
(A/N): this one is a little bit longer but I hope u liked :) I have a bunch more I'm so excited to post its ab to get goooooddd
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lianahayze · 2 years ago
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Shadow and the Midnight Misery: Chapter 14
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Nothing to say; let's get to it!
Chapter 14. Then... nothing
With it being common for celebrities to seek treatment, there is little surprise at seeing the twenty-two-year-old rockstar turn herself in. Her father, lead singer of the 90s alt-band The Nixers, did his own stint in rehab for a slew of drugs, including heroin. It is unknown why she checked herself in, but according to its website, the Garver Institute “specializes in alcohol and drug addictions.” At the time of publication, Shadow Greere has declined to comment.
Bottle pressed to my lips, I chug. The more I drink, the more I can forget. And boy am I trying to forget.
The article came out yesterday, and I can’t even begin to guess how many times I've already read it. It starts out great. There is a piece about the new studio, a section about how I want the band to go our own way. But then Garver was brought up and it got real bad real fast.
The pictures are slightly grainy and had clearly been taken at a distance. However, they're not grainy enough for me to even pretend that that it’s not me. Everything in the pictures give it away: my hair, the clothes I'm wearing, a general scowl. All of it is one hundred percent me, and anyone is going to be able to tell.
The guys have seen it. I’m certain they have. They've called me a couple of times, but I haven't picked up. I'd rather wallow in self-pity. Dean’s not big on social media, so he probably hasn’t seen it yet. Always a day or two beyond, I have some time before he finds it. Either way, I'm fucked.
I did not want this to get out. I'd been hoping I could just sweep it under the rug and be done with it. Continuing to meet with Dr. Norris is fine, but having all of my dirty laundry aired out for anyone to see? No, it's an absolute nightmare.
I should have said something to Larissa. I could have made up any bullshit excuse. Hell, I could have said I was visiting or even fucking volunteering and that last paragraph would sound completely different. But, instead, I'd freaked out. I’d done this to myself.
I stop drinking for a moment. I haven't binged like this in a while and my body knows it. There's going to be hell to pay in a few hours, but, right now, I don’t care. Right now, I desperate to forget.
I switch to another bottle. It's new and takes me several seconds to open. I sway before I finally break the seal. The bottle firmly attached to my mouth, I walk out of the kitchen and into the living room.
Though I don't plan on staying in here, I turn on the TV. I need noise. The silence in the house is killing me. I turn up the volume before tossing the remote onto the couch. I walk out into the hallway.
Ugh, has there ever been a time when I haven't fucked something up? Maybe that's why the guys wanted me to put away: not because I'm a danger, but because I'm such a massive fuck up. I get it now.
I go upstairs. Not bothering to turn the lights on, I crawl into bed. I almost drop the bottle in my hand but catch it at the last moment. I continue drinking from it, chugging so quickly that it makes my brain hurt.
Everyone is going to be talking shit about me. Even more than they already do. I can't face the internet right now, but part of me is curious. I need to know what they're saying, and I need to know what I'm up against. I'm not the first celebrity whose mental health issues have been exposed, but it still hurts. I’ve been reduced to a headline and a cheap article?
My phone dings but I don't bother checking it. I want to smoke a joint. I want to smoke and drink and pass out. I don't know where my purse is, though, and that's where all my weed is. Is probably in the room somewhere, but I don't care enough to try to find it. Instead, I just keep drinking.
My phone goes off again. I follow the light from the screen, reaching across the bed to grab it. I squint as I look down.
Oh, I have missed calls. And a lot of texts. It's a good thing I have all my notifications turned off for social media because that would probably be blowing up my phone now too.
I look at the text notifications but don't actually open the messages. Most of them are from the guys, but, as I expected, there's nothing from Dean. Good. I should reach out to him and just tell him myself, but I don't think I'm going to. After all, I already had my chance to tell him; instead, I’d spent the entire time complaining about the band.
I check the calls. Most of them are from Wyatt. He's called me five times in total, the last one coming just a few minutes ago when I'd been downstairs deciding which liquor to get into. Maybe they’ve decided that he's the one who’s going to fire me.
I go through my texts from him. There are a lot of them with just one or two words, but it's the last one that really catches me off-guard.
About 5 mins away. At your house soon.
I stare at it. Not trusting my eyes, I read over it again, but still don’t think it’s right. There’s no way he’s trying to come see me right now.
Putting the bottle on the floor, I text him back:
Not here.
I stare down at the screen. A second later he says,
Yeah u are. Pulling up your street
I frown. Seriously, can't this wait until tomorrow?
Knowing that my front door's locked, I decide to get comfortable. He won't be able to talk to me if he can't get in, and there's no way I'm answering the door.
My phone goes off again. I groan and read.
He's here. Great. Just great.
When I don't respond, he sends,
Open the front door.
I huff. I don't want to talk to him; is that really so hard to understand?
Busy.
No you're not. Open the door.
Not interested.
Shadow, don't make me call the cops. I NEED to see that you're okay.
I bolt up. If he calls the cops, I’ll be back at Garver in a heartbeat, only this time it probably won’t be so easy to get out. "Fuck’s sake," I mutter, "fine." Standing up, I drop my phone on the pillow, pick the bottle back up, and slowly head downstairs.
Wyatt's finger is firmly on the doorbell when I answer. He looks down at me, surprised. I move out of the way, letting him in.
He shuts the door behind himself. "You're drinking right now?" he asks, louder than he needs to be. "Shadow, what the hell are you doing?"
"Feeling sorry for myself." I smile up at him. Feeling light on my feet, I lean against the wall. "Throwing myself a party. Whatever you want to call it, but you weren't invited."
"So, you know about the article then?"
"Hmm."
"I can't believe they printed that without telling you." When I tell him that I knew, he gasps. "You just let them?"
"No. But I didn't tell them no."
He stares at me. I can tell that he knows he in over his head and doesn't know what to do. Pissed off, angry Shadow he can deal with; pitiful pathetic Shadow he cannot.
I take another drink.
"Can you... Can you not do that right now?" He yanks the bottle from my hand. Some of the vodka spills onto the floor, causing me to say,
"Hey! Stop making a mess!"
He walks into the kitchen. I follow behind but it takes a while because my legs feel like jelly. When I finally do get to him, he's opening up all the cabinets, saying, "Where's all your booze?" I giggle. "Fuck, Shadow, I'm serious. Now is not the time to go on a bender."
"Oops." Seeing him freak out makes me laugh. It's actually very funny. Him and the other guys have been trying to control my narrative for so long and he's panicking now that he can't. It's the ultimate karma.
He walks over to me. I'm swaying as I look up at him, and he puts his hands on my arms. As he steadies me, I realize I don’t want to be standing up; laying down would be so much better.
"How much did you drink?" he says. It's a good question, but I don't answer. He gives me a slight shake. "Shadow. How much?"
He's acting like he's never seen me drunk before, but nothing could be further from the truth. How many late nights did we have after concerts, passing around bottle after bottle? I have a pretty good tolerance, but he could drink me under the table. Maybe I'm not the one who should have gone to Garver.
"You're not supposed to drink when you're depressed."
Depressed? Who said anything about being depressed? I am finnnnnne.
"Have you still been drinking and doing drugs this entire time?"
Holding back a laugh, I say, "My body, my choice."
"This is not a joke! You're going to hurt yourself!"
"My doctor thinks I'm not a danger, and we can trust my doctor. Right? After all, everyone wanted me to go see one. Remember?"
Leading me over to the table, he sighs. He tried to get me to sit in one of the chairs, but I instead choose the floor. "We wanted you to see a doctor because we were worried about you. Your cocaine habit has gone through the roof." Then, almost so quietly that I can't hear, he adds, "Apparently we should have been more worried about your drinking."
Having been kneeling in front of me, he stands back up. Continuing to go through my cabinets, he says, "We already spoke with the label. As soon as we saw it, we got on the phone with them. We wanted you to join the conversation, but you never answered your phone." He looks over his shoulder at me. "Now I can see why."
He's judging me and I can't decide whether to let it go or complain about it. Stomach pressed against the tile, I spread out on the floor like a starfish. It gets uncomfortable really quick, though, and I flip to my back. The sudden motion makes the contents of my stomach slosh around.
"I don't know what to do with you." I look over at him. "We want you to get better. When we rescheduled that interview, we thought..." I see him shake his head. "I know it's important for you--We know talking about the band is important to you." He pauses. "Even if the spread was entirely about you."
"So, you're not mad about the studio?"
He shakes his head, and I'm surprised. This is the most honest conversation we've had in a while without yelling. I should say something but can’t come up with anything.
"We just want to know what was wrong with your dad's studio, but other than that it's fine."
"Too many bad memories. Can't go there anymore."
"Because we told you that you needed help?"
"And cornered me with a doctor." I turn onto my other cheek so that I'm facing away from him. "It wasn't fair."
I hear him sigh, but he doesn't say anything. I hear the heels of his boots walking across the tile, coming towards me. A few seconds later, arms crossed, he stands over me. I don't move but look up at him out of the corner of my eye.
"Look," he says, "you can be pissed about it. I get that you're pissed about it. But we tried to bring it up before and you just weren't listening."
I frown. "No, you never brought it up."
"Yes. We did. Several times. You might have just been high, and we couldn’t tell. But we did bring it up."
He walks away, leaving on my own. I wonder if what he's said is true. Had they actually mentioned it before? If they had, why don't I remember it? And if he was right and I had been high, what does that say about me?
It means I have a problem.
Standing up, I go over to the counter. Wyatt's placed the bottle of vodka that I'd had earlier by the sink. I look around but don't see him. I'm not sure where he's gone, but, not wanting to wait for him to return, I pick up the bottle, bring it to my lips, and drink. I'm so engrossed in getting as much alcohol in my system as possible that I don't hear him return until,
"Shadow!" He yanks the bottle away. Before I can stop him, he tips it upside down and the vodka pours down the sink.
"Hey!" I start to reach for it, but he holds me back.
"Do not try my patience right now."
He's being obnoxious; why won’t he let me have a little fun?
"Why are you even here?" I ask him. "I didn't ask you to come." Plus, I'd been doing fine on my own. I'd been enjoying sitting in the dark; it made my head hurt less.
"I'm here to take care of you, apparently, because you weren't answering your phone."
"I don't need a babysitter."
"I beg to differ. When did you eat last?"
I frown. "Why, do I look fat, or something?"
"You've never looked fat a day in your life." He sounds annoyed as he speaks. "But you need to eat." I tell him I'm not hungry. "I don't care," he replies. "You need food in your system."
"Usually, I just do cocaine when I'm hungry." He looks at me like I'm crazy. "What? I don't have to stop what I'm doing to eat, and it keeps me in shape." He gives me a look over. "Duh."
"Shadow, when people talk about ‘getting in shape,’ that’s not code for developing a drug habit."
He goes to open the fridge, but he won't have much to work with. I haven't gone grocery shopping in a while, so everything that's in there is probably at least a few weeks old.
"Wow, slim pickin’s around here, huh?" He closes the fridge. Pulling out his phone, he says, "What do you want to eat? I'm going to have Ethan stop."
"Stop where?"
"Stop at the store or get takeout. He's on his way over here. So is Dave."
My heart stops. They're coming over here, too? Right now? I shake my head in disbelief. "Tell them not to come."
"They're already on their way."
I continue to shake my head. "No! I do not need a fucking intervention in my own home!" I'm panicking, ready to kick or punch him.
He puts his hands up, saying, "Shadow, we're not trying to intervene on anything. We're just checking on you."
But I don't believe it.
Abruptly turning away from him, I storm out of the kitchen. Well, I storm out the best I can. My legs are wobbly and my head is spinning and my breathing is shallow, but I storm off. Wyatt calls for me, but I ignore him. Maybe if I barricade myself in my room before the other two get here, they'll eventually just give up and leave. Can't have an intervention if they can't see me.
I stumble into my room. I press my body against the door for a moment, blinking slowly. Why is the room spinning? Doing my best to disregard the movements, I lock the door and go straight over to my bed.
I fall onto it face first. It’s pretty comfortable, so I don't move. It's only when I realize that I'm having trouble breathing that I shift onto my side.
My stomach doesn't feel so great. When I rub my hands over my middle, it only makes it worse. I close my eyes and groan. I curl up and lay like that for who knows how long. It's probably just a couple of seconds, but it's enough for me almost to fall asleep.
The only reason I don't is because of a loud thump at the door.
"Shadow! Unlock the door!"
I cover my ears. Why is he shouting? Doesn't he know it's making me feel even worse?
Wyatt keeps pounding on the door. "I seriously just came over here to check on you! The other guys just want to check on you too. We're not kicking you out of the band or whatever other conspiracy theory you have in your head."
If I do have any conspiracy theories, it's because they put them there.
"Seriously. You don't need to be alone right now."
He's wrong. Being alone is exactly what I need.
I continue to try my best to ignore him. He makes it hard, though, and I eventually grab onto a pillow, pressing it over my head. It makes my skull hurt, but I'd rather feel that than listen to Wyatt.
Eventually, though, the pounding stops. I pull down the pillow and look cautiously over at the door. I sit up; there's complete silence. Being as quiet as I can, I get out of bed and tiptoe over to the door. I lean forward and listen, but still, I hear nothing.
Maybe he's just pretending he's not there anymore to trick me into opening the door. "Wyatt?" I say. He doesn't answer. Slowly, I unlock the door, crack it open just an inch, and look outside.
He's not there. Opening the door all the way, I step out into the hallway. Wyatt is nowhere to be found. Confused, I lean against the wall. Where did he go? Did he just give up? It that's the case, the least he could have done is said goodbye.
"Wyatt?"
He doesn't respond. When I toddle down the hall, I suddenly realize why.
Standing at the top of the stairs, I hear the front door opening, Wyatt standing in front of it. In walk Ethan and Dave.
I start to make my way down the stairs.
"Get out of my house!" I yell, causing them to look up. They’re alarmed, but I don't care. "I'll call the police!"
Dave, smug as ever, doesn't buy it. "You're going to call the police on the people who came to check on you?"
"Not now Dave," says Wyatt.
"Fuck off!" I yell at them. "I didn't ask you to come here; I don't want you here. Leave. Me. Alone!"
"You don't mean that, Shadow."
I turn to Ethan. I'm still on the stairs, gripping the banister, so I have to look down at him. He looks tired, more tired than I feel. "Ethan, if you had any common sense, you'd ditch these two. All they're going to do is complain and gang up on you and ruin your whole entire life."
Dave starts to say something, but Wyatt stops him.
"No, go head. What did you want to tell me?"
"He doesn't want to tell you anything," says Wyatt. "We just came to see how you were after the article."
"I feel like shit. I think it's obvious." I start to walk towards them. I'm about halfway down the stairs now, and, looking at all of them in turn, I say, "I need a drink."
None of them seem amused. They move to block the way. I get down to the bottom step and try to push passed them but they're stronger and I fail.
"Move," I say. When they don't, I repeat myself, this time with more force. "Move!"
Ethan asks me how much I've had to drink but I ignore him. They're not my parents; I don't have to answer to them.
Wyatt attempts to reach for me, but I push his hands away. I almost lose my footing, but Dave catches me. I yank myself out of his grasp.
"Shadow," says Wyatt, "you need to calm down. Let's find a place to relax. You're going to drink water and I'm going to order you food."
I don't like his plan--and not just because he's talking to me like I'm a child.
I shake my head. "No."
I start back up the stairs, but he reaches for me. This time his grasp is strong, and I can feel a bruise forming on my wrist. I try to wriggle away but can't. Either he's been working out or I'm way more inebriated than I thought.
It doesn't stop me from continuing to pull away. I tell him to let me go, but he doesn't. I try to push him away, but he doesn't budge. All the while, he's asking me to stop moving but all I want to do is run away. It gets so bad, that, as I'm yelling and pulling, my foot slips, I lose my footing, and go flying.
Only this time, no one catches me.
I crash against the stairs, first my arms, then my shoulder. I cry out in pain, looking up at the guys. They look horrified, but I can't keep my focus on them for too long. Soon, everything goes blurry and my vision cuts in and out.
Then... nothing.
-
This is probably one of my favorite chapters I've written for this story so far. Thanks for reading.
-L.H.
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fulokis · 4 years ago
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